News from the Reach flooded King's Landing like falling snow, as nobles closely followed the movements of the ever-growing army. The High Sparrow had become the most well-known figure in all of Westeros.
These reports were incredibly accurate and swift, detailing even the smallest events, spreading throughout King's Landing by the next day. Titles were continuously bestowed upon the High Sparrow—Son of the Common Folk, Savior of the Realm, Messenger of the Seven, the True God Incarnate—as if the world's order would collapse without him.
The Baratheon royal family turned a blind eye, allowing the information to spread unchecked. Some saw the abnormality in this, particularly the Reach nobles who had previously funded the High Sparrow. They began actively seeking contact with House Tyrell, hoping to either profit from the situation or at least preserve their lives.
With Renly ascending the throne, he would take residence in the Red Keep. By law, the title of Lord of Storm's End became vacant, and as planned, he had his son, Lyonel, inherit the position.
Not yet two years old, Prince Lyonel Baratheon became the Lord of Storm's End and ruler of the Stormlands. Among the nobility of the Seven Kingdoms, this caused little stir—child heirs were common, and Renly remained the true authority.
Storm's End was the ancestral seat of House Baratheon and the foundation of their power. It could be temporarily managed by a castellan, but it could not remain leaderless for long. Fortunately, Renly now had a dragon to ride, allowing him to travel swiftly between both seats of power.
In the hall of the Red Keep, Renly sat upon the Iron Throne, formally bidding farewell to the northern lords. They had spent weeks, some over a month, in King's Landing. It was time for them to return home.
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A few weeks later, not long after leaving Bitterbridge, the High Sparrow finally sensed something was amiss.
The way his followers looked at him had changed—from fervent devotion to doubt and even contempt. Some had begun to desert.
Gathering dozens of his most devout believers for counsel, the High Sparrow maintained his usual warm smile.
"Sincerity is the foundation of faith in the Seven. You must tell me what has happened."
Like him, the believers wore simple cloth robes, their gaunt faces displaying varied expressions. No one answered.
"You speak first," the High Sparrow said, losing patience as he pointed to a man.
"We were to judge King Stannis… but he is no longer king."
The High Sparrow replied, "Yet he still walks free in King's Landing. The gods do not grant forgiveness simply because he has lost his title."
"Rumors are spreading," another voice added. "They say you are greedy and lustful, that believers must offer you their wealth and daughters."
"Impossible! You have been by my side for so long—you know what kind of man I am. Lies like these will collapse on their own," the High Sparrow declared, confident in his righteousness.
"But the rumors have spread across the entire continent," the believer insisted. "Over a hundred families have come forward, claiming to be victims."
"The Father Above!" The High Sparrow was livid. "Such venomous slander! This must be Stannis's doing! He must have bribed those people! Is there anything else?"
Once one person spoke, others followed without hesitation. Another believer added, "They say that wherever you pass, your followers plunder the wealth of the lords. New Barrel, Bitterbridge, and every village along the way have been looted."
"Have I done such a thing?" The High Sparrow spread his hands.
He hadn't—but some of his followers had belts weighed down with stolen treasures.
Just then, the distant sound of horns filled the air. A large force of heavily armed knights galloped down the road toward them, banners of various houses fluttering in the wind. Some were returning south to the Reach, others from the Stormlands—together, they numbered over a thousand.
The unarmed common folk quickly stepped aside, but the knights did not ride through the crowd. Instead, they drew their weapons, dividing the people into small groups of dozens.
"The High Sparrow is the greatest scourge of our time! A heretical blasphemer cloaked in the name of the Faith!"
"By order of the king, arrest the High Sparrow! Where is he?"
"Make way! Make way!" Chaos erupted in an instant.
Seeing the knights charging forward, the High Sparrow quickly climbed onto a rock and shouted to his followers, "These knights have betrayed the Seven! They seek to stop us from reaching King's Landing! We must use our own flesh and blood to stand against them!"
A few fanatics, roused by his words, attempted to resist but were swiftly run through by the knights' swords and spears. The rest of the common folk quickly crouched down in submission. They were farmers, not warriors, and their courage to march on King's Landing had come from faith alone. But rumors about the High Sparrow's true intentions had already spread, and the knights found stolen noble property hidden in many of their garments. Those who resisted lost their heads; those who confessed had a chance to live.
"You cannot harm us with weapons! We are the messengers of the Seven!" The zealots huddled together, using their bodies to shield the High Sparrow.
Some knights hesitated, uncertain whether they should strike down men claiming divine protection.
"You think just saying so makes it true? These are heretics! We are the true faithful of the Seven! Arrest them all—anyone who resists, kill them on the spot!" Another group of knights pushed their way forward from the rear.
Dismounting, they charged into the crowd, their full plate armor making them impervious to resistance. They seized the zealots and began beating them without restraint.
"I serve the Seven!" The High Sparrow tried to shout again, but a sword hilt struck him across the face, knocking several teeth from his mouth.
A knight, his surcoat marked with a blue sash and a green turtle, grabbed the High Sparrow by the hair and lifted him up. "So, you're the High Sparrow? I thought you'd be some wise and mighty figure. Turns out you're just a pathetic old man!"
"Faith…" The High Sparrow tried to call out again, but this time a mailed fist smashed into his face.
The High Sparrow was beaten severely. When he finally looked up, his mouth was filled with blood. Before he could speak, another punch landed.
"We can't let them conspire—anyone who speaks out, torture them immediately!" A knight lifted his visor, taking a deep breath. Andrew Estermont. "Old fool, do you know how much it cost us to deal with you? Don't worry, you won't die quickly."
A simple military crackdown wouldn't have been enough. That would only spark rebellion. No, they had built up his reputation to the highest level, manipulated events to force Stannis' abdication, then exposed the High Sparrow's deception and turned him into a threat to noble interests. Only by doing all of this had they united the realm against him.
It was a grand-scale arrest. Many had hidden stolen noble property, but even so, the knights recovered over a thousand stolen items. They questioned each prisoner individually—those found without stolen goods were released on the spot and ordered to return home, while the guilty were bound and taken to King's Landing.
Bringing over a thousand criminals into the city was impossible, so the Gold Cloaks set up a temporary camp outside the walls. Meanwhile, inside the city, countless proclamations detailing their crimes were distributed far and wide. The king himself would preside over the trial of these heretics.
Renly classified the crimes into three levels.
Those who had taken only minor items were sentenced to ten lashes and returned to their homes after surrendering the stolen goods—around six hundred people. The common folk praised the king's mercy.
Those who had taken valuable items were branded heretics and had their tongues removed before being sent to the Wall—about four hundred in total.
And those who had served the High Sparrow directly were deemed the worst offenders, guilty of blasphemy against the Seven. These hundred or so would not only have their tongues removed but also be nailed alive along both sides of the Roseroad, left as a spectacle for all to see.
The High Sparrow was fortunate. Thanks to Andrew's special attention, he was nailed to a stake but kept alive—food was brought to him, and healing draughts were forced down his throat whenever he neared death. Long after all the others had perished, he remained, a living monument to the horrors of religious fanaticism.