Chapter Fifty

Kevin Lannister paced back and forth in the dimly lit chamber, his nerves as frayed as the edges of the scroll he held in his hand. The thick stone walls of Casterly Rock seemed to press in on him, suffocating him with the weight of failure. How could he explain this to Tywin, his older brother, the man who expected nothing short of perfection from him? He, Kevin Lannister, was supposed to be Tywin's right hand, the executor of his will. But no matter how hard he tried, this new Edenite religion refused to be crushed.

He stopped pacing for a moment and gazed out of the narrow window slit, looking down at the sunlit hills and plains of the Westerlands. It was all slipping through his fingers. The Seven had ruled these lands for centuries, the Faith of the Seven intertwined with the very fabric of society. Nobles, smallfolk—it didn't matter. Everyone knew their place. The gods had ordained it, and the world ran smoothly because of it. But this new faith, this Catholicism, as they called it, threatened to undo all of that.

Kevin had tried everything. He had sent spies, paid thugs, and even hired mercenaries to infiltrate the Catholic gatherings, to destroy their places of worship and scatter their congregations. He had them burn down churches, smash their symbols, and execute anyone who openly professed the faith. At first, it had seemed to work. The Catholics would flee, their places of worship reduced to ash. But they always came back, stronger, more determined. And worse, they always managed to escape.

It wasn't just the miracles they claimed to perform—though that was disturbing enough. It was the promise of a new way of life. A life where it didn't matter if you were born noble or common. Where your worth wasn't determined by your family name or the land you owned, but by your skills, your hard work. It was an insidious idea. And it was catching fire.

Kevin glanced at the scroll again, his eyes narrowing in frustration. Tywin had already grown tired of hearing about his failures. The last time they spoke, Tywin had barely concealed his disdain. "If you can't handle a few rabble-rousers with delusions of grandeur, Kevin, then perhaps I should find someone who can," Tywin had said, his cold voice echoing through Kevin's mind like a hammer. It wasn't just the Lannister name at stake. This was about the Seven Kingdoms themselves. If Catholicism spread, if the smallfolk truly started believing in this new way of life, then everything would collapse. The nobles wouldn't be able to control their lands. The balance of power, so carefully maintained by the Faith and the lords of Westeros, would be shattered.

He took a deep breath and walked down the stone hallway to the massive double doors that led to Tywin's solar. The guards at the entrance stepped aside as he pushed the doors open, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on his shoulders. Tywin sat behind a wide oak desk, his sharp eyes already locked on Kevin as he entered the room. The sunlight streaming in from the tall windows behind Tywin made him look almost regal, like a king on his throne.

"Kevin," Tywin said, his voice cool and detached, as if he already knew what Kevin had to say.

"Brother," Kevin began, his voice tight, "I've come to give you an update on the situation with the Edenite religion."

Tywin raised an eyebrow, leaning back slightly in his chair. He didn't say anything, just gestured for Kevin to continue.

Kevin swallowed hard. "The Catholics… they've been more difficult to uproot than we anticipated. Every time we destroy one of their places of gathering, they seem to regroup elsewhere. They're slippery, always one step ahead. And their numbers… they're growing. The smallfolk are flocking to this new religion."

Tywin's expression didn't change, but Kevin could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair.

"And the mercenaries?" Tywin asked, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of impatience. "I assume you've used every resource at your disposal."

"I have," Kevin replied quickly. "We've destroyed dozens of their gathering places, killed key figures, but the faith is spreading faster than we can contain it. And…" Kevin hesitated, knowing this would not be well received. "The loss of Edenite trade is starting to impact the coffers."

That was the sorest point of all. Tywin had been furious when he'd learned that the trade with Eden, with its miracles and high-tech solutions, was bolstering the Catholic faith. So he'd banned nearly all trade with Eden in the Westerlands. No Edenite technology, no Edenite goods. Only one exception had been made—the age reversal medication that the nobility was obsessed with. Even Tywin himself, though loathe to admit it, saw the benefits of a longer, healthier life. But everything else? Gone.

Kevin knew that banning Edenite trade had cost them. The coffers were not as full as they should be. The Lannisters were still the richest family in Westeros, but without the lucrative Edenite goods, they were bleeding money.

"The Catholics are dangerous," Kevin continued, "not just because of their numbers or their miracles. They're dangerous because of their ideas. They promise the smallfolk that they can be something more than what they are. That they don't have to remain in their place. It's… it's undermining the very foundations of our society. If the smallfolk start believing that they can rise above their station—"

Tywin cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. "I know what's at stake, Kevin. What I want to know is why you haven't crushed them yet."

Kevin winced. "They're… resourceful. The Edenites are supporting them from afar, supplying them with aid, shelter, and, most importantly, these so-called priests who perform miracles. Every time we try to corner them, they slip away. It's as if they know what's coming before we even act."

Tywin's face was a mask of cold calculation, but Kevin could see the anger simmering beneath the surface. He knew his brother. Tywin hated inefficiency, hated anything that disrupted the order he had worked so hard to maintain.

"Then perhaps," Tywin said slowly, his voice laced with venom, "it's time to reconsider how we deal with this threat."

Kevin felt a chill run down his spine. Tywin was not a man who dealt in half-measures. If he was suggesting a change in tactics, it meant things were about to get much worse for the Catholics.

"I'll… I'll do whatever it takes," Kevin stammered, already regretting the words as they left his mouth. He didn't want to know what Tywin had in mind, but he knew he had no choice.

Tywin stood, his presence filling the room as he moved to stand by the window, looking out over the lands of the Westerlands.

"We cannot afford to let this new faith take root," Tywin said, his voice low but firm. "Not just for our house, but for the Seven Kingdoms. The caste system must remain intact. If the smallfolk truly start believing they can rise above their station, everything we've built will fall apart. The Faith of the Seven has kept order for centuries. We cannot allow the Edenites to dismantle that."

Kevin nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I understand."

Tywin turned to face him, his eyes cold and unforgiving. "Good. Then you'll understand why failure is not an option."

Kevin left the solar, the weight of his brother's expectations pressing down on him harder than ever. The war against the Edenite faith was far from over, and Kevin knew that if he didn't succeed soon, the consequences would be dire—not just for him, but for the entire Lannister legacy.