The Gathering Storm. Part : I

69 AC

One Day After the King's Command

Oldtown, Reach

The winds of change were sweeping through the Seven Kingdoms, and the people could feel it. From Winterfell to the Reach, from the bustling cities to the quiet hamlets, talk of the king's command to summon the High Septon for a hearing spread like wildfire. It was a bold move—many whispered it was akin to declaring war on the Faith itself.

Jaehaerys Targaryen, the beloved king, had always ruled with wisdom, but now he stood against the very institution that held sway over the hearts of the realm. Tensions simmered in taverns, inns, and lordly halls. Commonfolk from adventures to small farmers talked about it.

Speculation filled the air as lords and ladies weighed their futures, considering what a conflict between the Faith and the Crown might mean for their own houses.

In Oldtown, the heart of the Faith and the seat of House Hightower, a secret meeting unfolded. The Oldest City in Westeros, home to the Citadel and the Starry Sept, was host to a gathering that would set the course for the days ahead.

Inside the stone halls of the Hightower, Lord Hightower sat in a dimly lit chamber with a select few. To his right, 3 of the Conclave Archmaesters of the Citadel, a man in careful thought, sat in quiet contemplation. To his left, the High Septon, draped in white robes embroidered with gold, gazed down at a letter from King's Landing with his knuckles whitening. The tension was palpable, a creeping dread hanging over the group.

Maester Soros cleared his throat after reading another letter from Grand Maester Elysar, "The King has summoned you to answer for the unrest," he said, addressing the High Septon. "What will your holiness do?"

The High Septon glanced at the letter summoning him, his face twisted in disdain. "I will go to that wretched place," he said, his voice laced with venom. "But make no mistake, the Faith is in danger. We must start our plan now. The dragon spawn cannot be tolerated any longer, or our power—the power of the Faith—will wither and die within the decade."

Lord Hightower shifted uneasily. "But going to King's Landing may put you in danger," he cautioned, his mind racing back to the fate of House Gardener, burned to ash by the Targaryens' dragons. "The royal family still possesses dragons. They must not be underestimated."

The High Septon cut him off sharply. "The whole Faith is in danger, Lord Hightower! If we do not act now, we will lose everything. We must fight while we still can, and better to fight in the enemy's den than to wait until they come to us. What will be dragons do in King's landing, burn down the Red Keep? We will strike in their home."

The High Septon waved his hand dismissively. "The Faith is in greater danger than any man or beast. This is our last chance to stop them. If we allow the dragons to multiply, they will be unstoppable." His eyes glinted with fervor. "Better to fight the battle in the enemy's home than wait for the dragons to bring the fight to us."

The Archmaester Pylos, who had been silent, finally spoke up. "If the information from ten moons ago about 'Heretic' is considered to be true, we must act quickly. Otherwise, we risk losing 'everything'. Essosi power is not something faith can rival." He spoke carefully, aware of the High Septon's growing impatience. "But we must tread carefully. The Targaryens have dragons, and one misstep could bring ruin."

The High Septon's eyes gleamed with an almost fanatical light. "Information is true, Archmaester. The spy is a firm believer in Seven. So there will be no more arguments. This is the final opportunity we will ever get to rid the realm of the dragons." His voice rose with conviction. "The Father is angry. The Mother is restless. The Warrior frowns upon our cowardice. We must strike now. We are the chosen of the Seven, and we will not let the scions of Valyria mock us any longer."

Lord Hightower opened his mouth to protest but stopped himself. The room had fallen into an eerie silence. He cast a glance at the Archmaester, who seemed equally wary of the High Septon's reckless fervor. But it was clear the time for debate had passed.

"How long will it take for you to reach King's Landing?" the High Septon asked the Grand Maester.

"Four or five days if we leave in the morning," the Grand Maester replied.

"And the heretic?" The High Septon sneered, referring to the target of their ire.

The Grand Maester shifted. "By the words of Grand Maester Elysar from King's Landing, Three to four days, with around 200 men guarding him."

The High Septon nodded grimly before turning to a man in knight's armor, marked with the seven-pointed star of the Faith Militant. That Faith Militant seemed to be dismantled, as per agreement between the Crown and Faith. But the Faith has recruited in secret.

 "Take 500 men with you. Ride fast, in secrecy. You know what you must do."

The knight, his eyes alight with fanaticism, knelt before the High Septon. "Yes, Your Holiness. I will bring you the head of the heretic."

A wicked smile crossed the High Septon's lips. "Good. May the Seven guide you."

the High Septon turned back to the maesters and lords gathered around the table. "What news from our spy?"

The Grand Maester Soros shook his head. "No new word yet. Ravens take time, Your Holiness. We should have more information by tomorrow."

"We cannot wait for his words," the High Septon snapped, his voice rising in frustration. "The Faith Militant will move today. We must act fast."

The Archmaester Melwy sitting nearby, sighed inwardly. This fool would lead them all to ruin if he wasn't careful. The Targaryens still had dragons—if they were to attack King's Landing without caution, they would all burn. He considered for a brief moment whether he should inform the king of the Faith's treachery.

But the Citadel had always been wary of dragons, of magic. He could not turn his back on centuries of doctrine.

Reluctantly, he spoke. "Yes, Your Holiness. But we need the heretic alive. If we kill him, there will be nothing stopping the king from bringing fire to Oldtown. We need him as leverage."

The High Septon sneered. "Are you questioning me? I am the chosen of the Seven! I say he dies!"

The Archmaester Melwy clenched his teeth but swallowed his anger. He knew better than to argue with fool. "Of course, Your Holiness. But it will be all the more fitting for him to be brought before you. To be burned alive as a tribute to the Stranger."

The High Septon's eyes gleamed once again. "Yes... yes, you are right." He turned to the knight. "Bring him alive, if you can. But if you cannot, bring me his head."

The Archmaester observed in silence as the plans were laid out. He knew he had to prevent this madness from escalating. The High Septon was consumed by hatred and blinded by dreams of power. However, the threat of the real dragons and their deadly fire couldn't be ignored.

"Everything must be ready. We will proceed with the plan. Smuggle the remaining Faith Militant into King's Landing along with a few men from House Hightower. Instruct them to disguise themselves as commoners and use the High Septon's arrival as a cover. Send word to the Septons in King's Landing to continue rallying the people. They will know when to make their move. We must win this for the sake of the Faith of the Seven. May the Seven be with us!"

"May the Seven be with us!" echoed the others in response.

As the meeting concluded, the Archmaester made his decision. The Faith Militant would move forward with their plan, but he would be prepared. He would ensure that the Citadel survived, even if the Faith did not.

He hoped the information from the spy didn't bring uncertain variables in the plan.

Spy? Well.

…

Crownlands

Prince Baelon's Camp

The campfires flickered in the growing darkness as Prince Baelon Targaryen stood outside his tent, watching the stars begin to emerge. His mind was troubled. The rebellion in King's Landing had grown more dangerous, and now, a raven had arrived with unexpected news.

''Caesar" said Prince Baelon.

He saw Caesar, his secretary, was sending a raven without his knowledge as he didn't know to whom.

"Where are you sending that raven?" Baelon asked, his voice calm.

Caesar, unsettled by the prince's sudden presence, quickly recovered. "To my father, my prince, informing him of our journey to King's Landing, after 10 moons."

Baelon didn't press the issue further, though he could sense the tension in Caesar's voice and the rigidity in his shoulders.

"Make arrangements for Lady Kinvara," Baelon ordered, his voice low. "She will be joining us on the journey back to King's Landing."

Caesar's body went stiff, his eyes widening slightly. "Is it wise to let her accompany us, my prince?"

Baelon raised an eyebrow but said nothing more. He could see the doubt in Caesar's face but chose not to comment on it.

At the mention of Kinvara, Caesar's body stiffened, and his eyes widened ever so slightly. Baelon noted the reaction but said nothing more. His suspicions about Caesar were growing.

Seeing Baelon's silence, Caesar knew his answer. But his mind was plagued with a far bigger concern, which required his immediate attention.

Inside his tent, Baelon found Kinvara waiting for him. She had accepted his terms on behalf of the Red Temple, but insisted to remain by his side in Westeros. "Lady Kinvara," he greeted her.

"I am no lady, my prince. Please just call me Kinvara." She says.

"Well then, Kinvara. Did you know there has been unrest in King's Landing these past days? I am pretty sure The Faith of the Seven is behind it, and my father has summoned the High Septon from Oldtown. This happens when a Religion has begun to covet power."

Kinvara's face remained impassive. "Power corrupts men, Prince Baelon. Even those who claim to be chosen by the gods."

Baelon eyed her warily. "And how can I be sure your people will not do the same?"

Kinvara smiled slightly. "We are bound by our oath to R'hllor, Prince. We cannot harm any Targaryen. Our magic ensures it."

Baelon remained silent, considering her words. He didn't trust her entirely, but for now, she was an ally. If his suspicions are true, there is a much game at play here and the journey to King's Landing would not be an easy one, and he needed all the help he could get.

If his recent observation were anything to consider, he was careless in his actions. He had underestimated the Power of Faith & Greed of the Citadel. They have led him to worry about the consequences of his actions.

But he must remain steadfast. What's done, can't be changed. He will eventually figure this game out. Maybe even a few minutes, if guess was right. He called his nearby guard and whispered something in his ears.

"We must make arrangements for the journey," Baelon said to Kinvara, his voice filled with caution. "The roads ahead may not be safe."

Kinvara nodded in agreement, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. "The flames have shown me the path. We will succeed, Prince Baelon. The gods are on our side."

But as Baelon sat in silence, his mind worked and analyzed a chessboard, that was Westeros.

...

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