Thoros strode forward and blocked Suleiman's path.
His whole body trembled, and not a trace of a charlatan's composure remained on his fat face.
"How did you do it?"
Thoros's voice was hoarse, as though his throat were full of sand.
Suleiman sheathed his sword and looked at him calmly. "Just the same little trick you used."
Thoros's body trembled even more violently.
He growled, spraying spittle. "Impossible!"
"How exactly did you do it?!"
Suleiman did not answer.
He merely walked around the distraught red priest and headed straight for the sept's heavy doors.
Thoros wanted to press him further, but Bryn and two guards reached out to stop him.
He could only watch helplessly as Suleiman entered the sept and vanished beyond its doors.
The interior of the sept was vast and solemn.
Statues of the Seven stood beneath seven walls, while light filtering through stained-glass windows cast patches of brilliant color across the floor.
An elderly septon spoke, his voice trembling. "Lord Suleiman."
This young man was about to be knighted by the king, and the Seven had immediately revealed their presence. Combined with the rumors from the Riverlands—the Sword of the Seven...
Were they witnessing the birth of a legend?
"By tradition, before the knighting ceremony, you must keep vigil here for the Seven until dawn."
"After the ceremony, as a newly made knight, you must keep vigil for another night to demonstrate your devotion to the Seven."
Suleiman nodded.
Though it was not a mandatory procedure, it was indeed a traditional rite for becoming a knight of Westeros.
Since the king was knighting him, he ought to observe it. Otherwise, word would spread that it was not he who had failed to honor tradition, but Robert Baratheon who had lost face as the man conferring the