Do I Look Like Father

The dungeon air was bitterly cold.

Torches cast scant light across the damp stone walls.

The fervor from before had vanished from Septon Arlan's face.

In its place was a profound disappointment, like seeing a flaw appear in a work of art that was about to be perfect.

"I once thought you were different from them, Lord Suleiman."

His voice echoed through the empty cell, carrying a trace of weariness.

"I thought you would take up this burden without hesitation, just as everyone imagined—a devout follower of the Seven."

He looked at Suleiman, shook his head, and curled his lips into a mocking smile.

"So it turns out that you, too, invoke the Seven's name to seek personal gain?"

Without waiting for Suleiman's answer, he laughed to himself.

"But it doesn't matter."

Septon Arlan's gaze sharpened again, and that burning flame rekindled.

"Judge deeds, not hearts, Lord Suleiman."

"No matter what lies in your heart, your actions have already set you upon this path."

"We will help you become a saint of the Seven, praised by countless believers."

Suleiman listened quietly, not a trace of expression on his face.

He replied calmly, "I am no saint, Septon."

"Nor do I intend to become one."

Septon Arlan's smile widened, filled with the confidence of someone who saw through everything.

"You will."

"When you die, the Faith will canonize you, your ancestors, and your adoptive father."

"You, your ancestors, and your adoptive father will be worshipped by countless believers in every sept of the Seven."

"You asked what the Faith wanted. Now I will tell you, my lord."

"Now, hear what the Faith wants. Hear what the Seven want."

His voice grew solemn, as though he were proclaiming a divine oracle in the Great Sept of Baelor.

"First, the Faith is the