The next day.
The Fishermen's Square is next to the Mud Gate and is a certain distance from the central area of Flea Bottom, but this stretch of road cannot stop the pace of hunger and illness.
As soon as the sky dawned, people began to come out one after another in the shack alleys of Flea Bottom.
Most of them were in ragged clothes, with sallow complexions and numb eyes. They moved listlessly towards the Fishermen's Square, like a group of puppets pulled by invisible ropes.
"Come on, Uncle Al Capone!"
A boy about twelve or thirteen years old led the way.
His left leg was twisted in an exaggerated way, hanging weakly from the joint, but he seemed to feel no pain. His shoulders were raised and lowered as he walked, and his speed was not slow at all. He even kept looking back and waving to the people behind him. "If you go late, you won't be able to grab the seat in front, and the bread you get will be very small!"
There was a strange excitement on the boy's face and his eyes were frighteningly bright, typical symptoms after long-term use of hallucinogens.
He is the son of Little Tomi, Stevedore. After breaking his leg, he was tested by the monks for five days before he received "treatment"
Hearing this, Corleone nodded, and then motioned for Yego to follow closely.
They all wore coarse cloth clothes similar to those around them, and had some Furnace Ash on their faces. Except for their stature being taller and taller than the average poor people, they were not conspicuous.
The team of two to three hundred people meandered forward in the morning mist, like a sick giant snake crawling towards its lair.
The sounds of footsteps, coughs, and whispered conversations were mixed together, and the air was filled with a smell of rancidity and disease.
It's the flavor called "poverty".
"You are angry, blood of my blood."
Yego followed closely in his footsteps, remained silent for a long time, and then said in a low voice, "I've felt it since you smashed the table yesterday."
"Why spend so much effort and so many Gold Dragon to deal with an old man?"
"Let me go and I can bring his head back tonight."
Faced with Yego's question, Corleone did not answer immediately.
His eyes scanned the crowd around him.
A young mother holds a crying baby. Perhaps her milk supply is insufficient and the baby is crying weakly.
A man had his hand broken off. The rags covering Severed Wrist had turned black and suppurated, emitting a putrid smell.
And Little Tomi, who kept walking forward lamely...
These people have empty eyes and empty steps, but they are all moving in the same direction.
Because they believe, or force themselves to believe, that there is hope.
"Where I came from."
Corleone finally spoke, "There is a kind of sin that is considered the most unforgivable."
"What sin?" Yego asked.
"Taking advantage of other people's suffering for profit." Corleone said, "Stealing a poor man's money makes you a thief."
"But it is a sin to give poisonous bread to a starving man and then tell him that it is a gift from God."
"Tywin wants power, Petyr wants chaos. They are both playing games, dirty and bloody, but at least the price is clearly marked."
"And that guy who's pretending... he's selling false hope."
"And false hope is more cruel than real despair."
"He gave bread mixed with Lime to the hungry, poison to the sick that could prolong their lives, and then told them it was divine grace."
"He made his mother kneel down to pray for half a piece of moldy bread, and made his father break his head to prove his piety to save his child's life." He made the child who broke his leg gratefully accept the bowl of medicinal soup that caused him to hallucinate after having a fever for five days!"
He paused and his voice became colder. "False hope is more cruel than real despair.
Yego was silent for a moment.
He couldn't understand it a little bit, but he could generally understand what it meant.
The Dothraki worship power and respect the cruel laws of survival, but they also hate "evil Magic" like this.
"You want to save these people?" Yego asked again, "They are just weeds on the plains. They will grow back after being cut."
"They are people."
Corleone corrected, but looking at Yego's still confused eyes, he just shook his head and changed his words to something he could understand. "Let's put it this way, they are my property."
"And while protecting my own property, I want to give them a choice."
"Kneel down and eat poison, or stand up and eat clean bread... it's your choice."
"And."
Corleone cast his gaze into the depths of the morning mist, and the outline of the square was already vaguely visible. "Killing that old guy like this is too easy for him."
"With one blow, he became a martyr. Believers may think that he was persecuted to death by the devil," and instead become more fanatical."
"I want to... kill people and kill people!"
"Killing and killing people?"
Hearing this, Yego first frowned in confusion, then nodded vigorously. "I understand!"
Got it?
Corleone glanced at him, wondering what this guy who had never read a book understood.
As the two of them talked, Fishermen's Square was in front of them.
A simple terrace was built in the center with broken wooden boards and old barrels, about half a person's height. There was nothing on the terrace except a polished stone.
Three to four hundred people have gathered around.
In the innermost circle, next to the terrace, are about thirty or forty relatively neatly dressed people with solemn expressions. They stand upright, with their hands clasped in front of them, and their eyes are extremely fanatical.
Corleone noticed that these people had bulging bags in their sleeves and robes, probably hiding weapons such as sticks, probably playing the role of "Faith Protectors".
There are about a hundred people in the middle circle.
They were kneeling on the ground, either with their hands clasped together, or leaning down to the ground, with respectful postures. They were obviously people who had passed the preliminary "test" and received "divine grace."
Little Tomi, who has a broken leg, is among them at this time.
The outermost circle has the largest number of people, accounting for most of it.
They were standing or squatting, their eyes filled with confusion, hunger and the pain of illness, eagerly waiting for food and medicine to be distributed.
Hundreds of people were gathered together, but it was unusually quiet.
There was no whispering, no loud noise, and an invisible discipline enveloped the square, even more serious than the Lannister army, which was famous for its military discipline.
Corleone and Yego mingled at the edge of the outermost crowd, and specially found a position where they could see the whole place clearly without being noticed easily.
The sun gradually penetrates the mist.
Not long after, there was a commotion in the innermost circle of the crowd.
Faith Protectors all knelt down on one knee and lowered their heads.
Immediately afterwards, a figure slowly walked out of a small church on the east side of the square.
He is tall, thin, with long gray hair, and wears a coarse cloth robe that has been washed white and fully patched.
His face was criss-crossed with ridges and grooves, showing that he was obviously very old, but his eyes were very bright, seemingly peaceful, but hiding an edge.
"He really looks like a sparrow." Corleone commented.
Hearing this, Yego curled his lips. "I don't like eating sparrows or meat."
The High Sparrow walked very slowly, each step measured and steady.
He didn't look at anyone, his eyes were lowered, and he seemed to be keeping silent.
Before coming to the terrace, he first turned around, faced the direction of the rising sun, and bowed deeply, then stretched out his calloused palms, palms upward, in a gesture of "taking the dew from the sky."
"Zhen Nima knows how to pretend."
Corleone couldn't help but complain.
However, everyone fell in love with this trick. As he moved, everyone's eyes were fixed on the High Sparrow, and they gradually became fanatical.
Stepping onto the terrace, the High Sparrow took out a worn-out parchment book from his arms. It was already very old and had frayed edges, but it was carefully preserved.
- "Seven-Pointed Star"
Corleone[Insight Iv3]Look at it all, see it clearly.
He also noticed that the Great Sparrow kept scanning the crowd, and his eyes would stay on a few specific people for a while.
They are all patients.
"Brothers, sisters."
Finally, the High Sparrow spoke.
The first sentence was very simple, but Faith Protectorss reacted immediately and responded in unison, "We are listening, High Sparrow."
Seeing this, the Great Sparrow nodded slightly and opened "Seven-Pointed Star" skillfully.
"Today, we are going to read Chapter 7 of "The Book of the Seven-Pointed Star"."
His voice was gentle, as if he was telling an ancient story, "Father said, Blessed are the hungry and thirsty, for they will be filled."
"Mother said, Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted."
He raised his head and scanned the crowd. "Are you hungry and thirsty? Are you mourning?"
"Hungry!" someone shouted.
"Sorrow!" more people responded.
"Then, you will listen to the Seven Gods' Gospel!"
The High Sparrow closed the book and suddenly raised his voice. "Because the Seven Gods have seen your suffering!"
"Father is examining, Mother is crying, Warrior is preparing to fight for you!"
The crowd started to commotion.
Some cried, some knelt down, some were hysterical.
And Corleone.
I just feel sick.