The High Sparrow knelt helplessly on the ground.
Corleone is right, he is the son of a shoemaker, and his father has been beating leather next to the Shoemaker's Square for forty years.
Marlos remembered the smell of leather, and he also remembered those shoes: the muddy straw sandals of farmers, the worn soft boots of merchants, and even the steel armor boots worn by knights.
But the most unforgettable thing is a pair of bishop shoes from Sept.
The shoes were made of dark purple velvet, with a complex seven-pointed star pattern embroidered with gold thread on the upper, and tiny pearls on the edges.
When his father held the pair of shoes and repaired them with the softest lambskin lining, Marlos looked on, as if he had seen a divine coming for the first time, and his mind felt dizzy.
Not because of the shoes themselves, but because of my father's demeanor.
The tough guy who usually didn't show any pretense to the drunken Sailor or the haggling prostitutes was now as cautious as holding a holy baby, even breathing lightly.
After the shoe was repaired, the bishop casually popped out a Silver Stag, which landed on the workbench with a clanking sound.
Then he put on his shoes, stepped on the ground full of broken leather and dust, and walked away without looking back. The Silver Stag rolled half a circle in the stains and stopped next to a pile of scraps.
The father silently put away Silver Stag and continued to knock on the next shoe.
But Marlos looked at the bishop's purple back disappearing into the sun, and some kind of belief seemed to rise in his heart.
That night, he told his father that he was going to Sept to work as a handyman.
His father just looked up at the tips of his shoes, which were covered with patches and dirt, and left him alone without saying anything.
Sept's life is another kind of suffering.
Marlos Sweep the floor, wipe the candlesticks, and clean the sacred vessels.
He was closer to those in purple robes and gold chains, but seemed further out of reach.
He once saw with his own eyes a drunken young monk throwing leftover roasted pigeons out of the window, which was enough to buy Marlos a week's worth of food.
What irritated him the most was the feet of those big shots.
As he knelt on the ground and wiped the floor, countless pairs of shoes passed in front of him, velvet, embroidered, jeweled... Each pair of shoes declared that their world had nothing to do with him.
He began to hate shoes and these gorgeous shells that divided people into different grades.
Suddenly one day, a crazy idea grew in my heart: If we peel off this stinky skin and these gorgeous shells, will we be equal in front of God?
So, Marlos took off his only intact coarse cloth shoes in front of the statue of the Seven Gods, and stood barefoot on the cold marble.
Then, he tore off the sleeves of his handyman's robe, looked at Father, and murmured to himself the only scripture he had memorized, "Shoes cover your eyes, and your robes cover your heart. Only when your bare feet touch the ground will you feel pain. Only when you wrap your body in coarse cloth can you get close to your divinity..."
He recited it for two days and one night. The monks were frightened and went to notify the bishop. The bishop looked at him with fear and did not dare to step forward to stop him. He continued to recite Marlos until he fainted.
After waking up, he was not driven away or punished, but was recorded as a real "monk".
So, he realized it.
It turns out that extreme "humbleness" can become the sharpest weapon, piercing through the hypocrisy wrapped in gorgeous robes.
They have silks, jewels and power, but they dare not be as "pure" as he is!
Then he started to get worse.
Even in the cold winter, he walked barefoot and wore only the coarsest linen. His diet gradually reduced to only basic activities, he didn't get enough sleep, and he knelt for long periods of time in prayer until he fainted.
His name is no longer Marlos. When others ask, he only says, "A sinner does not deserve the name."
One day, he suddenly realized that no matter how pious he was, he could not become a true bishop, so he left King's Landing wearing a pair of shoes made for himself, made of suffering, paranoia and fanatical belief.
He wants to step on the road that those wearing velvet shoes will never dare to tread, to touch the power that they dream of but cannot truly grasp.
For decades, he traveled to every inch of the seven the Seven Kingdoms, learned how to prepare potions in Old Town, used carefully choreographed "miracles" to create hope, and used cruel "purification rituals" to establish authority.
He knows that the despair of the people at the bottom needs an outlet, and the hypocrisy of the upper nobles is his shield.
He is no longer the little handyman who envies the bishop's shoes, he has become the "big sparrow" who keeps the bishops awake at night!
Finally, just yesterday, the High Sparrow thought he had finally escaped the fate of being the "shoemaker's son". With bare feet and surrounded by fanatical believers, he stepped onto the ladder leading to the highest authority!
Until this moment, in the blood on the ground, he was completely exposed by this man with black.
It's as if he just turned his envy of shoes into an obsession with taking them off.
It turned out that he had never really left the workshop full of leather smell in his life.
He will always be just...
... shoemaker.
"I'm not convinced."
Scenes from the past came to mind, and the High Sparrow raised his head, unable to remain as peaceful and compassionate as before.
He gritted his teeth and asked with a hoarse throat, "That knight... that knight has obviously completely surrendered to the embrace of the Seven Gods, why do you know my plan!"
"Oh, you mean Ser Calay."
Corleone looked at the High Sparrow quietly, without any emotion on his face, and even called out the knight's name accurately.
Then, he turned sideways and waved to someone who was cleaning the battlefield. "Ser Calay, someone here wants to see you!"
Soon, a tall and upright figure walked over. He was covered with fine knight plate armor. He then took off his helmet, revealing a face of about forty years old.
His eyes swept over the embarrassed Marlos, without stopping at all, he knelt down on one knee and said to Corleone, "Lord Corleone."
"You... lied to me!"
Seeing the knight's face clearly, the High Sparrow immediately complained angrily, "You clearly knew... that your son was defiled by the bishop. You said you were willing to spend the rest of your life atone for your sins, and you were willing to dedicate your soul and sword to the will of the Seven Gods!"
"His son was indeed violated."
Corleone raised his hand, his tone still calm. "But the difference is that you gave him hallucinogens, and the ethereal God's Gift".
"And I... gave him justice."
With that said, he turned to Ser Calay and said in a gentler tone, "That bishop, you have already thrown him into the Blackwater River with your own hands, right?"
"Yes!"
Ser Calay put his right fist close to his chest and bent down deeply. "Thank you for seeking justice for me, Lord Corleone!"
Hearing this, Corleone smiled and waved his hand, "That's good, go ahead, Ser, your mission tonight is not over yet."
After receiving the order, Ser Calay stood up and left neatly.
"No... it's possible...
This scene in his heart obviously defeated the High Sparrow's cognition. He muttered to himself, his eyes began to blur, as if he could not understand what had just happened.
"The church is independent of the royal power. This is a law from ancient times. Even the king and prime minister cannot order them. You... how could you..."
"Tsk tsk tsk... this is the difference between you and me, Marlos."
Corleone took a step forward, leaned close to the High Sparrow and whispered, "You play with people's hearts, using fear, false hope and the beautification of suffering to make people kneel down and look up to your divine grace."
"And I am doing favors and business."
As he spoke, he raised his chin and pointed at the old bishop not far away. "When his daughter had a difficult delivery, I used a scalpel to cut open her belly, take out the baby, and ensure that the mother and baby were safe."
"And the High Septon. His son had a strange disease. He was covered in pus-filled sores. The maesters all said there was no cure. But I cured him, and now the boy can run and jump again."
"There are also monk Laer, sister Winnie, Bishop Stephen..."
"In other words, now the City Guard, the Lannisters, and even the church are all my friends, how can you fight me?"
Having said this, he straightened up and looked at the High Sparrow coldly. "You see, I just helped them with a little help when they needed it."
"And people, especially decent people, will always remember who reached out to them at a critical moment."
0
"This is favor, and favor and interests are stronger chains than any contract or oath."
As soon as these words came out, the last bit of blood on the High Sparrow's face faded.
He knelt on the ground, his body shaking slightly uncontrollably, as if something that had supported him for decades was collapsing.
"Blasphemy...
His lips trembled as he murmured, "This is despicable blasphemy... using these worldly and dirty tricks to defile the holy temple of the Seven Gods!"
"You moths have wormed your way into the heart of God!"
"Save it, Marlos."
Seeing his unwillingness to accept the reality, Corleone's face turned completely cold. "Put away your tricks. No matter how superb your performance is, there is no audience left."
"There has never been any Seven Gods in your heart. What you have been chasing from beginning to end has only been... power!"
"No!"
The High Sparrow retorted sharply, "I was entrusted by the Seven Gods to wash away the sins of the world!"
"Oh, really?"
Corleone took half a step forward and asked, "If you weren't so eager to seize power, how could you pounce on me without hesitation and bite me so deeply and die so hard?"
His dark eyes looked directly at the High Sparrow, as if he had seen through every clumsy disguise under its compassionate appearance, and directly exposed him without mercy.
"To be honest, Marlos, you and I are essentially taking advantage of people's desires, but the difference is that you give them illusions so that they can become the ladder for you to climb."
"And I give them real things, health, safety, justice, and even just a job that can make a living."
"You can promise blessings in the next life," but I can give you bread today and a way to survive tomorrow!"
He leaned back slightly, looked at the High Sparrow's face that had completely lost all color, and said heartbreakingly, "Do you think you will lose tonight?"
"No, when you used the first bottle of psychedelic drugs to confuse people, you and the word sacred have already parted ways!"
"You are not the Chosen One at all", you are just a shoemaker who accidentally discovered that psychedelic drugs are more effective than "Seven-Pointed Star"!"
"A poor... shoemaker!"
After saying that, Corleone turned around and seemed to have lost interest in the conversation.
The High Sparrow was still kneeling there, his forehead weakly pressed against the ground, as if even the last of his spine had been taken away.
He lost.
Lost to the sword, lost to strategy, and lost to... power.
"Oh, right."
Just when Sept was about to step out, the voice of Corleone sounded again.
He didn't completely turn his head, but turned his head slightly, and the firelight cast a deep shadow on the profile of his face.
"Thanks to you, you lured all the restless guys out of Flea Bottom, which saved me a lot of effort to clean them up one by one."
"As a thank you, your "trial" will last for quite some time.
Heart "keep looking forward to, Marlos."
"This is just the beginning."