"L-Lord Arthas, what are you doing?"
As the icy threat fell, the Fat Bishop felt an endless chill wash over him and could not help pulling his robes tighter.
Could this fellow be the Cold God incarnate?
He kept rubbing his arms, but could not dispel even the slightest chill. Fear filled his heart in an instant.
His body shook uncontrollably, so violently that the crystal crown, which had never quite fit his enormous head, fell off and hit the ground with a clatter.
"Lord Arthas, please put down your sword at once. This is terribly disrespectful to the Seven."
The Fat Bishop hurriedly bent down to retrieve his crown. Looking up at Arthas, he did not dare order him to stop and could only plead desperately, trembling all the while.
Deaf to the words beside him, Arthas stood with Frostmourne raised for a long time, yet still felt not the slightest trace of divine punishment.
"As I thought, just a bunch of frauds playing at divinity."
He shook his head in disappointment and slowly lowered his sword. The deathly chill vanished in an instant, and he seemed to become that gentle, sunny youth again.
"Of course, Your High Holiness."
Warm sunlight shone on Arthas's face, outlining its perfect contours.
"I am a faithful believer in the Seven, after all!"
Finally regaining control of his body, the Fat Bishop replaced the crystal crown that symbolized supreme religious authority with trembling hands.
What should have been a solemn, dignified sight looked utterly ridiculous on him.
He hurried his bulky body a few steps closer to Arthas, a fawning smile spreading across his face.
"Since you too are a faithful believer in the Seven, Lord Arthas, please call the knights out."
"There truly is nothing worth seeing inside the sept. If they wish to hear the gospel of the Seven, I can explain it to them myself."
Looking at the man before him, as fat as a pig, Arthas betrayed a barely perceptible trace of contempt in his eyes, but his smile remained just as gentle.
"I had a dream last night."
Arthas turned aside without drawing attention to it, unwilling to look at the man's hideous fat face, and continued speaking.
"The Seven told me in my dream that the sept was no longer pure, but had become a den of corruption."
"I lay awake all night, feeling that this dream must be guidance from the Seven."
"Please explain it to me, Your High Holiness."
Already frantic over his own dirty dealings, the Fat Bishop broke into a cold sweat across his enormous head at these words.
"The Great Sept was built by Baelor the Blessed."
He kept wiping the sweat from his head, racking his brains for a way to excuse himself.
"It is the center of the faith in the Seven. There is no purer place, Lord Arthas."
"I think you must have overworked yourself lately and simply had a meaningless dream."
The Fat Bishop prayed that he could quickly trick this troublesome fellow into leaving, but when he raised his head, he met Arthas's utterly shocked gaze.
Arthas looked at the Fat Bishop as though in disbelief and stepped back, his face filled with profound disappointment.
"As the supreme leader of the Faith of the Seven, you actually consider the Seven's guidance to me meaningless!"
Raising Frostmourne again, Arthas's tone grew firm.
"I believe your body must have been possessed by an evil heretic's soul, Your High Holiness."
"Allow me to drive out the evil!"
With that, he lifted the faintly blue-glowing longsword in both hands and made to slash down.
"Commander Arthas!"
Just as the Fat Bishop sank into utter despair, a voice from behind sounded like heavenly music, interrupting Arthas's movement.
Finally saved, he hurriedly turned around, hoping to take a good look at his savior.
But when he looked, he saw Lancel's tall figure leading two Lannister knights, each carrying a bound septa, slowly approaching!
Ignoring the Fat Bishop, Lancel led the two men straight up to Arthas and dropped to one knee.
"We found two abused septas in the cellar."
"According to their account, the High Septon has used the Seven's name for years to force them to become slaves to his lust."
"He also told them that this was the will of the Seven."
Lancel's solemn report made Arthas nod in satisfaction. The fellow had finally shown some sense for once.
"Your High Holiness, I expect a perfectly satisfactory explanation for this!"
He pointed at the two disheveled septas who had been set down and demanded an answer in fury.
"Th-this... I can explain!"
Even with his deeds exposed, the Fat Bishop frantically sought excuses, hoping to bluff his way through.
"This truly is the will of the Seven, Lord Arthas!"
His eyes shifted, and he hurriedly flourished his robes and clasped his hands before him, assuming a compassionate air.
"The Seven grant us strong bodies, but also drown mankind in boundless carnal desire."
"As High Septon, my task is to free those souls lost in lust."
"To that end, I have not hesitated to use my own body as a vessel..."
"Hahaha!"
The feeble explanation made even Lancel, still kneeling on one knee, laugh aloud.
"Your High Holiness, you certainly have a way with words!"
Lancel rose, drew the sword at his waist, and slowly advanced on the fat septon, endless fury in his eyes threatening to engulf him!
Lancel was all but the most devout believer in the Seven in the entire Westerlands. He would never allow such a filthy creature to commit indecent acts openly in so sacred a place under the Seven's name!
"You filthy, silver-tongued wretch!"
"You are not fit to be High Septon of the Seven!"
With a furious roar, his sharp longsword slashed down as the Fat Bishop stared in disbelief.
A body struck the ground with a dull thud. Blood slowly trickled down the steps, as though it would wash this filthy place clean.
"Lancel, you were too impulsive."
He reached out and patted Lancel's shoulder. Lancel's chest still heaved, clearly still caught up in his anger.
Though Arthas spoke reproachfully, his eyes were full of amusement. He was happy for this cousin who had finally shown some backbone.
His only disappointment was that, though the Fat Bishop's corpse was nearly cold, no miracle had occurred.
"I'm sorry, Commander Arthas!"
Only after a long while did Lancel come to his senses. He hurriedly dropped his sword and knelt to apologize to Arthas.
His eyes were filled with panic. He did not know why he had suddenly done something so impulsive.
This was the High Septon!
"It's all right, Cousin Lancel."
Looking at the panicked blond youth, Arthas reached out his right hand, took his arm, and slowly helped him up.
"You were indeed a little impulsive, but you did the right thing!"
Still mired in self-reproach, Lancel looked at Arthas in confusion with his pale green eyes upon hearing his certainty.
"Here, look."
Arthas smiled meaningfully and pointed toward the dense crowd of King's Landing's people below the steps.
Lancel followed his pointing finger and saw them looking at the High Septon's corpse. Not one person mourned him or shed a tear.
Instead, sincere excitement filled every face. They raised their hands and cheered wildly, as though celebrating a grand festival!
"You have done a good deed for the common people of King's Landing."
Reaching out to clap Lancel firmly on the shoulder again, Arthas spoke with heartfelt feeling.
Who knew how many evil deeds that man had committed for everyone to celebrate his death?
Arthas had only seen such a spectacle when he returned to Lordaeron as a hero.
Amid the crowd's cheers, Lancel stared blankly at his hands. For the first time in his life, he finally felt that he could do something meaningful.
"Arthas..."
Watching Arthas walk toward the sept, he dropped to one knee again and declared loudly:
"I, Lancel Lannister,"
"Swear before the Seven to remain loyal to you forever!"
"Rise, Lancel."
As he watched with tears in his eyes, the youth's gentle, friendly voice drifted back from afar.
"We still have work to finish."
"Lord Arthas, we are deeply grateful that you acted out of righteousness and rid the Faith of the Seven of a great blight."
In the center of the sept, beneath the enormous statues of the Father and the Mother, an archsepton in red sincerely thanked Arthas.
He too had long disapproved of the Fat Bishop's filthy conduct.
But because the other man outranked him, he had always swallowed his anger.
He had never expected the Seven to truly manifest today, sending a dream to this newly appointed Commander of the City Watch and finishing off that damned fat man with one clean stroke.
The archsepton in red felt vindicated. He could not conceal the joy in his eyes and was already impatient to put on the crystal crown and succeed to the position.
"It's quite all right, Your Eminence. I merely did my duty."
Arthas could easily see through his little ambitions, but did not expose them. He simply beckoned behind him.
"Daven, bring him in!"
Footsteps sounded, and the tall Daven Lannister entered with an old, gray-haired septon over his shoulder.
With a thud, Daven casually tossed the man on his shoulder to the ground, paying no heed to how he felt, then left again without a word.
Only the old septon remained on the floor, crying out in pain.
"Your Eminence, I know full well that the Faith of the Seven cannot go a single day without a leader."
Under the red-robed archsepton's astonished gaze, Arthas shattered his beautiful dream of ascending to the position of High Septon in an instant.
He elegantly raised Frostmourne. Beneath the gazes of the Father and the Mother, the Scourge's sword, gleaming coldly, actually seemed to possess a hint of holiness.
It was as though, should the red-robed archsepton dare voice any objection, Frostmourne would become a sword of judgment the next instant and send him to join the Fat Bishop.
With a commanding tone that brooked no refusal, Arthas slowly spoke.
"Please allow me to introduce the new High Septon whom I went to such pains to find for the Faith of the Seven."
"-The High Sparrow."
Before you continue