The High Sparrow was a little rattled.
As a cobbler's son, he had devoted himself to the faith of the Seven many years ago.
To spread the gospel of the Seven, the High Sparrow had walked barefoot through almost every village in the Seven Kingdoms. After years of preaching among the common folk, he had amassed a large following.
He never lived in luxury, wearing only a plain, simple, knee-length woolen tunic. Almost everywhere he went, people were moved by his simplicity and steadfast faith.
But only the High Sparrow himself knew that what had sustained him, step by step, was not faith in the Seven-only foolish villagers believed in that stuff.
His deepest desire was for power!
Ever since he had watched the Gold Cloaks drag his father out and beat him in the street for no reason other than his inability to pay, the High Sparrow had harbored an endless thirst for power.
But he was no nobleman, and his father's tiny cobbler's shop could not earn enough to buy him swords and armor so he could strive to become a knight.
So the clever High Sparrow had taken another route, presenting himself as an ascetic.
He knew that only by embracing the Seven could he find the right path to the pinnacle of power.
Those suffering people desperately needed a "god" to soothe their battered souls.
With his masterful performance of compassion and his unrivaled preaching skills, his reputation among the poor had all but reached its peak.
Once he believed the time was ripe, the High Sparrow returned to King's Landing, a place he knew all too well.
Using his practiced methods, the High Sparrow played the same old tricks, uniting countless starving poor from the Lower City until he was almost a rival to the established Faith of the Seven.
But just as he stood ready to deal the Faith of the Seven a fatal blow and secure himself a cardinal's position-
A group of knights wearing golden cloaks, yet bearing golden lion badges on their chests, barged into his meeting place and forcibly bound him.
Seven above, the High Sparrow did not recognize a single one of them, until he saw the blond boy riding a white horse at the head of the group.
"Arthas Lannister!"
"Oh? You actually know me?"
Watching the High Sparrow maintain his lofty, compassionate demeanor despite the apparent flash of anger in his eyes, Arthas's smile deepened.
Did the High Sparrow know Arthas? Of course!
As the leader of the Sparrows in King's Landing, he had no fewer informants in the city than the Little Birds of Varys, the man known as the Spider.
"Of course, Lord Arthas."
Enduring the pain in his body, the High Sparrow struggled up from the ground and replied calmly and serenely:
"Your unprecedented feat of taking on seven Kingsguard single-handedly has already made your name resound throughout King's Landing."
Watching him feign composure, Arthas smiled even more brightly.
"Very good, Your Holiness."
Turning to look up at the statue of the Father, Arthas spoke as though to himself:
"Yesterday, my men told me that a barefoot ascetic had been quietly helping the poor in King's Landing."
"I was curious why someone so pure and kind would appear in a place full of desire and hatred."
"For a time, I even thought the Seven had descended to earth."
"I had thought that someone as devout as you, Your Holiness, would surely fulfill my dream of seeing a god with my own eyes."
"But the moment I saw you, I knew that dream had been shattered once again."
The High Sparrow, who had been silently listening, raised his head in some confusion at this, meeting Arthas's golden eyes, which seemed to see through everything.
"Do you know why, Your Holiness?"
Facing Arthas's gaze, the High Sparrow was utterly panicked inside, but his expression remained unchanged as he answered:
"Because the true gods live forever in our hearts."
"Hahaha!"
"I just love how you can lie without even blinking!"
The High Sparrow's answer sent Arthas into a fit of laughter. He slowly approached him, each step like an iron hammer pounding heavily against his heart.
"When I first laid eyes on you, Your Holiness."
"The hunger for power in your eyes, that filthy, depraved soul of yours, sunk in endless darkness-it all excited me beyond measure!"
Their eyes met, and the High Sparrow could see with perfect clarity as Arthas's golden pupils slowly turned silvery white, even giving off a faint, eerie blue glow.
An endless chill struck straight through the crown of his head, as though even his soul had frozen. Only the Lich King's whispers remained, echoing endlessly in his mind:
"Do a good job helping the vulnerable and the needy as High Septon, High Sparrow."
"Make sure you don't stray down the wrong path."
"Otherwise, I would be delighted to take that interesting soul of yours."
He had no idea how much time passed. Only when the High Sparrow regained the ability to move did he discover that a crystal crown had somehow been placed upon his head.
And Arthas had long since left this center of the Seven's faith with the Lannister Gold Cloaks.
"Under the light of the Seven, we have no need for such gaudy, useless ornaments."
Coming to his senses, the High Sparrow tore the crown from his head and hurled it to the floor, smashing it to pieces.
Then, assuming his compassionate demeanor once more, he walked barefoot out of the sept's great hall.
"Hey, Jaime."
On the road to Winterfell, the Imp rode alongside Jaime, who was dressed in white armor and a white cloak, chatting with him intermittently.
King's Landing was simply too far from Winterfell, and Robert kept urging the party to pick up the pace. There was not even time to visit whores along the way.
He was even beginning to regret joining this journey.
"Why does Cersei keep hiding in her carriage? Isn't she bored at all?"
"Don't ask me, Tyrion."
The corner of Jaime's eye twitched, and a hint of melancholy actually appeared on his handsome face.
Ever since Arthas had gone to see Cersei the previous night, she had not spoken a single word to Jaime.
He had tried every excuse to get close to Cersei, but she simply refused to leave her carriage.
Bold as Jaime was, he would hardly climb into Cersei's carriage right under Robert's nose.
"I heard Arthas went to the palace to see Cersei alone last night."
"Could Arthas be so charming that Cersei has dumped you?"
Seeing Jaime looking so dejected, the Imp's appetite for gossip flared. He leaned over and asked with a wicked air, his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear.
Though he knew this was rather unfair to Jaime, their sister had simply never been the settling-down type.
Being outdone by Arthas, well... that was hardly shameful.
"Shut up, Tyrion!"
Clearly stung, Jaime bristled like a cat and snapped at the Imp in a low voice:
"If you dare bring that up again, I'll throw you off your horse!"
Had there not been so many people around, the Imp would probably have already received his brother's loving fist.
"Heh, relax, tall Kingsguard."
Seeing Jaime growing flustered and angry, the Imp knew to raise both hands quickly in surrender.
After a while, the Imp sighed, seemingly a little wistful:
"I really wonder just how much the gods favor Arthas."
"He's handsome, brilliant with a sword, and so sharp-witted."
"He's only fourteen, but whenever he stands before me, I always feel as though I'm facing Father."
Jaime deeply shared that feeling. He turned to look toward King's Landing, as though he could once again see that invincible figure standing in the tourney grounds.
"Yes. Only fourteen, and he's already accomplished a feat that shocked all of Westeros."
He shook his head and spoke with a somewhat helpless, self-mocking air:
"To tell you the truth, after he beat me last year, I spent a whole year training hard with my sword."
"I never expected I would still be so utterly helpless against him."
"Looking back now, it's a good thing I chose to join the Kingsguard."
Meeting the Imp's puzzled gaze, Jaime explained further, his tone much lighter this time:
"If I hadn't joined the Kingsguard, Father would certainly have named me heir to the title of Duke of Casterly Rock."
"Having to compete for the succession with such a terrifying younger brother-the thought alone makes me shudder."
"Hahaha!"
Those words were heartfelt, and both men laughed freely, deeply sharing the sentiment.
"Seriously, Jaime."
Wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, whether from laughter or a sudden sadness in his heart, the Imp asked solemnly:
"Do you really not care about the title of Duke of Casterly Rock at all?"
At the Imp's insistent question, Jaime shook his head, declining to answer in front of so many people.
In his heart, only Cersei mattered most.
As long as he could be with the person he loved, Casterly Rock was not worth mentioning.
"Tyrion, I have a feeling."
Turning his charming green eyes toward his younger brother, Jaime smiled, seemingly once again the proud yet humble knight he had been:
"Perhaps by the time we return to King's Landing, Arthas will already have given it the Lannister name."
"Surely not..."
Jaime's certainty surprised the Imp. Though Arthas was indeed exceptional, surely he could not achieve something so astonishing in little more than a month.
"Just watch, Tyrion."
Disagreeing with the Imp's doubts, Jaime's eyes were filled with conviction:
"The Lannisters produced one wise old lion, and that alone brought us the glory we enjoy today."
"Now there's a young lion king as well."
"If those two join forces, I have no doubt that all of Westeros will tremble beneath the lion's roar!"
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