Are there truly gods in Westeros?
Arthas wasn't sure. After all, since arriving in this world, he could only sense an incredibly faint trace of magic.
However, gods had certainly existed in the Azeroth of the past.
Setting aside the legendary four Old Gods, even Arthas himself, after donning the Helm of Domination and gaining complete control over his body, could manifest god-like power.
Ever since Arthas learned of the existence of dragons in this world, he had been searching everywhere for information regarding gods.
The Seven, the old gods, the god of cold, the lord of light, and many others—the names of these entities constantly reached his ears from every corner of the continent.
But so far, these so-called "gods" had not shown even a glimmer of supernatural power, which made him doubt their existence.
"Cousin Arthas, what are you thinking about?"
Lancel Lannister, who possessed the same golden hair and even bore a slight resemblance to Jaime, rode his horse alongside Arthas.
Behind them followed over a hundred Lannister knights who had already changed into their gold cloaks.
The grand procession caught the attention of many residents of King's Landing, who flocked to the streets to watch the spectacle.
"Tell me, if I were to set fire to the Baylor Great Sept, would The Seven appear and strike me down with divine punishment?"
Arthas looked toward the towering Baylor Great Sept, a hint of contemplation in his smiling eyes, as if he were genuinely considering the feasibility of burning it down.
"Hahaha, you still love to joke like that, cousin."
Hearing such sacrilegious words, Lancel's expression became visibly uneasy. Compared to Tywin's children, he had always seemed somewhat timid since childhood.
After all, the Lannisters also followed the Faith of The Seven.
Seeing that Arthas was still staring at the Baylor Great Sept and wishing to avoid this dangerous topic, Lancel quickly diverted his attention.
"By the way, why did we go to so much trouble to kidnap a commoner old man?"
He pointed toward the rear of the procession, where a grey-haired old man was tied to the back of a tall Lannister knight's horse.
He wore a crude hempen robe and his bare feet were covered in thick calluses. Despite being bound with ropes, there was no trace of fear in his eyes.
Instead, his eyes were fixed intently on Arthas at the front, his mind calculating something unknown.
"Oh, Lancel, my dear cousin."
Arthas finally seemed to snap out of it, turning to look at the timid-looking Lancel.
Although this fellow was two years older than him, in terms of both physique and Aura, Arthas seemed more like the elder brother.
"If you want to continue working under me, don't ask questions about anything."
In truth, Arthas had looked down on this weak fellow since childhood. He always looked like a pushover, nothing like a powerful Lannister.
However, Lancel was Kevan's eldest son after all. Having just negotiated terms with his father, Arthas couldn't exactly turn around and kick him out immediately.
He could only warn him with a stern tone.
"Also, when we are out on duty, please address me by my title!"
"I... I understand, Commander Arthas!"
Meeting Arthas's slightly angry gaze, Lancel shrank his neck, as if he expected a slap to the Face at any moment.
Seeing Lancel's continued cowardice, Arthas shook his head helplessly. He truly didn't know how a man as bold as Kevan could father such a son.
If it had been Jaime being shouted at like that, he probably would have drawn his sword for a duel long ago.
"Oh, dear Lord Arthas!"
As the Lannister knights arrived at the front of the Baylor Great Sept, they saw a fat man wearing a crystal crown and ornate robes greeting him warmly from a distance.
This large man was the supreme leader of the Faith, the current High Septon.
It couldn't be helped; Arthas's group was making too much noise. Almost all the commoners of King's Landing had been drawn out to watch the spectacle.
Once it became clear their destination was the Baylor Great Sept, the crowded throngs had already packed the area tight, leaving only a single narrow path for the knights to pass.
"Oh, Lord High Septon ."
Looking up at the high-and-mighty fat man, Arthas responded warmly as well, but he did not use his name.
Or rather, he didn't know the man's name at all.
Cultivators of the Faith must renounce their Family names, and the High Septon must renounce his given name.
This was because people believed that the one holding the office of High Septon was no longer a mere man, but the spokesperson for the gods above.
"The gods..." Thinking of this, a flash of excitement crossed Arthas's eyes.
"If you truly exist, then please don't disappoint me!"
Reaching out to gently pat the snowy-white neck of Invincible, Arthas dismounted gracefully. With frostmourne slung over his shoulder, he climbed the steps toward the fat High Septon.
Although the Lannister knights behind him had not yet fully submitted to him, the journey from Casterly Rock to King's Landing had been utterly boring. Now that there was excitement to be seen and participated in, they naturally wouldn't miss the chance.
Over a hundred fully armed knights followed their commander's lead, trailing Arthas's footsteps toward the Sept.
"Lord Arthas, what is the meaning of this?"
Seeing the knights who had almost surrounded the Sept, a trace of fear appeared on the fat High Septon's previously calm Face. He truly didn't know when he had offended this newly appointed Commander of the Gold Cloaks.
"Oh, Lord High Septon, please do not be afraid."
He slowly lowered frostmourne from his shoulder and planted it on the ground before him with a heavy thud. The gentle smile on Arthas's face made it almost impossible to feel any hostility.
He pointed a finger at the fierce-looking knights behind him:
"These subordinates of mine all come from the Westerlands, and their faith in the Seven is incredibly firm."
"Having just arrived in King's Landing today, they were all clamoring to visit the center of the Faith of The Seven—the Baylor Great Sept—to pay their respects."
"I hope we haven't disturbed your peaceful meditations."
"Who the hell are you trying to fool!"
Looking at the kindly-faced Arthas, the fat High Septon was cursing his ancestors eighteen generations back in his heart.
Who comes to pay respects to a Holy Land fully armed!
Though angry, the fat High Septon caved when faced with over a hundred Lannister knights whose chests bore the shining golden lion sigil.
"If that is the case, then please, everyone, sit for a while. I shall personally hold a sermon for the noble knights of the Westerlands!"
The fat High Septon wore a fawning smile, but he was incredibly anxious inside, wanting nothing more than to send these plagues away as quickly as possible.
After all, King Robert had left this morning. In all of King's Landing, no one had the power to stop this commander who held six thousand Gold Cloaks in his hand.
"It's quite alright, Lord High Septon."
Facing the fat High Septon's attempt to please him, Arthas didn't give him any Face at all.
"These fellows have grown accustomed to being unruly in the Westerlands. Asking them to stay quietly in one place would surely make them uncomfortable."
"Just let them wander around on their own and enjoy the sights of the Sept."
With a single command from Arthas, the surrounding Lannister knights instantly understood. They flooded into the Sept like a school of fish.
"This... this won't do."
Seeing these fellows barge into the Sept without hesitation, the fat High Septon was frantic. He pleaded with the immovable Arthas in a tearful voice:
"Lord Arthas, please restrain your men and have them come out at once."
It was no wonder he was so anxious; he had just been preparing to play adult games with two septas, and they were currently tied up stark naked in his room!
"What are you saying?"
Seeing his frantic reaction, a hint of amusement flashed in Arthas's eyes, though his Face feigned anger.
"Does the High Septon not welcome devout believers of The Seven on their pilgrimage?"
"Or perhaps..."
Lifting the sharp frostmourne and approaching the High Septon step by step with an aura of endless pressure, Arthas's words rang in his ears like a judgment:
"Is there some sordid business you don't want me, the commander of the city watch, to know about?"
"Of... of course not."
Being questioned like this, the High Septon felt an aura emanating from Arthas that chilled him to the bone. He was nearly scared to the point of wetting himself as he explained tremulously:
"The Baylor Great Sept is the center of the Faith of The Seven. I only fear that your knights might unintentionally desecrate The Seven."
"Hahaha~"
With a burst of disdainful laughter, nearly half of Arthas's golden eyes turned white.
He raised frostmourne, pointing past the fat High Septon toward the center of the plaza, where the massive statue of Baelor I towered, its compassionate expression seemingly watching over all of King's Landing.
"The Father, The Mother, The Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, The Stranger..."
Arthas listed them off like a familiar inventory, slowly reciting all the names of the Seven:
"Lord High Septon, start praying."
As his cold voice rang out, the former lich king of Azeroth issued his final ultimatum:
"Pray that any one of them shows up quickly."
"Otherwise, your Soul belongs to me!"
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