Rainbow light slanted in through the leaded glass windows in the dome of the council hall, and countless motes of dust danced in the beams. Incense drifted through the air, while the candles before the statues of the Seven glimmered like sparks.
The Seven were one, and one was seven. Starting clockwise, the statues formed a ring: the Father, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Stranger, the Crone, the Smith, and the Mother.
The gentle Mother looked down upon the world with compassion, but her statue was now splashed with brown blood. Her beautiful gemstone eyes had been stolen amid the chaos, leaving the Mother blind.
And it was not only that. The Mother's costly robes, the Crone's gilded lantern, the Father's silver crown, and even the Warrior's gilded longsword had all been snatched away in the disorder.
The candles before the Mother's statue had been knocked askew, and the Maiden's were no better. Only the Stranger, who represented death, had few worshippers. The Stranger's eyes were only black dots, watching life wither away.
The Great Sept, once such a warm and solemn place, had become a bloody battlefield.
"Kill the Sparrows!"
"The Great Sparrow is endangering the High Septon!"
"Drive out these mud-legged Sparrows! They're threatening the septons!"
The Great Sept's own septons shouted at the top of their lungs. They had not had much courage at first, but now that they saw their side had the numbers, and that the Great Sparrow had died here, their courage swelled.
"Kill these corrupt men! They killed the Great Sparrow!"
"Avenge the Great Sparrow!"
The bearded Sparrows in ragged clothes roared back, refusing to yield. The Great Sparrow's death had made them frantic and furious.
Some still kept their senses, and others tried to profit from the confusion, but far more had been driven mad by blood and killing. Clubs and axes swung through the air, and the sound of swords biting down rang out again and again.
Most of these believers wore no armor. They endured it all with flesh and blood alone. The devout of King's Landing, along with the septons and septas Ollidor had summoned, became the greater force once they joined the fight. One by one, the Sparrows fell amid the slaughter.
The bodies of Sparrows, septons, and believers lay scattered everywhere. The scene was utter chaos. Severed hands and limbs had fallen to the floor, and the gravely wounded let out shrill screams.
After several rounds of bloody fighting in the hall, the Great Sparrow was dead, and his most loyal Sparrow guards had also met violent ends. Only a few wounded, frail Sparrows remained around the Great Sparrow's corpse.
"The Great Sparrow is dead."
"The Great Sparrow is dead, Mother have mercy."
The sobbing Sparrows gathered around his body and kissed the Great Sparrow's dark red, blood-soaked clothes. They kissed those dark red garments, tears streaming down their faces.
"Gentle Mother above, blessed with life you give. Watch over every wife, and every child who lives. Smile down and stop the strife, and keep the little ones from harm."
A hymn suddenly rose within the hall. A gray-robed septa who had joined the melee began mourning her sins.
All the badly wounded and all those who had taken part began praying to the Mother as well. Their voices were like waves upon the sea. Slowly, the sound gathered into a river. Everyone fell silent and mourned their sins before the Seven.
Whether they were Sparrows or the Church's young septons and septas, all of them knew the prayers to the Seven by heart. It was only because they had chosen different roads that they had begun killing one another.
"I was protecting you, High Septon."
Archbishop Ollidor stood beside the trembling High Septon and wiped the sweat from his face. The smell of blood and the stench of death nearly made the elderly High Septon vomit.
The Storm had been right. The Great Sparrow's Sparrows were so mad that, once they entered the Great Sept, all of them would become meat on the Great Sparrow's chopping block.
"Ollidor, how could you?" the white-haired High Septon whispered in disbelief. "How could you let good men and women slaughter each other here? Seven save us, the gods will condemn us for turning the Great Sept into a bloody slaughterhouse."
"You are right," Ollidor said, unconcerned.
In his heart, he was cursing the High Septon as a muddled old fool. The Sparrows' greed would only grow greater, yet the High Septon still thought the Great Sparrow was some toy who could be dismissed with a wave of the hand.
Clop, clop, clop.
The sound of horse hooves and the heavy tread of marching infantry rumbled closer. There were soldiers with the striding huntsman badge, soldiers with the rune-stone sigil, soldiers bearing the badge of House Boggs, and soldiers with House Mooton's trout.
Armored soldiers charged in with murderous faces. The onlookers and septons could not help shrinking back. Everyone knew Tarly's dreadful reputation. Bloody Tarly.
"Slaughter. Let me see."
Randyll Tarly raised his eyes and looked over the wrecked council hall, the bodies on the floor and the plundered statues, then gave a cold judgment.
"And theft."
Randyll wore chainmail and boiled leather, with a gray steel breastplate over it. Across his back hung the fearsome greatsword Heartsbane. As overseer of the Dragonpit construction, Tarly had been the first to arrive with his men.
"Lord Randyll, this is truly... alas." Archbishop Ollidor spoke first. "The Sparrows carried the Great Sparrow into our meeting hall and even tried to abduct the High Septon."
"That is so," the other archbishops quickly echoed.
"I did not want matters to become like this, but the Great Sparrow truly was mad," the High Septon said with a bitter face.
"It seems we must prepare a trial," Randyll said.
"By custom, a thief has a finger cut off. Stealing from a sept means stealing what belongs to the gods, which is crime piled upon crime. But given today's chaos, anyone who stole something and returns it now will receive seven lashes. If I discover it myself, it will be seven fingers."
Randyll looked coldly at the believers who had joined the disorder and made his announcement.
Some people could not withstand the pressure and handed over what they had stolen. These included robes, gemstones, even silver-threaded septon robes, among other things.
"Go receive your lashes."
The thieves were taken to the square by Randyll's soldiers, where each was given seven lashes.
The thieves were easy to deal with. The true trouble was the Sparrows.
"Please allow me to mourn them. They are merely lost children of the Mother," the High Septon said, gathering his courage as he looked over the wreckage. Only a few Sparrows remained, lying beside the Great Sparrow and singing a dirge for him.
The Silent Sisters appeared from somewhere and began cleaning up the aftermath.
"They are all lost children. Let them be buried together with the fallen septons," Brother Ollidor suggested. All the dead would be laid to rest in one place.
"Septon Ollidor is a good man," the other septons said one after another.
The clatter of hooves sounded again. Gendry, Yohn Royce, and the others had arrived.
The council hall had already been put largely in order. Only the Great Sparrow's body remained, still surrounded by his last believers.
The Great Sparrow's corpse lay on the floor. Several Sparrows crouched around it, weeping bitterly and sobbing aloud. They were thin, frail Sparrows who had survived by luck.
Gendry wore black leather armor and a yellow cloak, fastened at the shoulder with a black obsidian stag brooch and a red-gold dragon brooch.
"Prince."
Randyll stepped to the side and briefly explained the situation.
Master of Laws Yohn Royce frowned. "For such a thing to happen, this is truly a scandal unseen in a hundred years."
Though House Royce had once been the Bronze Kings, the Vale was not as completely closed off as The North, and House Royce had also intermarried with the Andals.
"It is so, Lord Yohn," the High Septon said with a mournful face.
"What did the Great Sparrow say before he died?" Gendry asked.
"He said it was the Lannisters who killed him, Prince," Archbishop Ollidor replied.
Gendry felt somewhat surprised. The Great Sparrow was devout, but he was certainly no fool. For him to say that at the moment of death meant he had chosen to cooperate with Gendry's performance, finding some path of survival for these Sparrows.
"Prince, though I am Master of Laws, I suggest Lord Randyll handle this matter," Yohn advised. He was descended from the First Men, and it would be awkward for him to meddle in this.
"Lord Randyll," Gendry said, looking at Randyll. "You handle it."
"The Great Sparrow's assault upon the Church is unforgivable, but... considering his many years of service to the people, I ask that he also be buried in the Church crypts," the High Septon said at once.
This was not because his conscience had suddenly awakened. It was because, during his time as High Septon, the Great Sept had become a slaughterhouse, and he could hardly escape blame. If the Church did not make some gesture now, sooner or later another band of Sparrows would arise.
"And these Sparrows are also innocent children who were misled. I ask that we atone for them and lessen their guilt."
"King, High Septon. The Great Sparrow should not rest in some luxurious, splendid cemetery. We ask that he be buried by the side of The Kingsroad. He always served the little villages and their villagers. That is where he belongs," one Sparrow said, gathering his courage.
"Granted," Gendry agreed.
Great Sparrow, Great Sparrow. Sparrows were meant to roost in the wild.
"You few were not the main fighters just now, but you cannot escape the crime of joining the killing. Since the High Septon has pleaded for you," Randyll announced in a deep voice, "what should have been seven lashes will be reduced to three."
Gendry nodded. The few surviving Sparrows prepared to go out, receive their punishment, and then take away the Great Sparrow's body.
"Wait."
Gendry waved a hand, then took off his yellow cloak and strode toward the Great Sparrow's corpse.
Gendry looked down at the Great Sparrow's body. He had been tall and thin, with cold eyes, gray hair, and a face marked by deep wrinkles.
No one knew how many wounds the Great Sparrow's body had suffered. There were dagger thrusts and injuries from clubs, piercing wounds and blunt wounds alike. His body was a mangled mess of blood and flesh, yet his face had not been harmed.
"It is our duty as knights that this aged septon was reduced to a Sparrow, and that these people were reduced to Sparrows. Knights exist to protect the weak and the innocent. Knights should protect the people."
Gendry covered the Great Sparrow's body with his yellow cloak.
This is what you would have wanted too, Great Sparrow. Fewer Sparrows in the world. It was not the Great Sparrow's ambition that created the Sparrows, but these mad and hypocritical lords and knights.
"Because we are guilty, we repent."
The High Septon and the archbishops also began to mourn, repenting for their sins and guilt.
"You have the spirit of a true knight. Thank you for not cutting off the Great Sparrow's head."
The remaining Sparrows knelt at Gendry's feet with tears of gratitude, then kissed the ground where he stood.
With tears in their eyes, the surviving Sparrows walked out of the hall and received three lashes. Then, sick and limping, they lifted the Great Sparrow's body, intending to take him back to a small village on The Kingsroad for burial.
"Where will you go afterward?" someone asked curiously.
"The Westerlands. The Sparrows will not forget their hatred for the Lion."
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