The Sparrow was gone, but the blood remained.
With the Great Sparrow dead, his dream of a church-state had vanished like smoke.
History shaped heroes, but heroes also drove history forward.
As the bloodstains and corpses inside the Great Sept were cleaned away, the statues of the Seven were set back in their places.
The Sparrows left with the Great Sparrow's body. Ironically, when he died, he had been covered in the king's cloak. The thieves were punished, and the other onlookers dispersed.
Under the protection of soldiers, only a group of great lords and senior Church officials remained in the hall. The atmosphere was quiet and oppressive.
Outside the hall, by Baelor's statue, the Silent Sisters silently gathered the bones. Those bones would be buried in the Church cemetery together with the people who had died in the Great Sept of Baelor.
"A dangerous enemy."
The Great Sparrow was as dead as a man could be, yet Gendry felt none of the usual joy of victory.
"Fat and bloated, every one of them. But these fools truly have no ability to struggle for power."
Gendry looked at the High Septon and the archbishops, who were all standing properly in place. But this was exactly the sort of uselessness a king needed.
"This is a scandal the Church has not seen in a hundred years. I will certainly impose strict discipline," the High Septon said with a mournful face, apologizing to Gendry again and again.
For killing to break out directly inside the Great Sept was a blasphemy and a failure on the High Septon's part.
"I will sell some of the Church's golden crowns and splendid robes, exchange them for grain, and have Prince distribute it to the people and the army."
This High Septon at least had some kindness in him. He was far better than the fat man who had been torn apart by the mob before him.
The archbishops raised no objections. Power was far too frightening.
These men did not have the Great Sparrow's pious will or ascetic spirit, nor did they have his charisma. They could only place their hopes in the protection of the royal family and the knights.
Gendry was satisfied with the High Septon's attitude. Under the Sparrows' terror, they had finally learned a little compassion for the world.
"Take the lesson from this incident to heart. Only when there is peace will things like this stop happening."
"Yes. Yes. Of course," the High Septon said repeatedly.
"One man dead is better than a whole crowd dead."
Gendry looked across the empty hall. The Great Sparrow had indeed chosen the right ground. He had seen those who suffered. The weak and the overlooked had been the Great Sparrow's foundation.
First came the common people. The wretched world of the Riverlands and parts of the Crownlands, where nearly all had been driven from their homes by the Lion's rampage. The Great Sparrow had wanted to stay in King's Landing because King's Landing also had no shortage of poor.
Then came the lower knights. Most were retainers of lords or hedge knights, though a few came from great houses: second sons and younger sons with no inheritance, local lords, or old men trying to wash away their sins.
Under Gendry's strict demands, the Wolfpups had behaved themselves, and The North itself had not sent out so many soldiers. The war in the Riverlands had not raged for as long as it might have, so the Sparrows' strength had already been reduced by quite a bit. Even so, they were still a force that could not be underestimated.
"But before you died, you helped me, Great Sparrow. This world should be at peace. It is better for there to be fewer and fewer Sparrows. Was that not your ideal too? But you should never have dared touch power."
The Great Sparrow had been no small danger. In the long winter and amid the fires of war, people needed a little faith.
The Great Sparrow had been the one who, in that tide of confusion, wanted to command wind and rain through religion.
His ambition was no weaker than that of any lord. He wanted to rebuild the Order of the Holy Sword and the Warrior's Sons, to turn the Church into an independent pillar of power, perhaps even one standing above the secular king.
"Only peace, only when the people can live and work in security, will they not drown themselves in religion."
Gendry stroked the hilt of his longsword. Killing could not solve every problem. The Lion's cruelty toward the people would inevitably bring the Sparrows' backlash.
Aside from killing, there also had to be appeasement. Just like the relationship between summer and winter. On the stage of power, there was never any need for too many players.
"If the Great Sparrow had not died, he would have become a great problem," Randyll said softly. "What sort of sense would that make? Would kings and lords have to dance to the chirping of Sparrows from now on?"
"That is why he is dead," Gendry said, looking at Randyll.
Randyll's eye had always been sharp.
Randyll said no more. A light came into his eyes. As he looked at Gendry, he seemed to understand something.
If Randyll wanted to keep winning, then he had to follow the strongest. And who could be the Storm's opponent?
Randyll sighed. "If every lord were a strong knight capable of protecting his people, there would not be so many weeping Sparrows."
"Most of the Sparrows are common folk from the Riverlands. They have suffered too much," Bronze Yohn said bitterly.
The Vale was somewhat better off. Hiding inside its shell, it was rarely drawn into war. The Riverlands, however, was where everyone came to take a bite.
The Riverlands were the heartland battlefield of Westeros, a place fought over from every direction. Every war left it broken. The Dance of the Dragons, the Battle of The Trident during the War of the Usurper, and now the latest ravaging by the Westerlands.
"Let us go look at the Dragonpit," Gendry said.
Without his cloak, he seemed more at ease.
"The Dragonpit is ready," Randyll said with a nod. There was indeed no need to linger in this blood-reeking place.
The group took their leave of the High Septon, mounted their horses, and rode toward the Dragonpit on another hill, where golden battle standards and the banners of the Swift Hunters were flying.
At the Dragonpit of King's Landing, the huge dome above had mostly been smashed away, but most of the sturdy walls remained undamaged and could still be used.
The enormous bronze gate of the Dragonpit was also in good condition, and the smaller oak doors had been reinstalled.
Men carrying timber, men carrying stones, and soldiers hurried back and forth. The soldiers were busy everywhere, and there were tents in the square where they lived. Randyll himself had taken the lead in staying here.
"Prince Gendry, Lord Randyll, Lord Yohn."
The soldiers saluted them one after another.
Because the construction schedule was too tight, even with stone, discarded dome materials, and ship timber available, Randyll had first built a square ring of barracks in the very center according to military camp standards, with a plaza in the middle.
"Later, there will also be a warriors' hall for the soldiers, but that will take too long to build. The Hall of Honor will consist of seven buildings," Randyll explained. "The plaza, the living quarters, and the chapel will be the whole of this Hall of Honor for now."
Gendry saw the temporary high platform. When the king's coronation came, many benches would be placed there. The lords would sit in the front rows, while the common people would be behind them.
Aside from the Dragonpit, they would also go to the Great Sept of Baelor when the time came.
"This is already very good, Lord Randyll. For the sake of my coronation, do not mistreat the soldiers and workers who labored here."
"As you command, Prince."
"If the Dragonpit becomes a place for wounded and disabled soldiers to live, then where will the dragons live? Once dragons appear, the warhorses will go mad," Randyll asked quietly after thinking for a moment.
"For now, the dragons will stay on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush and on Dragonstone. As for King's Landing, the Dragonpit's current structure certainly will not do for housing dragons," Gendry explained.
Gendry was very satisfied with Randyll's arrangements. The Dragonpit had been chosen as the venue, and the coronation ceremony had to be flawless.
"Great Lord Eddard Stark has returned with his family, along with some lords from The North and the Riverlands."
Anguy the Archer rode into the Dragonpit on a white horse and announced the news.
"I did not expect the people of The North to arrive fastest," Yohn said lightly. Besides The North, there were also ladies from The Reach, Dorne, and even the Stormlands.
"I will go welcome the lords of The North and the Riverlands first," Gendry said. "I will leave this place to you, Lord Randyll."
The lords from the other regions were surely not far away either.
"It is my honor, Prince," Randyll said with a bow.
...
Gendry and the others rode on and saw the procession north of The Kingsroad by the Old Gate. Lord Roose Bolton had joined them as well.
Banners stretched one after another, with knights and soldiers escorting the party. Proud vassals, knights, sworn knights, and freeriders filled the road.
The gray-white running wolf banner appeared again, along with the leaping trout banner, and the banners of the great lords of the Riverlands and The North.
Gendry saw many familiar faces. Great Lord Eddard's stern, long face had regained some color. The somewhat reckless red-haired young man was Edmure. There was also Eddard's wife, Catelyn, and their two daughters, Sansa and Arya. One was a fish, the other a wolf.
"Prince," Great Lord Eddard said as he rose. "It is my honor to attend your coronation."
Great Lord Edmure and the others dismounted as well, and grooms came forward to look after their horses. After the greetings came the introductions: the great lords, their children, and then the other lords.
"Prince."
Sansa Stark's hair was the auburn of autumn, and her eyes were the deep blue of House Tully. She looked delicate and lovely, with a tall, graceful figure.
"Good day, Lady Sansa," Gendry said, smiling back at her.
Sansa blushed politely. This girl cared far too much about good looks.
As for the other girl, Arya Stark, she had the typical Stark features: a long face, gray eyes, and brown hair. There was a wildness to her.
"Prince."
At her family's insistence, Arya curtsied to Gendry. She had finally found proper shoes and was dressed like a lady.
Arya studied Gendry. He was tall, strong, and solidly built. Now he did not look like a Smith, but like the most glorious of knights, the demon of the Whispering Wood and the Blackwater Rush.
"A dangerous girl," Gendry thought. Though Arya was still young, she had survived in the wild for a long time. She had even killed several people with her own hands. True wolf blood.
Eddard glanced at his younger daughter. Life in the wild had made her even rougher. True wolf blood, with calluses on her feet and wounds on her body.
"Is that good or bad?" Eddard did not know the answer. "That wild wolf blood."
"Will Arya still become a Faceless Man?" Gendry was in fact rather curious.
"We must thank Thoros of Myr, and the Brotherhood Without Banners. They found her and brought her back," Eddard said kindly.
"Great Lord Eddard's girl can fight quite well. She broke one of my men's noses," the red priest Thoros said with a laugh.
Arya's expression remained calm. She had once felt frustrated that she was worse than Sansa at everything, but now she had made up her mind to become herself. She rode well, and she was strong.
The red priest and Beric Dondarrion had also come here, while some of the Brotherhood Without Banners were still hunting down broken men and bandits in the Riverlands.
"We lost the banner," Beric said in shame.
"You completed your task. You have not disgraced the name of knight," Gendry comforted him.
Gendry also saw old Rickard's son.
Harrion Karstark was a young man. He had a beard and looked fierce. He wore a black cloak decorated with a white sun.
"Your father was a heroic and fearless warrior. I am sorry," Gendry said.
"That is a warrior's fate, Prince. I heard my father died bravely," Lord Harrion replied frankly.
Gendry patted the young man on the shoulder. Between father and son, the father's feelings were still stronger. The Karstark sons were not so impulsive because they had long expected death.
At the very rear of the procession, Gendry saw an unexpected acquaintance.
"The Hound."
The tall man with half his face eaten by fire was Sandor Clegane.
"He killed Jared Frey and some bandits, Prince," Thoros quickly explained. "The Hound also escorted Lady Arya, so..."
"Your courage and your bastardry balance each other out again," Gendry said, looking at the Hound.
The Hound's eyes were full of confusion.
"I beg you to show me a road, even if that road is killing me," the Hound said, kneeling with pain written across his face. "I was never made a knight, and I threw away the white cloak. Now I'm drifting, not knowing whether I'm alive or dead."
"Go to the Dragonpit. Lord Randyll needs men like you to work there. You are no knight. For now, you are an ordinary soldier. Find your road in life there."
Gendry looked at the Hound. He had clearly lost his purpose and fallen into confusion. Some hard labor at the Dragonpit would do him good.
"Yes."
The Hound rose as though pardoned.
Gendry arranged a place for the Starks to stay, but the Stark family would rather die than live in the Red Keep again.
That place still bore the traces of Northern deaths, so in the end, they stayed in the camp.
...
South of the Blackwater Rush, Gendry hurried back to the Blackwater Rush camp without stopping, bringing Daenerys with him. The dragons followed them as well.
As it happened, they met the new guests, the large Tyrell family of The Reach. They would be staying in the western "Rose Camp," but had come first to pay their respects.
Gendry and Daenerys rode out to meet them. In the air above were the dragons' breath and their shadows.
Margaery hurriedly dismounted, while her grandmother and mother also stepped down from the wheeled pavilion.
"Your Highnesses," Margaery called. She wore green, with brown hair and brown eyes, slender and beautiful. "I am so glad you came. You have given me a great honor."
"Just call me Daenerys," Daenerys said with a smile, then helped Margaery up.
Gendry helped the Rose's mother and grandmother rise. Ser Garlan, Ser Loras, and Lord Mace attended beside the ladies.
"How kind of you to come meet me and this flock of silly hens and foolish roses," Lady Olenna said. "The Dragonlords of old were never so approachable."
"You are truly amusing," Gendry said with a laugh. "They are only little dragons. Compared with dragons, I prefer smithing."
"A dragon is a dragon," Lady Olenna said seriously.
The old woman smelled of rose perfume. She was small and thin, but full of thorns.
"I have known several generations of your family, though not closely. Your great-grandfather Ormund was the only one of his generation to marry into the Dragonlords, and that came after his father, the Laughing Storm, rebelled. Your grandfather Steffon, Tywin, and Aerys were the three-headed beast, but your grandfather had poor luck."
"I miss their faces and voices," Gendry said.
"Night comes equally to everyone," Olenna said rather flatly. "Only the way of dying differs. Your great-grandfather died on the battlefield. Your grandfather died at sea. Not like my husband, the former Great Lord Luthor. He was a fool. Kind-hearted, and not useless in bed, but his mind simply would not turn a corner. Do you know, he actually fell off a cliff while hawking. They said he was staring at the sky the whole time and never noticed his horse."
"Mother," Lord Mace said in a low voice, his face turning red.
"Enough, son. I know you are an important court minister. I am merely stating an objective fact."
Gendry spread his hands. "That is unfortunate."
Daenerys and Margaery continued to keep their sweet smiles.
"Your Highnesses, during the ceremony, please keep us some distance from the Dornishmen. Whenever I see them, my mood suffers."
Gendry and Daenerys nodded.
"Prince, we have also brought some grain," Lady Olenna said. "Consider it an early gift prepared for the king."
"Thank you for your generosity," Gendry said.
The shrieking dragons circled in the air, then landed on the ground, pacing around Gendry and Daenerys.
Lady Olenna's eyes widened. She saw the dragons. Margaery's face paled slightly, but she still gathered her courage and looked at them.
Lady Olenna looked into the black dragon's lava-like eyes, the green dragon's eyes, and the white dragon's molten-gold eyes.
"To see dragons is to rejoice."
***
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