Celestial Hymn 21 (Patreon)

Celestial Hymn
Chapter 21

-VB-

I looked upon the finished sculpture, surrounded by septons and septas as well as the workers they had brought to move it.

“It … is beautiful,” the highest-ranked septon muttered next to me.

I wanted to argue that it wasn’t; the sculpture in question rated no more than average among my sculptures, but I also knew that my words would fall on deaf ears. I knew as I made this thing that it would have an abnormal effect on the believers of the Seven. It was, after all, made to act as a conduit and connection from the Seven to their followers. Of course, it would have abnormal effects on the people.

“This is my donation to the Faith of the Seven,” I turned to look at the man.

The man, the current High Septon of the Faith of the Seven, turned to me as well with tears in his eyes.

“Y-You… You have spoken with them.”

It was a statement, not a question. It was in how awed he looked and not curious or questioning in any matter. He believed his words to be true.

Perhaps the Seven have already started talking to him.

I wondered if the Seven cared about the true piety of their followers because I didn’t think that the current High Septon was a particularly pious man.

His second, however, was. That man, a younger man who I have seen helping incognito in soup kitchens during my visit to King’s Landing, remained kneeling in front of the statue, almost openly weeping.

But then again, I was not one of the Seven. I didn’t particularly care to personal measure the piety of a person. Who knows, maybe my standards weren’t the same or even logically similar to that of the Seven?

Regardless, I have fulfilled my part of the contract.

“Take back to the Starry Sept,” I urged. “Somewhere it can be cared for properly and not subject to as much politicking as the King’s Landing.”

There was no argument about that.

I oversaw the loading of the statue and even personally helped them move out of my workshop.

It was only once I did that I found myself not alone but with another person. This person was not human.

No, there was too much magic I could feel about them for them to be a person.

“So. Why are you here, Stranger?” I asked the man. “I never knew that the Seven manifested themselves.”

“It’s a one-time event,” the black-haired and hooded man replied with a smile without looking at me. He looked out towards the caravan now taking the statue away from here. “As well as deliver you your reward.”

I hummed as I turned away from him and the gate to return to my real work. War was coming, after all.

“In the future-”

I paused.

“-Someone will hire the Faceless Men to remove you from the board. You’re too powerful for them, you see.”

“Is it Cersei Lannister?”

He shrugged. “I care not for who or what. When that request comes, the Faceless Men will refuse, because I would have told them that you are to be spared the mercy of death at their hands.”

“... How reassuring. Thanks,” I replied with an actual smile. I really was happy about that. Faceless Men, a threat I had not been focusing too much on, really scared me. I wasn’t at the level that I could tell if someone was a Faceless Man or something like that as of the moment. “Is that supposed to be the ‘protection’ you meant when we first talked?”

“It is.”

“Thanks. Now, if you could leave me alone…?”

I heard no response, so I looked over my shoulder and saw no one else there.

Figures. Gods, they were dramatic ones.

---

I, of course, heard the news about a new connection that the High Septon found with the Seven. Oldtown soon became an even greater site of pilgrimage for the Faith of the Seven, and there have been even smallfolk living on my lands petitioning for my help to go on their own pilgrimage.

I, of course, refused them.

The hell were they thinking? They were still being fucking punished! The irrigation system wasn’t even done, never mind the aqueduct! Did they think that just because some big new thing happened that I would be distracted from what they did before?

HA!

… Maybe in a few years’ time, but until then, they wouldn’t get help from me.

However, I did not prohibit them from making the pilgrimage.

At the same time, I emphasized how much more their fellows would be forced to work on their behalf if they chose to leave now.

The last threat was enough for most to shut up and keep their own in line.

-VB-

A month after the Voice of the Seven (that’s what they called my statue in the Stary Septs), my Forge made an attempt and then subsided without anything to show for its attempt.

Despite nothing new to show for it with the Forge, my month between two attempts had been extremely productive.

First, I had done some work making plans for the leatherwork skill’s products. Some of this investigation turned out great. Others, not so much. One of the bad interactions was the material requirement. Silk, for example, was expensive, even for me, and the quantity of silk required by some of the leatherworking recipes… Yeah, too expensive for an armor a normal soldier was going to wear. In the end, I decided that the armor set provided to my soldiers would be a combination of Green Leather Armor, Green Leather Belt, Hillman’s Cloak, Hillman’s Leather Gloves, Comfortable Leather Hat, and Hillman’s Leather Shoulders. Everything else, they would have to get on their own. These armor pieces would also be worn on top of their normal clothes, so I was protecting their back, torso, arms, and head.

Second, using that template, I had gone and made … a lot of armor sets. Specifically speaking, I went and made a thousand kits, enough to armor all of my men twice over.

Third, I went out recruiting for more men-at-arms. Currently, I only had three hundred men-at-arms, but for the War of the Five Kings, that wasn’t anywhere enough to hold my own ground. I still had time - years, in fact - but there was no such thing as over-preparation, and so I sent out heralds and messengers. I expected to at least double my numbers by the end of the year.

Fourth and lastly, I did some crafting for my sake as well.

The Ionic Chainsaw from before became a part of my outfit, but instead of leaving it as it was, I took a gamble and enchanted it.

The result?

Instead of a static tool, the Ionic Chainsaw became a cognitohazardous memetic weapon of war. To look upon me wielding it as my enemy was to feel a magnified fear, which only would grow worse the closer one got to me. I also etched blood-red runes onto the surface of the once smooth surface of the chainsaw, which added another layer to the fear.

As for appearance and armor, I doubled down on the cloak and staff of the magicians. However, I added a crown, if humble and more of a circlet than an actual crown, that would float instead of sitting on the crown of my skull.

Oh, and then I painted and dyed everything in purple and red.

It was also at the end of this that I got a new message.

Jon Arryn died in his sleep.

And the canon… was starting.