A blazing sun stretched across the sky.
In an instant, brilliant light flooded the world, and King's Landing became as bright as day.
Standing at the edge of the Great Sept's pulpit and looking north, one could see a city in ruins, survivors wailing, and the cold, merciless wights hunting the living.
Every detail was laid bare.
"Chi chi chi~~~~"
Under the sunlight, wisps of cold white vapor rose from the pale skin of the undead, like red-hot iron pressed against fatty meat.
The vapor had barely risen before it was instantly dispersed by the intense, almost scorching sunlight.
The world became utterly clear, leaving no room for cold mist to exist.
At the very least, the chill mist emitted by mere wights could not withstand such overwhelming sunlight.
The wights' nimble movements became sluggish. Some even raised their hands to shield their indifferent faces from the light.
They abandoned their massacre of the living in King's Landing and began retreating weakly, fleeing toward places farther from the blazing sun.
Inside the sept, the clergy continued chanting scriptures, but they had switched from the "Mother's Hymn" to the "Maiden of Light Hymn." Outside, a white-robed priest broke the silence and shouted excitedly:
"The night is long and full of danger, but with the Maiden by my side, I am not alone. Glory to the Maiden of Light!"
After the arrival of the Long Night, "the night is long" was no longer exclusive to R'hllor's prayers.
"Glory to the Maiden of Light!" Soon, all the living in the city joined the chant.
"Seal the gates! Do not let the wights escape King's Landing! The Maiden of Light is with us. Slay the Others and ascend to heaven!"
Randall Tarly, clad in a multicolored striped cloak, raised his dragonbone blade and roared.
His spirit was completely different from before. Though it was his first time facing the undead, he erupted with unprecedented fighting spirit and vitality.
Because he was fighting for glory, for faith, and for the people. Hope shone like the great sun above, dazzling and unmistakable. He would never lose his way.
"Slay the Others, ascend to heaven!" Hundreds and thousands of the Warrior's Sons, frenzied with zeal, raised their dragonglass weapons and echoed in unison.
Like a surging tide, they rushed down Visenya's Hill, sweeping through the streets and eliminating every smoking figure under the sunlight.
The Maiden of Light was with the warriors of the Faith.
The great sun formed by a hundred fire spirits split into two, one large and one small. The larger remained suspended above King's Landing, while the smaller, formed by ten fire spirits, moved above the heads of the Warrior's Sons.
The sunlight was blindingly intense.
It was not until the afternoon of the second day that the large-scale battle finally came to an end. During this time, Dragonstone airdropped over ten tons of dragonglass to the sept, and hundreds of Dawn Warriors arrived from Harrenhal.
Of course, the followers of the Red God did not allow the Faith of the Seven to take all the glory. Not only did Stannis, who had been shot several times by Euron, return, but the remnants of his army also held flaming swords and blades, firmly blocking the wight army attempting a strategic retreat at the city gates.
Just like what Melisandre did in the final season of Game of Thrones, she ignited thousands of weapons alone. While the effect on White Walkers was uncertain, it was barely sufficient for cutting down wights.
After the battle, the able-bodied beggar army that had remained in the Great Sept spread through the streets and alleys, clearing out isolated wights hiding in the shadows. They also carried the corpses of wights killed by dragonglass weapons to the square in front of the sept.
Some citizens stood numbly at their doorsteps, watching the clergy and the Faith's armed forces moving back and forth. Others wailed as they searched through piles of corpses for their loved ones. Some voluntarily joined the beggar army, helping to carry bodies while cautiously collecting valuables from the wights. When they encountered animal corpses, they brought them home to preserve.
The clergy had assured the people that consuming animals turned into wights was harmless and carried no sin, though eating human flesh was forbidden.
In truth, there were few animal wights in King's Landing. Many starving citizens secretly hoarded plump cuts of meat that bore obvious human characteristics.
By the afternoon of the third day, roughly one hundred thousand corpses had been gathered across the city, forming a small mountain in the vast square before the sept.
The living, whether Braavosi mercenaries, northern knights, Vale soldiers, or common folk, all came.
They stood on the outskirts of Visenya's Hill to bid farewell to their companions and loved ones within the mountain of corpses.
Hundreds of white-robed priests chanted the "Stranger's Hymn" together, performing rites to guide the dead, allowing the defiled portion of their souls to ascend to heaven.
This ritual had been arranged because some nobles had questioned the clergy: Why had their father, who wore a pardon scroll, still turned into a wight? And why did the wight father seem to recognize them, specifically chasing them to bite, even knowing to use a spare key hidden beneath a flowerbed to open the door?
One soul, two spirits. This was the official explanation of the Faith.
After giving an explanation, there had to be a solution: send them to the Faith for purification and burn them to ashes.
This also brought some benefit to the Dragon Queen. As the priests chanted the "Demon-Hunting" liturgy, large amounts of spiritual essence flowed into the faith space.
The burning lasted for most of the day. Just as everyone, physically and mentally exhausted, prepared to leave, another change occurred.
At the very front of the crowd, the Warrior's Sons, their multicolored cloaks stained with blood, were suddenly enveloped in beams of light.
Among the several thousand Warrior's Sons, four to five hundred were struck by golden pillars of light descending from the sky.
"Has the Mother descended?" Bronze Yohn, standing near the front, craned his neck and asked a nearby priest.
"This should be the Mother's divine grace," the coarse-robed priest replied uncertainly.
"What is divine grace?" Jon, standing beside Bronze Yohn, asked in confusion.
"It means that after purging evil and upholding the righteous path, the Mother may grant rewards. But this is also my first time seeing such a scene, so I'm not certain…"
Before he could finish speaking, the pillars of light vanished in an instant, leaving only faintly glowing golden runes that slowly faded from the foreheads of the Warrior's Sons.
"Ah, it truly is divine grace! Count Tarly and the others have all become paladins!" the coarse-robed priest cried excitedly.
"Paladins? Four to five hundred of them? Where would you even get that many wyverns? Even if you had them, you couldn't afford to raise them. Just twenty wyverns nearly bankrupted Stannis. He has to fish in the bay every day," Jon said, puzzled.
"Why not go ask them?" Bronze Yohn's eyes flickered as he pushed into the excited crowd of priests.
Seeing his distinctive bronze armor and house sigil, the people around him immediately recognized his identity. Not only did they not stop him, they made way for him.
After a brief hesitation, Jon followed.
"Hey, old friend, you've truly escaped your suffering now!" Yohn greeted warmly, giving Randall a big embrace.
Randall Tarly's body stiffened. He was not used to, nor did he like, Yohn's sudden familiarity, but given their respective statuses, he could not rudely push him away.
"Greetings, Lord Yohn," he said with a forced expression.
"I truly envy you. To be honest, I've long wanted to stop following that heretic Stannis, but twenty thousand Vale men came out with me. The responsibility is too great," Yohn sighed softly.
The words were somewhat too familiar for their level of acquaintance.
Randall Tarly remained expressionless and said nothing.
Unbothered, Bronze Yohn continued to pour out his frustrations.
"Just think about it. What kind of situation is this? We Vale men were living peaceful lives. If not for the great ideal of ending the chaos, who would leave their homes and travel thousands of miles to King's Landing?
"And after finally taking the city, the way the people look at us… I doubt even Tywin during the Sack of King's Landing was treated as badly as I am now.
"We came to liberate the city. We should have been welcomed with flower petals and cheers, riding tall horses into the Red Keep surrounded by honor. Instead…
"Half the city is burned, the Red Keep is in ruins, and over five thousand Vale soldiers have died to wildfire and the subsequent wight breakout."
Randall Tarly's face remained stiff, without a trace of emotion.
Yohn did not care about Randall's reaction. He simply needed someone with similar experiences to vent to.
In his view, Randall, who had submitted to Euron and Cersei, and himself, who had reluctantly served Stannis, were the same kind of people. Their ranks and status were similar as well.
"I'm very lost about the future. I also want to join the Warrior's Sons. What do you think?" he asked tentatively at the end.
"As you wish," Randall replied indifferently.
"But King's Landing's future is uncertain, and the remaining Vale soldiers are lost and helpless. I can't bear to abandon them," Yohn said painfully.
"What exactly are you trying to say? I have already devoted myself to the Faith and no longer participate in the political games of the Seven Kingdoms," Randall said. He was no political novice and had already sensed something deeper in Yohn's words.
Glancing at Jon beside him, Yohn spoke without restraint. "I want to lead the Vale soldiers back home. Can the Faith help convert His Majesty Stannis and persuade him to let us go?"
"Saint Matthew has already left," Randall said, the corner of his mouth twitching.
"There are other archbishops, aren't there?"
Randall replied calmly, "Not everyone is Saint Matthew. Think about it yourself. How many people in the world can survive being pierced through the heart, castrated and reattached, beaten for days and nights, and still remain unharmed?"
"But the compassion and the will to sacrifice oneself to save others…"
"Compassion is common, but ordinary people simply do not have the qualification to sacrifice themselves in that way," Randall said impatiently.
After a pause, he added, "We followers of the Mother are devout, but we are not fools."
In truth, you could summon the Mother and use her divine palm to physically convert my king.
Yohn thought this to himself but did not dare say it aloud.
If word got out, Stannis would ensure he was sent to heaven first with dragonfire.
Yohn fell silent. Jon took over the conversation and asked, "Lord Tarly, the priest said you received the Mother's divine grace. Is it the mark of a paladin?"
Yohn also looked over curiously.
"It is only the mark of a paladin, not the mark of a wyvern rider."
"What can it do?" Yohn asked.
Randall hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no need to conceal it. Miracles needed to be widely spread.
"It grants Endurance, Strength, Warrior's Sword, First-tier Holy Healing, Zero-tier Holy Light, and Second-tier Holy Flame. Six divine spells in total," he said.
"Ah, Commander, you actually have six divine spells? I only have three: Zero-tier Holy Light, First-tier Holy Healing, and Strength," Sir Theodore exclaimed in shock and envy.
"I only have one, Zero-tier Holy Light."
"I have two, Holy Healing and Strength."
"I also have two, but different from yours."
"Alas, I did not receive the Mother's blessing. I must try harder next time!"
Hearing the discussions among the Warrior's Sons, Bronze Yohn asked in confusion, "What is going on? Does each person receive different divine grace from the Mother?"
Searching through his mind, Randall found a piece of information and said thoughtfully, "The paladin class is the same, but there are levels. I am a third-tier paladin."
(End of Chapter)
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