Some folks had to move out of the way.
It wasn't a sentiment for Bronn; it was his goal. Oldtown had too many power holders, the biggest being the Citadel, and then came the Starry Sept of Oldtown, a sept no less grand than King's Landing's Great Sept of Baelor.
Currently, the Starry Sept was being run by the Most Devout, the senior members of the Faith who had gone beyond mere septons. They controlled the faith in that city and most of the Reach. They were old, greedy fucks. And they hated Bronn for being a disruptor.
"...Faith of the Seven's strong, not 'cause the Gods swing swords for you. It's strong 'cause you believe. You whisper to the Father for justice, the Mother for a bit of safety, the Warrior for steel in your gut, the Smith for muscle, the Maiden for innocence, the Crone for brains, and the Stranger… well, best pray He doesn't look back at you. Fear no man, no blade, no rule. Fear only the eyes of the Seven. Now, pray after me..."
With that, Bronn ended the once-a-week mass. He used a cane to walk that day, even when he didn't need one. He was mostly healed already. But there was more to gain from pity than strength.
Clank!
Cank!
The coins in the donation box jingled more than usual as the people left one by one. That day, even Lord Leyton Hightower had come.
"This way, my Lord." Bronn led Lord Leyton to his healing room, which was also like his solar. "Have a seat."
Walking over to his cupboard, Bronn took out a clear crystal bottle and two small clear glasses. It was like a small wine cup, but made of glass. Then he placed them on the table and poured the red liquid into the glasses.
"Have a taste, my Lord," Bronn said, settling in with his own cup. "Seven save us, you're here about that back pain?"
"And more." Lord Leyton said, taking the crystal clear glass with curiosity. He brought it close to his lips and felt like the liquid was burning hot. He tried to smell it, and his nose felt the same, like warm, spicy fumes were coming from it. But it didn't sting. "Amusing."
Just a little, Lord Leyton sipped the drink.
Screech!
Lord Leyton rose to his feet, his eyes wide, face slightly red. He took another sip and licked his lips, and then another sip. His face became even redder, but the more he drank, the more energized he looked.
"S-Seven Blessing! What is this, Septon Bronn?!"
Bronn smiled like a saint. "It's not a medicine, my Lord. It's just a brew I made from my own concocted mixtures and spices. I call it Firewhiskey."
"..."
"Firewhiskey, the name fits! It scorches tongue and throat, yet leaves me soothed. Even the very air tastes sweeter after it. And my body… I feel rejuvenated with courage. I've never sipped something like this. Gods, even Arbor Gold is piss before this!"
Bronn kept that solemn smile. "Seven bless you for the praise, my Lord."
"Sell this to me!"
"Not even if I prayed till the Stranger came for me, Your Grace. Making this single bottle was a work of sleepless nights. The ingredients are delicate, needing me to pray, recite, and concoct mixtures. This single bottle took me two weeks to make." Bronn declined promptly. "If the Gods grant me strength for more, I'll see it sent your way."
With a disappointed expression, Lord Leyton looked at the half-empty glass and sighed. Then he gulped the rest of it and savored the taste for some time before sitting down again.
"Malora is well, her belly swells," Lord Leyton eyed Bronn sternly. "Yet I bring more than tidings. It was no more than chance that I rode to meet you when the blades came out for you. Had I tarried, you would have bled out on the cobbles. The men we captured were sellswords, bought with gold. Yet none knew who set them on you. But we confiscated their gold and… the coins were clean. Far too clean. Like each one of them was wiped with hands, just like…"
"Sept's donations." Bronn finished the words.
Lord Leyton said nothing directly after that. "I know what goes on beyond what we see. Any hall where men grasp for power is steeped in intrigue. Red Keep, Citadel, or Sept, it matters not. While we lack a name to blame, I would advise you to be attentive."
Bronn smiled and nodded.
"I will be mindful of it, my Lord."
"I have strengthened your guard in the city with four more men," Lord Leyton said, rising to his feet. "And there is this besides. My daughter Lynesse may come to you. She is restless of late, and word has reached her that your blessings and prayers may bring her comfort."
Bronn bowed his head solemnly. "I will hear her woes, and if her mind needs softening, I have a draught for that."
With that, Lord Leyton left his humble House of Seven Blessings.
"Septa Unella." He called for the lovely Septa and leered at her delicious, curvy frame when she entered. "Prepare the confession chamber. Lady Lynesse Hightower will be coming."
"I understand, Lord Septon."
Once Unella left, Bronn pulled his table drawer and opened a small box with holes in it. He tapped the bright colored spiders inside it, and like loyal pets, the spiders ran up his finger and vanished under his sleeves.
Let's go, little friends.
He stood up and walked out of the building. Dressed in his usual septon robes and seven-colored belt, he'd even washed his hair that day. He'd announced beforehand that he wouldn't receive any sick that day.
There were greater matters to deal with.
"Lord Septon."
"My eyes have been blessed."
Passing through the streets, he felt no less than a famed knight. The men, women, and even children recognized him. The scholars and the maesters walking around were his usual customers, buying rejuvenation potions.
Eventually, he crossed the Rosebridge and entered the Incense Street that led directly to the Starry Sept. The massive, dome-shaped building was just as majestic, but for Bronn, it was an eyesore. The very source of his troubles.
Time to make this city mine.
Bronn wasn't blind to who attacked him. He didn't need Lord Leyton to tell him anything. He had his own ways, and really, he'd healed not just smallfolk but a few septons from the Starry Sept as well. He didn't even need to ask them to be his eyes and ears. They volunteered.
Too bad, the old fucks that were the Most Devout refused to accept his blessings. They only gave him two options. Either become their tool, or die.
We'll see who dies first. Time to be bold.
Bronn walked up the stairs and entered through the grand gates of the sept. The nearby septas and septons greeted him as if he were their superior, despite being younger. And it didn't take long before a senior septon came over.
"This way."
Cold, disrespectful. Bronn felt it in the way that the senior septon carried himself. Bronn wasn't very liked by the senior members despite being the most loved and respected in the city.
"The Most Devouts will see you inside," said the senior septon once they reached a large door. "Speak only when—"
"I know." Bronn didn't bother to listen and pushed the door open.
Right away, he was greeted by a pretentious site. Five old men in ornate robes of silver color, wearing crystal coronals on their heads, gold locket of Seven Star on their necks, and an overall air of wealth surrounded them. They were seated behind a wide marble table on high, ornate, golden chairs, each no less than a lord's throne.
No better than nobles. Even the faith is corrupted.
"May the Seven guide us." Bronn bowed his head and greeted them. But he found no chair for himself. The chamber was like a court instead; a large open space was left empty before the wide marble table.
"Stand at the center of the star, Septon Bronn," the middle of the five Most Devout ordered him.
Bronn silently followed their order while staring at their faces. Each more wrinkly than the last, their eyes faded but still sharp, heads with no hair or too few to count. Bronn didn't even know their names. He only knew the middle one.
"This place may have startled you, but fear not, this is no trial," the middle Most Devout said. "You asked to meet with us, yet we chose to add... weight to the occasion. The five of us are well aware of the wretched, vile attempt on your life. Truly condemnable."
Two-faced bastards. Bronn sneered inside. They were the ones who hired the sellswords after all.
"Seven help me, why's there a need for more weight? The sellswords are already in Lord Hightower's clutches. I'm here only to ask your blessing to bring Lady Malora Hightower into the Order of Septas. Her skill with elixirs is sharper than a sword, and the Gods know I could use her help tending to the faithful."
"Tsk, tending to the faithful?" The leftmost Most Devout sneered. "What you call service is a mockery, Septon. The Seven see all, and yet you take coin to heal the sick. A disgrace before the Gods."
"I don't, Most Devout. I ask for no coin, by the Seven. It's up to the ailed if their hearts move to give to the faith's cause. Truth be told, most toss no more than a half-penny." Bronn explained, though he already knew it was pointless. He didn't care; his spiders had already left his sleeves. "I just serve, and let the Seven judge the rest."
"To faith's cause, you claim? And yet, where is all the gold you've gathered? Tell me, where did it go? We did not see it offered at the Starry Sept."
And the cat is out of the bag.
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