Yes, whoever they are, please hurry up and win this war decisively!
This was the most sincere wish in the hearts of all the common people, and even more than half of the nobles—especially after the rumor that the new King Joffrey Baratheon was not the bloodline of the late Robert Baratheon, but rather the offspring of Queen Cersei's adultery spread from Dragonstone and quickly throughout the land. Anyone with a sound mind privately complained: So many people died, just for that little thing in their crotch?
In a separate room in the refectory of St. Morse Abbey, facing his classmates who were looking at him, John could only say, "I hope this war ends soon, so I can see my family again."
After dinner, John returned to his room. From the next day onward, he joined the daily life and work of the abbey.
As a highly skilled carpenter, John had been responsible for maintaining various wooden tools in the monastery since he was a novice monk.
This included, but was not limited to, repairing and maintaining winemaking barrels, wood, juicers, barrel hoops, and other similar items, as well as doors, windows, tables, chairs, shelves, and the like in the various rooms. John could keep up with the carpentry work in the monastery for a year or two if he wanted.
As long as there was work to do, John had value in the monastery, and naturally no one wanted to let him leave. However, what was surprising was that although Brother Sparrow—who shared a room with him—didn't do much work, John rarely heard anyone complain about his presence.
He privately asked his brothers why they were so tolerant of Brother Sparrow.
Everyone told him that they greatly admired him. During the time Brother Sparrow had been at the monastery, he rarely ate there and slept there as well.
Every day he prayed and blessed the poor people in the vicinity, presided over various ceremonies, and even begged for food from wealthy families or exchanged silver deer for food to distribute to the impoverished believers.
Because of Brother Sparrow's actions, the people of the nearby towns also developed a better attitude toward the brothers at St. Morse Monastery.
It should be noted that because St. Morse Monastery had its own property, it rarely interacted with the poor, thus its reputation among the locals was not good.
Moreover, although Brother Sparrow was strict with himself, he never criticized the lifestyles of his brothers. Considering all these factors, the people respected Brother Sparrow rather than disliked him.
Thinking about this, John realized that although he had shared a room with Brother Sparrow for several days, his life had rarely intersected with his. The two barely exchanged nods, each busy with their own affairs.
Opposite the monastery's stables was a small workshop, John's theoretical workplace. But most of the time he would take his tools directly to the room where the equipment needed repair.
Completely absorbed in his work, he had no worries about war or livelihood. He only needed to focus on the ruler in his hand and the wood under his feet to complete the task given to him by the gods, which made him feel very at ease.
One day, as John was repairing a bench in the main prayer room, he suddenly heard Brother Sparrow's voice behind him: "Excellent craftsmanship. The Seven Gods must be very kind to you."
John stopped what he was doing, looked up, and saw Brother Sparrow standing beside him, smiling at him—an expression that was truly rare to see on the usually serious Brother Sparrow.
John wiped the sweat from his brow, straightened his back, and twisted slightly, replying, "It's all thanks to the Seven Gods. When I put my heart and soul into the work at hand, I can feel myself getting closer to them."
Brother Sparrow nodded, sat down on a bench, and said, "The Seven Gods' grace always surrounds us. The wine after a hard day's work is the Seven Gods' reward for our piety."
John asked, "Didn't you go out today?"
Brother Sparrow shook his head and replied, "No. Yesterday I planned to go to Clearwater Bay to baptize a baby, but when I arrived, the village was filled with corpses. The baby who was supposed to be baptized was soaking in his parents' blood, with a knife wound on his body, and had been dead for a long time."
Clearwater Bay was a nearby village, about three days' journey from St. Morse Monastery. John's heart clenched upon hearing this, and he quickly asked, "Didn't anyone from Clearwater Bay survive?"
Brother Sparrow said gravely, "I searched the village for a long time and only found a few people too badly injured to walk. I helped them to bed and offered them my last prayers."
John was silent for a moment, then asked, "Did they mention who did it?"
Brother Sparrow countered, "Does it matter who did it at this point?"
John thought about it and indeed felt it didn't matter. As monks, neither Sparrow nor John himself had the power to punish these evildoers. And those who had the power to punish these evildoers were precisely those who ordered these atrocities.
John grew increasingly depressed, unable to continue his work. He could only throw the hammer to the ground and complain, "Brother Sparrow, you really shouldn't have told me this."
Brother Sparrow laughed and said, "Haha, if I'm depressed alone, I might as well have someone else share my depression; maybe that will make me feel better."
John asked, "Then why don't you talk to another brother about this?"
Brother Sparrow became serious. "In this monastery, very few people care about this, and even fewer can truly empathize with whom I can confide in."
John fell silent.
St. Morse Monastery was a very secluded place. Apart from a few monks like John who traveled, most stayed within the monastery praying and brewing wine. There were even several old monks who never stepped outside the monastery gates in their entire lives; they were called "devout."
Seeing John remain silent, Brother Sparrow invited, "I'm setting off for White Willow Village tomorrow to officiate a funeral. Would you like to come with me?"
John hesitated. "I haven't finished my work yet."
"Work in the monastery is never finished. Come on, let's go out for a walk and relax."
"All right." John agreed.
The next morning, after completing his morning prayers, John told Thomas about his itinerary and then set off for White Willow Village with Brother Sparrow.
White Willow Village was located on the west bank of Gods Eye Lake. It was a small village with only a few dozen households, so no knights were stationed there.
The village had a long history. Nearly two hundred years ago, during the bloody civil war known as the "Dance of the Dragons," the entire village was set ablaze by a dragon.
However, the people who survived the flames did not give up. They rebuilt their homes and passed down the memory of this disaster from generation to generation.
Therefore, at the slightest sign of trouble, the entire village would quickly hide in caves in the nearby forest. It was this vigilance and preparation that allowed almost all the villagers of White Willow to survive the disaster, except for the elderly who died suddenly due to their inability to adapt to the shelter environment.
There was no direct road from St. Morse Monastery to White Willow Village; only a winding and extremely treacherous path led the way.
Although this path was a longer route, it was relatively safe, and there was no need to worry about encountering bandits from the West. To John's surprise, Brother Sparrow, who was clearly not a local, also knew this path.
They walked along the rugged mountain path, the stones and dirt under their feet making a "rustling" sound with each step. Dense forests lined both sides of the path, and sunlight filtered through the gaps in the leaves, creating dappled light and shadow. Occasionally, birds would fly out from the trees, chirping sweetly.
John asked curiously, "Brother Sparrow, have you ever lived here before?"
Brother Sparrow smiled and shook his head, replying, "Why would you think that?"
John explained, "It's difficult for outsiders to find such remote paths, and I'm surprised you're so confident in leading the way."
Brother Sparrow laughed heartily, saying, "I had already begun traveling this continent before the War of the Usurper began. From Dorne to the Wall, from the Iron Islands to the Vale, I've been almost everywhere. A path like this is no challenge for me."
Brother Sparrow glanced back at John. John smiled and said, "However, it's true that I'm more familiar with this area."
He continued, "My father was a knight, and I was his eldest son, whom he didn't favor. To make room for my younger brother, he sent me to the church, but I didn't care.
To compensate me, my father decided to spend money to offer a sum to the local bishop to secure me a position as parish priest.
However, fate is unpredictable. My father was unfortunately killed in the 'Battle of the Ninepenny Kings,' and bandits subsequently plundered his lands. My mother and younger brother also perished, and I lost my home.
From then on, I abandoned my father's surname, changed my name to Sparrow, and began wandering the country. My hometown, the Riverlands, was my first stop."
John and Sparrow were both seasoned travelers. They kept walking and finally arrived at White Willow Village that night. Under the moonlight, the two entered the village and knocked on a door. A man inside opened the door and, seeing the visitor's appearance, exclaimed with delight, "Brother Sparrow, I thought you weren't coming!"
Brother Sparrow smiled and replied, "Since we agreed, I wouldn't have forgotten." He then introduced the man. "This is Brother John, from St. Morse Abbey. John, this is Roger."
"Brother John, hello. Please come in and have a seat," Roger greeted warmly.
Roger's house was a rectangular wooden cabin, compact in space, with a large wooden room cleverly divided into a bedroom and a living room by walls. Including Roger's wife and two children, the four of them squeezed into this cozy little house, yet seemed quite content.
"Where is your father?" Sparrow asked with concern.
Roger's eyes instantly dimmed. "He's in the back of the house, already in a coffin. Would you like to see him?"
"Of course, let's go see him."
Led by Roger, the two walked to the back of the cabin. There lay a rough coffin made of logs.
"May his soul rest in peace," John prayed softly.
After spending a crowded night in Roger's living room, Roger invited several young men from the village early the next morning. Together, they dug a pit as deep as a person in the wasteland outside the village to prepare for Roger's father's funeral.
Under the supervision of Brother Sparrow, the funeral was brief yet solemn. The coffin was slowly lowered into the pit, and shovelfuls of earth were used to cover it, each shovelful carrying sorrow for the deceased and reverence for life.
"If we had prepared more thoroughly, perhaps it wouldn't have seemed so rushed," John thought with some regret, looking at the simple funeral.
Brother Sparrow gently patted him on the shoulder. "Even such a funeral is quite rare in the Riverlands these days. We've done our best."
After the funeral, the two declined Roger's offer to stay, and carrying a basket of food as payment, they set off back to the monastery.
Back in their shared room, the old monk Sparrow asked John with concern, "How are you? Did your walk around make you feel any better?"
John nodded, then shook his head, explaining, "I'm not in a bad mood."
Sparrow frowned, saying doubtfully, "I've noticed you've been looking worried; I thought you had something on your mind. I'm rarely wrong about things."
John's teacher, the devout and gentle old man, had passed away, and he had no one to confide in.
After spending these past few days together, John and Sparrow had become quite familiar with each other.
Brother Sparrow, being a knowledgeable and experienced elder, prompted John to impulsively ask him, "Brother Sparrow, have you ever doubted the authenticity of our faith?"
Sparrow, taken aback by John's question, smiled wryly and replied, "How could I not?"
He sat on his bed and began to recount his experiences: "I've traveled from south to north, from east to west, throughout the Seven Kingdoms, witnessing all sorts of folk beliefs. There are heretical worshippers disguised as followers of old gods, and heretics like the priests of the Drowned God.
Although every clergyman claims their deity is the greatest…" John, after listening, thoughtfully asked, "So, in your opinion, the Seven Gods don't actually exist, is that right? Although I'm a monk, I've never seen any of the Seven Gods' servants perform miracles."
Brother Sparrow looked at John and countered, "John, what do you consider a miracle? Is breathing fire a miracle? Being burned by flames without being harmed a miracle? But no one would consider a dragon that can breathe fire to be a messenger of the gods, or the Targaryen family, who are unharmed by flames and can control dragons, to be servants of the gods. Do you know why?"
"Why?" John pressed.
Brother Sparrow explained, "Because they failed to bring order to the people. To them, so-called magic and power are merely tools for pursuing wealth and power, unable to provide true faith.
If a god can bring these things to the people, then even without manifesting miracles, that is a true god. But if it's merely for personal gain, even if it can drain the 'Gods Eye' in one go, it's just a powerful monster." John nodded thoughtfully; this was indeed an idea he had never considered before.
"Then if," John continued cautiously, "if a messenger of a god can both summon miracles and bring order and peace, then can we assume that he worships the true God?"
Brother Sparrow thought for a moment and replied, "If someone truly can summon miracles and is willing to use that power to save the world, then the god he worships is naturally a true God.
But I believe such a person is almost impossible. If he truly existed, how could he stand by and watch this land be engulfed in war?
As priests of the Seven Gods, we should still use their teachings to enlighten the world. If the Seven Gods are blinded by those bloated high-ranking members of the church, then we should expel these unqualified monks.
If noble knights are blocking the Seven Gods' path of salvation, then we should establish the church's own knightly order.
We can't do nothing just because the Seven Gods haven't directly bestowed divine grace. We should do our best, starting with small things, and eventually spread the Seven Gods' grace throughout the continent."
John nodded, offering no objections, and fell into deep thought. Seeing this, Sparrow didn't delve deeper into the topic, giving John ample space to think quietly.
In Sparrow's eyes, John was a kind and upright shaman, and a like-minded partner. If John could accept his ideals, their path together would be more solid.
So Sparrow went to bed. However, in the middle of the night, a commotion at the front door startled him and John awake. Seeing the flickering torchlight in the courtyard, they exchanged a glance and immediately ran outside to ask their brothers, who were carrying things, what was going on.
"What's happening? Why is it so noisy at the front door?" John asked anxiously.
"It's the Qohorik! Duke Tywin's Qohorik mercenaries are attacking!" one of the brothers replied.
🪽✨🪽✨🪽✨🪽✨🪽✨🪽✨🪽✨🪽
Read Extra Chapter Visit My Patreon
I have only 1 tier
19$ Tier – Access to 40 advance chapters
patreon.com/Lempil
patreon.com/Lempil