Chapter 297: Heresy

Chapter 297: Chapter 282: Heresy

The morning sun shone through the tall arched windows, casting long, slanted golden patches of light onto the black floor of the Red Keep bedchamber.

Dust motes floated in the beams of light.

Aegon opened his eyes.

His violet eyes quickly regained their clarity after the initial haze of waking.

He rarely slept so soundly.

Last night there were no dreams, only deep darkness.

He sat up in bed and stretched his limbs.

The servants waiting outside the door heard the movement and knocked cautiously.

“Come in.”

Two attendants entered with bowed heads, carrying warm water, towels, and clothing. Aegon disliked cumbersome rituals, so he finished washing up quickly.

He chose a simple black casual outfit, embroidered only with a three-headed dragon emblem in dark red silk thread at the collar and cuffs.

Breakfast was white bread, butter, and a cup of warm milk.

He leisurely used a silver knife to cut a small piece of butter, spread it evenly on the bread, and put it into his mouth.

He looked out the window; King’s Landing was wreathed in morning smoke, and Blackwater Bay was sparkling.

His gaze swept over the rows of rooftops and rested on the southwest of the city.

Dust rose slightly there; it was the Dragon God Cathedral currently under construction.

Since he had nothing to do, he might as well check the progress.

Once the thought arose, he did not delay.

After the meal, Aegon took only twenty guards, mounted a snow-white steed, left the Red Keep, and headed toward Visenya’s Hill.

The closer he got to the construction site, the louder the clamor became.

On the ruins of the Great Sept of Baelor, new foundations had already been laid, on a grander scale than before.

Huge stone blocks were hoisted by ropes and levers, and craftsmen were as busy as an ant colony.

But most eye-catching was a giant stone sculpture in the center of the site being adjusted; it was a three-headed dragon with wings spread, carved from gray-white stone, with lifelike scales, sharp teeth, and muscular contours.

The three dragon heads faced different directions, and although unfinished, the sense of oppression was already beginning to emerge.

Dozens of craftsmen were chanting in unison, using winches and pulley systems to try to place this behemoth onto its pedestal.

What surprised Aegon even more was that in this dusty construction site, a striking red figure was standing beneath the statue.

Melisandre.

She was wearing that smooth, blood-red robe, her long red hair fluttering slightly in the morning breeze.

She looked up at the slowly moving statue, occasionally saying something to the foreman beside her, her fingers gesturing in the air.

The appearance of Aegon and his party drew attention.

The craftsmen and Soldiers stopped their work one after another.

Melisandre turned her head, saw Aegon, hurried over, and bowed before him.

“Welcome, Your Grace.”

“Rise.” Aegon raised his hand, his gaze sweeping over the huge statue before falling back on her. “You have arrived quite early.”

Melisandre stood up. “The construction of the Dragon God Cathedral is a sacred act that displays your supreme glory.”

“I naturally must do my utmost, supervising daily to ensure the craftsmen understand the true meaning.” She looked at the statue, admiration flowing in her eyes. “Look, Your Grace, how majestic this holy image is.”

Aegon nodded slightly.

He was just about to ask for details when, suddenly, a noisy clamor came from the perimeter of the construction site.

A group of people dressed in brown or gray septon robes were trying to break through the blockade of the outer Soldiers.

About a hundred people, young and old, looked agitated.

Many of them had seven-pointed star patterns carved into their faces and foreheads with knives, with new and old scars crisscrossing.

They waved their arms and shouted loudly, held firmly back by Soldiers with spears and shields.

Aegon frowned slightly, turned his horse, and headed toward the commotion. Melisandre followed at his side.

The guards formed a protective formation in front of Aegon, escorting him to the edge of the conflict.

Seeing Aegon arrive, the clamor paused briefly, then became even more intense.

The Soldiers opened a path. Aegon walked to the front of the defensive line, looking at this group of septons.

“What is the meaning of this commotion?”

A thin, tall septon who looked to be over fifty, with the deepest seven-pointed star scar on his forehead, stepped out from the crowd.

His complexion was sallow, his eye sockets deeply sunken, and his eyes burned with a fervent light.

He stared fixedly at Aegon, his voice sharp:

“Noble Prince Aegon Targaryen! We heard that the Great Sept of Baelor was to be rebuilt, and how joyful we were! But—”

He pointed fiercely at the three-headed dragon statue in the center of the site, then pointed at Melisandre’s red robe, his voice suddenly rising:

“What is being built here? Why is such a statue being erected on the holy site of the Seven’s cathedral?”

“Why is this woman here giving orders? This is a blasphemy against the Seven!”

Melisandre stepped forward, her voice ethereal and penetrating: “Lost lambs, I am the messenger of the lord of light, R’hllor. That is the image of the sacred dragon, the embodiment of power, and also the symbol of the true Targaryen royal bloodline.”

“Building the Dragon God Cathedral here is precisely to bring true light to Westeros—”

“Heresy! Heresy!” Melisandre’s words were like hot oil poured into a fire, instantly igniting even greater anger among the septons.

They roared and cursed, the seven-pointed stars carved on their faces seeming to twist.

“Enough.”

A calm voice interrupted her, drowning out all the clamor.

Aegon’s gaze fell on the face of the lead septon.

There was no emotional fluctuation in his violet eyes.

“It was I who ordered the Dragon God Cathedral to be built here. And it was I who allowed Melisandre to preside here.”

He paused.

“Do you have any objections?”

This sentence made the fanatical atmosphere pause slightly.

But immediately, greater anger ignited in the hearts of these septons. The lead septon’s face flushed red, and he hissed:

“Objections? This is blasphemy! It is betrayal! Every previous Targaryen king was a devout believer of the Seven!”

“Your Grace, the blood flowing in your veins is still Targaryen! How can you abandon the faith of your ancestors to worship a foreign false god, and even defile the holy site of the Seven?”

“You are sinful! You will surely suffer the divine retribution of the Seven!”

The septons beside him clamored one after another:

“Stop this evil project immediately!”

“Publicly repent to the High Septon!”

“Tear down that monster statue!”

“Only the Seven are the one true god!”

Curses and fanatical declarations of faith were mixed together.

Their eyes flashed with desperate light, as if they could throw themselves onto swords at any moment to protect the truth in their hearts.

The surrounding Soldiers gripped their weapons, watching Aegon nervously.

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