Chapter 717

As the sky gradually brightened, Oldtown’s first citywide curfew in over a decade ended without incident. Vendors wheeled their carts from storehouses to the market, and common folk stepped out of their homes with baskets in hand. Soon, the streets were alive with the usual morning bustle, though the air was thick with speculation about the sudden, unexplained lockdown.

“So… I guess what that ragged septon said about the Hand and the Queen must be true. Otherwise, why else would they suddenly impose a curfew the very same night?”

“Hah, that’s just guilty conscience at work! Aegor must think he’s clever, but does he really believe stopping people from talking at night will stop them from gossiping during the day? What a waste of effort.”

“Bah, don’t get me started. This world is hellish enough as it is. Only scoundrels ever make it to the top.”

“The Seven Kingdoms are ruled by people like that—who knows when we’ll ever see a better day?”

“A better day? With a bastard born of incest on the throne and a treacherous wolf as Hand? We should be grateful the Seven haven’t cursed us already, let alone expect good times ahead.”

Despite the murmuring complaints, life in the city continued. As the crowd surged into the heart of Oldtown’s marketplace, the usual greetings between acquaintances, the shouts of merchants hawking their wares, the haggling over prices, and the clamor of animals quickly drowned out the mutterings about Aegor and Daenerys.

People enjoyed gossiping about the affairs of the powerful, but in the end, their lives revolved around bread, salt, and coin. The Queen and her Hand? They were too distant to matter.

Besides, the streets were more heavily patrolled today than usual. More soldiers stood watch, and it was clear that if the ragged septon from yesterday dared to appear again, he wouldn’t escape so easily this time.

With this unspoken understanding, the townsfolk instinctively lowered their voices. No one wanted to find themselves locked in a dungeon like those fools who had hurled stones at the Queen’s soldiers.

Yet even as the market hummed with activity, a growing commotion stirred at its center.

A small crowd had gathered around the wooden platform where, just the day before, the ragged septon had preached his condemnation of the Queen and her Hand. Curious passersby cast glances toward the stage, where a middle-aged man in an elegant white robe, flanked by several guards, stepped onto the platform.

He stood at the edge, adjusting his sleeves with deliberate care, as if preparing to speak.

“Who is that?”

“Judging by the robes, he’s a high-ranking septon. Possibly even a bishop.”

“That’s Luchen Frey! Fifth son of Walder Frey, Marquis of the Twins. And yes, he is a High Septon!” Someone in the crowd gasped in recognition. “The Faith must have lost their minds, sending such a prominent figure to make accusations in the open. If Aegor and the Queen decide to seek revenge, he’ll be an easy target!”

Murmurs of unease rippled through the gathering, but Luchen Frey did not keep them waiting long.

He cleared his throat, took a step forward, and raised his right hand in a solemn oath.

“In the name of the Father, the Mother, the Warrior, the Maiden, the Smith, the Crone, and the Stranger, I swear before the Seven that every word I am about to speak is the truth. If I utter a single falsehood, may I burn in the flames of hell for all eternity!”

His voice, steady and firm, rang through the market. The crowd, instinctively lowering their voices, quieted to listen.

Then, with a loud and deliberate tone, he declared:

“Faithful followers and citizens of Oldtown, hear me!

Here, under the light of the sun, I stake my honor and my life upon this revelation—I have come to expose a monster who has lurked in plain sight, a villain of the highest order, a blight upon the Faith itself!

I speak today to purge the corruption within our own ranks, to cleanse the Faith of its sins, and to restore the rightful glory of the Seven!”

A hush fell over the marketplace.

But in an astonishing twist, his accusation was not aimed at Aegor or Daenerys, the two figures at the heart of yesterday’s rumors.

Instead, he turned his condemnation against his own superior—the Faith’s highest authority, the Supreme Septon of Oldtown!

Under the stunned gazes of Oldtown’s citizens, Luchen Frey laid out a damning list of crimes:Heresy and impiety, mocking the gods in private.Blasphemy, speaking lightly of sacred scripture.The defilement of children.Frequenting high-end brothels in both King’s Landing and Oldtown.Embezzling donations from the faithful.Using church funds for personal enrichment.Manipulating church assets for personal gain.Illegally investing in Night’s Watch Bonds and pocketing the profits.And, above all, accumulating over a million golden dragons through fraud and corruption.

Had this merely been an accusation, it could have been dismissed as slander.

But each charge was followed by an unsettlingly detailed explanation—so precise, so thorough, that even the exact locations of the hidden wealth were laid bare.

It was so convincing that more than a few listeners found themselves wondering whether they should form search parties after the speech and go looking for treasure.
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Unlike yesterday’s wild accusations against Aegor and Daenerys, Luchen Frey’s denunciation unfolded with a remarkable degree of protection.

With soldiers patrolling the perimeter, his speech was not only tolerated but outright safeguarded.

For more than ten uninterrupted minutes, he spoke, his voice carrying across the market square as the crowd swelled. So many spectators gathered that the marketplace’s usual trade began to stall.

And then, through the entrance of the market, a small column of soldiers marched in, their breastplates adorned with the golden rose of House Tyrell.

At their head was a plump, middle-aged man.

Right on cue, someone in the crowd recognized him.

“Lord Mace Tyrell! What brings you here today, my lord?”

“Ah, just out for a morning stroll,” Mace replied in feigned innocence. He might have been hopeless at military strategy, but when it came to playing a role, he was oddly competent. His round face was the picture of casual curiosity. “What’s all this? Why is everyone gathered here?”

“That’s High Septon Luchen Frey! He’s accusing the Supreme Septon of a whole list of crimes—mostly corruption!”

Mace’s eyes widened in mock surprise as an eager bystander helpfully summarized the accusations.

Then, as if struck by sudden inspiration, the same bystander turned to the rest of the crowd and shouted:

“Hey, everyone! Look over here!”

Countless heads turned.

Up on the platform, Luchen Frey, his throat nearly dry from his lengthy tirade, took his cue and paused. He had laid the groundwork. Now, the climax of the performance was about to begin.

“The Guardian of the Reach—Lord Mace Tyrell—is here among us! As the protector of all Oldtown’s people, he has both the authority and the soldiers to investigate these claims!”

The murmurs of the crowd surged into something more.

Luchen Frey smiled inwardly.

Now, all that remained was to watch as the pressure mounted—until the people themselves demanded the downfall of the Supreme Septon.

And, of course, once that was done, they would need a new leader for the Faith.

One who was more… agreeable.