Game of Thrones: I Created the Weave

The Central Plaza was thousands of paces long and wide, but now one had to turn sideways to pass through the crowd. The air seemed to be thinning, and counting the surrounding areas, there were probably hundreds of thousands of people.

The allure of a single Silver Stag was truly immense.

The Red Priestess, Melisandre, raised her head and looked to the left. Countless houses grew smaller and smaller, taller and taller. At the end of her sight, the Great Sept of Baelor stood at the highest point of Visenya's Hill.

Another two or three thousand paces and she would be there.

She tightened her red robe and continued to move slowly towards the Great Sept of Baelor.

But at the edge of the Central Plaza stood two dense rows of Gold Cloak Guards. They wore black armor, and their sharp long spears pointed diagonally at the people in the plaza.

A voice in the crowd was very dissatisfied, "Your Majesty has permitted everyone to observe the ceremony, are the Gold Cloaks going to stop us?"

"Quiet down, all of you!"

An officer removed his helmet, revealing a young and defiant face.

"Where are your eyes?! Can't you see the long table in the middle of the plaza? There are people there giving out Silver Stags. Come over then. If there's space up front, we'll naturally let you through."

Silver Stags, what a delicious bait.

The crowd retreated like a tide.

Before leaving, Melisandre looked back. On the Gold Cloak on the officer's back was a Black Kraken.

Although the colors were reversed, she recognized the sigil – Greyjoy of the Iron Islands.

"So many Silver Stags!" people couldn't help but exclaim.

Indeed, there was a large long table in the center of the plaza. Dozens of people seated there held crystal-clear black spheres in their hands, and on the table were dozens of brightly shining boxes filled with Silver Stags.

Her gaze immediately fixed on those black spheres. They were Dragon Glass, Dragon Glass full of power!

The black-haired officer beside her patiently advised repeatedly, "Form a line, one by one. Answer a few questions from the Recorder, perform a few actions as instructed, and then everyone will receive a Silver Stag."

The newcomers looked towards the "Recorders" seated behind the long table.

These people were busy asking questions, holding up the black spheres, and handing out Silver Stags. However, the line showed no sign of shortening, and instead grew longer.

People quickly joined the queue.

Finally, it was Melisandre's turn. She sat down at a seat on this side of the long table, lifted her hood, revealing her exquisite face. People nearby couldn't help but glance over again and again.

But the young Recorder in front of her, draped in white cloth, seemed to be blind, showing no reaction.

Melisandre smelled a familiar scent. The so-called Recorders must be devout followers of someone, they must be.

The Recorder began to ask questions, his tone calm to the point of being deathly still.

"Name? Surname?"

"Melisandre, no surname." She seemed to see the Dragon Glass sphere flickering.

"Age?"

She curved her lips slightly, "Eighteen."

"Where were you born? Where did you grow up? Who are your family members?"

"Asshai is my homeland, I have no family."

"Occupation? Wealth? Faith?"

"My only joy is to awaken His lambs for the Lord of Light. Worldly wealth means nothing to me."

She stared intently into the Recorder's eyes, still seeing no fluctuation. Was he not a devout follower? Why wasn't he angry? Could he also believe in the Lord of Light?

"Are you sure there are no omissions or errors? These records will accompany you throughout your life. Under the Iron Throne, in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, under the Light, you are the person in these records, unchangeable."

"Everything I have said is true."

"Sit up straight, compose your expression, and do not move." The Recorder held up the Dragon Glass sphere.

In an instant, Melisandre distinctly felt an invisible, mysterious power. True magic! Not the divine power of the Lord of Light, nor like the minions of the Other God of Ice. What was it?

"Maintain your state, sit to the left of the seat."

"Sit to the right."

Melisandre knew she had been "recorded" by the Dragon Glass sphere. At least three images.

Clang, clang, clang~

A shiny Silver Stag rolled on the wooden table.

"Your promised Silver Stag." Finally, there was some emotion in the Recorder's voice, "May The Gods bless the world, and Light be eternal!"

She trembled almost entirely, "Light... eternal."

King Joffrey believes in the Lord of Light?!

She immediately rushed towards the Great Sept of Baelor, hoping to confirm this most perfect outcome as soon as possible.

But the Gold Cloak Guards at the edge of the plaza were still vigilant. In the only passage that was cleared stood a Knight. He wore a set of magnificent enameled armor, on which countless flowers were carved. Even his helmet was full of blooming roses.

She knew him.

The Knight of Flowers also held a Dragon Glass sphere in his hand. Everyone who stepped forward had to be illuminated by the Dragon Glass sphere. Many were still not allowed through, and only a very small portion were permitted to pass.

The people who were stopped were quite angry. "Why won't you let us through? What can we see from here!"

An officer walked over. "What kind of talk is that? Can you see the Great Sept?"

Everyone was confused.

"What kind of logic is this? The Great Sept of Baelor is so big and so tall, who can't see it?"

The officer simply said, "That's enough."

The officer turned and returned to his post, leaving the puzzled people to their own curiosity.

Someone muttered softly, "I bet it's an idea thought up by the big lords. They don't want to stay with people like us."

Melisandre stepped forward to try.

The Knight of Flowers glanced at her. "Take off your hood and stand still."

She silently complied.

The Knight of Flowers cast a slightly surprised look, then quickly composed himself and skillfully raised the Dragon Glass orb.

"Melisandre, Priestess of Asshai, 18 years old, permitted passage," he said.

She put her hood back on and walked forward, appearing very calm. But what a magical power this was. The Knight of Flowers could know the appearance and names of countless people with just a Dragon Glass orb, and seemingly effortlessly.

Melisandre tried her best not to compare the vague omens of the Holy Fire to this power.

Boom~

The noise behind her suddenly erupted, coming from far away and getting closer, like a sudden tsunami.

She immediately turned towards the Central Plaza, and along with countless others, called out with her eyes to the master of King's Landing, the King of the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, Joffrey I.

The sea of hundreds of thousands of people parted and retreated to both sides, leaving a channel like the seabed.

"Long live Your Majesty!"

"May The Gods bless Your Majesty with a hundred victories in a hundred battles, and success in all endeavors!"

"Long live Baratheon!"

"We are willing to die for King Joffrey I!"

"..."

Amidst the countless cheers and blessings, the Prince on the white horse finally appeared before her eyes, getting closer and closer.

He raised his right arm to salute the crowd, and his blurred face seemed to be smiling.

In the ubiquitous noise, the crowd boiled over.

Countless people reached out their arms to him, like drowning people craving the air on the surface of the water.

Bold maidens rushed into the channel, stroking the strong white horse, kissing the Prince's fair hands, ankles, and boots.

The white horse came closer.

She saw him wearing red and black trousers, golden armor, a dark silver robe, and a heart-stirring sword.

That sword was unusual.

It was so hot, so bright, filled with Fire and Light.

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