AN :
Next goal for another extra chapter is 200 power stones.
In the Game of Stones, you either win or you wait. The more Power Stones you offer, the faster the chapters come.
...
( Septa Yivanna POV )
The Sept at Red-Port, while it was the largest for fifty miles, was not a particularly impressive building. An old stone foundation and walls, who knew how many centuries old, held up a wooden upper wall and roof with seven sides. At its center, there was a fire pit, with benches on all the sides that slowly raised to the edges of the building. Overlooking the benches from alcoves in each wall were wood-carved statues of the Seven. They stared down at the platform in the center by the firepit, which was also where the Septa or Septon stood during worship.
It resembled most other Septs on the Northern Coast of Westerlands in its style, particularly the high steepled roof with seven sides with a chimney in its center. It was designed to ward off the wind, rain, and occasional snow. The main distinction was its size. Some 1500 of the faithful could fit onto the benches or stand inside on a worship day and often did so. It was much larger than most of the Septs on the north coast by that standard.
That was because Red-Port herself was a more prosperous town than most. A fishing village at the end of the Hullock River, she had ample food through winter by fishing in Ironman's bay, and, because they regularly traded with the Ironborn, was only occasionally harassed by raiders. She wasn't the largest settlement on the North Coast, which was further west, but going east she was the last village that could possibly be called a town until one reached Seagard, almost two hundred miles away and halfway around Ironman's Bay.
On the foot of the Sept, looking down over the town she'd been born in, Septa Yivanna smiled and turned the page, reading her own copy of the Seven-Pointed-Star. She was bundled up in her wool cloak to keep out the bitter sea breeze as she read in the afternoon light.
The book in her hands still didn't feel real to her, even months after she had received it. Simple and leather-bound, it had thin lines of regimented text, which was thick and blocky. There were barely any illuminations. One in front of Lord Lannister and his blessed son Callum, and then one for each of the seven books. In many ways, it was an uglier, more boring version of the Seven-Pointed-Star than any other she had read.
But that didn't matter. It didn't matter one bit, because it was hers. Not the Septs! Before the books had arrived, there were only three copies in all of Red-Port! And Septon Barlow had been halfway through a fourth. Now there were more than four hundred! It was a miracle given freely to all the Westerlands! A miracle indeed, the Lord Lannister's son was blessed by all the Seven. That was what the Septon who had brought the books had told them all, and when she read the book of the Maid- from her own tome!- she felt happy to live in such times.
Even the threat of the heathen Ironborn, reaving and raiding on the coast, could not dampen her spirits. An infectious spiritual revival had come to Red-Port, one that could be felt through the whole of her congregation!
And so she smiled, despite the cold, and the bitter wind, and all the other distractions in life, for her soul was free as a bird, reading the exploits of Hugor and the great deeds he did in Andalos of old.
So focused was she on the words, that she did not notice the clopping of horses hooves until they were nearly upon her. Blinking, she looked up to see a party of ten riders. Men on old bedraggled horses, but armed for war.
She felt her heart speed for a moment- could they be Ironborn?- But it calmed as she saw that their colors were red and yellow, Lannister colors, and moreover that they seemed to be approaching her without any haste or malice. On a second glance, the rider at the lead of the party was even a child. A boy of eleven or twelve, she taught children his age their letters twice a week.
He looked a bit exhausted from the ride, but his green eyes fixed her sharply as he approached, too sharply for a child his age. "Good afternoon Septa." He said quickly, before coughing into his shoulder, then turning back to her. "I hate to be a bearer of bad news, but have there been any Ironborn sightings recently?"
"Hmm?" Yivanna shook her head, tucking her copy of the Seven-Pointed-Star into her bag as she approached the men. "No, we haven't seen a raider or even a fisherman in months. They're all up in the running country I'd heard."
"Not anymore." The boy answered grimly. "There's a fleet of five raiding ships coming West. They razed Troutpoint four days ago. Red-Port is likely their next target."
Yivanna's spine straightened and her veins ran like ice. "w-what? Here? You're sure?" Red-Port hadn't been truly raided in generations. This would be disastrous.
"They might go around, but I wouldn't put a half-star on it. It's the same raiders that burned down all the fishing villages in the Running Country." The boy nodded. "Septa, do you think you could help us gather together the people? I'm here to organize an evacuation of the village."
"I…" she looked up into the boy's stern green eyes and swallowed down her fear. "Y-yes, yes of course. I will tell the other Septons and Septas we can raise the alarm."
"Good." The blond boy glanced back to the men behind him. "The rest of you, help her. Let's have all the people gathered in half an hour. Or as many as we can manage."
He rode off down the hill on his horse, coughing a bit more as he went, leaving Yivanna looking up at nine young men on horseback, with armor and spears.
She was surprised to see that they were looking at her expectantly, not the sort of presence she'd expect from a knight or even a soldier.
Still, she was a woman not unused to leading others, albeit normally in more spiritual matters. She cleared her throat, and with all the practice she'd had singing hymns, projected her voice. "Right." She said. "All of you follow me."
The next half hour was pure unadulterated chaos for Yivanna. From telling her fellow Septons and Septas what she'd heard, to figuring out a plan so that everyone would hear. She had sent the young riders off to spread the news of the incoming Ironborn attack down all the main streets and she went from door to door herself, chasing down every lost child and old woman alone in her home.
By the time she was done, a nervous crowd was beginning to form at the center of town near the docks. Yivanna saw that the platform there, usually used as a gallows, or for musicians during festivals, had been repurposed into a speaker's stand by the blond boy and the soldiers. She saw him cough again, and clear his throat, and in a hoarse voice, he yelled to be heard in the square.
"What you have been told is true. The Ironborn are near, and likely to raid Red-Port, with a force of five ships and perhaps 400 warriors. My name is Callum Lannister. I am Lord Tygett's nephew and squire, and I am here to make sure that everyone is-"
"Lord Callum the blessed?" Someone shouted, and suddenly a great mumbling started through the crowd, and Yivanna could not hear the boy's voice anymore. Not that she would have anyway, as her thoughts had ground to a halt.
Was… had the boy truly been Callum the blessed? She blinked, pulling her copy of the Seven-Pointed-Star from her bag tenderly as the crowd began to speak more loudly.
"It is! It is Lord Callum!"
"She's a boy? I thought she was a girl!"
"It says son in the book!"
"The Most Devout said he was blessed by the Seven, Septon Gareth told me!"
"The Seven Sent him to save us!"
Yivanna raised the book to her bosom and looked back and forth between the boy on the stage, looking increasingly bewildered, and the crowd that was growing more noisy. It was true! He looked just like the picture, his pretty features were just more subtle with his hair cut so short. He was the miracle worker, and he had talked to Yivanna personally. He had asked for her help even.
Her heart thundered in her chest as the slender boy raised his hand high up above his head, and the crowd slowly began to quiet.
A bitter wind ripped through the square and he coughed again. Yivanna felt a chill go down her spine despite her warm clothes. Was he sick? The child who was so blessed by the Seven?
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