Dance of The Dragonwolf

Fire Beneath the Faith

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Chapter 64, Chapter 65, Chapter 66, Chapter 67, Chapter 68, Chapter 69, Chapter 70, Chapter 71, Chapter 72, Chapter 73, Chapter 74, Chapter 75, Chapter 76, Chapter 77, Chapter 78, Chapter 79, Chapter 80, and Chapter 81 are already available for Patrons.

The morning sun cast long shadows through the narrow streets of Flea Bottom, turning the mist into sheets of pale gold. Maria stood at the edge of the Street of Seeds, her crimson robes a stark contrast to the mud-splattered browns and greys worn by those around her. She had chosen her position carefully – visible from both the main street where the High Septon would pass and the cramped alley where her followers had arranged today's miracle.

Her dark red hair was intricately braided and adorned with small ruby clasps that caught the light, making it appear as though flames danced in her tresses. The sleeves of her dress were decorated with golden thread depicting twisting flames, and around her neck hung a simple ruby choker that seemed to pulse with its own inner light.

"He comes, my lady," whispered Tym, one of her more reliable informants. The boy's face was smudged with dirt. "The High Septon's procession has just left the Great Sept."

Maria's lips curved into a subtle smile. "And our other arrangements?"

"Everything is ready."

"Good." Maria's fingers brushed the ruby at her throat.

She moved through the growing crowd with practiced grace, her bare feet silent on the cobblestones. Already, people were gathering, drawn by the whispered promises of a miracle. Maria had spent weeks building to this moment, having her followers spread stories of her powers while being careful to maintain an air of mystery around herself.

The sound of bells announced the High Septon's approach. He came in full regalia – crystal crown catching the morning light, white robes immaculate, surrounded by warriors of the Faith Militant in their chainmail shirts marked with the seven-pointed star. The common folk pressed themselves against the buildings to make way, though Maria noted how many eyes lingered on the weapons the faithful now carried.

"Please!" A woman's voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. "Someone help my child!"

Excellent, Maria thought with a knowing smile.

The woman burst from the alley, carrying a small girl who hung limply in her arms. The child's skin was ashen, her breathing shallow and labored.

"The High Septon approaches!" someone shouted. "He will bless her!"

The procession halted as the woman fell to her knees before them, tears streaming down her face. "Please, Your Holiness! My sweet Jeyne... the fever takes her! The maesters say there's nothing to be done, but surely the Seven..."

The High Septon – a corpulent man whose piety Maria suspected extended only as far as his next meal – raised his crystal crown-adorned head. "The Seven work through faith and prayer, good woman. They do not perform tricks for—"

"I will help her."

Maria's voice carried clearly across the street, though she hadn't raised it. She stepped forward, the crowd parting before her like a wave breaking against a rock. The morning light seemed to gather around her, making the rubies in her hair gleam like drops of blood.

"You?" The High Septon's face darkened. "This is no matter for foreign priestesses and their false god."

"Are you saying I should let a little girl die, High Septon?" Maria questioned with a smile, and the man glared fiercely at her.