There are cowering whispers of a war that is soon to be waged on the realm, destroying castles, starving people, decimating armies. A war for the Iron Throne, and a war against it. A war to hide secrets and a war to betray them. For death is power...
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From the markets, Remi, Finnick and Barry walked upon a small clearing in the city, enclosed by common buildings where the slaves lived. There wasn't a shop in sight nor a tree, but the clearing had a small raised platform. Several slaves surrounded it, listening intently to a dark woman wearing scarlet robes who stood on the higher level.
Remi looked on curiously, tugging Barry and Finnick along with him as they creeped towards the crowd.
"....the false gods do you no good. You are supposed to be their children, you are supposed to be protected, where do they go when you are beaten? Where do they go when you starve? When your children starve? The rain and the sun come alike through the holes in your roof, showing you no mercy. Scalding your skin and washing it off, again and again and again. The chains on your necks weigh you down, to the ground and under, while the masters trample over you with their great elephants. Where do your gods go then?"
The slaves listened like three year old children listening to a scary story.
"You pray to the false gods, to the lying gods!" She shouted in High Valyrian and her voice echoed across the clearing. Few slaves started to nod vigorously.
"There are no Old Gods, no, trees with red leaves and disfigured faces don't save you. There are no New Gods, no Warrior, Mother, Crone or whatever names they have given them! Only one true God exists. Only one. He cleanses your name and your body, your scars and your wounds, your soul and your life, with His holy fire. He is R'hllor, the Lord of Light."
"We have darkness in our lives, a side of ourselves we are blind in. And there resides the Great Other. The God of darkness and evil, of crime and murder, of cold and death. Many succumb to him, embracing the fearful Unknown. And He kills them, in worse ways that anyone has ever endured in this world. The Red God protects us, He gives us joy and laughs, food and children, light and life. And we must give Him ourselves in return. For the night is dark and full of terrors."
Remi's heart had started beating at an unnatural pace. He rubbed his arms, covering the goosebumps that had risen against his skin.
"Who is she?" Finnick whispered to Barry.
Barry had his eyes fixed on the woman, and without turning to look at him, he replied. "She is a Red Priestess. A follower of the Lord of Light. Volantis is supposed to have a great temple in devotion to the Red God. It's said to be one of largest temples in the world." Barry's eyes flitted over to Remi, who was staring with an unsettled expression at the priestess.
"The temple functions on slaves too. Slaves are bought as trained as temple prostitutes, priests and preachers."
He saw Remi whip his head to look at him, anger swirling in his depths.
"She speaks of the agonies of slavery," he turned his head to glower at her, "she says that her lord will cleanse them, when her own temple is built on slaves, it's built on their chains. It's a lie, it's all a lie. No God of Light is coming to save them. She's lying to them."
