Chapter 2

“Hey you, watch where you’re going now!” I heard behind me.

A group of men with staves or clubs, wearing what appeared to be hair shirts or some kind of monkish robes, stormed past me, about ready to hassle a merchant at a nearby stall. He had no wares except figurines, what appeared to be small statues of various gods, but that was evidently bad enough for them. They began confronting him, shaking their clubs or cudgels in his face, and threatening him. His patrons fled in terror. That was enough for me.

I hid my remote for the moment and pulled out my shotgun. That should more than even the odds. I wagered dollars to donuts that none of them had ever encountered gunpowder, let alone buckshot, before. Loading the shotgun with a new shell, I brought it to bear, well aware that no one was aware of the significance of the noise that my weapon made. They would find out very soon, though. Closing the distance a little more, I squeezed the trigger and opened fire upon the Sparrows, recognizing them for who they were.

There were screams and shouts of fear and anger, as one of the Sparrows fell dead in front of the vendor. The sound, much like thunder, also terrified many people, who backed away from the zealots even further, and also from me. The Sparrows turned to face me and brandished their staves furiously, determined to make me pay for attacking one of their kind. I got off another round, causing another of their company to fall. It was a lot easier with them making such a large target, all massed in a circle. I couldn’t miss if I tried.

“You there, what are you doing? Attacking a Sparrow is a sacrilege and an attack on the Faith of the Seven! On the High Sparrow himself!” their leader demanded of me, causing me to silence him forever with more buckshot.

“Fuck your Faith! Fuck your Sparrow! Fuck your Seven!” I echoed the Hound’s words from during the Battle of Blackwater.

“Who in Seven Hells are you?” another of the Sparrows demanded of me.

“I’m Death,” I laughed, pumping out another round of buckshot to shut him up.

“You’ll burn for this!” another Sparrow shouted at me as he lunged toward me.

“Nah, I don’t think so!” I chuckled, firing off another round, though it kicked like a mule.

“Give it up, there’s more of us, your strange weapon can’t kill us all! The Seven will punish you!” yet another Sparrow threatened me, though it was bravado and he was clearly frightened.

“I think that your Seven are scared of me. They haven’t struck me down yet. I think that you can ask them now, as you go to one of your Seven Heavens!” I mocked him as I pumped another round and ended his career.

“Mercy! In the Mother’s Name!” one of the remaining Sparrows pleaded with me.

“Like you showed that vendor who simply wanted to make a living? I think not!” I shouted, squeezing out more death for him and his companions.

“Because ... he’s an idolater ... and he profits off idolatry,” one of the men tried to excuse himself, even as he pissed his robe.

“That’s his business, not yours. I don’t care what a man’s religion is myself. I just want people to mind their own business. Smallfolk just want to live in peace, have enough coin to spend on wine, ale, and bread, maybe even a little meat if they’re lucky. You’re hurting this man because of who he prays to, as if it matters to the realm. Who does he hurt? Not you! He didn’t steal from you, kill you, or rape you, did he? So, leave him the Seven Hells alone!” I told the man before putting another round of buckshot in him.

“Hey ... just let us go ... we’ll leave him alone ... we’ll just go, please!” one of the few surviving Sparrows pleaded with me.

“Nah, I think that you’ll just bring back word and hunt me down, plus make this man suffer more. I’m fresh out of mercy, anyway,” I said as I executed him.

The other two Sparrows tried desperately to get away, but I was out of patience, and I didn’t want them retaliating against me or their victim. I fired a shot at each of them in quick succession and they fell to the ground, too. People now stood, dazed, around me, never having seen anyone attack Sparrows before. They certainly had never seen a shotgun before in their lives and they didn’t understand its principles. They just knew that it flashed fire and smoke, not to mention that it sounded like rolling thunder.

People approached me very cautiously, starting with the vendor, who knelt to thank me for my aid. He had a worried, yet grateful look on his face. He clearly feared that the Sparrows would return, but he needn’t have feared. I had already decided to take out as many Sparrows as I could with extreme prejudice. I was going to execute them all, if at all possible, all the way up to the High Sparrow himself. I didn’t know how this would be taken by the Queen Regent or King himself, not to mention the Small Council. Even so, I already had my first mission, albeit one that was self-assigned. I wasn’t about to fail at it.

“You needn’t fear me. I’m not here to harm you. I don’t have time to hurt anyone but Sparrows, if it can be helped, and there are a lot of those to take down. I have Sparrows to kill and ale to drink, and as you can see, I’m all outta ale,” I quipped, trying to be funny before I realized that some might not get the joke.

Speaking of which, it occurred to me that alehouses might be the next target, as I recalled from the show, so I made my exit to some kissing noises from local women. I still figured myself to be “on the clock” until I could carve out some safe territory from the iron grip of the Sparrows. They wouldn’t all go down in one day, but I wanted a head start on wresting the capital free of their devices. Besides, it was a damn good way to meet even more women, including some wenches who might be up to a little wenching after I drove the enemy out.

Sure enough, I encountered a small party of Sparrows kicking down the doors of an alehouse and trying to round up the owner and patrons. I decided that this time required a bit more hands-on fighting, and so I drew a dagger, which I thrust into the back of one of the Sparrows when he was busy harassing the tavern keeper. The other Sparrows turned around and the proprietor used that moment to smash a pitcher over his head. I knifed another Sparrow and the other patrons took their cue to riot. Within minutes, the regulars assailed every Sparrow that they could find, dragging them bloody out into the streets as a warning.

“There, that does it for them. We’ve made short work of those robed buggers. Thank you kindly. Just know that your money’s no good here from now on, friend. Who are you, anyway?” the tavern keeper wondered aloud.

“Roger ... Waters,” I said, laughing inwardly at the hidden Pink Floyd fan significance of a seemingly ordinary bastard name.

“Waters, eh? A bastard, then. Local one, too, or close enough. Well, for a bastard, you seem a right good gent to me. Mind you, with a name and bearing like that, smart coin says your sire’s a lord or at least a ser,” the man told me.

“Try maester. But one of noble birth. Long story on that. Anyway, I’m off to slay a few more Sparrows, but I’ll return soon. What’s the name of this place?” I inquired.

“The Blue Balls. I don’t have to tell you where I got that name for it, do I? I think that the name alone offended those robed bastards, let alone my wares. That being said, I’ll be ready to fight back now. All of us will, right, boys?” the owner told me.