285 AC, Tyrosh, Drunken One's Inn…
"I accept," said Gerold. He knew that he was facing a certain loss if he continued throughout his current course. The demon in front of him was deserving his title as the Drunken God.
Drunken God did not know the meaning of being drunk and he was sober even after drinking 10 litres ale. Thus, Gerold's only choice was accepting this offer and trying his hand on this new challenge.
Meanwhile, the crowd was roaring with protest as the flask contained something even they did not have the opportunity to taste. It was brewed by the Drunken God, personally, and no one other than the Drunken God was able to taste it. According to the legends of the city, even the smell of what was inside the flask was enough to make a grown man drunk.
Drunken God gave a cruel smile to Gerold and extended his hand to the flask on his belt. He untied it from the belt and put it onto the table, "Just take one sip and stay awake for a minute." Drunken God was reluctant to give the flask to someone else but it was needed because this was a great opportunity for him.
If Drunken God could win this contest then through Gerold he was going to own the temple and all the prayers that are to come with it. Then, he could become one of the big players like that fiery cunt that called herself R'hllor.
Thus, he was willing to give a sip from his precious flask to someone else. However, there was still something he needed to remind Gerold as he was a tricky man, "By the way, no vomiting this time. You will swallow it and hold it inside."
Gerold snorted and took the flask to his hands and slowly opened the lid. He decided to smell it before drinking as he was still suspicious that there was something wrong with this offer. Suddenly, a strong smell invaded his nose. This was not like anything smelled before because it was too strong to be a drink. Nevertheless, he decided to sip as he accepted the offer already.
As soon as Gerold's tongue made contact with the drink it became numb. The taste was thicker than the blood and spicy than the hottest pepper in the world. He wanted to cough and spit it all out. His eyes were already bloodshot and his face was red as a tomato.
Nevertheless, Gerold persisted and swallowed it. It was like lava flowing down his throat. There was an urge inside him to vomit.
After ten seconds, everything was shaking in his eyes. There were already two Drunken Gods giving him a smirk and talking about something. He gripped the table with his hands and tried to steady himself.
Ten more seconds had passed and Gerold's gastric acid was already rising towards his mouth so he swallowed hard.
Twenty more seconds have passed. Gerold thought he was going good but this time, it was his vision that suddenly began going black. He quickly took out a pocket knife from his pant's pocket and stabbed his hand. The pain woke him up immediately.
The crowd flinched when they saw Gerold stabbing his own hand to stay awake and they respected him for this as he was doing all he can to win the contest.
On the other hand, Drunken God was getting nervous as he wasn't expecting Gerold to endure this much.
Ten more seconds have passed and Gerold was gulping back the tears that swelled in his eyes. His hands were already clenched and the blood was flowing in streams from his hand due to the strong alcohol's effect.
Five seconds was left to the end of the contest when the crowd started the count. Gerold raised his hand with difficulty and slammed it onto the table.
When three seconds were left, two Drunken God Gerold saw has become three and they were shaking like the waves in the sea.
When two seconds were left, Drunken God couldn't take it anymore and decided to intervene so he snapped his fingers under the table.
One second was left when, suddenly, one of Gerold's arms slipped from the table and he hit his head onto the table. Gerold nearly lost his consciousness but a brief light in his mind woke him up.
With the crowd saying "zero", Gerold vomited all the content of his stomach onto himself.
The crowd was cheering for him but there was only one person with a blank face looking at Gerold, the Drunken God. For thousands of years, he dwelled in these lands and now, because of a boy and because of his own greed he was losing everything he gained. He was already feeling the power going out of his body. The oath of the gods was binding and his journey was at the road's end.
Gerold raised his head and looked at Drunken God with a smile that showed his victory. He, probably, would not drink for the rest of his life as this was enough for him. He opened his mouth to talk but it was too late. All the light left the eyes of the Drunken God. His arms slid down to his sides and his mouth was left hanging.
The cheers in the inn died down. Everyone looked at the old man who claimed the title of the champion for fifty years. It was literally a sad end.
Meanwhile, as the Drunken God's mortal body died the fountain of the Drunken God in the city stopped welling out.
…
Next noon, the temple of Tyrosh…
Gerold woke up just an hour earlier and his head was still aching but he had a job to do. He needed to cleanse the local gods from the city. However, he was, currently, in the meeting room with the head of the temple, Innar, and Aemar. This was his routine, as soon as he woke up he would clean and ready himself for a meeting. The meeting was about the current situation of the temple in different cities and the kingdoms.
Innar was the one who took information from the shadows so he was informing Gerold about the current circumstances in Volantis, "Your Holiness, the situation in the Volantis is getting worse each day. Most of the old blood is supporting the heathens. Though there is still a small group amongst them that sees those heathens as too powerful in the city so, in case of an attack against us, they would, probably, support us." Innar creased his brows and continued, "However, they are from small families so their effect would not be too much."
"Does the High Priest of R'hllor preach against us?" asked Gerold.
Innar stroked his moustache and said, "No, they do not preach against us. As a matter of fact, the High Priest never talked about us outside the temple. It is like they are planning something…"
Gerold looked at Innar with a stoic face, "Tell the shadows to keep watch over the priests. What about the other cities?"
Innar smiled genuinely and said, "Everything is going well in Lys. People sing praises for God and there is none left of the demon's traces so we can say that the city is fully converted when Your Holiness came here."
"That is good to hear. Raenar did a good job." Gerold took a look at Aemar who was blushing like a maiden.
"In Pentos and Myr, things are going good. Though the presence of R'hllor is still strong, we have a strong place in the cities. On the other hand, Bravoos is a bit concerning. It is like all the heathens banded together and resist us. Moonsingers and priests of Pattern are already meeting according to the shadows. They even invited faceless men to their meetings." There was an angry look on Innar's face while talking about this. He saw these meetings as an insult to his God.
"Hmm, tell the shadows to leave Bravoos alone, for now, we will deal with them later on. So what about Westeros, any good news?" asked Gerold while gritting his teeth. Those petty demons were going to see what a true God can do.
"Everything is good in White Harbor. However, currently, only ten per cent of the residents are believers and thirty per cent of the city believes in those damned Seven. On the other hand, the rest of the city believes in the blasted trees, they even have the gut to stay unresponsive towards our secret preaches." There was an irritated look on Innar's face. To him, everyone who did not believe in God was a sinner, "Luckily, there aren't any fights between us and them. I can even say people even tolerate each other, there."
"What about the temple in Lannisport?" Gerold was not happy with the situation in Westeros. Things were going too slowly for his liking.
"That damned Lannisters won't let us preach outside the temple. They let us build the temple due to the trade agreements but that is all. There are barely a hundred believers in the city and they are ostracized."
The situation in Westeros was, indeed, not good. Gerold's first thought was that something has to be done. So, he decided to put into action the plan he had prepared two years ago.
"Aemar, I heard some priests needed help regarding the windows of the temple so why don't you go and help them?" said Gerold.
Aemar looked at him with a confused look, "But…"
Gerold gave him a stern glare and Aemar went out without a word.
As soon as Aemar left, Gerold turned Innar and said, "The things I say will not be told to anyone other than the shadows, is that understood?"
"Of course, Your Holiness." Innar bowed his head and answered.
"Tell the shadows to activate the believer shells and. They need to pour the poison we created to the fields and start the epidemic that spreads on contact. Hmph, those so-called maesters believe themselves invincible in the field of medicine. We will see what happens when people have to look at magic for help. From Dorne to the Wall, everyone will beg our mercy." Gerold talked with an arrogant look on his face.
Innar couldn't believe what he heard, "But.. but.. but Your Holiness, many people, including children, even babies in their mother's teat will die because of this."
"Babies? Children? Even the unborn ones are sinners as long as their mothers are heathens. Unless they convert, they shall suffer!"