Rickard sat in the cool shade of a dilapidated barn, watching a group of peasants gather beneath the church's newly-raised banner. The people were gaunt, their bodies withered by hunger and sickness, the products of years of war and neglect. They had lived through one pointless conflict after another, battles fought between lords who barely remembered their names, and the most recent rebellion had only deepened their misery. But here, under the mantle of the new faith, they had found solace—and food.
A woman clutching a ragged child came forward, kneeling before Rickard as she accepted a warm loaf of bread from one of the volunteers. The church's stores, filled by donations from Edenite organizations and newly converted patrons, kept the Riverlands' people alive. Rickard smiled softly as the woman whispered a prayer to the God that had delivered them from starvation. This was not a mere gesture of gratitude—it was devotion, born from desperation and hope.
The Riverlands had embraced the new faith with open arms. It was not hard to understand why. The smallfolk had suffered far too long at the hands of their indifferent lords. The once-proud Tullys, fractured and powerless, could not rally the Riverlands nobility into any semblance of unity. The local lords cared more about their petty rivalries than governing, and the land was riddled with bandits and extortionists, many in the pockets of the nobility themselves. Merchants had abandoned the region altogether, taking safer routes, which only worsened the famine.
Rickard's mission here had grown far beyond preaching sermons. The church had become the lifeblood of the smallfolk. It fed them, protected them from marauding bandits, and offered something the Seven never did—action. The nobility, once the bedrock of the Seven's influence, now stood impotent as the new faith spread across the countryside like wildfire.
It was a complex operation. Donations from Edenite non-profits fueled their relief efforts, and Rickard ensured that every grain of wheat was accounted for. But food alone would not secure the future. The bandit-infested wilderness needed to be tamed, and Rickard's followers had begun quietly purging the bandit camps that dotted the countryside. With each cleared hideout, new bases of operation were established—places where priests and faithful volunteers could shelter, organize, and spread their message.
Rickard adjusted the thick wool cloak draped over his shoulders, more out of habit than necessity. He had shed his old life in the Reach, even stepping down as the cardinal there. The church had chosen a new leader for the Reach in his stead—a man devoted to the faithful, someone who could tend to the flock Rickard had left behind. His duties now lay in the Riverlands, where the people needed him most.
He gazed out at the ragged crowd gathered outside, their faces a mixture of hope and fatigue. They were beginning to believe—truly believe—that life could be more than an endless cycle of hunger, war, and suffering. It was not an easy transition. The smallfolk had been conditioned by centuries of worship under the Seven to expect little more than hardship in life, but now, for the first time, they saw real change. They saw food in their bellies, bandits driven from their lands, and a God that answered prayers with miracles.
Rickard's thoughts darkened as he reflected on the corruption of the old faith. The priests of the Seven had done nothing but offer empty platitudes, urging the people to endure suffering with grace, as if suffering were a virtue in and of itself. And what had the nobility offered? Nothing but carnage. Even Robert's Rebellion, so often romanticized in song and story, was nothing more than a glorified tantrum—a war born from the lusts of a pampered noblewoman and the drunken rage of a man too weak to forgive. Thousands had bled and died for what? A crown traded from one drunkard to another.
But the new faith was different. The new faith brought action, change, and a real future. And it was growing faster than even Rickard had anticipated. The nobles, blinded by their arrogance and distracted by their endless squabbles, did not see the shift happening beneath their feet. But soon, they would.
Rickard's gaze sharpened as he considered what would come next. The nobility would not tolerate the new faith's influence for long. The lords of the Riverlands would soon realize that their smallfolk were slipping from their grasp, abandoning the old gods and turning to a new power. Some would try to resist, but resistance would be futile. The tide was turning, and no army, no noble house, and no old god would stand against it.
A young acolyte approached him, bowing respectfully. "Cardinal Rickard, the bandit camp near the Trident has been cleared. The locals have already begun moving in, and the first chapel will be ready within a week."
Rickard nodded approvingly. "Good. Make sure the grain is delivered as promised. Let them know that this is only the beginning."
The acolyte hesitated for a moment, then added, "We've received word from our contacts in Riverrun. Some of the lesser lords are becoming uneasy about our influence. There are whispers that they might try to reassert control."
Rickard smiled coldly. The nobility would try, of course. But it was already too late. The church had rooted itself in the hearts of the people, and the people would not go back to the old ways. "Let them whisper," Rickard said. "They'll soon realize that the world has changed, whether they like it or not."
The acolyte bowed again and hurried away, leaving Rickard alone with his thoughts.
He stood and walked to the edge of the barn, looking out at the gathering dusk. The Riverlands belonged to the new faith now. And soon, the rest of Westeros would follow. The nobility clung to power like drowning men clutching at driftwood, but driftwood could not hold back the tide.
Rickard breathed in the cool evening air, his heart steady and his mind clear. This was just the beginning. The smallfolk were awakening, and with every loaf of bread, every miracle, and every bandit driven from their lands, they were discovering a new truth—a truth that the nobility had long sought to keep from them.
The world did not belong to lords and ladies. It belonged to the people. And through the power of this new God, Rickard would ensure that the people never forgot that again.