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The orange sun of the second day rose over a battlefield that had transformed from a site of slaughter into a cathedral of mud and faith.
Viserys watched as the transition took place. Bishop Umber was a master of the moment, sensing that these broken tribal bandits needed a narrative to survive their shame. By framing their defeat as a divine "correction" by the Warrior himself, Umber had turned a massacre into a pilgrimage.
The Conversion of the Velvet Hills
"andals! Those who believe in the Seven should walk the path of the Seven!" Umber's voice rang out, no longer the plea of a prisoner but the command of a prophet. "Our defeat was a holy punishment for the faithless! To defy the Warrior's chosen is to invite eternal darkness!"
The effect was hypnotic. The bandits—men who had spent their lives raiding for scraps—found a new kind of intoxication in Umber's words. They didn't just surrender their bodies; they surrendered their spirits.
"Warrior!" they shouted, the cry rippling through the muddy pits of the hillside. "We obey the Warrior!"
Viserys leaned on his sword, Mull's, watching the scene with a cold, analytical eye. He hadn't expected the assimilation to be this seamless. He was reminded of the legend of Artys Arryn, the "Winged Knight," who had unified the Andal invaders of the Vale not through ancient lineage, but through the sheer brilliance of his steel and the love of his companions.
"Were they always so quick to kneel, Bishop?" Viserys asked quietly as Umber approached him.
"It is the way of the borderlands, Your Majesty," Umber whispered, wiping the sweat from his brow. "In Andalusia and the Rhoyne, we are a public toilet—everyone comes to use us. We are opportunistic because we have to be. But," he added, his eyes brightening, "I have never seen a warrior of your youth and ferocity. If I am to gamble on a man, I choose the one who guts his enemies while looking like a god."
The First Bishop of Viserysgrad
Viserys recognized the talent before him. Umber was a "War Priest," a man who knew the weight of a spear as well as a prayer bead. He was a gambler, and Viserys was the highest stakes in the hills.
"My fort lacks a Bishop," Viserys said. "I want you to stay. I want you to turn this stone camp into a holy seat."
Umber hesitated, looking toward the southern horizon. "The Dothraki, Majesty. They loathe walls. They see a fort as a pimple on the face of the world and seek to pop it. The people of the hills live in caves and movable villages for a reason. To build here is to invite the Great Grass Sea to our door."
"That is why we must unite," Viserys countered, his voice resonating with a King's authority. "So the Andals no longer have to hide like rats. Do you want your children to grow up in the dirt, or behind stone? Do you want to be a beggar or a prince of the church?"
Umber gritted his teeth. The logic was undeniable. He was tired of being a part-time priest supporting a family on the scraps of raids. He saw in Viserys a chance for a legacy.
"I accept," Umber said, falling to one knee. "I will spread the gospel of the Warrior-King."
Viserys stepped forward and placed the flat of his blade on Umber's shoulder. "In my name, Viserys Targaryen, Third of His Name, I appoint you, Umber of Andalusia, as the first Bishop of Viserysgrad."
The Call to the Villages
With the appointment, the strategy shifted from defense to expansion.
"Your Majesty," Bishop Umber said, rising with a new sense of purpose. "Now that this fort has the blessing of the Faith, I will reach out to the surrounding villages. Many who sent men on this raid are waiting in fear. I will tell them the Warrior has claimed this hill—and that there is safety and bread for those who come to serve the Dragon."
"Do it," Viserys ordered. "We have the stone and the steel. Now, we need the hands to build a kingdom."
Viserys looked out over the Rhoyne tributaries. The "Pioneer" was no longer just building a fort; he was building a society. By merging his Westerosi exiles with the local Andal tribes under a shared faith, he was creating a cohesive force that could finally stand against the chaos of the East.
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