“Sisters and brothers, we welcome today four more—yes, I know, but we are not about to welcome a rag doll—escapees from the Church of Izkarzon.” Escapees? “So please, as we hold hands in Joining,” at least that is familiar. Contact is good, brings closeness. “Those of you near them should make a point to reach out in a comfortable manner and make them feel welcome.” Zia found herself not-uncomfortable as a number of smiling faces turned to her at her seat in the rearmost pew. Still, so much for going unnoticed. As the congregation rose, Zia saw people exchange full hugs, even going so far as to pat each other on the back. Fortunately for her sensibilities, those near here were content to clasp her hands in their own and—near as she could tell—offer her a heartfelt welcome. Almost makes me wish I were converting. The unity of the services has been disrupted by all the factionalism with the power struggle. But that’s the point of this adventure. We’re going to bring back the unity of Dragold and make the congregation like one big family again, albeit divided by caste. But division is the wrong word, it’s more like… stratified. Like a cliff, it’s all one cliff, but there are layers.
From there, the congregation raised their voices to a hymn in Loon which Zia didn’t know. Smiling, one of the congregation noted her silence and offered her a hymnal. She smiled in turn but shook her head. The woman shrugged and turned back towards the altar. I wouldn’t want to out myself by singing here anyway. It was moot in Sasson, everyone knew. But someone here might not, so I’d just as soon not sing. The hypothetical someone being, of course, the romantic interest that Zia expected to meet at any point, not having abandoned her ideas from the Daring Kaliskast of what an adventure entailed.
“It was said by the Savior Himself that the One God is love, and that she who does not know love does not know the Supreme. Love is the subject of today’s sermon. Many of us have, despite the reduction in trade, looked with satisfaction at the implosion of Izkarzon’s empire, the bitter fighting and the deaths of the leaders of his cult.” I can’t believe I’m hearing this. We’re not a cult, we’re the true faith. I’ll have to talk to Zidrist about this. How we can allow this to go on, having gotten dinner, a bed, and breakfast… “But this is wrong.” Oh. Maybe I don’t need to talk to Zidrist? The congregation was murmuring, and the priest waited for them to quiet down. “For while they have insulted our faith, blasphemed by their actions, at their heart they are a devout, sincere people. They keep to themselves. And while we, on the very edge of Fief, have heard of the fall of their God-King, the Black Queen and First Bishop of the faith has not even acknowledged the change, either with missionaries or a commission for the army to intervene. So they insult our faith, so what? We should turn to them the other cheek. The Savior said that, in case you’re wondering. Look to one of the women—” aww, yeah! “—whose hand you clasped. Can you tell me she’s evil? Can you tell me that she was not misled?” Sarx, I do need to talk to Zidrist. Well, that’s why she’s along. “Did she prick your hand with nettles? Steal from your belt? Scowl when you offered her blessings of the Supreme? That last is most telling. Forgive, my children. Forgive eight times. Forgive eighty-eight times. As the Supreme Father is infinite, forgive an infinite number of times. They are here now, and their pay will be the same as your own.” The sermon went on in that vein, outlining doctrinal parallels between the false faith of Fief and the true Church of Izkarzon. It is, Zia mused, fairly accurate. But then, we freely distribute the doctrine of our faith, that more may be saved, so no wonder they would be aware of our beliefs. The priest blessed the communion, the congregation sang hymns, prayers were extended to Dragold in its civil war and also particularly to a one Tiller Irons who had broken a leg but was expected to survive until the next round of the sphere earth sorcerer to heal it. All in all, an odd, slightly blasphemous, but pleasant service. It was upbeat in a way Sasson has not been in far too long. How he expects to keep them in line without more talk of Hell I don’t know, but he seemed a sentimental sort.
The priest led the procession to the narthex, and then stood waiting as the congregation either sang one last hymn or filed out after him. The Heirrors were among the first to leave, and loitered in the narthex observing the congregation and snacking on strange, sour biscuits.
A young woman walked up to the priest. “Father Ignite, I had a question.” At this, every Heirror winced. She’s an adult, she ought to know better. “You tell us to forgive the cultists for their heresies and slandering of our faith, but shouldn’t we fight against it to save their souls?” Oh, she’s in for it now. I wonder what they do here. Lock her in a cell, caning, forced labor…
The Father shook his head. Yikes. It’s going to be bad. “While I appreciate that you are concerned for their souls, my daughter, that is the wrong approach. We must respond to them with love if we want to save their souls.” Wait, what? “The first step, believe it or not, is what we did in services today. Showing them that someone who isn’t a part of their cult can be kind. Did you shake one of our visitors’ hands? No? Go do that. Trust me, you’ll do far more for their soul than arguing against their religious views.” That… what?
Zia looked around at her Heirrors and saw confusion on Drexl and Darka’s faces, while Zidrist looked stricken. It was ultimately Zidrist that the young woman approached, somewhat shyly, and said, “I wanted to welcome you to Fief. Uhm… that’s all. I’m glad you’re here.” Why aren’t you glad that I’m here? You’re comely, with that chestnut hair. You could—I should be worrying about the heresy before I worry about the Daring Kaliskast.
”I, uh… I’m glad to be here,” Zidrist managed, in a slightly strangled voice. The woman is smiling. It even looks like a genuine smile. Did she accept what the priest said without chastisement? “What is wrong with that priest?” Zidrist hissed, when the woman had moved on. “He just answered her challenge to his authority! Treated it like a normal question! You do not question doctrine! You do not question the Word of the Orthly authorities of the One God, and or otherwise of Izkarzon!”
Drexl threw up her hands at the elbows. “You don’t have to tell me twice. Zia’s the only one who’s dared and she’s ouroboros. I am in complete agreement, Deacon.” Darka was nodding vigorously. Zia was also nodding, but her mind was a whirl. How does he maintain any kind of authority having conversations like that? And yet, she did what he suggested. She came over and shook Zidrist’s hand. But to question authority like that! That’s why you need castes, so that people know who their betters are! Of course, there’s the question of whether a hunger deacon outranks an ouroboros… of course, the deacon does, when she’s here in her capacity as a representative of the Church of Izkarzon, but… I just don’t understand it!
“What do you suppose it means?” Drexl asked Zidrist, who seemed to be at a loss for answers.
“Clearly it means that the congregation we’re seeing today is a fraction of the area’s population. Such anemic leadership couldn’t possibly hold on to a flock properly,” Darka replied. “Go, ask ‘Father’ Ignite how many people don’t come.” People don’t come to the services at the Churches in Sasson. Despite their firm grasp. There just isn’t any hold since the troubles started. But Zia kept these thoughts to herself, not wanting to be excommunicated from her own adventuring party by the only other nominal authority. She watched Drexl file back into line behind the rest of the congregation.
As she did so, more people came to greet the rest of the Heirrors. Mentally, Zia sorted them between suitable romances and disinteresting, and noted that she was favoring women over men. When someone she found attractive approached, she tried to stand at the fore of the group. Curious. Just… curious. I mean, isn’t their orientation more important than… I guess it’s my orientation. I hadn’t considered that in years. I thought I thought I liked women because I was told I should as a boy. So when I came out, that went right out the window, but I guess I do prefer women. Something went through Zia like a bolt of lightning. I threw out my thoughts on orientation, but… what about caste? I’m bending on caste, planning on finding love out here in Fief and buying them an ouroboros when I find Izkarzon’s heir. Or… Zia shuddered. I should absolutely and definitely not question the primacy of the Church. Again, I will not be excommunicated from my own adventure! But then… Zidrist looks uncertain. How can I word…. “Zidrist?” The deacon hummed an acknowledgement. “Uhm… what are you thinking about?”
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She didn’t reply, at first, and then Zia saw her looking for Drexl, who was at that moment talking to Father Ignite. “I want to hear what the false Father said.” She probably shouldn’t have said that in earshot of the person shaking Darka’s hand, but we got what we came for. Now we’re just eating biscuits before we head out. Except now Zidrist wants answers, and we don’t question Zidrist. I wonder if she took out any of our Confessions of Guilt in case she needed to incarcerate us while we were in Fief. I know I signed at least one plotting to overthrow the Fief government for my own gain.
Zia swallowed nervously and regretted asking Zidrist what she was thinking about. Fortunately, the deacon was distracted by Drexl’s approach. “Well?” Drexl just shook her head. “What do you mean ‘no’?! Answer me!”
“It’s most of the people within the parish today. It’s just a place without a lot of people.”
“He must be lying, to make himself seem important!” Zia proclaimed. Heads turned, and she colored and lowered her voice. “It can’t be so! What’s bringing them in? There was no promise of Hell, no reminder of Izkarzon’s Eyes… or the One God’s, for their faith—just from what I’ve gathered today!”
Zidrist was shaking her head. “They must be planning something. That’s why they’re shaking our hands. Maybe they’re all immune to some manner of leprosy…”
“Couldn’t an earth sorcerer sort that out?”
“Do I look like a sorcerer to you?! All I know is that diseases are still to be feared!”
“Wouldn’t matter much if an earth sorcerer could sort it out if the local earth sorcerers won’t,” Drexl said.
“Didn’t the Father say that they just had the one, making rounds through the ‘sphere’ or whatever?” Darka asked.
“Precisely! It must be some quick disease that… that…” Zidrist threw her head into her hands. “It doesn’t make sense!”
The Heirrors startled when Father Ignite—twenty years of habit wouldn’t let Zia think of him informally—appeared at their side. “Is everything alright? If you’d like to stay for lunch, we have some dishes that need doing first.”
“We have to move on,” Zia said, with a look at the rigid Zidrist before continuing on. “We’re on a quest, actually.”
“For Answers. I recall.”
“No, actually. We’re looking for Izkarzon’s daughter. Or son, in a pinch. We’re the Heirrors, and we’re here to find the heir and restore stability to Dragold.” And here comes the fit of temper. We lied to him, we attended his sermon in bad faith we… he’s smiling?
“I hope your journey takes you as far as the Crown Range, in the middle of Fief. It’s quite beautiful, and it would be a shame for you to miss it. By all means seek out Izkarzon’s heir. Tell everyone, perhaps if the dragon gets word of your quest she’ll seek you out.” What?
“What is your game, old man?!” Zidrist demanded. Zia could see she was resisting the urge to grab him by his collared shirt. “Why should you encourage us in our mission?! We hold your faith as heresy, you hold ours the same, and yet you wish us well restoring the head of our Church!” I’m upset too, but isn’t… I mean, I do wonder at his motives. Maybe he’s hoping we get ourselves arrested? Is there some law in Fief against seeking out dragons?
Father Ignite was still smiling gently. “Daughter, you are clearly a woman of strong convictions. You believe in your God-King, you believe in your Church. What would I gain by trying to dissuade you? Another teaching of the Savior: treat others as you would be treated. That is the second commandment. If I were earnestly searching for the leader of my faith, I would want encouragement and support. If you’d like more than biscuits before you press on, those dishes are still on offer.”
I would very much like one more free meal. Even if it does mean more manual labor. Maybe I could cut in that, in his place, he’d like a free—“But our faith damns us in your eyes!” Zidrist interrupted her train of thought to object.
“Ah, does it? We could discuss that over tea. But you teach the primacy of the One God. More than a few of your former adherents have passed through, I’ve learned the rudiments, you hold the Savior ordained your God-King. Which makes him third in a hierarchy, the first two of which are the centerpiece of my faith. Is your faith heretical? Technically. But what does it teach? Paranoia, service, devout faith… the only ones such a life damns are those who prosper by it, and a deacon and three followers are not anywhere near the peak of that pyramid.” Wait, aren’t I near the top of that pyramid? Won’t I be at the top, after I’m responsible for finding the heir? Well, next to the top, after the heir herself. I don’t want to be damned, just for trying to better my station in this life! Wait, no, that’s his belief system, not mine. Paranoia is a virtue, it’s a Power of the Student. I know that much.
“This is what all the members of your faith believe?! A tolerance of differences of faith makes one’s faith meaningless, for the One God needs to summon to His side all the souls He can before the End Times!”
“And He will. But I am just upsetting you, please, feel free to move on. Perhaps the next priestess you meet will be more familiarly fire-and-brimstone for you. Or more acid-and-vinegar, given your draconic liege.”
“What’s wrong with paranoia, Ignite?” Zia found her voice at last. “It’s a Power!”
“The Powers exist to protect humanity from evil. Paranoia is something we need protection from. But I am not here to discuss philosophy when I have dirty dishes I see I will be doing myself. Please, enjoy the biscuits before you leave.”
If You Could Only Hear
Sinners like to ask if there’s a God
Hoping that there’s not
A Hell awaits the unrepentant, is it sentence enough?
Faith changes minds and changes hearts
Say this about the One God, His world is art
Of love, for love.
He says we gotta hold on, to the One God
Doesn’t make a difference if He’s there or if not
For good and glory
We’ll put our faith in God
He’s all that we’ve got!
Oh, and the Holy Spirit
Oh, if you could only hear it!
With wordless groans, it intercedes
Oh, asks for what we need!
God makes our plans for us
We walk out in faith in the light of his love
His love, such love
Always we are sustained
The Savior cries for our plight
In His love for us He’s pained, again.
We gotta hold on, to the One God
Doesn’t make a difference if He’s there or if not
For good and glory
We’ll put our faith in God
He’s all that we’ve got!
Oh, and the Holy Spirit
Oh, if you could only hear it!
With wordless groans, it intercedes
Oh, asks for what we need!
We gotta hold on, to the One God
Doesn’t make a difference if He’s there or if not
Oh, and the Holy Spirit
Oh, if you could only hear it!
With wordless groans, it intercedes
Oh, asks for what we need!
