DF247 - Faith (Aris) (Patreon)

Going from the tale that Zaphar had told about how he got Elara out of the city, Aris was expecting getting in to be much harder than it was.

“We’re just going to walk in?” she whispered. Both of them had Perception high enough to hear a whisper from two paces away. “Last time, you needed to do all sorts of stuff!”

“Last time, I was escorting… someone. Who was wanted by multiple powerful parties!” Even in a whisper, Zaphar wasn’t willing to say certain names. Aris knew who he was talking about. “This time, no one is looking for us, so we can be walking through the front gate.”

“Don’t they check… something?” The one time Aris had visited Bures, they’d arrived by boat. There had been a guy on the docks who had wanted to see some papers that they didn’t have. Anton had been in a hurry and had blitzed past the man without stopping. There had been extenuating circumstances, but Aris had the impression that Anton’s actions had put him in a little bit of trouble.

“See for yourself,” Zaphar nodded at the line ahead. Sure enough, no one was being asked to show papers. The guards were taking the entrance fee, but they were waving everyone to pass through as quickly as possible.

“Shouldn’t they be more careful? There’s a war on,” Aris said disapprovingly.

“War means more people leaving, more goods arriving,” Zaphar said. “More soldiers doing both.”

As if to prove him right, a man rode up, bypassing the line. He waved some noble’s heraldry at the guards, and they waved him through.

Aris supposed Zaphar might be correct. In Kirido, traffic was so light that every travelling merchant or messenger was an event, worthy of notifying Anton, or the baron before him. Visitors couldn’t be checked as thoroughly as they were back home; the line was long enough as it was.

They reached the head of the line soon enough, and were through just as quickly. Aris tried not to gawp at the tall buildings and endless streets. Zaphar gently drew her aside, so as not to block traffic.

“Well, here it is that we are,” he said. “What are we to be doing?”

“Um,” Aris responded. Before getting here, her instinct had been pushing her in one direction, but now it felt more… dispersed. “The people in the line… They didn’t know anything about what was going on, did they?”

“Not from what I heard,” Zaphar agreed. “Some of them were spreading rumours of Tiatian troops, but none of them was talking about a takeover.”

“And they didn’t know about what was happening in the West, either,” Aris said. “Only that there was fighting.”

“We could have filled them in, but that wouldn’t have been wise. We were right under the noses of the guards,” Zaphar pointed out. “Or… is that what you’re thinking we should do?”

“Something like that,” Aris mused.

“We’re still right under the noses of the guards,” Zaphar said, nodding at a pair of bored watchmen just out of earshot.

“I’m not sure…” Aris felt her Class did want her news to be shared, but no advancement was worth getting arrested for treason. “We still don’t know the news is from in here, not really.”

“Should we go to a tavern and start by getting some information?”

“If you’ll allow me to make a suggestion, young lady, following the dictates of your Class requires not information, but wisdom.”

Aris whirled to see a man in his late forties, of medium height and unremarkable build. He wore the plain brown robes of a minor cleric and a short, neatly trimmed beard covered most of his narrow jaw. He raised his hands in surrender as Aris went for the pistol concealed in her coat.

“Peace, please! The calling of the servants of the gods is to distribute wisdom, not violence. I’ve come to help you.”

“And how are you knowing that we are needing help, old man?” Zaphar asked suspiciously. He didn’t put his hand on his rapier, but his right hand was very close to his left sleeve. Aris knew he kept daggers in there.

The priest kept his hands raised. “An excellent question, but perhaps one best answered in relative privacy? Perhaps in a tavern, as you just suggested.”

Zaphar looked at Aris, who shrugged and took her hand out of her coat. Suspicious or not, they could hardly afford to start a fight the minute they entered the city. The guards might not be able to stop her, but Aris’s mission, however nebulously she defined it, would be a failure.

The priest untensed a little and lowered his hands. “As strangers to our fine city, you won’t know much about the local taverns. I know a most excellent one, quiet and discreet.”

“I know a little about the taverns here, but lead on, old man,” Zaphar said.

Aris nodded. They could always save the screaming and the running for later.

*

“First of all,” the priest said as they sat down in a private booth. “Old man? I’m still in my thirties!”

He had led them to a remarkably clean tavern that was pleased to call itself the Copper Stag. At least, Aris thought it was remarkably clean. She only had the tavern back home to compare it to, as the only other taverns she’d been in were Elitran ones. Elitran taverns had… different standards of cleanliness, even when they weren’t smoke-filled or on fire.

“You call her young woman, I call you old man,” Zaphar said.

“And what does that make you?”

“I… am Mysterious Stranger.”

The priest chuckled. “Very good, but perhaps proper names will serve us better. I am Oren Vask of the clergy of Giann. And you are?”

Aris narrowed her eyes. “I think you should tell us what you know and how you know it before we tell you anything,” she said.

“Easily done,” Oren said with a smile. “Yesterday, High Administrator Venn received a divine inspiration. It told him that a man and a woman would pass through the gates today who were in need of guidance. His duties keep him cooped up in the palace, so he delegated the task of supplying it to me.”

Aris waited for him to continue, but he just took a sip of his beer and looked at her expectantly.

“That’s it?”

Oren nodded. “There may be more that the High Administrator hasn’t told me—I’m hardly in a position to interrogate His Eminence for details. But, while I’ve never had a revelation of my own, I understand that these communications tend to be brief and to the point. The gods, in general, are not chatty.”

“But how did the God of Rule know we were coming? Why is he interested in me?”

“You would know better than I, young lady. I can tell you that the gods are aware of much more than people suppose. They respond to so few events, even within the scope of their Domain, that people think they are unheeding.”

“My Tiatian is not that good, but does unheeding mean something different from ‘sees, but does not act’?” Zaphar asked.

“Sometimes. It’s a thorny theological question,” Oren admitted. “But I don’t think now is the time for an academic debate.”

“Wait, if that’s all you know, then how did you know he meant us?” Aris asked.

“Giann doesn’t offer guidance to just anybody,” Oren said. “I could safely assume that none of the farmers and minor merchants coming in had attracted his attention. Nobles were a possibility, but the only nobles I saw were leaving.”

“So the poor are not worth Giann’s attention, then?” Zaphar asked.

“In terms of seeking guidance, yes. To simplify greatly, the poor and downtrodden need only follow the rules set for them. It is those who write and enforce the rules that need careful supervision.”

“We’re not nobles, though,” Aris said, cutting Zaphar off before he could start a fight.

“No, but most nobles are far too sure of themselves to seek advice.” Oren waved off Aris’s unspoken objection. “Yes, yes, I’m sure you know some. But they are, if not rare, then quite unusual. Even so, that was what I expected to find at the gate. But the two of you are much more unusual.”

“Is that something that you can tell by looking?” Aris asked cautiously. Does he have an Inspection Trait?

That was… a foolish question. Just about everybody had a Trait that gave them information that helped their class. Aris thought about what would be useful for a priest who worshipped the god of politics, and shivered.

“Oh, easily,” the priest said. His smile was warm, but Aris found herself wondering what was behind it. “Just looking at you, I can easily tell that you are a most unusual pair of travellers—adventurers perhaps, or extremely eccentric nobles. But what really shone through was how adrift you looked. I could tell at a glance that you were the ones who needed guidance.”

“Do you know who we are?” Aris asked. That was blunt, admittedly, but she wasn’t suited for complicated social games. Zaphar sighed and put his hand over his eyes.

“How refreshingly direct!” Oran laughed. “It is true, young lady, that I already know your name. It would just be impolite for me to use it before we are introduced. And from what I can see regarding your loyalties… well, that tells me that there have been events in the West that the capital is not informed of.”

“If we are being direct.” Zaphar gave Aris a glare that was absolutely a complaint. “Then what side does the Church of Giann take in this war?”

“We aren’t monolithic,” Oran said lightly. “We serve Giann, and what Giann wishes is competent leadership, whatever the source. We seek to advise leaders on how to rule, regardless of their provenance.”

“But that… can’t be right, can it?” Aris asked. “There’s a rightful king and an usurper; they can’t both be in charge.”

“Rightful succession is governed by the system, but that only affects a ruler’s Class,” Oran explained. “Who truly rules a kingdom is a much more complicated question.”

He saw Aris was frowning stubbornly, so he changed tack.

“Did you know, for the first year of his reign, King Kalond didn’t allow any priests in the palace?”

“No, was that because—” Aris stopped when Zaphar covered her hand. Oran watched the interaction without comment.

“There are rumours why,” he said. “But, from the point of view of the Church, the true disaster was that we lost our access to the King. When we were allowed to return, we could have commented on those rumours. We could have revealed what we knew about his sister—”

“You mean you knew?” Aris protested. “Why did you—” Zaphar shushed her again.

“If we revealed that we knew that his sister was alive, that would have been an attack on Kalond. If we told him her location, that would have been an attack on Syrelle. By keeping quiet, we preserved our relationship with both sides and were allowed to continue advising them.”

“On the streets, there are words for those who play both sides,” Zaphar said wryly. “But there is a lady present, so I will not repeat them.”

Oran bowed his head in acknowledgment. “We serve Giann,” he said. “Not any particular king, nation or people.”

“And now you want to help us? I am thinking you are knowing more about us than you are saying.”

“Perhaps. But it would be rude for me to speak of any of your secrets unless you entrusted them to me.”

“Why don’t you speak of secrets we don’t know, then. Tell us about the Tiatians.”

“Hardly a secret, though I’ll wager the news hasn’t yet spread far,” Oran said.    “Within the city, it is widely known that the King has given up his sovereignty to the Empire. Though he still sits in his palace, he is now only a governor.”

“What of his children?”

“Prince Dreicht is suppressing a rebellion in the west,” Oran said. “His daughter was captured by Elitrans while she was visiting Avelford.”

“What? That’s all backward!” Aris protested. Zaphar shushed her again and asked another question.

“How many Tiatian troops are in the country?”