Completed The Field of Glory

[Leah Kadashal]

NORTH OF GILD​

"Do you know where we stand, Leah?" said Boesarius Terral.

Leah Kadashal, the Regulator-in-training under him, looked out over the wide open green field upon which the two of them stood. Very much was it like any other to be found all throughout the land of Campania. A sea of grass on relatively flat ground graced her sight. Batches of trees, huddled together as though each were its own community, dotted the perimeter of the field to its sides, to its far end. Somewhere, very faintly, could be heard the flow of a river, and it was only this and the wind which seemed bold enough to disturb the stillness and the silence.

"Yes," she said. "I have read of this place."

Boesarius made a tiny gesture with his head. "Follow me."

Together they walked through the field until at last they came roughly to its center. There rested a sight which stuck out against the grass: a dark and heavy stone, shaped and polished, its surfaces smooth, its corners rounded. Upon its skyward face was an inscription.

"Can you read it?" asked Boesarius.

Leah looked down to the words etched into the stone. These were not words from the Common Tongue, but from Old Gildan, the newer name of a more ancient language inherited from the people whom Gildans were themselves descended, the Turkal people, they whose last numbers banded together under Andreas Gildal and journeyed to Campania. Leah studied the Old Gildan tongue with reverent fascination and devotion during her time at the War College. The words before her were a pleasure to read, to translate into Common:

"Committed to the earth
Upon which you stand
May be found the reward of sin.
What remains above
Is testament to the ancient courage
Which rid the world of wickedness.
Behold this sight, the Field of Glory."​

Boesarius stood beside her. Placed a hand on her shoulder. "Reading of this place is not the same as being here." With his other he swept out over the field and said, "All of this used to be the city of Cura. Beneath our very feet rests one of the largest mass graves of all Arethil. The men, the women, the children, all were killed without distinction—only a few even wished for mercy." Boesarius shook his head in contempt at that notion, mercy. "Are we butchers, Leah? Are we nothing more than slaughterers, mere letters of blood?"

"No."

"Explain yourself."

"We did what had to be done; the Curites wished for nothing less than our annihilation. We fought for our right to live, and we won it. The Jemaat endures, and the Curites are nothing more than bones which pollute the soil beneath us. Their fate will be the same of all who wish to destroy the Flame of Jura."

Boesarius smiled.

"Good."

* * * * *

GILD
THE TEMPLE OF THE EVERBURNING FLAME​

A few days later, Leah arrived back in Gild. She had been summoned to the Temple of the Everburning Flame.

Through the Temple's front vestibule she entered, and the guards posted there recognized her—or, at least, her garb. Hers was the fashion adopted by many Regulators, who, though they had no official uniform or standardized attire, all generally came to don dark clothes, jackets, and wide-brimmed hats. It set them apart from the look of a career soldier, of a priest or priestess, of a Praetor, even though they could as well be all three of these too. Those committed to the life of a Regulator were nothing if not overt.

In the grand rotunda, the massive central chamber of the Temple, the Heart of Jura, the Everburning Flame rested atop its pedestal, always at least one Bakire Priestess nearby. The grand rotunda, as was often the case during the height of day, had supplicants—humans and dwarves and ogres and a few others—kneeling and praying before the Flame. Leah walked around the pillar-lined perimeter of the rotunda. She needed to go down one of the many halls adjacent to the Heart of Jura, to the office chambers of the priests and bashrahips.

One of the duties of a Regulator, quite apart from those of mage and monster hunting, was to be handlers for foreign magic-users granted Clemency by the Church. A fellow Regulator and Praetor, Irene Savashal, scorned the practice of Clemency. Boesarius, her mentor, found it to be irritating. Both of these sentiments were widely shared among other Regulators as well, yet still they attended to their traditional duty when they were called. Leah, being one of the newest Regulators, was among the first choices if the duty arose. And it had. For Leah, today would mark her first ever duty as a handler. She had awaited it, in fact. Even with a hint of eagerness.

She found the office of Bashrahip Mustafa Junnal. Knocked on his door. Entered when he called for her to do so. Pleasantries exchanged, the Bashrahip proceeded straight to the heart of the matter.

"I have made my prayers to Regel, and the Bakire Priestesses report favor from the Flame," he said. Then he produced the badge and handed it to her. "Clemency has been granted."

"What is the claimant's name?"

Mustafa told her.

"Where is he?"

"Awaiting in the Southern Refectory," said Mustafa. Then, after a moment, he added with a note of fatherly concern and reassurance, "This, I believe, will be nothing more than a routine affair. He is a bounty hunter in search of his quarry, and such is all. If you had within your heart any troubles, I hope that this allays them. I seek not to insult your skill or capability, but merely to speak to your age. The veteran soldier does not flinch at the thought of wounds, but the recruit recoils from the menace thereof; and all must pass through the crucible of time and experience to become as that veteran is, whether they seek expertise on the battlefield, at the forge, in the Senate, or anywhere else in life. It is only natural."

Leah smiled warmly. "Thank you, Bashrahip, for your words. But know that I do not fear. From my first breath I have been drawn inexplicably here." Badge in hand, she half-turned. "Born was I into this moment."

And then she departed from Mustafa's office, and began to walk through the Temple toward the Southern Refectory.

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

Gild. What an aberration.

An anti-magic realm where religious fanatics reigned unopposed, there were few places Ivan could say he disliked more so far. Though the workshops of the Dwarves that he'd seen were rather interesting to him - even if their contraptions could not hope to match the magnificence of Anirian war machines - the rest of the city, and the society that underpinned it, were a culture shock he had definitely not been prepared for.

Having arrived in Gild not long prior, he had seen its fundamentalism, and the self-righteous morality of the majority of Gildans first-hand. Religion and personal opinions aside though, the most abhorrent thing to him about the place were the Penitents. The magic-capable citizens of Gild seemed beyond unfortunate when it came to their lot in life. Feared, distrusted, and sometimes outright reviled by the non-magical majority, these unfortunate souls were further humiliated by those vile cuffs they were forced to wear around their ankles, so as to suppress the magic that was so inherently natural to them. Ivan regarded them with a healthy mix of horror and disdain. That these people conformed so easily to being robbed of their gifts, and to have their entire lives mandated by an overbearing authority based on the simple fact they'd been born with magic was unfathomable to him.

It was perhaps ironic then, that looking onto this rationale, a foreign observer might remark that - as far as the free will and life ambitions of magic users went - Vel Anir was not any more permissive towards the lives of its magical inhabitants than Gild, with the former dictating its arcane denizens into the ranks of the Dreadlords irrespective of their wishes. A fate that was, by all counts, an equally, if not more, brutal life than any citizen of Gild had to bear.

To this so obviously misguided argument, the blonde would simply - and smugly - reply that the crucial difference lay in that while in Vel Anir magic users were encouraged to reach their full potential by embracing their gift, in Gild they were forced to suppress it; to level themselves downwards and to hide in fear of what they might have otherwise achieved. A realm of ignorance and cowardice indeed.

Though he felt confident in the superiority of his homeland’s ways, to spread Anirian supremacy was not why Ivan had come to Gild. Indeed, given his assignment, it was best to forget about his ties to Vel Anir altogether.

As part of the taskforce under Archon Zana, Ivan faced what was probably the riskiest, most dangerous mission he'd faced to date: He had been charged with hunting down the rogue Archon Viren that had found his way to the depths of Campania.

To this end, he had been tasked with two preparatory moves: the first had been to conceal his identity. Rather predictably, Vel Anir and Gild did not quite get along; One was an aggressively expansionist realm, with a complicated-at-best relationship with religion - as Vel Stratholm could well attest to - and whose power derived in large part from its elite core of battle mages. The other was a fundamentalist state stooped in anti-magic rhetoric. When considering these, it was rather predictable that, as soon as they first heard about a rogue Archon taking refuge in the immediacies of Gild, the Anirians had immediately started drafting plans on how not to involve Gild in Vel Anir's internal affairs.

That was why, as he’d made his way to Gild, Ivan did so not as an Anirian initiate, but rather as a Tyrian - one of the few languages he had managed to master the inflections and tones of to the point of utter fluency - bounty hunter, without any ties to the Anirian Republic. Ostensibly in Gild for the somewhat falsified purpose of hunting down a conman sorcerer that had defrauded innocent, non-magical citizens of Tyr with his deceiving magic tricks, Ivan’s presence at the Temple actually tied to the Second preparatory move advised by the Academy: to get himself a Regulator.

Though a necessity when operating in Gild, the need for an agent of the Church of Jura was also, in turn, motivated by two further reasons: Firstly, if he was to face one of the most dangerous men alive on the surface of Arethil, Ivan would need backup. The Regulator he’d been assigned should do this job well enough. Secondly, he also needed Gild's anti-magic gear. Though he abhorred these instruments, Ivan was under no delusions that, even with his Gildan handler and his extensive training as part of the taskforce, he wouldn’t be able to overpower the Archon in a straight-up fight. That was why he needed this edge.

Clemency granted, Ivan had then been corralled into the Southern Refectory of the Temple of the Everburning Flame, where he stood currently. A woman stood there with him, performing a body search for concealed weapons that had lasted - in his ever-innocent opinion - a bit longer than was warranted.

- “Squeeze tighter, why wont’ya?” - He asked, his tone vaguely lewd as the girl’s hands approached his thighs. He locked eyes with her just in time to see the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks. The rest of the search went by much faster, and it wasn’t long after that had been completed, that the doors to the refectory flung open to reveal a new entrant to the hall.

- “You must be my babysitter.” - He said, brow raised over a mildly annoyed expression that sought to dissimulate the fact that he actually wanted to have the Gildan on-board. - “I’m Olvir.” - He lied. - “But you can call me Ollie.” - ​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Leah stopped just outside of the door to the Southern Refectory. She touched her hat with her hand, and a gray glimmer, as subtle as it was ephemeral, flashed over it, there and gone. She touched her coat and her vest and her boots, all the rest of her attire, a small matter done quickly enough, and that same gray glimmer beckoned forth by her hand flashed over them all. Last, she touched the sheathed rapier on the one side of her belt, the coiled length of rope and noose on the other, and thus did she feel sufficiently prepared; she would have to refresh her Nullifying Enchantments every few hours, but such maintenance would amount to little more than a triviality.

No shortage of advice had been given to her by other Regulators in the Sanctum just prior to her visiting Bashrahip Mustafa. You are obliged to give courtesy, not trust, said one. Never forget, said another, that a claimant of Clemency is a Curite, and that they have at their blasphemous command the deadliest force on Arethil. And a third advised, Your duty, Leah, is foremost to protect the Gildan people, and secondly, to protect the claimant from himself.

All this she had taken into account and, so armed with it, she pushed open the Refectory doors and entered the hall. A Temple guardwoman was finishing a search on the claimant. "Ensuring honesty," so it might be gently put, the search in effect comparing what weaponry or magical items the claimant declared to what was indeed found. Their eyes met then, hers and the claimant's. His was a displeased expression, and this was matched by his comment. Then he introduced himself.

Leah plucked at the sides of her long coat and dipped into a languid curtsy, and as she rose and the lifting brim of her hat again revealed her eyes she said, "I am Praetor Leah Kadashal, and I shall accompany you for your duration here in Gild."

Praetor. She used the title she had earned, not the one to which she was presently striving. But that day would come when she could call herself Regulator.

"Has your travel from Tyr been well, Ollie?"

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan made no effort to reciprocate Leah's curtsy, instead focusing on retrieving his belongings from where he'd left them for the search.

- “Same old, same old.” - He replied, somewhat dryly, as he thrust his arms into the sleeves of a rather worn-out long coat. When he was done with his clothes, he threw the small pack he'd brought with him for the mission over his shoulder, following which he made his way towards Leah, in an effort to head for the exit.

- “My target doesn't seem to be in Gild.” - He said matter-of-factly. Usually, Ivan tended to be a bit warmer - that not to say more talkative - when he interacted with contacts abroad; interacting with the locals was, after all, one of the most fun parts of being out on a mission. This time though, due to the undercover nature of the operation, he'd decided that less was more, at least for the time being, when it came to interacting with the Gildans. That would - he hoped - reduce the risk of his disguise being blown.

It was not as if the fanatics had anything interesting to talk about anyways.

- “The reports I have mention different locations, though they all use the same point when giving directions.” - He said. - “Some place called ‘the Field of Glory’. Do you know where that is?” -

Ivan sure didn't. For all the significance it had for the inhabitants of Gild, the Field was virtually unimportant outside of Campania, and even less so for a place as far afield as Vel Anir. That meant that, as he said the words, Ivan had no idea that the place was of any particular importance for Gild. He didn't know the history of the country, nor had he cared to learn it before coming here. Likewise, all the Academy had taught him beforehand were basic notions of Gildan etiquette - which even then he hadn't bothered paying much attention to - that were meant to ensure he didn't commit any gross sacrilege during his first day in the city.​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Judging by Ollie, Tyrians had about them a rough and hardy mien. His face spoke to a youth similar to Leah's own—mayhap a touch older, mayhap a touch younger—yet it was belied by his imposing stature, and Leah thought she saw the hint of a scar retreating somewhere into his attire. Such physical characteristics as his gave themselves naturally to the profession he had come to call his own. What gods the Tyrians worshipped had seen fit to bless Ollie with a bodily form indicative of evident prowess, a form men the world over coveted.

My target doesn't seem to be in Gild.

"Oh?"

Ollie went on to explain further, and when he said the name of the place so referenced by his reports on his quarry, a slow smile crept onto Leah's countenance.

"Yes, I do. I have only just come from there. The Field is within Gildan territory, due north of the city."

Her eyes stayed on Ollie's, and her head, strangely, tilted in a languid fashion. Her long bangs, the lace hanging from the brim of her hat, dangled in a gentle sway from the movement.

"Shall I tell you of it? That you may know how such a name has come to haunt that place?"

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

A raised brow was the first response Leah would get to her question.

- "Sure." - He followed-up. - "Though, what kind of a haunt could a place called 'the Field of Glory' have?" - If he had to bet, it would either be something incredibly primal, or pure superstition. That seemed to be all these people seemed to be guided by.

Ivan, now fully bedecked with the clothes and supplies he'd brought for the journey, started to make his way towards the doors that led out of the refectory. He held one open for his Regulator, acting in a manner much-too-gentlemanly to what those that knew him would expect.

When he'd first entered into these halls, he had expected the Gildan that would accompany him to be some decrepit old man with deep wrinkles and hanging tits. Instead, he seemed to have been assigned a youthful woman. Her features were pleasantly feminine, with white skin and seemingly sharp lines untouched yet by time, even though a fair portion of her face seemed to be obfuscated by her long, silver hair.

"Leander would probably like her."

Glancing up-and-down her figure as he held the door, Ivan wondered what she would look like under those non-descript black robes.​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

"One that is the story of people all the world over. Of victors...and of the slain."

Leah smiled graciously to Ollie as he held open the door for her, bowing her head and tipping her hat in appreciation. She stepped out from the Refectory and into the hall and there waited for Ollie to follow. She would begin her succinct version of the tale as they walked.

"Once there stood upon what is now the Field the city of Cura. They, the Curites, worshipped any and all who possessed magic, viewing them as divine. Gods and goddesses. Theirs was a kind of aristocracy whereupon each and every mage was greater than a king, each and every mundane soul lower than a peasant, and this was the order of their being.

"This produced by natural consequence a great enmity in the Curites when they heard of their new neighbors to the south; for, in those days, Gild had only just been established, the Ragged Banner only just planted, the city, still under much construction, but a dream of the splendor it has now achieved. We Gildans, bearers of the flame of Jura, were all that the Curites were not. And thus war was inevitable. Not once, but twice.

"In the course of the Second Curite War, when the Curites came so close to capturing the whole of Gild, claiming as their conquest all of the city save the Citadel, we rallied and pushed them back. Pushed them, indeed, all the way back to their own city. And there the final fight began. Our axes knew nothing but fury and butchery, and the great slaughter ensued. The Curites had sought to strike from the face of Arethil every ounce of Gildan blood, every trace of that which bore the name of Gild. Instead, this we did to them, and we buried the city's population along with its city. Cura is no more, and what has taken its place is peace, the echoes of ancient courage, and an empty field...known as the Field of Glory."

Leah tilted her head back as they walked, smiling grandly, allowing herself an indulgence in fancy.

"To be alive at such a time...ahhh...must have been splendid."

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan followed Leah through the door, and then walked beside her as she explained the history between Gild and Cura. He listened intently, somewhat surprised that the bland - probably superstition-riddled - story he'd been expecting did not materialise, but was instead portrayed as an epic conflict to the death between bitter rivals.

Kress, those Curites must've really been imbeciles to lose so badly to a kingdom of fanatical non-mages. Even so, the idea that his destination was where once rose a mighty city-state was compelling to him. Maybe there would be some loot left-over?

Enrichment prospects aside, what also caught his attention was the regulator's last sentence.

"To be alive at such a time...ahhh...must have been splendid."
- "Murdering mages does sound like fun." - He said, a slight hint of bitterness crowning his voice. He knew better than to take offence though, or any other sort of feeling really, from a story he was so disconnected with. Instead, his goal was more to gouge his partner's opinion on mages. To figure out if Leah really considered him a devil like Gildan propaganda seemed to suggest. - "You lot really don't like us, do you?" - ​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

The halls of the Temple passed slowly in their leisurely walk, and Leah, when asked, took Ollie's question in stride. Delighted in it, even. Many of the classes she and other student Praetors attended in the War College were of a theological, philosophical, and historical nature. And now Regel had delivered to her the chance to discuss, to whatever length it went, topics such as these with an ajam man—a perspective unique to all others prior to it.

"All who have within their breast a heart that beats are capable of sin. To possess magic is not a sin; to use it, that which rightly and only belongs to the gods, is. To live is to be beset constantly by temptations of all kinds. Admirable is the soul which defeats these most formidable of adversaries, pitiable the soul which struggles in this righteous effort, contemptible the soul which wantonly gives in. Whether it be with regard to magic or not, the vast majority of people are not merely one, not two, but all three states at once: admirable, pitiable, contemptible. Claiming triumphs. Suffering defeats."

Leah left aside her own view on fate, and how it interacted with these notions, and how it...clashed with more mainline Church doctrine. What was spoken was sufficient.

"In Gild, there are those of theological inelegance, yes, they who simply despise magic altogether, even to go so far as to disparage their fellow Gildans, the Penitents, who by and large seek only to live with virtue." A glance over to Ollie. "Surely you have some of this particular lot in Tyr, they who misunderstand the true meaning of their faith and tenets prescribed by your gods."

Leah simply and tacitly assumed the prominence of a religion in Tyr, despite knowing little of the distant land.

She smiled. "It is not their fault. It is the duty of spiritual leaders the world over to lead the laymen onto the path most pleasing to their gods."

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan managed through Leah's lecture in Gildan theology by zoning-in-and-out of the conversation, nodding and rolling his eyes on the few occasions he was actually paying attention.

- “That's all very pretty.” - He said dryly. - “Though it raises a problem for your rationale.” - He continued, his features shifting to a smug look. - “If the Gods are so outraged by the use of magic, then how come I haven't been struck down yet for my blasphemy? How is it that I'm able to walk unencumbered by God's retribution at your side, in this holy temple, given my oh-so-unrepentant use of magic?” -

He shook his head.

- “I've used magic since I was old enough to walk, Regulator. I will continue to use it until the day I die.” - He motioned widely. - “Hundreds of thousands across this world do so, as freely as I do, and let us not forget that even the most powerful realm in Arethil uses magic extensively for their military endeavours.” - He spoke, of course, of Vel Anir, though he was careful enough to dissimulate the not-insignificant amount of pride he felt mentioning his homeland to these savages.

- “Will you tell me that your God allows all of this sacrilege to go unpunished? That it allows mortals to challenge its will so freely?” - He shook his head, yet again.

- “I've travelled the world-over and if there is something I learned, is that if some God or other didn't want us to use magic, then we wouldn't be able to do so.” - Well, either that or the whole idea of the religion was a sham. In all honesty, Ivan didn't know which one he preferred.

By this point, the two of them had reached the temple's exit to the exterior. Once again, Ivan held the door open.

- “The fact that your inelegant theologians are unable to cope with this is, honestly, more worrying than any other shortcomings of clergymen at large.” -

He motioned for her to lead the way.​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Leah listened with pure focus and attention, her legs guiding her all of their own accord, her mind and her gaze fixed solely upon Ollie and his words. Every word of his was given her utmost consideration, and not one line of thought simply dismissed. What a joyous day! What a splendid time! For what tree could properly be called faith if the most gentle of doubting winds should have the strength to knock it over? No such tree could have any claim to the roots of fundamental truths.

Leah was enjoying Ollie's company, by his challenges and arguments against Jura, and she discovered that, far from being repulsed, far from a full-throated rage coursing through her blood and urging the accusation of "Heretic!", she wished to discuss such lofty matters further with him. Indeed, as she had surmised earlier, his was a perspective unique to all which preceded it. And how beautiful the tapestry of the Right Ordering! For its threads, to the awakened eye, could be seen in things grand and things small. Grand like a mission to hunt down a Curite in the whereabouts of the Field of Glory, small like the exchange of words and the robustness of thought to be gained thereby.

At the Temple exit, Leah stopped. She did not depart just yet. Something of an odd juxtaposition in her stance, a discipline which spoke to her military bearing, a demureness which spoke to her youth. Though perhaps for someone like Ivan, the Anirian behind the guise of Ollie, he who braved still the rigors (and horrors) of the Anirian Academy, such a stance might not seem a juxtaposition at all.

She smiled openly. Said, "Do you imagine your duration in Gild will allow for us time to speak further? It would be my delight to do so, in a setting more proper and conducive to conversation, if such an indulgence is to your liking as well."

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

- “Sure.” - He said, his brow raised. It was rather surprising that the woman wanted to continue the conversation, but - he guessed - a fanatic would always want to argue his, or her, points to exhaustion, no matter how hopeless, or false, they were. Well, either that or Leah wanted to rant about her clearly misguided religion elsewhere other than the heart of the faith. Ivan wouldn't be surprised with either.

He looked outside, where the Sun, though already below its midday peak, still shone high in the sky.

- “I guess it's a bit late to leave town now.” - Again, though they still had some hours of daylight left, he didn't want to go braving the unknown in the dark… especially since a rogue Archon could be lurking in the shadows.

- “Will you accompany me on a tour through the city?” - He asked. Not that he wanted the company of the zealot. What nonsense! Obviously he didn't. It was just that he would rather have a local guide when it came to wander around. Well, that and he liked the idea of having a Regulator nearby in case one of the countless fanatics of Gild decided to lynch him randomly, a possibility which - for the blonde - was entirely possible in this barbaric realm.​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

"You are too kind."

Leah said, again descending into a deep curtsy, this time to express her gratitude instead of following the common courtesy of introductions. Patience yet tempered her excitement, as often it did; for in longing for some awaited thing to arrive, what great comfort to know that all things have always been, are, and will yet be. Time itself bowed prostrate and subservient to its master, Fate, and the crop reaped from this obedience, to those who truly understood the configuration of the world, was patience.

And another dash of the unexpected awaited her soon after she rose to her normal stance.

Will you accompany me on a tour through the city?

A smile of pleased and pleasant warmth graced her features. "I would find no greater joy with which to seal this day into memory."

She stepped out through the open door.

A question, perhaps abrupt, right after she did. "Does Tyr have public baths?"

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Outstanding." - He said. Though his tone was somewhat more cheerful than before, his features remained emotionless. Ivan stepped outside, closing the door after him. He was about to ask in which direction they should go when the Regulator - seemingly - anticipated that question with one of her own.

"Does Tyr have public baths?"

Well... fuck if he knew. During the time he'd spent in the city with Ollie - that is, the real Ollie, Olvir Weiroon - he could not recall such a place, though he could very easily have missed it. That trip had been for the purpose of learning about Weiroon's enchanted sword, not for that of beauty treatments.

- "I don't think so." - He said, the semantic doubt the response entailed being completely cast aside by his self-assured tone. - "Though there is one town - Ostgoth - where they do have them. It's a nice getaway with lava-heated hot springs." - He shrugged. - "Some people think it's therapeutic." -

Not that it had been that for him, nor for Weiroon. While in Ostgoth they had gotten blackout-drunk, and then relentlessly assailed by an undead assassin.

Also Ollie had cockblocked him, something which he still felt vaguely bitter about.

A raised brow came to crown his features as he looked around.

- "Why? Are you taking me to a bathhouse, Regulator?" - He asked, his tone changing to one of amusement. He couldn't say he would oppose that idea all that much if that was the case. Having arrived recently to Gild after weeks on the road, Ivan could really have done with some means of washing that did not involve having to jump into a freezing river somewhere in the wilderness.​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Leah's eyes widened with a proportional wonder at a certain mention of Ollie's. Lava? Truly? Had he seen it? Some traditions called it the blood of Arethil. Some said that it was the impenetrable barrier of fire which separated the world from the underworld. Those who had a leaning toward an interpretation based on natural philosophy knew it to be molten stone, the source of obsidian, and some scholars even went so far as to say that islands were formed from it. All of these were fascinating in their own ways to Leah, for she had not with her own eyes seen the sight of lava. To her it was a thing of tales and tomes, vague and distant until her gaze, if so fated, glimpsed it. That Ollie had seen it, or at least felt some of its effects from those hot springs in the town of Ostgoth, spoke to an experience of the world she in her youth lacked.

Mayhap he was older than his countenance would suggest?

Why? Are you taking me to a bathhouse, Regulator?

"Yes," she said, this with an amiable enthusiasm. They were by now walking through the Temple's large courtyard as she spoke on it. "We have in Gild the Great Bath, a magnificent construction for the public well-being and for the splendor of the city, and it is nearby the Temple. I shall take you there first."

She glanced over.

"Should you wish to enter and partake of its amenities during your stay, however, we will need to change temporarily our arrangement." She swept her hands down before herself as she walked. "I am a woman, and cannot accompany you into the men's partition of the Bath."

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "A bath wouldn't go amiss." - He said, tentatively. Though he didn't think he smelled that badly, Ivan had just spent weeks on the road, without much in the way of care except that which the journey allowed. It would be nice to get a bit of a rest and a clean-up before he headed out again.

He glanced up over at the sky. - "I think we should have enough time for a quick stop?" - With the Sun still somewhat high in the sky, they should be in no rush, even if they took a handful of quick pit-stops.

- "Shame it's separated though, in Ostgoth the pools are mixed." - He said, his gaze returning to his guide. In truth, he didn't know for a fact that they were mixed. When he'd been there most baths had taken the form of private, single pools, as opposed to large open spaces, but again he had seen nothing forbidding the mixture of genders, and women were definitely allowed in the pools.

- "In any case, do lead on, Regulator." -​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

I think we should have enough time for a quick stop?

"As you wish," Leah said. Mayhap it would be the disposition of other Regulators to chide her for being so courteous, for not encouraging Ollie to hurry along with his business at all possible speed and to therefore be gone from Gild all the sooner. They misunderstood the balance put in place by Regel; if it was the wish of the God of Jura to see Ollie departed from Gild with such haste, then they, the discourteous Regulators, would have been assigned to him.

Shame it's separated though, in Ostgoth the pools are mixed.

Surprise did not afflict Leah as often or as strongly as it did for others, yet she was not immune to it. Hearing this, though, she was taken aback enough for the motion of her head to in turn cause the hanging lace of her hat's brim to sway. If anything, culture shock had the power to catch Leah by surprise like nothing else.

"Pardon? Mixed? What manner of impropriety is allowed to reign in this town of Ostgoth? How does public order result from such a thing as this?"

She seemed more baffled than anything else, confused more so than affronted at the notion.

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

A chuckle escaped his lips at Leah's sudden, baffled outburst. Though Ivan couldn’t say the reaction he’d gotten from the Gildan was surprising, he certainly hadn't expected this sort of semantic response to his comment.

- “Don't be such a prude, Regulator.” - He said light-heartedly. - “Why would public order suffer from the baths being mixed?” - In his view, the Academy was still one of the most orderly places in all of Arethil, and only Kress knew how many times he'd seen his female counterparts naked.

- “Nakedness is nothing to be ashamed about.” - Well, it wasn't for him who was built like a hero of the legends, though Ivan could see why those dried-up priests of Regel would want to hide their flabby hides beneath non-descript robes. - “We were made the way we were.” - A shrug rolled over his shoulders. - “There's nothing unnatural about our forms.” -

That… was a surprisingly mature piece of argument, and one that reflected his relative lack of etiquette, more than any philosophical wisdom. Growing up at the Academy, he'd had very little in the way of training when it came to social norms, or rectitude. When one was raised ruthlessly, with the sole goal of becoming an obedient, relentless living weapon, these small pieces of decorum - like the shame of a girl seeing your pee-pee - tended to get lost along the way. This insensitiveness was why - more than anything - he'd been somewhat dazed by Leah's outburst.

- “No harm ever came to the world from a woman seeing a man naked.” - He concluded. - “And no society ever collapsed from a good fucking.” -​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Leah listened to Ollie as if he telling her that, in his view, north was south and south north, that the ground was the sky and the sky the ground. These or any other perplexing and inverted things. To Leah, in keeping with her faith in Jura and her Gildan upbringing, modesty was a given, and dignity built upon it. The sort of thing as relayed by Ollie about Ostgoth seemed only proficient in inviting debauchery and its attendant degradation of both men and women alike, nothing more.

"'Ajam are the ways of lands afar'," she commented, quoting the closing line of one of her favorite plays from the Amphitheatre. A sentiment perhaps ubiquitous among peoples the world over.

The walk to the Great Bath wasn't long; the Temple of the Everburning Flame, the Great Bath, and the Forum formed the central hub of activity within Gild, each closely located to one another. Castulo Arnal, a well-known miscreant, once remarked within earshot of Leah of these three locales, "Shop, pray, and wash your ass." Crudely stated and reductively simplistic, though the essence of it was correct.

The Great Bath itself was a building which, in conformity with its name, dwarfed the surrounding structures. And as Leah had alluded, it was a building bifurcated, looking as though its two equal halves had been split from one another by the giant concrete wall which ran straight through its middle; even the stairs leading up to the Bath's entrance were so separated by the wall. No doors marked the dual entrances, but a series of sharp right angles cut off lines of sight.

Leah, just prior to their arrival, had asked of a passing guard to quickly go and find a male Regulator, or even regular Praetor. The guard dutifully set off, and as they waited, Leah spoke some on the Bath and on Gild.

"Do you see those rings of metal adorning the bases of the pillars all around the Bath? They are decorative, yes, but as well symbolic, for each of the metals represents a class of Gildan. At the bottom is the silver, embodying the commons, for silver is our most plentiful metal resource, and it is said that within the heart of every true Gildan runs a thread of silver. Next is the ring of bronze, which, as an alloy that is made, indeed captures the enterprising spirit of the self-made Beyar class. Highest in the order is the Nobility, represented by the gold, a metal of comparative rarity to the others, and one whose luster shines the brightest; each of the five Houses claims a hallowed progenitor, dating back to the waning days of the Turkal people during their exodus, and from whom comprised Gild's earliest inhabitants."

Leah beamed as she spoke, enthused about sharing all of this with Ollie; the strangeness of the Ostgoth revelation notwithstanding.

"Together, the silver, the bronze, and the gold form the Jemaat, our Community, and all who call Gild home bask in the warm glow thereby created of this union."

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

He listened intently to Leah's lecture, though he couldn't say he found it particularly interesting... History had never been a strong suit, nor a particularly cultivated interest, of his. Indeed, apart from the genealogy of the Skender clan - one he wasn't about to share with the Gildan, for obvious reasons - there wasn't much about the past he cared about, something which was true even for Anirian history, let alone anyone else's.

There was a bit he found mildly interesting, however.

- "Who were the progenitors?" - He asked, as they waited. The way the Regulator had spoken, the five families these "progenitors" had sired sounded like the Seven Great Houses back home, in Vel Anir. If these people had formed any sort of equivalent to the Anirian Great Houses without any magic, and against a magic-wielding Kingdom such as Cura, then they ought to have done something right.

- "Did they achieve something noteworthy?" - He didn't know what on Arethil were the Turkal either, but from the Regulator's account he could get a vague idea that they were probably the ancestors of current-day Gildans. In any case, he didn't feel particularly curious about these, and he certainly wasn't interested enough in them to ask a follow-up question.​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

"Indeed they did, each in their own way—some earlier than others."

Leah went on to give a brief summary of the progenitors of each House. She finished with the mention of House Gildal, the most recently established and naturally, given the man, most famed of the Houses. For House Gildal had none other to give them their name than King Andreas Gildal himself, he who had led the persecuted Jurist refugees and remnants of the Turkal people to Campania and founded the Kingdom itself. Even now, he remained as Gild's one true king.

Not long after she had finished, Praetor Bayram Ohmal found them, looking perhaps a touch disgruntled that he had been summoned on such little notice for this, but, for the benefit of his younger colleague Praetor Leah, content enough to see it through.

"Enjoy the warm waters of the Bath, and do not feel rushed," Leah said to Ollie. And then she added, as if it were a completely normal thing to say, "My patience could outlast the doom of the world."

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Will do." - Was the last thing he told Leah, before walking into the baths.

It would be then - in a truly stunning twist of fate - over the next hour-or-so that he would spend within the baths that he would actually come to miss Leah's company. Bayram Ohmal, it turned out, was not nearly as welcoming as his younger counterpart had been.

Gruff, coarse, and very decidedly hostile towards magical individuals - or foreigners maybe, Ivan really did not know - Ohmal might have put on a sympathetic face towards Leah, but he surely wasn't about to pander to a magically-gifted - or cursed - foreigner.

With little more than the occasional grunt, or annoyed sigh, the Praetor corralled Ivan towards the baths.

- "Keep it quick and humble here, Penitent." - Was the first full-sentence Bayram told him, as the two of them made their way through the men's part of the baths. - "We don't need any foreign filth infecting our baths." -

Ivan remained silent for the most part, only attempting to engage with the Gildan once. Though he'd very much thought he could soften the Praetor through his charming, and witty, conversation skills - as he did so frequently with difficult individuals - he soon came to regret ever exchanging a word with the Praetor at all.

- "How do you warm these baths?" - He asked innocently, as he tried to strike a conversation.

At once though, the Praetor turned to him. A sharp exhalation marking his annoyance at the simple question. He then gave Ivan a fulminant, livid look. A look as intense and angry as the ones the Proctors used to give him at the Academy. Indeed, so fierce was the Praetor's expression, that the initiate, for a second, thought the Gildan was about to slap him where he stood.

Instead, a cutting scoff was all the reply he was afforded.

- "Quiet yourself, Penitent. The likes of you have no business knowing how Gild maintains itself." -

And that was that.

Ivan dutifully did not try again to engage with the man, and instead went on to enjoy the baths, even though he remained very much within earshot for all the ranting the Praetor threw the way of whoever walked by.

- "He can scrub all he likes," - Ivan heard Ohmal say at some point. - "he'll never wash the Curite filth off of him." -

The bath itself though, was very pleasant. The warm water felt good against his skin, and the cleansing breathed new life onto his fatigued body.

In time he would walk back outside, meeting with Leah once again. Though Ivan was not exactly filthy when arriving in Gild, Leah would certainly be able to notice a sizeable difference in his appearance, as the time on the road had taken it's toll on the initiate. As he left the baths, no longer was his fair skin blemished by grime, nor was his hair matted with dirt; instead, exchanging the dirt-blonde colouration, for its usual, glorious wheat-blonde hue.

- "Right." - He greeted Leah. - "Shall we move on?" - ​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Leah sat on one of the low walls at the Bath's front, her hands perched down at her sides on the wall's surface, her legs crossed and feet swaying to the tune of her thoughts. Much had she to think on, and, foremost in her thoughts, was her Regulator training and the completion thereof. This was her fate. This was why she had survived the attack in the market, why she had been gifted with Praetor powers, and why all fell into place to lead her right into the Sanctum. She was destined to be a Regulator. And she was destined to be a Regulator because she was destined to be—

(with him)

Motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Ollie had returned, refreshed in appearance and even in his vigor, and Praetor Bayram (looking a touch relieved) departed. Leah stood from her seat, smiling.

"Yes," she said, "next we will go to the Forum."

She deigned not to quote Castulo here, in his remark about the Temple, Bath, and Forum triangle.

* * * * *​

The beating heart of much activity in Gild, the Forum was a great rectangular, open air plaza which had all about its periphery high-end shops, crowded markets beneath the pillars which held aloft those stories of shops, and civic administration buildings dotted all throughout. Banners of the colors described by Leah back at the bath—silver, bronze, and gold—hung overhead and from many of the pillars; as well, these were joined by banners displaying the Gildan Crescent, a symbol of Jura with a left-facing crescent and a star within the cradle of said crescent, representing Campania and Gild's place within it.

Leah pointed out various shops here and there; ones she was more familiar with, having been in them herself in her younger years on some errand or another from her parents. Toward the far end of the plaza, though, a larger crowd had gathered, and Leah surmised what was soon to happen there. She led Ollie that way.

The crowd was ringed around a platform, all watching, some jeering. A man was stripped to his trousers up on the platform, his arms stretched out to his sides and bound to posts; another man stood behind him with a coiled whip in his hands; and a Praetor made for the third man upon the platform, and he was proclaiming to the crowd the sentence of the bound man:

"...that this man, Juni Ummeral, in accordance with the law of Gild, is to receive in the public view five hundred lashes over five days, is to be fined five hundred silver sikke for each of the women he exploited, and is to be gaoled for a period of no less than five years. May his immorality be expiated by the endurance of these punishments, and may his faith in Regel be restored thereby. Praise be to Regel, the Judge of All, God of Jura, and Paternal Flame of Gild; blessed are they who in his sight uphold the Right Ordering of All Things." Then the Praetor glanced to man with the whip and nodded. "Let justice be administered."

And so it began. The crack of the whip with each rhythmic lash, the flinching of Juni's body with each fresh streak of blood running down his back, and cries of pain punctuating each of the lashes as they landed.

Leah, from what she gathered of the judicial Praetor's proclamation and the jeers of the crowd, pieced together Juni's crime. She glanced to Ollie and explained, "Brothels are illegal in Gild. Yet, even knowing this, there are some who, in secret, attempt to defy the law."

Quite pleased with the sight of Juni being flogged, Leah added, "It is the hubris of Man which leads to this."

For it was not merely the laws of Arethil which they attempted to defy.

Ivan Skender

 

[Ivan Skender]

He winced as he saw poor Juni being flogged in public for the oh-so-unforgivable crime of whoring.

"Kress, what a bunch of savages." - Was really the first thought that came to his mind. As for himself, he could only imagine what a shitshow it would be if someone attempted to punish people this way at the Academy.

It was only afterwards that the words of Bayram Ohmal started to echo in his head, his tone as cutting as the end of that whip seemed to be.

"The likes of you have no business knowing how Gild maintains itself." - Was what he heard as the first lash pierced Juni's flesh. - "We don't need any foreign filth infecting our baths." - Ivan wondered how much Ohmal would've enjoyed if it was himself up there on that podium. - "He'll never wash the Curite filth off of him." -

"Enough." - It was time to teach these Gildans a lesson.

He focused on the scene unfolding before him. Or better, he focused on the whip causing all the mayhem that all of them were there to see. Slowly but surely, with each lash, he felt his magical powers bubbling under the surface, the arcane winds building up within him. To the outside observer, the change would not be noticeable. Ivan was not a novice to the use of magic, and so, such a concentration of power was something he could do with relative ease, and without tipping off anyone around him.

Then, as the public spectacle reached a crescendo, he snapped his fingers, the dry sound of the gesture muffled by the excited noises of the crowd. Noises that, unfortunately would not last for much longer, for in that instant Ivan's decay magic was set full against the executioner's whip.

Again, to the outside, the entire occurrence - or at least the magical component thereof - would pass entirely dissimulated. While Ivan's charms did project a black aura when cast, in this particular situation, the blonde projected it over a very small section of the whip. In the blink of an eye, the charm worked its magic, its dark aura naught but a passing shadow, under the sunny afternoon, and the whip broke mid-air, the leather end falling harmlessly on the floor before making contact with the flesh.

A synchronized gasp rose from the crowd around them, their afternoon spectacle seemingly ruined. Should Leah look at Ivan though, all she'd see was the smug expression on his face.

- "Huh, would you look at that." - He said nonchalantly. - "Divine intervention, indeed." - He then turned to leave. - "Maybe Regel himself is not that aghast to a good fucking as you thought, Regulator." - ​

 

[Leah Kadashal]

Leah drew her reserve dagger and pressed its tip to the soft flesh beneath Ollie's chin. With the dagger coursing with the sapping energy of her Nullifying Enchantment, just that small bit of contact would feel like an oppressive weight, an enfeebling constriction, upon a mage's grasp of their magic; more would prevent spellcasting outright.

Leah's demeanor had changed. Where before she had been pleasant, genial, and smiling, now a gray calm had descended upon her, her peaceful expression at odds with the dagger she held but, inwardly, in firm contempt of the fear of death, and her smile had flattened out into a neutral line.

What happened up there on the platform was no accident (especially not in Leah's view). It was supernatural, that a sturdy whip could break in the manner that it had. And divine intervention it, with a near certainty, was not—not when she had a thief of divine power standing right next to her.

Soon the Forum would be swarmed by city guards and Praetors alike, some of them sure to be Detectors like Boesarius. The search for Curites would begin, First Penitents with unlockable anklets would be detained so that they could be cleared of wrongdoing, Regulators would take accountability of the whereabouts of all current claimants of Clemency at the time of the incident; priests would come next, to ascertain the presence of magic, miracle, or mundanity, and to purify the area; efforts would continue until a satisfying explanation of the incident could be proclaimed by the Church.

All of that could be avoided. All of it. If Leah merely shouted "Curite," here and now, among the shocked crowd whose eyes were all still on the broken whip and the people upon the platform, thus providing said explanation. For, as the only current claimant of Clemency in the city of Gild, present in the very place where the incident occurred, and wearing no anti-magic anklet, cuff, or any such item at the time, no greater suspect would there be than him. Upon Leah's authority, Ollie's fate could be sealed with a single word.

But this she did not do.

Instead, low and quiet and deadly serious, right as the tip of her dagger touched his flesh, she asked him, "Do you threaten the Gildan people?"

There wasn't much time.

Ivan Skender