The Empire To Please the Lord

[Dizzy]

It had taken her weeks to get her. Trekking through the desert, paying off (or killing) bandits, emptying the sand that built up in her boots, or simply stopping to ask for directions.

She was surprised when many folk simply shook their heads and acted surprised when she mentioned she sought an audience with Gerra, the supreme and unquestioned leader of the Empire. One man, an elf who'd had too much to drink, even laughed at her and called her insane. Once she found her new god she'd bend the knee and immediately propose tracking down and murdering the elf who had insulted her new lord's honor.

But for now she simply found herself in a room with marble floors and an elegantly crafted ceiling.

Apparently her questions and demeanor had made some of the locals feel uncomfortable. Now they had ushered her into an area where she was supposed to meet with... someone? It was hard to know for certain as they had spoken in hushed tones and whispers like cowards. She had been clear, several times, that she was seeking an audience with Gerra as quickly as possible.

And so she stood in the atrium, awaiting the lord she would soon pledge fealty to.

Dizzy did not expect him to actually be eleven stories tall, nor did she expect that his hair was literally fire, but she did expect that whoever this god was would hold a commanding presence. He would be a true god amongst mortals, a living god she could speak with and take orders from instead of the intangible "gods" of her people.

 

[Gerra]

I do not remember the taste of wine.

The touch of flesh.

What am I become, undone by a deed I thought just. Is this how you reside in your molten halls, father? Full of fear and aimless hate? Undone by a curse.

The atrium stood empty but for the Immortal-Deathless, who lined the hall three to a side, their masked faces only slightly obscured by the wisps of incense leaking from brass spheres suspended from the ceiling. The rich spiced scent of expensive saffron suffused the atrium, each sphere-full worth a farmer's monthly wages.

As the horned warrior stood amidst the silence, there came the click-click of sandaled heels slapping upon hand-chiseled tiles. From behind the sun throne emerged a figure in black robes. Upon his neck weighed a heavy broad collar of gold with a single emerald of enormous proportions glinting in its middle. He had thin, hollow cheeks and burnt, weather-lined features. And pointed ears.

"Welcome, warrior, far have you traveled to come to this hall," his voice was high and somewhat cold, though his smile belied any distaste.

He spread his arms wide, revealing the rich burgundy sleeves of the tunic he wore beneath the black robe.

"I am Malek al-Hadhra of Rhaqoum. What can I do for you?"

 

[Dizzy]

A man, a paltry man, entered the room.

Although her imagination had gotten away from itself she had to remember that to them she was an outsider. Likely underserving of seeking their god. Still, she couldn't pledge fealty to a creature she had yet to lay eyes upon, yet to see if his presence truly commanded the respect owed to a living god.

Diz studied the man's intricate outfit, his richly colored red tunic, and his demeanor, before answering.

"I seek an audience with Gerra. The one they say united the tribes. The one who, with hair of fire, forged an empire and is a living god amongst men." Her words were spoken with the reverence of any devout believer. Spoken as if this was the first and last god she would ever pledge to.

Catching the man who called himself Malek al-Hadhra's gaze she added, "if he is not here please let me know where I can seek an audience with him."

 

[Tezio Gomst]

The call of the West was defiant in its insistence. From the golden plains of the Allir Reach, Tezio had strode across the land on his own two feet. Almost a month alone spent in the Aberresai Savannah to offer his meager services to village elders in exchange for paltry coppers and any news coming from Elbion.

What was demanding his presence? Was it the roiling of gut instinct.. or something else?

When the wandering knight found himself faced with an endless sea of sand and nothing but the sun to guide him, he knew it was too late to truly question why. He simply pressed on as he always had.

His feet ached, and the guards before him hardly seemed to care. Nor did they seem to care when he offered his weapons, seemingly confident of whoever - or whatever - dwelled within.

Tezio's entry was as smooth and quick as he could make it. A rumbling quake of towering, marbled doors announced his arrival whilst the aroma of burning spices officially welcomed him to Amol-Kalit. Just in time to faintly catch a few words. Malek, Gerra, god and fire.

The knight remained silent, content to linger near the doors as someone else spoke their piece.

 

[Gerra]

"Ahhh, yes. Many have come with your question. Where is the emperor? Hhem."

Another gesture of his hands, not dismissive, not quite, but the gesture of one who held no answers.

"After returning from the Cortos campaign he decreed an order to build a fleet, for our shores are plagued with corsairs. He drove them off, but... well... no one has seen him in some time. The viziers govern in his stead, Medja of the Eyes and Ashuanar the Risen Red Sun foremost among them."

Malek made no mention that some thought Gerra was dead, others thought he was held prisoner by the corsairs in Cerak At'Thul, and still others thought he had ascended to some higher plane.

Foolishness, that last.

Malek's fox-eyed gaze turned to the other warrior, newly arrived. An orc of some fashion.

"And you? Do you also wish to serve the hands of the Empire?"

 

[Dizzy]

Their god had abandoned them. This was supposed to be, no it had to be, the final god she'd pledge her loyalty to. She was sick and tired of every single one of them being a false messenger, this was supposed to be the end of the road.

But the path towards her life's calling had been filled with bumps in the road thus far, what was one more?

She ignored the orcish knight who'd joined them, instead focusing on this 'Malek' who claimed their god had gone missing.

"Do his disciples have any inkling where Gerra has gone?" She would not serve his disciples for the remainder of her life, that was an insult she would not suffer. But if they perhaps had some clue as to his location? If they could point her in the right direction?

A grunt was emitted from between her lips. "Surely they must have some guidance from him if they hope to sit upon his throne?"

 

[Tezio Gomst]

The problem with strange dreams and gut instinct was their lack of finer instructions. The Gods above and Fate itself knew how to coax people in certain directions, but once they made it - what else were they to do? Twiddle thumbs and wait for something to happen? Not Tezio.

Tezio was surprised when the man in burgundy addressed him. Apparently he was a man that could handle more than just a single courtly affair, a notion that earned him a faint nod of thanks from the wayward knight. When he opened his tusked maw to speak, the other figure quickly interjected with more questions and exasperated grunts.

He let the following silence linger for a moment, for a chance to speak without being drowned out by God-Emperor-seeking disciples.

"Something like that, sir." The tall half-orc took a scant few steps forward, closer to lit braziers. "I wouldn't go so far as to pledge fealty, but I'm told that it's respectful to at least earn a lord's blessing before engaging in potentially... bloody business. If that is something that interests you and your Empire, I can lend you my strength."

He grinned. "For a price."

 

[Gerra]

“Two idealists, no?” Malek’s smile shifted, one side pulled up, the other lowered. He patted the back of the throne. “One who seeks to serve a worthy god. The other…” He slipped his hand from the throne and toyed with a gold and ruby ring upon his finger, “who seeks to serve a god of worth.”



He pointed at the horned warrior. “You wish fulfillment. You long for a cause, but wonder what kind of cause has an absent god. Well… look around you. Have you ever seen such disparate peoples united beneath one banner? He may be absent, but he is remembered in every work of art, every new building. What we have now is because of a foundation he provided through sand and stone, no matter how many died in his campaigns of conquest. Look around at this splendor, see how small we are, and when you have had a moment to think tell me what it is that you could do for Amol-Kalit, not what Amol-Kalit can do for you.”



Turning, he cast his gaze at the tusked warrior, his eyes looked the way the desert felt in a moonlit night. “And you wish to be fully filled, your belly full and your pockets fuller. You see the power and wealth of this Empire. The vastness of our peoples and the richness of our cultures. You wish to sip Thakathi wines, eat Kherkhanite cheeses, and dine on Annuakat dates, whilst slaking your thirst for battle and blood.” He held up a hand, “I do not mean to insult. But it is in the way you stand, the way you stare. I know one who hungers for the fight. But tell me, why should the viziers of this realm pay you. Are you as mighty as Ashuanar, the Rising Red Sun? Perhaps you know the secret arts like Medja of the Eyes. Or would you lay waste to cities like the Scaled One who dwells in the peaks of Seret. Should we give you armies to command? Fleets to sail? Tell me, what would you do for this Empire?”

 

[Dizzy]

An absent god wasn't much better than the non-physical forms her kinsmen worshipped in the Underrealm. But it was at least a god that, at a minimum, had lived recently.

It was the ending of the words spoken to her that caused Diz's jaw to stiffen, her posture to straighten. What could she do for Amol-Kalit? What sort of question was that? She was a devoted tiefling from Toriq. If a god was worthy to be served she would serve faithfully until death.

And if they were a false god? A daemon in sheep's wool?

"I can kill," she said while cracking her neck, paying no attention to the crossbow and scimitar secured tightly to her back. "I can serve."

Even if she thought the idea of simply serving his disciples was a waste of her talents.

"What needs doing? If not finding your god?" The question was important, at least for her. If these people did not believe Gerra deserved to be found then was Gerra himself even worth serving? And if there were more important matters than finding their lost god she was keen to hear of them.