Setting
Theikon = Demacia
Freelands of Amerys = Orlais
Kingdom of Isteroth = Nubradia
Kingdom of Erenon = Arcadia
Holy City of Veir (Within the Kingdom of Aracadia = Grand Cathedral of the Gods
“We’ve been searching for quite some time.” The hooded old man in his crimson robes — more specifically a priest — walked at a slow pace. He had shown up at Desdrin’s modest abode several weeks past near the Arcadia-Nubradian border. The Nubradian native almost mistook him as a Nubradian Seeker. “The gods spoke of a pair left behind to correct the wrongs of the mad king. Praise the old ones. Praise them that we’ve found you.”
Desdrin frowned. Their steps took them ever closer to the grand cathedral. By the gods, he was going to meet the Goddess! A deserter like him didn’t deserve such an honor. Even if he was this … ‘chosen’.
“I still believe you’re mistaken,” he said. “How could you be so sure that I am what you say?”
The old man chuckled. He heaved as he climbed a flight of stone steps. “Adhere to the litanies as much as I have,” said the priest between breaths, “you get this sense. Spiritual of course. Those who practice daily have it stronger than those who don’t. For example, take a paladin for example. There’s a … force with them that even a lay person can feel. Such is the strength of their spirituality. You, on the other hand, are something very few in the Cathedral may ever feel.”
Though interesting, the priest did little to assuage his inquiries. It confounded Desdrin as it rose a plethora of fresh questions. He noticed the old man stop as he looked ahead. There before him were two large finely carved wooden doors that towered almost to the heights of the Cathedral’s walls. The Order certainly spared no expense flaunting its extravagance.
“Here we are,” said the priest. “Whatever happens within, remain firm in your faith. We’ll see, now, if you’re truly who I claim you to be. May the old gods smile upon you.”
—
The priest guided him through the large chambers within. Devotional was already underway. When he fled Nubradia — even within Arcadia — the teachings had been abandoned. The land was ruled under military law as soldiers marched to the front. Each time he saw a marching column, the soldiers poorly outfitted grew younger. How many had passed away while these people knelt before the priest conducting sermons? Desdrin looked away as they exited the large chamber.
Another pair of gigantic doors stood before him. Several unmoving guards stood before it. Desdrin already knew who they were. The Inquisition’s paladins. Their deeds ran rampant in his mind as his body tensed instinctively.
“Wait here,” said the priest. He walked to the nearest guard as they exchanged greeting and words. Permitted, the old man disappeared behind the door.
Desdrin waited as instructed as he felt the eyes of the guards bore into him. His skin crawled as instincts from long past kicked in. From being out of practice, he wondered just how strong the Inquisition’s paladins were. Were they just normal guards garbed in pretty armor or worthy opponents? He entertained the thought until he heard a pair of footsteps from behind.
A woman with deep violet eyes and bronze skin walked behind a priestess. Desdrin was intrigued to say the least. He had seldom seen anyone with eyes like hers. The bronze skin was common in Nubradia. The eyes were not. She couldn’t have come from the Eastern Edge Desdrin thought to himself. Perhaps the Western or Southern Edges?
The stranger was told to wait like him before the priestess disappeared behind the doors. Desdrin blinked as his eyes turned from their normal sombre brown to a more luminescent variant of its color. His vision as well. Instead of the bland colors of normality, he saw the world bathed within bright colors. Several of the paladins appeared with the purest white while others bathed in the darkest of black. He had long since learned what the colors meant. Though he didn't remember how he obtained this ability, it had saved him on occasion. He remembered his run in with the thieves. He shuddered from the memory.
He turned to look at the woman. His intrigue transformed into keen interest.
“How strange,” he said more so to himself. She had no aura! His gaze lingered before his manners kicked in.
“Pardon me, Madam,” he said in accordance to Arcadian customs. Nubradia’s culture may be … to foreign he concluded. He looked back towards the door. “I assume we’re both in similar circumstance. Did the sister tell you why we’re here? The brother who led me here answered in … riddles. I forget my manners. Desdrin von Borelius of Nubradia. A pleasure madam.”
A few moments later, before they had time to converse, the doors swung open as the priest and priestess came back out. “Her Holiness shall see you,” said the older priest. “By their will, through her Holiness, may Avarice prosper.”
“By their will, through her Holiness, may Avarice prosper,” spoke the paladins in unison as their posture stiffened.
Desdrin merely made the sign of respect as he walked forward. His heart hammered against his chest. An audience with her Holiness. This was a chance few ever received he thought to himself.
He steeled himself for whatever may transpire as he emerged into the large audience room. Paladins lined to each side near the base of the pillars that reached from the floor to the ceiling. Each one bathed in white. The Goddess — as the Holy Order of the Inquisition called her — rested on a bright, blue crystal throne as sunlight spilled through the stain glass high above giving her Holiness an ethereal shine.
Desdrin dared not meet her eyes as he stopped at the bottom most stair and kneeled. “Through the old gods will, may Avarice prosper,” he said in greeting as he awaited her response.
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