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intogenshin · 2 months

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The Roles of Atheist and Priest: Balance of Faith between Alhaitham and Cyno

The profoundest eternal questions are met only with a boundless and eternal silence

This line in Alhaitham’s teaser is a reference to a poem by Bengali poet Rabindranath Tagore in the collection titled Stray Birds.

Tagore’s work is deeply religious in nature (heh) as it is largely influenced by the creation myths of the Rig Veda.

The recurring theme of nature, present throughout the entirety of Stray Birds, expresses and explores the relationship between man and spirituality in the tradition of Indian literature:

(...) when Tagore writes of nature —of birds, trees, a singular blade of grass, a sunset, sunrise, a boat ride, a fading view of water— while all of these external objects belonging to the natural world may make Tagore appear much like western Romantic poets, such as Wordsworth or Yeats, Tagore’s mission is actually quite different. In Tagore, what is expressed is a thoughtful relationship of poet to sacred text, of poet to the mythical or cosmological origins of the world. In Tagore, love of nature equates at one level to love of God; for, in recognizing the worth of the natural world, one is giving assent to the fact that there is a God who created it. (...) in Stray Birds Tagore writes: “To-night there is a stir among the palm leaves, as well as in the sea Full Moon, like the heart throb of the world From what unknown sky hast thou carried in thy silence the aching secret of love?” The lines echo the concept from the creation hymns wherein the sacred text posits that no one knows how creation came to be because no one witnessed it except for the creator God itself, and who can truly know this God but to seek him? As if this were not enough, also in Stray Birds, we read Tagore’s development of this concept as he writes: ”God comes to me in the dusk of my evening with the flowers from my past kept fresh in his basket” This is the mind of a religious poet at work, not a Romantic poet.

—Love of Creation and Mysticism in Tagore’s Gitanjali and Stray Birds, by Paula Hayes

Silence is another major element of Tagore’s exploration of nature as the connection with god, which represents divine wisdom through introspection:

This power of silence is attributed to its heavenly origins. Silence is the voice of God, as well as the place where everyone finds and worships his god: ”God’s silence ripens man’s thoughts into speech” In another poem, this eternal silence of Heaven is juxtaposed with the eternal quest of earthly creatures, a process that affirms the superiority of the former as the ultimate province of trust, beyond the doctrines and divisions created by the mind with their ensuing doubt and uncertainty: ”What language is thine, O sea?” ”The language of eternal question” ”What language is thy answer, O sky?” ”The language of eternal silence” (...) Silence, therefore, is not merely a recurrent theme in the poems of Tagore, nor is it a distinct element that can be extracted from the rest of the poem. It is organically interwoven with other elements, establishing the unity of the poem, its coherence and its uniqueness as well.

—Language of eternal silence, by Muhhammad Hesham

In the poem referenced in Alhaitham’s teaser, the “eternal question” represents man’s quest to find meaning through spirituality, while the “eternal silence” represents introspection and a connection with the wisdom of God.

The role of eternal question fits a character like Alhaitham perfectly: one who seeks wisdom for personal fulfillment, but it is also one that questions this eternal silence —the word of god. One who raises questions against belief, not for the sake of negation, but understanding. An ethical atheist, if you will.

Alhaitham’s ideological worldview of individualism is inspired by the work of Max Stirner, originator of egoist anarchy. Stirner is highly critical of religion, but he also looks down on atheists of his time for replacing the god of western religion with morality and humanism. For him, true freedom can only be achieved through individualism.

Whether then the one God or the three in one. whether the Lutheran God or the être suprême or not God at all, but “Man,” may represent the highest essence, that makes no difference at all for him who denies the highest essence itself, for in his eyes those servants of a highest essence are one and all — pious people, the most raging atheist not less than the most faith-filled Christian.

—The Ego and Its Own, by Max Stirner

Stirner doesn’t seem concerned with denying the existence of god, but rather with the origin and care of his own desires, centering himself instead of “man” as a collective or an idea. He does not act for the good of anyone but himself (or that’s his ideal, at least).

Here’s where Haitham deviates from Stirner’s egoism. He’s not concerned with archons and he does favor individual comfort over Kaveh’s altruism, and he’s not afraid nor ashamed of trespassing conventional rules or institutional laws to get what he wants, but he does recognize the importance of order in society.

Sumeru is the nation ruled by the god of wisdom, so wisdom and knowledge can be understood as the fruit of worship for the archon. Akademiya rules are, much like in religion, a moral code that shapes the ideal believer and punishes those who break the order upheld under these rules. Funny enough, the Akademiya’s original Chinese name is (according to the wiki) Sumeru Institute of Religious Decree —the religious context is lost on the English translation.

Understanding the Akademiya as an allegorical religious institution, Cyno serves as a guardian of the principles and moral code of this church. His historical predecessor is none other than priest Kasala, after all, who was a faithful follower of the Scarlet King (that he calls his “eternal lord”) and later aided Rukkhadevata.

Cyno’s priest-like figure is a fair counterpart to Alhaitham’s atheist: when the ethical atheist raises questions, it is the duty of the priest to answer on behalf of the divine.

The eternal question, an introspective search for answers and meaning; the eternal silence, the wisdom of divine scripture.

Alhaitham and Cyno are the only characters in Sumeru having an association with the theme of silence, especially Cyno. Alhaitham through Tagore’s poem and the description in his default outfit in which a member of the Temple of Silence warns the listener not to bother him if he’s wearing his headphones; and Cyno through direct references in his lore as well as his official affiliation to the Temple.

Much like in Tagore’s poem, the exchange of question and silence is not a hostile one, but rather a conversation, a means for growth for both sides. In dialectics, an argument is held for the same reasons: when offering a thesis, it must be reasonably defended against an equally reasonable contradiction.

Putting these two characters who fulfill these specific roles with religious undertones in a storyline where they work together to overthrow a government, then I simply am reminded of Enjolras and Grantaire from Les Miserables.

YOU SEE they’re part of the revolutionary group that fights in the barricades.

Enjolras is completely driven by ideology, every aspect of his life revolves around his ideals of revolution and freedom to the point that he just isn’t approachable by his colleagues. He’s more a walking ideal than human. While Grantaire is a skeptic who refuses to believe in anything (that is, except Enjolras) (they’re canonically super gay, the author went out of his way to compare them to a bunch of gay Greek historical and mythical couples so go figure).

Grantaire is rather a self indulgent nihilist, but Stirner’s vibes of cynical egoism are there (just described through the eyes of someone who does favor altruism instead lmao):

All those words: rights of the people, rights of man, the social contract, the French Revolution, the Republic, democracy, humanity, civilization, religion, progress, came very near to signifying nothing whatsoever to Grantaire. He smiled at them. Scepticisn, that caries of the intelligence, had not left him a whole single idea. He lived with irony. This was his axiom: “There is but one certainty, my full glass.” He sneered at all devotion in all parties, the father as well as the brother.

Grantaire believes in nothing, which is why he’s in love with the personification of ideal and belief.

A skeptic who adheres to a believer is as simple as the law of complementary colors. That which we lack attracts us. No one loves the light like the blind man. (...) Grantaire, in whom writhed doubt, loved to watch faith soar in Enjolras. He had need of Enjolras. That chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard candid nature charmed him, without his being clearly aware of it, and without the idea of explaining it to himself having occurred to him. He admired his opposite by instinct.

Their contrast is mainly ideological, with Grantaire barely participating in the revolutionary acts of the group, but (although lesmis seems to be heavily shaped by religious narratives, especially Valjean’s main storyline) the way Enjolras is described very much fits Cyno’s own commitment to his duty as the General Mahamatra:

Enjolras was a charming young man, who was capable of being terrible. He was angelically handsome. He was a savage Antinous. One would have said, to see the pensive thoughtfulness of his glance, that he had already, in some previous state of existence, traversed the revolutionary apocalypse. He possessed the tradition of it as though he had been a witness. He was acquainted with all the minute details of the great affair. A pontifical and warlike nature, a singular thing in a youth. He was an officiating priest and a man of war; from the immediate point of view, a soldier of the democracy; above the contemporary movement, the priest of the ideal

Enjolras role as a revolutionary is heavily colored by religious and military undertones.

For most of the story Grantaire is rejected by Enjolras, often scorned by his lack of commitment and his lifestyle. It is at the last moment when Enjolras is cornered by a fire squad after the barricade fails that Grantaire declares himself a Republican and volunteers to die with him. Enjolras ideals have not succeeded in his quest for liberation, but Grantaire offers him a last hope in leaving his skepticism to believe in those ideals. If a skeptic was capable of believing, then surely it was not in vain and many others would carry Enjolras beliefs beyond his tragical death. And in taking his hand Enjolras basically accepts his feelings because les mis is of course a yaoi

Grantaire had risen. The immense gleam of the whole combat which he had missed, and in which he had had no part, appeared in the brilliant glance of the transfigured drunken man. He repeated: "Long live the Republic!" crossed the room with a firm stride and placed himself in front of the guns beside Enjolras. "Finish both of us at one blow," said he. And turning gently to Enjolras, he said to him: "Do you permit it?" Enjolras pressed his hand with a smile. This smile was not ended when the report resounded. Enjolras, pierced by eight bullets, remained leaning against the wall, as though the balls had nailed him there. Only, his head was bowed. Grantaire fell at his feet, as though struck by a thunderbolt.

Either way, haino in sumeru aq did succeed in overthrowing Azar and lived to tell the tale. But, well, they didn’t need this exchange. Alhaitham understands the value of rules, of Cyno’s duty, as they cooperate with each other.

so anyway yea enjoltaire haino, atheist and priest, gay ideological opposites of faith working together to overthrow the government u get it

further readings:

On the Couple of Silence by hibarifish

Alhaitham and Egoist Anarchism by lotusparadisaea

Love of Creation and Mysticism in Tagore’s Gitanjali and Stray Birds by Paula Hayes

Language of eternal silence by Muhhammad Hesham

#haino #cytham #long post #analysis #enjoltaire propaganda #listen i had to put the thoughts somewhere #Alhaitham #cyno #this is south park’s fault Elaborate on that No

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minus1digit · 5 years

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Orb of Seeing - Chapter One

Chapter 1: The Good

It was raining in Jaluport. Dark clouds hung low over the port city as they released their built up weight upon it. Jaluport is a large metropolis that is split into two sections. The western half makes up the docks and the dockslums, while the eastern half is the richer side sitting on the western most part of the Cavis Mountain foothills. The lakeport is actually split by a 40’ wall that was built to protect the eastern half of the city from the irregular, strong gusts of wind that come from Ax Lake, which makes the rain come in spurts similar to what a small island would experience. Winds from the southwest were slowly pushing the clouds along. Dralen, Jylyanna, and Landis were all at Dralen’s house which is the back area of Dralen and Landis’ shop, “Creative Magic”. Their shop sits on the corner of a residential block in the northeast part of Jaluport. This part of the city was originally the ancient city named, Tast, and many of its buildings still stand today, including this one.

Dralen was in his laboratory tinkering with a tiny gearbox. It was so small he had to use a loupe to see some of the parts. He repositioned the loupe in his eye socket to get a better look at a screw that had come loose. He grabbed a tool to tighten it, but he was tired, and sighed before he started on the screw. He had been working on this for hours; blueprints, notes, and miscellaneous parts were strewn all over the desk. In fact, he had been working on this particular gearbox for the last two weeks. This was going to be a control box for his latest invention, and he had to make sure that it worked correctly. Dralen shortened his breathing to be steadier, and as he gave the screw one last twist, it suddenly stripped. Dralen exhaled heavily and dropped the gearbox on the desk out of frustration letting the loupe drop out of his eye socket. He put his elbows on the desk and put his head in his hands giving a long sigh. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his chair over in the corner by the fireplace. Maybe a break would be good, he thought. He looked at his mug of tea which was now cold and decided he would make some fresh tea. He grabbed it and made his way to the kitchen which was connected to his lab/den. He took the kettle from the stove and poured out the old water and filled it with new. He set it back on the stove and set that burner on high. He heard the mail slot on the side door in the kitchen open and a few envelopes dropped through on top of the newspaper that had been there since the morning. Dralen shook his head. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t even read the paper yet today. He walked over to the sink and rinsed out his mug before picking up the mail and the paper. He flipped through the envelopes and none were addressed to him except the due taxes reminder. He gave a short sigh at that before he began reading the front page of the paper. The title article was about the wedding between the general of the Kalinian Militia and his wife-to-be coming up next week. He began to read the article when the kettle started to whistle. He stopped reading and prepared his tea then went back to his lab to relax.

Dralen sat in his down-feather stuffed, leather chair. This was his favorite chair. Even though there were a lot of rips and tears and almost a half dozen buttons were missing, it was still comfortable and it fit his frail frame quite cozily. Being a kobold it was hard to find a chair that fit him well, especially since kobolds aren't known for their furniture making. It creaked when he shifted to get comfortable and air escaped the cushions. He shifted again to get a broken button out from behind his back. When he was comfortable he looked out one of the stained glass windows. Dralen remembered this place used to be a temple of the Ancients. It was why he chose it. Part of his work is being a historian specializing in precataclysm history. He liked how all the windows are stained glass. Beautiful pictures of all kinds mostly depicting the God that was worshiped here. An ancient God named, Imet, from the ancient pantheon. No one knows what happened to that pantheon, but much is written about them in ancient texts which proves they are nothing like the Gods in the current pantheon. Imet was the God of Gods and this made Dralen very interested in what clues that might be here that could help explain what happened to them.

As he looked at the window, he noted the rippling effect that water makes as it runs down a flat, vertical surface. Still raining, he thought. He didn’t hate the rain. In fact he didn’t mind it at all since he rarely ever goes outside. He stared a little longer at the picture in the window. The rippling water almost made it seem alive. He relaxed and made a half-hearted sigh stirring his tea. He was tired of working on that gearbox which he had been working on since morning. Dralen took a sip of his tea and set it down on the table next to his chair then picked up the “Jaluport Herald” and started to finish reading the top article. Reading had always relaxed him and that’s exactly what he wanted to do right now. He could hear Landis and Jyl laughing in the other room. They’d been playing Dobbum1 for the last three hours and he had ignored their subtle attempts to get him to play with them. He even resisted the temptation to play when he overheard Jyl mention that not even he could be good at the game since it’s solely based on chance; normally a challenge he would never turn away from. He solemnly shook his head when, suddenly, another article caught his eye that was simply titled, “New Plague”. He skipped the first few lines and then read,

“A new plague has struck Argonis. ‘Insane Fever’ they’re calling it, victims succumb to a dangerously high fever. After which, at random times, they seem to rage like a barbarian and become ravenous carnivores, even resorting to cannibalism in some cases. In just a few hours they begin the third stage, where they rage all the time, soon dying within a few hours. Finally, the victim arises as undead, still a carrier for the disease.

The disease is highly contagious, and there is so far, no known cure. It is so contagious in fact; clerics and priests praying to remove the disease from the victim contract it themselves...”

Dralen stopped reading. He thought that somehow he recognized the symptoms. Something he remembered reading in a book while doing research for his alchemy class; he just couldn’t remember exactly what. He did know, however, that it would be in the “Library of Cynos”2 in Vason, which is where the University of Argonis resides. One of the universities from which he had graduated. The memory of turning that paper in suddenly flooded Dralen’s mind. The professor of that class was a beautiful gnome woman; Miset* Turnleaf he suddenly remembered. He had had such a crush on her. She wasn’t only beautiful, but very, very intelligent; probably more intelligent than he. Dralen realized he was rambling in his thoughts and he then vaulted out of his chair, nearly tripping over the table next to it spilling his tea. He ran into the great room, which used to be the worshiping room, where Jyl and Landis were playing cards. He hurriedly flung open the door which slammed against the adjacent wall shaking the nearby pictures and causing Jyl to nearly jump out of her skin with a short peep. They both watched, wide-eyed, as Dralen ran towards them thrusting the newspaper right into the middle of their game destroying the formation the cards and ivory betting pieces were set in on the table.

“Hey!” Jyl shouted out of anger, “I was winning!” she yelled with a disgusted look on her face.

Dralen ignored her comment and frantically pointed at the title of the article.

Landis could see Dralen was somehow speechless and so he read it out loud so Jyl could understand why their game was so rudely interrupted. Their eyes widened again when they realized the severity of the situation. Landis now knew why Dralen was so speechless.

Even though Jyl was still sore about the ruined game, she gave a concerned look which quickly turned to a big smile, “Sounds like a job for the ‘Adventure Squad’,” she exclaimed jumping up and posing with hands on her hips, chest puffed out and chin high.

Landis wrinkled his brow, “We’re not naming the group that!” he yelled annoyed, turning his attention back to the article.

“Well, that’s what I’m gonna call it,” she retorted, pointing to herself with her thumb and smiling so big she scrunched her eyes to paper-thin slits.

Dralen interrupted, “Enough guys! Landis, you and I need to start on a cure,” he said, then changing his focus to Jyl who was back in her seat across from Landis, still smiling big, “I want you to go down to Saphe and get Bane and Durmon up here. Before you go, though, I need to write a couple of letters for Mythe and Lyanna that I want you to send off.”

“Anything else, Boss, Sir?” she asked while standing at attention and saluting him.

Dralen smirked even though he hated being called boss or sir, but Jyl usually got away with these kinds of things due to her girly, child-like charm, “No, but be hasty. The quicker we can get them here, the sooner we can get to the bottom of this,” he stated confidently.

Before another word was said, Jyl was prancing off and through the door. Landis looked at Dralen with a raised eyebrow expecting a reaction from Dralen, then he turned back to see the door closing behind Jyl. Dralen sighed and cursed under his breath then ran after Jyl, “Hey! Wait!”

Landis laughed heartily and got some paper and a pen ready for Dralen to write letters to Mythe and Lyanna.

* * *

The suns were setting upon Saphe which sits on a saddle in a sudden break of the Cavis Mts., like a plateau right in the middle of the longest mountain chain on Errtet*. The saddle spans about 20 square miles. The city spans from mountainside to mountainside, as does each city wall on either edge of the saddle. Forty feet inside the 35’ high city walls, and 35’ higher, are two bridges that span to each mountainside connecting to a cavern system within the mountains. Catapults and archers are positioned here. Even the corners of the mountains just beyond the walls were hollowed out into catapult positions. Needless to say, the city is well protected, especially with its garrison being the Kalinian Militia. Maintaining a city-state status, Saphe has grown to need such good defenses. The town center is just that and was built right in the middle of the saddle. Same thing with Town Square as it makes up about four acres in the middle of the city and is comprised of all the official buildings a city needs. On the outer rim of that square is Square St. that houses the city’s bazaar that’s open 28 hours a day*. From each corner of Square St. a road was built that goes straight to a corner of the saddle, thusly the city was divided into five parts. Town Square in the middle, Nortown and Soutown spanning to each mountainside, Eastown spanning out to the wall that faces Kar Taxma*, and Westown spanning to the wall that faces Argonis. It is the main center of trade between the two empires, but at any given time will have goods from just about any culture and place. The population consists of almost all the different races on Errtet; a population that is projected to hit 750,000 within a few years. Due to this high populous, residences and shops are being built into the mountainsides, and even underneath other buildings going as deep as two or three stories in some areas. This also makes Saphe the largest city per capita in the world.

It had been a bustling Pwodat (Monday, Day of the Moons) and the citizens were closing up their shops or getting off work as the taverns began getting crowded. In a subterranean tavern in Eastown known as “The Dwarven Camel*” a short, but muscularly built dwarf was telling a story to the dozen or more people gathered around him,

“There we were, sitting ducks; a large, silver body swooping down upon us --”

“What was it?” a bewildered man asked who had just joined the group.

The dwarf hated having to repeat himself, but he held his ire, “A dragon of course, but no ordinary dragon,” the dwarf stated as he paused to take a sip of his ale, spilling a bit as he set it down and wiped his thick beard with the back of his hand, then continued, “This was a half-dragon,” he finished with a slur.

“A half-dragon!?” another man inquired incredulously.

“Yes, my good man. This was the product of King Argonis Vallenmore and Syldanara, the silver dragon. Etomis was his name --”

“I thought silver dragons were good. Why was this one so evil?” the barmaid interrupted.

The dwarf cleared his throat, covering his annoyance at the interruption, “No one really knows for sure. Some say that, because of the human and dragon blood mixing, it caused his blood to boil inside of him.” He looked around for any incredulous looks, but found none. His storytelling skills were better than he thought, “But there we were, sitting ducks, with this half-dragon swooping in for the kill. Everyone around me was frozen in place in dire fear of this gruesome creature, but I wasn’t afraid. I knew I had to take action, but what do you do against a half-dragon!?” Everyone was in awe at this point and the dwarf took advantage and paused for dramatic effect, “Well, I sat and waited for what I thought was the right moment and I lashed out with both of my ertröks,” he said brandishing one of his dwarven axes to show everyone what an ertrök was, ”right into the dragon’s mouth....”

It was then a small, hooded figure entered the tavern. She looked around and smiled when she saw the dwarf telling his story, then looked around some more and found her target. She gracefully made her way over to a table where a bald man was sitting. He was slouched over the table with his elbow on it and fist on his cheek. He was staring at a ring he was fiddling with on his free hand, seemingly bored. As she got closer to the table she noticed his mug of ale was still full and that it’s been there a while as there was barely any foam left on the top. She took a seat across the table from him and was surprised the bald man didn’t even move. She sat for maybe ten seconds fidgeting with her hair before her anxiety took her over, “Hey, Baldy!”

The bald man snapped out of his trance of boredom as he thought to himself that he recognized the voice he just heard. His deep blue eyes tried to peer through the shadows of her hood.

“C’mon, you should know who this is!”

“Jylyanna? Is that you?”

Jyl flipped her hood back, “Surprise!!” she exclaimed, almost squeaking with eyes wide, mouth gaping open in a huge smile showing almost all of her teeth. She immediately jumped up from her chair and ran around the table giving the bald man a giant hug, her small elven stature forcing her to jump in his lap at the same time, “How are you, Bane? I’ve missed you so much!”

Nearly being toppled over onto the floor, Bane struggled to get all of the chair legs back on the ground, “Woah, hey, Jyl, it’s nice to see you too.” He returned the embrace, then after a moment gave her a couple of pats on her back trying to signal the end of the hug, but to no avail.

Jyl shook him back and forth a few times before letting her life-threatening hug go. “Sounds like Durmon’s telling one of his fables again,” she said as she got out of his lap.

“Yeah, heh, he always seems to be the hero in his stories. He’s always the one who saves everyone else's lives,” Bane said as he pushed his studded leather skirt back down to cover his tasset.

“So, what are you two up to these days?” Jyl asked sitting back down in her chair, still smiling.

Bane shifted in his chair to lean forward putting his elbows on the table and folded his fingers together, “Durmon and I took a job training soldiers for the war against the Maren. It’s about the only way we managed to stay out of it directly. Luckily, one of Durmon’s cousins is a trainer at the barracks here and he got us the job.” He shot a glance at Durmon whom he could barely see due to the growing number of people surrounding him. He looked back at Jyl, “What’s new with you?”

“Well, we’ve got a much bigger problem than this stupid war,” she said as her eyes got wide and she placed her hands flat on the table excited to be able to tell the news. “I’ve been staying with Landis and Dralen in Jaluport, and Dralen had read an article in the newspaper talking about a new sickness.”

“A new sickness?” Bane’s face grew concerned, “I wonder why I haven’t heard of this?”

Jyl got even more excited noting that Bane was interested in the topic, “The news must not have reached here yet, but it’s really neat! They call it ‘Insane Fever’ cause it makes you rage like Durmon all the time, oh, and then there’s the fever part. It also makes them cannibalistic and eventually turns them into zombies,” she stated, wrinkling her nose at the thought.

Bane leaned back in his chair, “Sounds pretty serious.”

“Well, Landis and Dralen seem to think so cause they sent me down here to get you two to help. We’re supposed to go back to Jaluport and meet up with them.”

“Hmm. What about Lyanna and the others?”

Jyl giggled a bit. She knew Lyanna liked Bane a lot and it seems their kiss Lyanna told her about had spiked his interest in her, “You like her don’t you?” she asked giggling again. She took Bane’s sudden blushing cheeks and shy manner as a yes, “Yes, her and Mythe are coming. I ran into Jel’Yar on my way out of Jaluport, so he’s coming too,” she squeaked.

“Good. It will be a fine time seeing those faces again, but this definitely sounds like an adventure brewing. We should probably leave first thing in the morning.” Bane commanded sitting back in his chair, still looking serious with his expression, but his focus suddenly went to his mug of ale.

Jyl got a big smile as she bounced up and down in her chair, giggling. “I’d better go tell Durmon the good news!” Before Bane could retort or even look her way, Jyl had leapt out of her chair and was skipping towards the mob surrounding Durmon.

Bane watched her ponytail swing from side to side and shook his head always amused by Jyl’s antics. He’s always wondered from where she gets all her energy. He knew about her condition, but doubted that could be the only source of her hyper-activity. Bane then looked at his full mug of ale again and finally took a sip. Bitter as usual. He grimaced as he set his mug down right back on top of the little circle of condensation made from his mug. Bane knew what was coming. Any time Dralen went into high gear, Bane knew something big was going to happen, but he could only imagine what type of adventure this would lead to and quickly drifted off into his thoughts again.

Jyl struggled to get through the crowd, but until she resorted to going between a few pairs of legs, was she able to reach Durmon.

Durmon turned to set his ale down on the bar. When he turned back, all he could see was Jyl’s wide eyes and smiling face. He wanted to say hello since he hasn’t seen her for quite a while, but the crowd was anxious at this point and so he gave her a smirk and a nod before continuing, “....and there I was, all by myself, with only one of my ertröks, struggling to keep a hold on the dragon’s back. He was flying so fast I could barely keep my eyes open. I knew I had to do something, and so I drove my ertrök deep in between two of its scales. I heard a deafening scream as, suddenly, the dragon flipped over.” Durmon said making motions to reenact the scene, “Luckily, though, my ertrök stuck in the wound as I barely was able to keep a handle on it. Etomis flipped back over and I quickly assessed my situation and pulled out my ertrök. I could see the monster’s heart in the wound I had made, so I jammed my hand into the wound and began tearing at it as blood began to spew everywhere. Etomis flailed and screeched as I kept tearing into his heart.” He then quickly stopped all his motions to give the next part more effect, “Suddenly the wings stopped flapping and we began falling instead of flying, but his wings were still outstretched and so we sort of glided down towards the trees. As we got closer to the tree line, I decided it would be less painful to fall through the trees than staying on. When I let go, I could see Etomis changing back into human form, and I heard him call out his mother’s name when I began hitting tree branches.” Again he was making motions; this time as if falling through tree branches.

“You’re my hero, Durmon!” Jyl yelled as she threw her arms around him causing him to stop charading.

Durmon grimaced as he tried to escape her loving death grip. He hated hugs, especially hers since they always last so long. The crowd laughed and Durmon’s face became red. “Okay, okay, Jyl, It’s good to see you too, now let me go.” He was barely able to squeak his words out from being hugged so hard.

Jyl squeezed a bit harder and then released him. “Sounds like you’re telling these fine people about the half-dragon we felled a couple years back. Let me tell you something,” she said pointing at everyone around her, “I wouldn’t be around if it wasn’t for this dwarf,” Jyl said as she roughed up his already wild hair with her hand. She was secretly laughing inside because she knew his story was made up to make him look like the hero. She’s never really cared much for semantics, though. They did slay the half-dragon, but he definitely didn’t do it by himself, and if she remembers correctly, he was unconscious when they brought Etomis down, but only because Etomis, while in dragon form, had backhanded him.

“So, you’re a witness to this fable then?” a drunk dwarf slurred.

“Yes I am.” she stated proudly, “I don’t know about the last part of the story as I was unconscious at the time, but I can assure you, I would’ve been a victim rather than a witness if it weren’t for this lovable bear of a man.” she said giving Durmon a wink.

Durmon blushed, trying to hide it by finishing off his ale. The crowd began to disperse talking amongst themselves, laughing and recalling parts of the story, seemingly satisfied with it.

“I have wonderful news, Durmon!” she said with a peep.

“Really? What’s that?” he inquired while motioning to the barkeep to fill up his drink.

“Well, there’s a new sickness striking Argonis that’s so contagious, even the clerics trying to remove it get it themselves.”

“Wonderful news, huh? Trust me, nothing is wonderful if it involves a disease. You can count me out, cause I don’t do diseases.”

“Oh come on, Durmon.....just think, that means the ‘Adventure Squad’ is getting back together,” she said tugging on his sleeve.

Durmon pondered a moment, “It will be good to see the others again.” He stated with a smile, eyes drifting off. He got serious again before asking, “So what does Bane have to say about all this?”

They both looked over at Bane who was still playing with his ring, off in his own world. “Same thing he always says.”

“Ugh, I guess we’re leaving at the crack of dawn then.” He said looking at his new mug of ale with disappointment. Jyl nodded her head emphatically. “I better make this mug my last then. I don’t want to be dragging ass all the way to Jaluport.” He really wanted to get drunker. He was really sore from a long day’s work, yet he was somewhat relieved he wouldn’t have to be teaching recruits anymore. He usually didn’t care much, but recently he had been getting a little depressed from knowing that most of them won’t ever return. He took another drink of his refilled ale and finished with a short sigh.

Jyl then realized she hadn’t procured a place to stay for the night, “So, where are you guys staying at?”

“My uncle moved here a few months back, so we’re staying with him and his son.”

“Oh,” Jyl said, wrinkling her nose at the thought of staying with four men, three of whom will be drunk, but she remembered a certain someone who said there’s always a room open for her at the Far-Sided Inn. “Well, tell Bane to come and get me at the ‘Far-Sided Inn’ in the morning, okay?”

Durmon nodded and watched her turn to prance off and out the door. He gave a smirk at her antics then began chugging his ale.

Later that evening, Bane sat down on his bed. He didn’t feel very tired, so he grabbed his journal and wrote

Monsevet 17, 1264

Dear Mother and Father,

I really miss you guys. It’s been hard without your guidance. I miss Feylan, too. I miss his teachings, and how he would take care of me when you would change. I know your deathday is coming up in a few months, and I plan to come and visit your graves. There are some trying times ahead of us here soon, but I will make every effort I can to come and see you. I miss you dearly and still hold you in my heart.

Your Loving Son,

Bane

Bane always wrote in his journal as if he were writing his parents a letter. He’s always felt it helps him deal with their loss. Bane put his journal away and pondered about this new disease. I wonder how this came about? I sure hope Landis and Dralen can come up with a cure. Bane looked over at the other bed. Durmon was snoring lightly, but he knew it would only get louder later. He was really excited about seeing the others again. He even gave a quick thought about Lyanna and the kiss they had shared before parting ways. He knew he couldn’t let his emotions get the best of him, lest he don’t sleep. He then blew out the lantern and worked on going to sleep.

* * *

It was just past midday in Davius. A small village not too far off Main Road which goes through the Torom Plains that makes up the majority of central Argonis. Mostly made up of bee farms, this quaint little village has a cozy tavern which serves, arguably, the best mead in Argonis. Across the street from the tavern is the town’s only temple that worships Orros, the God of Gods. Everyone in town is a member, including Mythe. Mythe, a Cleric of Orros, was in his room praying as usual. His room was very dismal and plain. A small wooden rack with a large wool sack filled with hay atop of it for a bed and a small wooden desk and chair were all that lay in the room except Mythe. He had the “Tome of All” open in front of him on the desk, but he wasn’t reading it. He stopped praying for a moment and grabbed his holy symbol he wore as an amulet. It was then he was disturbed by a messenger with a letter. The messenger promptly gave him the letter and huffed as he left knowing he wouldn’t get a tip from a cleric. Mythe wasn’t paying attention to him as he noticed Dralen’s seal on the letter and opened it with a smile. He read through it quickly, wondering why it was in Landis’s handwriting, but didn’t think much of it. He gave a prayer to the victims he knows have already suffered and he promptly got up from his desk having finished the letter. Mythe proceeded to tell the Father of the news. He knew the Father wouldn’t be happy that he would have to leave during recruiting week, but he knew his friends needed him. He said a small prayer in hopes the Father would even let him go.

He made his way into the Father’s quarters kneeling to pray to Orros as this was customary any time you entered his room. “Father,” Mythe said quietly.

The Father was at his desk perusing the local paper. He took his glasses off and let them hang down on his chest, “Yes, my son, what is it?”

“My friend Dralen sent me a letter which bears terrible news,” he said solemnly handing the Father the letter.

The Father quickly perused it then sighed, “I was just reading about that in the paper,” he said with a concerned look. “I suppose you’ll need to leave first thing in the morning, yea?” Mythe nodded. “I hate to lose you during this important promotion, but…,” he paused to take a deep breath, “I also feel it is in best interest to allow you to join your friends and help them get rid of this sickness.” He paused for a moment to sit forward, “While you’re on your journey, though, be sure to look into this,” he finished, handing Mythe a wanted poster.

“What’s this about?”

“I’m not exactly sure, some kind of livestock thief, but several of the eastern temples have sent me copies of that poster. Maybe you and your friends can take care of it. Even a tenth of that ransom would help us greatly, especially after recruiting week. We’re probably not going to be able to afford all of the recruits we get,” he finished with a solemn sigh.

Mythe looked over the poster and saw how much the ransom was worth and his eyes got wide. He knew he would actually get an eighth of that. 50,000 gold divided by eight? He couldn’t think of the answer, but he knew it was a lot. He fixed his expression and looked back at the Father, “We will do our best, Father.”

“I know I can count on you, Mythe.”

Mythe smiled internally, “Thank you, Father,” he said with a slight smile.

“Be sure to recruit some people along your journey, though. May Orros be with you!”

Mythe bowed then walked out and went back to his room to prepare for the trip almost smiling the whole way.

* * *

It was a cold, overcast summer evening at Ft. Argonis, which sits just outside the city of Axhead. This city is so named due to its location along the coast of Ax Lake; right at the top. The wind only made the cold more blistering as some of the shops in town began to close early. At this point, no one envied the sentries’ job along the watchtowers of both the city walls and the fort walls. Lyanna was especially thankful she didn’t have watch today as she could hear the wind howling through the cramped architecture of the fort. She hated the fact she still had to do watch even though she was officially an officer now, soon to become a knight. She was as excited as she was afraid of being the first female knight. The amount of hazing and ridicule she’s had to endure, she’s often thought of just making a career out of being a soldier, but she was determined. Her great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather, King Argonis Vallenmore, stipulated in the “Knight’s Codex”, which he wrote, that any man or woman could become a knight if proven worthy. Lyanna had the “Book of the Golden Dragon Order” open on the desk in front of her. This book was pretty much an exact copy of the “Knight’s Codex” with a few variations here and there for this particular order of knights. Lyanna wasn’t studying anymore though, but daydreaming. She pretty much knew the 500+ page book by heart anyways. Lyanna had nothing but men on her mind, particularly Bane. She thought about how long it’s been since she’s seen him, and also thought about what they did the last time they were together. It was their first kiss, and although she doesn’t quite remember who instigated it, she does remember how lovely it was, and how she would really like to do it again. She began to feel a bit aroused and forced herself to get back to studying when there was a sudden knock on her door. “Come in,” she commanded with an almost inaudible stumble.

A soldier clad in gold plate armor entered the room, “Miset Vallenmore, a letter,” he said presenting it to her after coming to attention.

Lyanna’s eyes widened a bit, but she got more serious when she noticed Dralen’s seal on it. “Thank you, Sergeant,” she said promptly, grabbing the letter, “You’re dismissed.”

As the soldier left the room, Lyanna quickly tore open the letter and read it carefully. She had always admired Dralen’s handwriting; how neat and formal-looking it is. She became very concerned about the plague part, even getting an unsettling feeling in her stomach, but this also got her excited. This could only mean another adventure in the making, and another chance to do a quest, not to mention she would get to see Bane again. Lyanna donned her armor as quickly as she could. She was always annoyed at the fact you must wear armor when you talk to a knight, unless they come to you and you don’t have it on. Once it was on she immediately made her way to the knight commander’s quarters.

When she entered, she overheard him speaking with another gentleman. It was his chief lieutenant. She slowed her entrance so she wouldn’t interrupt them.

“--but Sir, we don’t have the man-power for this. The Maren are eating up the front lines in the SE, and with the towns falling under this new plague, both are asking for aide. Not to mention the ‘Day of the Golden Dragon’ coming up in two months, we’re getting strapped for men. People are rumoring the celebration is going to be canceled,” the lieutenant said with a worried look.

Lyanna slowed her breathing, a trick that Jel’Yar had taught her, and tried to remain at a distance so as not to be seen.

“Well, we need to do something. This ‘Black Knight’ character is causing more trouble than his ransom is worth! I’ll tell you one thing, though, there is no way we are canceling this festival and we must stop this rumor that it will be. This town relies on the commerce created by it, and this order relies on the recruits we pick up because of it.”

Lyanna was trying her hardest to be quiet, but a joint on her armor finally rested into place making a loud enough clang to echo in the stone room.

“But we rea--” the commander began when he realized he had heard something and his head snapped towards Lyanna’s direction. Lyanna silently cursed herself, as the knight commander’s expression lightened, realizing whom it was. “Ensign Vallenmore, you’re just in time!” the commander bellowed. His booming voice always seemed to make you stop whatever you were doing.

Lyanna blinked a few times, “I.....I am?” she muttered with a tense expression on her face.

“Of course you are! You might just be a knight yet!’

Lyanna shifted her feet, and despite being nervous as she always is around him, she managed a smile.

“We were just talking about the ‘Black Knight’!”

“The, black knight, sir?”

“Yea, some kind of livestock thief with magical powers or something. Look, I know your busy studying for the finals, but you’ve already taken them once, I mean, there’s nothing I can do about the rules, but I can give you a quest first if I deem you worthy.”

“A quest, sir?” she asked with a smirk, eyes widening.

“Your quest, if you decide to accept it, is to destroy this ‘Black Knight’!”

Lyanna quickly tucked the letter behind her, “Who will be my guide?”

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’ve thought about it, and have decided to let you go without one. We’re strapped for men as is. Maybe you can get your friends to help you.”

“But, sir, you know what happened last time,” she pleaded.

The commander nodded, “Well, last time your guide died, and they chose not to believe your friend, Durmon was it? Anyways, last time I wasn’t in the position I am now, and so we’ll just say that one went with you.”

The thought of seeing Bane again excited her, and she shifted her position a little before saying, “Thank you, sir, I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” he said confidently. He cleared his throat before saying, “Strength and courage.”

Lyanna saluted and walked out. She couldn’t contain her smile. She practically ran back to her room. If she wasn’t so hung up on Bane, she might have feelings for the knight commander. He’s been so supportive, and such a good friend, and although she knows he’s made a pass at her quite a few times, he always apologizes for it, saying it would be inappropriate. She’s never blamed him for it though. She knows she’s beautiful, and she’s at the age where she’s beginning to understand what men really want, and what she really wants. When she got to her room, she immediately began packing. Her excitement was uncontrollable.

* * *

Back in Jaluport, it was a clear and sunny midsummer day. It was Orrdat (Sunday, Day of Orros), and most religions have mass on this day. Today was a special day since the general of the Kalinian Militia was getting married. The Kalinian Militia is based in Saphe, but the general’s wife-to-be insisted on being married in her home town at the temple she used to attend here. This meant, however, that they would have to move the Rod of Regalia*; the very rod in which the general gets his power. The rod was constructed for the Second King. When the first king, Argonis Vallenmore died, he had no heir to take the throne. No heir that anyone knew of at least. His close friend Ayuss’ son was chosen to take the throne, but he wasn’t a very good leader, or very charismatic for that matter. The Council of Magista was then tasked to create a magical item to aid him in being a leader fit enough to be king. The rod boosts the bearer’s charisma and negotiation abilities. It also boosts the bearer’s oration skills and is rumored to have a large number of other unknown effects. Needless to say it’s an artifact the Kalinian Militia’s elite protect with their lives. This was a perfect opportunity for Jel’Yar who was being paid 5,000 gold to steal it. Everything was going as planned, at least how Jel’Yar had planned it and he was now running as fast as he could. The streets weren’t very crowded since almost everyone was at the ceremony, but at this point that was a disadvantage. The guards were nipping at his heels, but he was almost at the rendezvous point. His slender elf-like body bode him well for speed as Lamanti are known for being fast. His agility allowed him to round corners more sharply than most. The other thing Lamanti are known for is that they are all black. Their skin, all parts of the eye, hair, teeth, and nails are jet black. They have a very fine and very short fur that covers their body that has a slightly earthy-green hue that only shows in certain lighting. At dusk and dawn they can be invisible to some people. With a big smile, he hurdled a fence and quickly ran inside a blacksmith shop through the back door, where he was met by the captain of the guard and he skidded to a stop.

“That’s far enough, Jel’Yar!” the captain bellowed. The lieutenants with him put their hands on the hilts of their sheathed swords ready to make action.

Jel’Yar gave a sigh, more from exhaustion than sarcasm and put his hands on his knees panting a little. One of the guards chasing him burst through the back door, sword drawn, panting heavily from the run.

The captain spoke up, “Let the others know we’ve caught the suspect!”

The guard blindly nodded and exited, closing the door behind him.

The captain inhaled deeply saying, “You’re a clever one, Jel’Yar, but maybe not clever enough.”

“Please, I could have lost those guys easy,” he said with confidence, waving his hand through the air as if to shrug them off.

The captain laughed heavily, “I’m sure you could’ve.” The captain’s face suddenly became serious, “You have the package?”

“You have the money?” Jel’Yar retorted quickly, mimicking the captain’s voice, but only to mock him.

The captain gave him a sour look while reaching into his cape to pull out a rather large pouch and threw it on the table in front of him. The sack would have spilled open if not for the knot cinching it closed.

Jel’Yar wrinkled his brow. He knew it was gold, especially with how heavy it sounded hitting the table. “What, are you paying me in silver?” he asked sarcastically.

“No. That’s gold,” the captain claimed shaking his head.

Jel’Yar rolled his eyes. Of course, he thought, the Kalinian Militia only deals in gold. Jel’Yar then reached into his backpack and pulled out a padded roll. He set it on the same table and unrolled it to reveal the Rod of Regalia.

The captain got closer, “You know that’s a replica, right?” he asked Jel’Yar with a smirk.

Jel’Yar gave a curt smile, “I know. That’s why I switched them.”

A few gasps were heard before the captain said with a big smile, “You never cease to amaze me, Jel’Yar.”

“Yea, well, it took a little longer than I thought it would, and that’s the only reason your guards were so close behind,” he said with a chuckle.

“I knew when I hired you, you were the right man for the job.”

“Well, it’s good that you got somebody to do it. You have some serious gaps in your security. I have someone I can recommend to you,” he said with Dralen in mind.

“That won’t be necessary,” the captain said carefully rolling the rod back up.

“Well, if it’s the same guy who did it last time, you might want to reconsider.” Jel’Yar then grabbed the large pouch of coins and discretely made an exit. The captain went to speak to him, but realized he wasn’t there. The captain just shook his head and laughed.

Minutes later, Jel’Yar was just down the street from “Creative Magic”. He crept in, slinking his way through the lab door. He snuck up to the back of Dralen’s chair as Dralen seemed to be very enthralled with something with which he was tinkering.

Dralen smirked. He could hear gold jingling slightly, and without taking his attention off his work, he said, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Haos!” Jel’Yar cursed. “How’d you know I’m here?”

“I can hear money from a mile away,” he joked.

“I just thought our trip could use a little funding,” Jel’Yar said tossing the pouch of coins on the table in front of Dralen then putting a hand on his shoulder. The weight of the gold shook everything on the table as Dralen had to catch a flask from falling to the floor.

“Haos, that’s a lot of money. Did you get this from the captain of the guard, or something?” Dralen asked sarcastically.

“Actually,” Jel’Yar mentioned taking a seat on the nearest stool, “I did.”

“What, is it all in copper?”

“No, that’s gold. It’s from the captain of the Kalinian Militia,” he said scornfully.

“When are they going to learn to use platinum? It’s much lighter and worth ten times as much.”

“They are sticklers for tradition.”

“Well, anyways, I am glad you’re here. You see, Landis and I discovered a new sic--”

“I know,” Jel’Yar interrupted, “I ran into Jyl before she left. She told me all about it. Sounds like an adventure brewing.”

“Well, stick around for the next few days, because some of our old friends will be showing up,” Dralen said, quickly turning back to his mortar and pestle.

Jel’Yar smiled deeply. He loves adventure. There’s something about getting stuck in situations where you could die at any moment that Jel’Yar loved. He was recalling their last adventure where he was nearly eaten whole by a half-dragon. Fondly remembering how it was Dralen whom had saved his life in that moment. He smiled at Dralen who was studiously grinding something in the mortar and pestle. The old wooden mortar creaked from Dralen’s pressure. He could remember when Dralen first got that mortar and pestle. Jel’Yar had gotten it for him at “The Mortar and Pestle” of all places; a store that just so happens to be one of the most famous alchemical shops in all of Argonis. He’s glad to see Dralen still uses it. However much he likes Dralen, though, he was anxious to see the rest of the crew, especially Bane. Ever since he met Bane, he’s admired him. He can never seem to put his finger on it, but there is something about him, besides how good looking he is, that always keeps people paying attention to him, almost like he’s a god in human form. He watched Dralen a bit more and patted him on the shoulder before leaving to find Landis and say hello.

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