Fides

Fides is Galeon's internationally recognized capital and center of diplomacy and consensus. Located on a large hill in the center of Galeon's eastern river region, the city is made up of three major boroughs: Fides proper, Old Fides, and the Fides Outskirts. The main part of the city, which is what most mean when they refer to Fides, is a bustling metropolis known as a place where people from all over Mortanis and beyond travel for either business, politics, or pleasure. It is home to Galeon's main public forum, the Fides Amphitheater, as well as several foreign embassies containing portals to their respective nations. Old Fides sits at the western base of the hill, on the bank of the Draconis River. While a few people still reside in this area, it is largely considered a historical site, popular with students, researchers, and those looking to learn about the region's past. The Outskirts, located farther down the hillside in a circle around the metro area, is home to several farms, residences, and workshops, as well as the famed Fides Academy of Engineering, known as FAE.

Culture

As Galeon's center of diplomacy, Fides is home to a large population of foreign immigrants and diplomats. While Rashara also houses a sizeable immigrant community, the perception of the two cities is starkly different. Rashara is considered to be a haven for social outcasts fleeing their old countries, while Fides is largely seen as a respectable place for, for instance, affluent Restan expats to settle down in retirement. It is considered an easy place to start for those travelers who are unfamiliar with Galean culture, since one can always find a community of people from one's own country somewhere in Fides. 

In addition to hosting a large contingent of diplomats, the city is also home to those from within Galeon who seek to involve themselves with the greater workings of the nation. Because of this, there are some who view the city as a breeding ground for a new generation of Windtalkers - those they believe would regress the nation towards a culture of hierarchy and dishonesty.

Places to Visit

The Fides Amphitheater 

While there are many who attend the Amphitheater every day in order to discuss political matters of great importance, it is also a highly popular travel destination. People go to not only to observe the Galean political process in action, but to lay eyes on one of the oldest standing structures in Fides' metropolitan area. The grand, round coliseum is made of a striking red marble, and is visible from  almost anywhere in the city. 

Fides Academy of Engineering (FAE)

Located in the outskirts, this institution is known across Mortanis for its cutting edge research and the inventions it yields. For those who are interested in seeing some of these innovations in action, the Academy holds monthly showcases which are open to the public. Like many destinations in Galeon, many people also travel here to see some unique architecture. FAE is notable in particular for the manner in which the majority of the structure sits within the eastern side of the hill. When flying over Fides, many note that the visible side of the structure looks like a crescent moon. 

The Candle

While the official name of the structure is Helios Tower, it is far more often affectionately referred to by the locals as the Candle. The name is fairly self explanatory - this narrow tower juts out over the city and culminates in a grand, golden dome that comes to a point. Popular largely with tourists, traveling to the top provides one with a birds-eye view of the entire city, as well as much of the landscape beyond. 

Old Fides

As was previously stated, while there are some who still reside in Old Fides, most of these are people who are staunchly devoted to the preservation of the site, and as such, have opted to live much like the people who lived there long ago, when these original structures were built. Old Fides was, of course, the original metropolitan area back when it was far more beneficial to have direct access to the river and the trade and travel that came along with it. As the population grew and methods where devised to transport goods and people with greater ease, the people gradually migrated to the hilltop. A visit to Old Fides is a must for those with an interest in history or archaeology. 

Abu Moya

This fine dining seafood establishment, open only for dinner, is located in the heart of the metropolitan area. The restaurant is open air and located on a terrace atop the Fides Museum of Modern Art, high enough above the city to provide a quiet, comfortable, romantic atmosphere with a sparkling view of colorful Fides at night. It is a must visit for distinguished guests to the city, though reservations generally should be made a few weeks in advance because of high demand and the terrace’s limited space. It is a popular spot for those looking to book a memorable, romantic night out.

Abu Moya’s menu specializes in fish found in the rivers that outline Fides, which guarantees that all food served is freshly caught. While the restaurant’s famed chef utilizes many traditional Galean ingredients, their unique creations and reinterpretations of traditional dishes are considered daring and modern, and feature bold, exciting combinations of flavor and texture in addition to being visually striking.

Poached Verdant Riverbird
A flavorful cut, poached in white wine, served with olive brine popping pearls and chips of Galean fig. 

Trout Tamarind
Petite filets of trout, encrusted in a mixture of tamarind paste and crushed pistachio. Served with a rice pilaf and a tart lemon sauce. 

Fida Moya
River crab cakes - infused with spicy harissa, served with cooling goat cheese and a sprinkling of pomegranate seeds and almond.

The Red Lord’s Foot

This colorfully named inn and pub is one of few Heronite establishments in Galeon, and is discreetly located in one of Fides’ darker back alleys. Many well-traveled visitors say walking into the restaurant is like stepping from Galeon into an authentic Dalaskan pub. The founder and bartender is a first generation Heronite immigrant who moved to Galeon for unknown reasons, and is known as a shady, but charismatic character who often tells stories about his homeland.

The menu features several traditional Heronite dishes, making it a fine choice for anyone looking for a heavier meal than what many Galean restaurants feature. This makes the pub particularly popular in Fides’ colder months. The Foot is also known for its wide variety of alcoholic beverages, not only from Heron, but from all of Mortanis and beyond. It has a reputation for being loud and occasionally rowdy, frequently featuring live music — which often leads to patrons breaking out into drunken song and dance.

Rabbit Stew   

A traditional, hearty Heronite stew of rabbit, pearl onions, and several varieties of mushroom and root vegetable. Served with a heel of bread and goat cheese. 

The Foot’s Breakfast 

Lamb sausage, black pudding, morels with pearl onions and root vegetables, and fresh bread topped with fried egg.  

Boiled Lamb Dumplings 

One of the few dishes originating from the far eastern region of Heron. Boiled dumplings stuffed with spiced ground lamb, served with a side of roots and picked apples.

The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist, Part 10

First Chapter

Previous Chapter

"Now that your mind has been opened to the truth, we can begin to make sense of your impossible existence."

This was easier said than done as far as Kaleth, who was still processing the reality of this conversation. Like his father before him, he was now able to hear the voice of the God of Time. But as this ability was supposed to be unique to his father, the Avatar had never bothered to tell his son anything about the voice that now spoke directly to his mind. He wasn't prepared for the Fadalian's soft-spoken and patient tone. When he had read about the damage Geos had done to Comalan-- specifically his homeland of Resta-- he pictured a cold entity skillfully controlling the deep-seated rage that his father had given him through both heredity and upbringing. But as he sat down on his bed next to the dog from which he had recently been fleeing for his life, the comfort Geos brought him now made him think more of Serenity than Chaos. But with Geos with him, even this idle thought was a statement for the god to hear.

"In my early years, it is true that I felt more of my mother's influence while father doted on our dear Maula," Geos said as if they had just been sharing a casual conversation. Was this what it was like for all Avatars to speak to the gods? "I believe that's something we have in common. I would go so far as to say that made my decision to allow you to succeed your father less complicated."

"Aennin said my father caused all of this. What did he do?"

"You may wish to keep some words to yourself," Geos warned as footsteps sounded outside the boy's door, then quickly faded away. "You never have to speak words directed for me aloud again. To answer your question, I must take you on your first tour through the Reservoir of Time. Your father used my machine's power to fulfill a selfish wish and carelessly allowed the evil that pervades your world to grow. To further elaborate, it would help for you to understand how the Reservoir works."

Before Kaleth even had a chance to think of a question that could possibly make sense of what he just heard, he heard a high-pitched mechanical whine. He followed the sound upward and saw a pentagon that was wide enough to encircle him had formed in the ceiling. The shape extended toward to floor, revealing a strange metallic structure that was sinking to enclose Kaleth within its walls. Darkness fell as the pentagon swallowed the floor underneath him. He was vaguely aware of the floor vanishing, but when it was gone, he seemed hover in place instead of falling as he waited for something else to happen. He wouldn't have to wait long.

The first thing to happen was the golden light that gradually began to illuminate Kaleth's strange coffin at various intervals in the form of a glowing symbol that resembled an hourglass enclosed with curved lines that was was topped with a circle that could be a sun when compared to the crescent moon shape at the very bottom. Kartal had taught him that this was a sigil representing Geos, and it could be seen every so many yards for as far as he could see both above and below him. Kaleth continued to stare at the nearest of these lights until they all began to move, scrolling upward as loud mechanical hum was heard coming from the walls.  It took Kaleth a minute to realize that he was moving and by then he was falling so rapidly that the glowing sigils had melted together into massive blurred lines. He began to feel nervous, but found himself slowing down before he could start to panic. Gradually, the lines began to break into individual symbols once more, which then slowed to a crawl and eventually stopped. 

Moments later, Kaleth felt solid ground beneath his feet once more and saw light once more as the bewildering machine vanished. He adjusted his eyes hastily and soon found himself standing in a familiar place. He was home. More specifically, he was standing on Midstreet, a road running through Beldor that he had walked so many times between his home and primary school. He had never seen it quite like it appeared now, with the moon hanging high in the sky to indicate that it was late.

"Stay hidden," Geos' voice warned the boy. "I have brought you here only to observe."

Fortunately, Kaleth knew all of the hiding places along this road, out of necessity. Those who took an interest in his father always made his days intolerable, so he had taken to walking through the trees that lined the sidewalk. He used to climb one of these trees and walk between them from branch to branch before jumping into his backyard, but this was before he had been taught easier ways to move around. For the second time that day, he inhabited the body of a bird--this time a seresian owl--and perched himself on the nearest tree branch. With superior eyes, he scanned the road and found what he was looking for: his mother walking home. She looked slightly younger, and appeared to be loaded with books. 

Suddenly, from the shadow of an alley between an abandoned restaurant and a new laundry, a slender form darted onto the street and enclosed her between a pair of long, stringy arms. Kaleth focused on the assailant's face and saw Aennin drawing a blade to her throat. He might have felt sick to see this, but the mind of the owl whose form he took processed this image more calmly than he would have. He looked on as Adamora struggled in vain against the assassin's grip. 

That was when Kartal showed up.

Kaleth watched as his father snuck up on the assassin as stealthily as he had appeared, realizing as he did so that it helped him not to picture his name. Kartal pulled the assassin away from his beloved, but as he did so, something strange happened. As Kartal stepped back, he left behind an after-image of the assassin who continued to hold Adamora. He threw the elf that was caught in his grip roughly to the ground and kicked his knife arm with enough force to send the weapon flying. Meanwhile, when the other elven assailant quickly slit his mother's throat, another after-image remained standing in her place after she fell to the ground. The still-living version of Adamora turned rushed to Kartal and threw her hands around him while both assassin's fled; the successful killer melted into the shadows from which he came while the defeated version took off running down the street. 

Kartal and Adamora spoke for a few minutes before returning home, leaving the version of Kaleth's mother who had been killed to bleed on the floor. He watched for a few minutes longer as an old man walked onto the street. He too split into two versions of himself, one of which rushed to inspect Adamora's dead body and the other of which continued casually walking past her. As the old man who knelt over her began to call into his airwave tablet for help, the one who had kept walking bent over to pick something up from the ground: a brass locket he had found in the spot the failed assassin had been thrown into. He held up the locket to casually examine it as a pair of spellwarriors rushed down the street to relieve his counterpart.

"What you have just witnessed are two versions of the truth," Geos said then. "When Aennin Moonstep was soon to become my sister's Avatar, her first Avatar used his magic to turn the elf's blade on someone he had deemed a threat to himself. In one truth, the woman who is to be your mother died well before you were ever thought of, only to be avenged by your father later. In another, your father's timely intervention saves your mother and allows you to exist."

But how did what just happened here cause the sai'mul to start taking over? Kaleth thought, unable to speak even if he wanted to in this form.

"I'm sure you noticed the bystander who first happened upon the scene of your mother's tussle with Aennin after it was over," Geos responded in a tone of overt patience. "Did you see what he did in the truth that led to you?"

He picked up a necklace that somebody dropped.

"That necklace belongs to your mother," Geos said approvingly. "It is a sparesoul containing the spirit of an evil witch that has haunted your mother since birth. In the version of the truth ending with your mother's death, it was buried with her so the spirit's evil could be contained by her tomb. In the other, Aennin tore it from her neck in the struggle and neither of your to-be parents noticed that it was missing until it was long gone. In hands other than Adamora's, the spirit of Adaling is even more dangerous. It was this spirit who bestowed the sai'mul army with all of the power they need to overpower the living. She has driven them to cross lines which no one else would dare to try. This was all made possible because my power was used irresponsibility by someone I expected to know better. It would seem that love is stronger than even the great Sir Marle's faith."

It doesn't sound like saving my mom was what caused our problems, then. What if they had picked up the amulet?

"The only way to know for certain would be to observe as the water flows into a new direction," the gods said cryptically. Kaleth remembered that the name of the time travel machine that Geos used was called a Reservoir, but this only helped him to understand that the god meant that the only way to be certain was if they tried it.

"I cannot allow you to interfere with the contents of the Reservoir just yet," Geos said sternly. "After your father's betrayal, I am hesitant to trust mortals with control of my machine at the moment. I have allowed you to see the past because it is important that you understand the past and be mindful of the future to make the wisest decisions in the present."

If I do something, maybe I can save the future!

"You cannot know that for certain," Geos replied, although the tone of his voice made Kaleth begin to feel as if the god was humoring him at least. "If you are to represent me, you would do well to learn to be patient. When you master my power, there will be no hurry."

How do I master the power of time?

"You must understand the past and learn to be mindful of the future," Geos repeated. "By proving that you are capable of observing the past without bias, you have accomplished the first of these requirements. But learning to carefully consider the future will be harder. Uncertainty has a way of paralyzing those who are inadequately prepared and unforeseen disaster awaits those who do not take the exercise seriously. Until you can competently predict the consequences of your actions, no matter how small, you cannot fully inherit my powers."

Kaleth suddenly began to feel his body returning to normal of its own accord as five-walled machine dropped out of the sky to swallow him once more. As the symbols began to move again, this time downward, he began to contemplate Geos' words. Understand the past and be mindful of the future to make the wisest decisions in the present. Now that he finally knew the truth that tied his existence to all of the tragedy in his life, he felt slightly older. But he wouldn't be able to do anything about it until he became as intimate with the future.

Next Chapter

The Confectioners' Menagerie

Travelers to the Restan-Galean border city of Freedom's Reach, beware! During the final week of Ames, every citizen is inclined to look over their shoulder at all times and even the most reclusive will try to avoid being alone. Their behavior changes completely, which always seems to put off visitors, but they do so only out of fear for their own safety. For reasons that remain a mystery to all, people are known to occasionally go missing from the city at night. There seems to be no consistent frequency or prejudice for these occurrences; Restans and Galeans alike of all sorts have proven to be vulnerable. In some years, this may not happen at all, but it has been known to happen up to five times during one particularly traumatic year.

3E6. That was the year of the last spring I dared to stay in Freedom's Reach. It is certainly a harmonious and colorful place to live for most of the year, but after the week we had taken to calling Dark Ames. I was 22 back then, and had thankfully only seen three eventful years of this apparent curse. The disappearances had already been happening for five years, which lead many of us to believe that they began with something that happened during the Archknight Rebellion, but no one has any idea what. It's not like anything meaningful happened in Freedom's Reach at the time. The Archknight and his band passed through quite uneventfully, in fact. Everyone seems to be in the dark about the connection between Dark Ames and the Archknight Rebellion, but I'm certain it's out there somewhere. The problem, though, is that no one with the knowledge and resources to get to the bottom of this could be bothered to look into it initially. The spellwarriors would tell us that since it didn't happen every single year, we couldn't be certain that any magic was actually at work here. No experts from Galeon's end seemed to take the problem seriously either. The official position on both sides of the border was that since the disappearances had no pattern, we couldn't prove they were even related. We were on our own.

That was until that fateful year. We had all thankfully been spared the year before, so the tension that we had become accustomed to wasn't as heavy. After four days, everyone had grown tired of talking about it and just carried on with our safety rituals in silence. On the night of the fourth day, the first person disappeared. But he was a drunk tourist bound for his home in Beldor. He wasn't alone when he first passed through on his way into Galeon, but he was leaving alone. Perhaps this wasn't a Black Ames disappearance, we thought. Maybe he just stumbled back onto the road at night without thinking and would wake up embarrassed somewhere between here and Palon. We tried to stay calm, telling each other as firmly as we could that it wasn't happening again.

An 8-year old girl from the Galean side was gone by morning.

With a new day came newfound certainty that the curse was in effect once more. I stayed close to my friends for the rest of the week, knowing that there was only thing that each of the previous victims had in common. No one was to be alone. There were five of us together in Laurel's house and we had bought a treasure chest of drinks and snacks with the plan of whiling away the rest of the week playing games inside her fortified den. As the night ticked on, however, we had gotten a little tipsy and began to fool around. It was around that time when John crossed a line with Amir. Little Amir had always valued his space and John had been the most drunk at the time so he was acting more chummy with everyone than he normally did. He got angry when Amir began to back away. John started yelling at Amir, demanding that he admit that he wanted him to do what he was doing. An argument ensued during which John pushed Amir over. A hush had fallen over the room when he hit the ground. Suddenly, he was back on his feet and storming out. I was nearest to the door, but I was too stunned to stop him from leaving. If I had, I might have stopped him from being the third to disappear.

The rest of the night had been spent picking apart what had happened with John and Amir. We put him to bed and locked him in the guest room until we could decide what to do with him. Laurel and Akiha spent the better part of Black Ames' penultimate day arguing over whether John should get to hang around. Laurel was disgusted with him and wanted him out of her house, but Akiha tried to argue that he would be alone and therefore vulnerable if he left. It was hard to argue with either, to be honest. I didn't feel safe around him anymore, but was that any reason to condemn him to potential death? Not wanting to be dragged in to the argument, I ducked out as soon as I woke up late in the morning to visit my sister and her family.

I was happy to see that Marie and her children had been safe so far and the five of us spent a rather pleasant afternoon together. Unfortunately, I never really got along with the Galean woman that she had recently got married to so when she got home, it became clear that I wouldn't be riding out the rest of the week with family. So, I returned to Laurel's with a heavy heart, hoping that she and Akiha had already sorted out their argument. But along the way, I ran into Akiha, who told me that Laurel had gotten tired of arguing with her over John and sent them both away. The two of them had gotten separated, but I could tell that Akiha wanted to find John. I couldn't very well leave her to try alone, so we searched together for nearly an hour before finding him... and something baffling.

John had been sitting against a brick fence and staring at the moon in a fugue state when a sticky, looking tendril scooped right off the ground and began to pull him through the air. We tried to chase him, but whatever had him moved faster than humanly possible. We followed the drops of goo that had dropped from the tendril in John's struggle, but the trail seemed to end at a hill just outside the city, directly to the west. It took me a few minutes, but I managed to find footprints that seemed to lead down the southwestern side of the hill. We wandered through the borderlands until we nearly walked off a cliff. At the edge, we saw what appeared to be a bunch of people standing together, but slightly apart just a bit further to the west. 

When we crept up to these figures, however, we found out they weren't people, but statues of people. They seemed to be carved in almost lifelike detail of something partially translucent. They appeared in countless different colors. The nearest was red and seemed to depict a short, thin man. Thinking he looked like hard candy, I pressed my hand to the statue. It was sticky. Certain I must be crazy, I licked one of the fingers of his outstretched hands. It tasted like strawberries. I had been about to report this to Akiha when she suddenly began to back away from a yellow statue nearby, which depicted a beautiful, somewhat familiar woman. She pointed out the bracelet carved into the statue's wrist and told me that she made it. I looked closer and saw the distinctive charm that Laurel was known to wear. 

I suddenly began to look closer at the strawberry man in front of man. His arms were outstretched and one leg was bent. It almost looked like he was treading water. When I studied the face more closely, I saw the same face that I did when Amir fled from John. There was a lot of fear in his expression, but also pure agony. Akiha and I looked together and nodded in mutual understanding. We had found where the people who had disappeared from the city were being kept, and their fate was beyond comprehension. Whoever did this must have gotten to Laurel before we found John, but where was he? None of the dozens of statues that were arranged in this horrible display looked like him. Eventually we found a copse hidden among the trees at the edge of the cliff and argued for several minutes about going in. 

We agreed that it didn't seem to matter at this point whether either of us was alone, but we were too scared to split up now. So, we slipped into the copse and crept between the shrubbery in silence, following a sweet smell deeper in. We finally found a decrepit cabin, a shack more like, that had only the dimmest of light escaping its solitary window. When we looked in through the window, what we saw made us run all the way home. Inside, there was a large, bubbling cauldron with what appeared to be a thick, green fluid. We then watched in horror as John was lowered into the cauldron by a chain latched to a shackle on his ankle. He kicked and screamed wildly the whole way down and managed to catch the lip of the cauldron. But the hot metal burned his hands and he quickly lost his grip. We didn't see what happened next, but I'm sure it was something we should be glad not to have seen.

Akiha spent the last day of Black Ames hiding in my house, fearing any possibility of having been followed. I kept my airwave transmitter ready to call for help at a moment's notice, but we made it through the day without anything else bad happening. Afterward, I called the spellwarriors and tried to lead them to this menagerie of candied people, but the copse, the shack, and all of the statues were gone. I had to let them into my memories to confirm that I wasn't making any of this up, but there weren't any closer to finding whoever did this than they had been before. 

At least this got the peacekeepers on both side of the border to take us seriously. The spellwarriors and HDL have returned every year since then, but they still have yet to figure anything out. I hear they've had some casualties themselves, but I wouldn't know. Akiha and I both left Freedom's Reach that summer. Seeing how all of our friends have suffered, the lives we had before seemed long gone, so we both retreated for safer ground. Akiha moved to Rashara while I returned to my hometown of Beldor. I might return some day to visit my sister and the friends who remained in Freedom's Reach, but I will never again set foot anywhere near there during the last week of spring's final month.

The Templars of the Blackstone Order

Templars exist in every corner of known world. Their purpose is to defend the honor of the gods, both as individuals and as a a collective. No act of sacrilege or desecration can be forgiven by these earnest, sectarian warriors. To become a templar requires intense training that would ideally allow one to hold their own against any of Comalan's superpowers, whether they be from Tanis, Heron, Resta, Midania, or Galeon. To a templar, the ability to put down anyone who makes an enemy of the gods is the highest calling. As such, they are especially hostile to blood mages and warlocks, who practice their arts in open defiance of the gods' condemnation. While separate orders of templars exist in each country, they are all united in the mission of enforcing the Fadalians' highest commands.

The templars of Resta represent one of the crown's three knightly orders, the Blackstone Order. They were founded in the First Age as the military of Necros, a long-since perished country that now composes the southern province of modern Resta. Their founder, a warrior named Karla Blackstone, mobilized a group of soldiers to secure the Pledge River when the Brokamac clan of Pyris invaded the land of Coronos to their immediate north. With a secure foothold against further Pyrisian expansion won, Karla held her defenders together for the length of the occupation of Coronos with inspiring words that preached the value of the continental east, where mortal life was said to have begun. It was this dogmatic attachment to the eastlands that allowed the first spellwarrior, Hem Maloran, to convince her to bring her soldiers to Coronos and aid in their revolution. With the Brokamac clan successfully routed, the Blackstone Order returned to Necros as heroes who helped to secure the chosen lands.

With Necros now secure to the north, Karla Blackstone took her troops back to the capitol of Necros and garrisoned its newly constructed castle, which was named for its newest hero. When the Plague of Suffering wiped out many citizens of both Coronos and Necros and compelled their leaders to join houses, Blackstone Keep became the Blackstone Monastery, a center of training for both clergy and new generations of Restan templars. It is in Blackstone Monastery that Resta maintains a reputation of excellence in all things divine.

Among all of the world's templars, the Blackstone Order has the highest standards of both strength and religious zeal. This causes them to produce the least fully recognized templars of any country, but the most powerful by far. The majority of their templars are followers of the Doctrine of Rage. This means that most Restan templars, including one of their most famous, are anointed in the faith of both Chaos and Salica. The knights of the Blackstone Order also particularly despise the spellwarriors of the Hem Order on a systemic level. While many outsiders assume that this is because of a historical rivalry between the two knightly orders that resulted from the merging of Coronos and Necros, the truth is that the templars distrust the Hem Order's undisciplined experimentation. For their part, the spellwarriors are proud of their heritage and consider the Blackstone Order's stigmatization of the power that allowed Coronos to liberate itself to be an insult to Restan history.

 While the average duties of a Blackstone knight involve dispensing justice to those who desecrate something divine, the dogmatic, sectarian nationalism of Resta makes defense of the kingdom a part of their duties. In times of conflict, the Blackstone Order is called upon to serve as Resta's naval forces. With a resource-rich kingdom behind them, and many years of hard discipline drilled into them, the templars of Resta can expertly sail ships that eclipse mariknights in power. Despite this, the Blackstone Order envies Midania's navy for their magically-enhanced speed and secret navigation techniques.

Out of a sense of necessity, Restan templars focus on mirroring the versatility of their counterparts in the Hem Order. Whether they are serving their country at sea, or their gods on land, you can count on the knights of the Blackstone Order to carry out their duties with practiced excellence.

The Spellwarriors

The subjects of the most fame in all of Resta are those who have graduated from an elite school near the center of the capitol known as Hem Academy. Those who survive the rigors of this prestigious institution go on to join a knightly order of the same name. Known for their mastery of both martial and magical combat skills, these knights of the Hem Order are more commonly referred to as spellwarriors. In times of peace, they are peacekeepers, charged with protecting the peoples' justice. In times of war, they are Resta's living artillery and soldiers charged with scaling the most treacherous terrain to gain an advantage on their enemies. Whatever a spellwarrior's charge is, the legacies they leave behind have inspired Resta's greatest songs. They are recognized far and wide by the people as Resta's heroes, much to the ire to the templars of the Blackstone Order, with whom they share a mutual dislike.

The Hem Order is named for one of the first heroes of modern Resta, a warrior of Coronos named Hem Maloran. It was through his accidental discovery of the laws of magic that he found the power and hope to liberate his people from their Pyrisian oppressors. After declaring Coronos an independent country once more, Hem took the new throne with the people's blessing and bid them to build a school in which he could give back to those who pushed him up to his throne by developing and sharing his understanding of magic. Over time, thousands of warriors have come to Hem Academy's ageless campus with the hope of joining this proud tradition. Despite this, fewer than ten percent of those who attempt the school's rigorous curriculum ever complete it and become a fully accredited spellwarrior.

This school has classes in various skills, including marksmanship, swordplay, tracking, beast mastery, elemental magic, and medical mysticism. Students are encouraged to specialize in as many skills as possible during the mandatory ten-year training period, but most will only ever focus on perfecting a minimum number of skills they are most comfortable with. This gives the Hem Order the most versatility of any army in the world: they offer innumerable skills as a collective, but each spellwarrior is trained differently and utilized in different ways upon graduation.

Rarely, among the students of Hem Academy, people are found with the additional potential to perform the Hem Academy's unique magic: transforming into the aspects of magic. These abilities seem to occur randomly in one of three forms, which are almost never revealed outside of Hem Academy's secret methods. Some take the form of the silverfist, a now-extinct species of ape credited with teaching humanity to use magic. Others can inhabit the body of a phoenix, who can both destroy and heal with its mysterious flames. Finally, some tend to discover the ability to transform into a foothill mammoth, a large, furry pachyderm found in northern Resta and known for being the sturdiest beasts in the world. Whether a spellwarrior discovers any such abilities rarely has an impact on their future legend, as even the Champion of Chaos became legendary without them.

When the people cry for help and the templars judge their problems to be beneath the gods' intervention, the spellwarriors are there, offering their diligently honed expertise to them for the solution of any problem.

Phoenix Blade Chapter 7

Start from the Beginning

Previous Chapter

...

That's easy for you to say, but I tend not to trust anyone that I've just begun to work with anyway. It doesn't matter how many reasons anyone gives me not to, I just find trust to be a useless and potentially harmful quality. 

...

Save it! You're not telling me anything I haven't heard before. The fact is that the pain of having your trust shattered is an avoidable experience. There isn't even a practical benefit to trust that I couldn't do without!

...

Well, trust is a funny thing. It's not an ironclad state between two people. You could conceivably trust someone who's never committed a crime in their life never to steal from you, but you wouldn't necessarily trust that same person to keep a secret or handle something extremely delicate. It's not exactly accurate to say that I never trust anyone, come to think of it, but I try to remain aware of what my people are up to at all times and stay out of their way. But I always kept everyone at arm's length, especially at first.

...

Well, I had gotten close, but with none more so than Saayuko. She had made for a faithful friend, not just because she was useful, but because she was sharp, consistent, and everyone else loved her. It was almost disappointing to see that she was actually good with people. And here I thought we'd had so much in common!

...

You'd think so, because for some reason, everyone always did. The guild's favorite joke has always been to call her their mother and me their father. It was always meant in an endearing way, but I never appreciated the comparison back then.

...

What was even worse, even Bene had an easier time ingratiating himself with the rest of the guild that I had. I had to put a lot of pressure on him to keep him on the straight and narrow, but by the end of his first month, he was already just as much a member of the Phoenix Blade as anyone else on the compound. He managed to turn some of our excess supplies into potions that allowed us to turn a hefty profit and kept us well supplied on our missions. I was always on the lookout for any possible wrongdoing on his part, but if he was cutting any dangerous corners in his job at the time, he never let me catch him.

...

Well, around that point in time, we weren't up to much. We had just been focusing on building out our space. We managed to add an extra floor to the warehouse, which gave us all more room to spread out. Those renovations ate up a lot of our time, and when that was out of the way,  we began to focus once more recruitment. We were already pulling in a lot of customers whose needs were varied, but I wanted workshops that could meet the needs of any adventurer. We had just finished installing a forge and were in the process of looking for someone to work it when Saayuko brought in our two newest recruits, neither of who were smiths.

...

There was Zarabanda, another man from somewhere off in the isles. You know, one of the living parts of Midania. I'm not really sure which part, to be honest. He never seemed to say where specifically, but to be fair, I never thought to ask. He was a nice guy, though, and he was good with a bow, so I sent him out to hunt whenever he wasn't on a contract. That way, Saayuko could focus more on acquiring our plants and minerals. He got along well with everybody, especially Saayuko, Takaa, and the other recent recruit.

...

Eione Astersong, was a little different from Zara. Both were mysterious, yes, but where the latter seemed to have a big heart, Eione was an enigma of a more unsettling sort. She seemed nice, sure, but I could never work out what motivated her. She always seemed curious, but nothing ever seemed to satisfy her. I found out early on that I needed to keep her mind diverted with puzzling tasks, which suited her fine. She was particularly useful in collaborating with Oogura and Bene using her magical skills.

...

Yes, they are both Adjutants now. Coincidence seemed to bring me close to the Avatars and their inner circle plenty more times than you'd believe. It also turns out Takaa is acquainted with the Archknight--

...

You know, the one we have now. Not to mention I hear he's been dating that new Intalan Avatar these past couple of years. The first bit of business Takaa ever did with us was actually on Sir Maloran's behalf, although that was before he got that title. We managed to cross paths with them many times, which also included the very next mission we picked up after Zara and Eione joined up. What a hilarious mess that was!

...

Well, the Archknight has never had trouble making enemies and one of them actually paid me to go after him and his wife.

...

If I had known, I would have told me people and the whole mess could have been avoided a lot sooner.

...

Alright, here it is! This man came in, anonymously and hired us to break into his house and grab some black gemstone and rough up anyone who got in our way for good measure. Not exactly my most savory mission, but it had been a while and we could have used the payday.

...

Well, I took Saayuko, Zara, Eione, and Oogura with me and the mission basically ended once we saw who we were dealing with. They had Eione's brother with them and once they saw each other everything fell apart. Eione knew one avatar, Zara knew another, and I knew full well what could happen if we pissed them off. So, we talked things through only to find out that we had been thrown at them as cannon fodder. I wasn't pleased to have been used for something I wasn't expected to survive, so we threw the contract away.

...

There wasn't anything I could do about it. We tracked the man who'd offered me the contract, but he was dead before we got to him. We weren't the only ones being used, it turned out.

...

That was just another part in a lesson that I was too stubborn to learn. Trust can't come too easily, or you're going to get burned.

Next Chapter

Tales of the Starlight Crusade: Saved

"Right this way, sir!"

Gyanda's first day aboard the Morta was a busier one than even he could have anticipated. Many years of fighting evil and organizing the movement to promote blood magic acceptance had failed to prepare him for his first true command. As the Archknight, he was used to leading the Avatars, but he was a lot slower to adjust to the tedium of leading Resta's Starlight Crusade forces. Like everyone else, he was training to use the specialized equipment that had been designed for the upcoming war, but he also shouldered the burden of appearing to be the most competent at every aspect of this new technology while making time for his duties as Captain. He had only just returned from a day of training with the new Hermes armor and now faced several meetings in succession. He politely dismissed the subordinate who offered to escort him to his office in favor of a few moments' solitude. His first order of business: selecting the Morta's officers.

He sneaked through the halls of the newly opened ark so as to avoid the questions that seemed to follow him everywhere these days. It was clearly his own fault that he needed to do this as far as he was concerned. His organization of the world's blood mages, the terror inflicted on him by Erdas, his disappearance, the capture of his wife, and his appropriation of the Occulus System had all made him one of the most curious figures in the new fleet. It certainly didn't help when he released his memoirs, which should have explained everything but only intensified the conversation around him. He knew that it would do no good to hide from everyone now that he had reclaimed his title as the Archknight, but he felt desperate for a break ahead of his first meeting.

Sadly, he was denied this opportunity from the moment he walked into the office, where the first person he was to meet with was already waiting. He stifled a sigh as he took a seat at his desk and greeted the old man. At well over 100 years old, Clint Blackstone was the oldest human to enlist in the Crusade by far. Gyanda had not been convinced of the utility that someone of his advanced age could possibly offer, but King Baldus had been clear in his desire to claim his legendary brain for the Morta's crew. As he examined the Champion of Crane, the captain was able to determine that he was fully aware of where he was. But what he needed to determine was whether Clint would be able to keep up with the mental and physical demands of the mission. Intuitive as he was, the Champion was quick to open the conversation with words that addressed these concerns.

"Greetings!" the old man said with a grin. "I'm told that this is where we discuss what you plan to do with this army's best shooter."

Gyanda sat back into his chair with eyebrows raised. "That is a rather bold estimation of your skills, is it not?"

Clint shook his head. "No, I'm certain I've still got it! You know that shot that saved you against that nutter, Jager?"

Following the disappearance of the majority of the Avatars, Chaos was quick to name a replacement for his own. In his hasty fury, he had selected a particularly nasty and zealous templar named Jager Harret to represent him until Gyanda used the Occulus to reveal that the original Chaotic Avatar was still alive and resisting the enemy on their home world. The two of them had last met on the grounds of the Gilded Keep during last year's Summer Festival. That confrontation might have been deadly for Gyanda if not for a fortuitous shot from an unseen sniper, but no one had ever discovered who fired the shot.

"If you are telling me that it was you who fired this shot, I must express some skepticism. I would have sensed if a man of your stature had been close enough to the castle on that day."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," the Champion said with a wizened smirk. "But I'm not claiming that I was at the Festival. I made the shot from my kitchen."

Gyanda shook his head while making an effort to conceal his exasperation. "Blackstone Farm is a great many miles away from the capitol. What you have told me is impossible."

Clint shook his head and laughed. "Forgive me, sir, but you're no expert on rifles. With your magical knowledge, though, you ought to know better than to utter the word 'impossible'."

"Even if that's true, there is no way for you to have aimed a shot at that distance."

"You're right, but I wasn't aiming. I was letting Crane guide my hand. If he'd decided that you were more dangerous than Jager, I'd probably be talking to him instead of you right now."

Gyanda remained skeptical, but saw no reason to pursue this line of questioning any further. "Well, it is heartening to know that my cause has Crane's endorsement. It seems that his motives are the most mysterious among the gods lately."

"What do you mean by that?" Clint asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I am referring to his new Avatar," Gyanda said carefully. "She is quite the controversial figure. If she perfectly represents his will, there is some question as to what he expects to come of this war."

"He expects what he always does, I think" Clint responded, shrugging nonchalantly. "He wants us to survive and expand our horizons. It's not really that complicated."

"That may be true, but Lady Apollo's own actions seem to fly in the face of common sense, I believe. Why else would she be so desperate to save someone who has openly betrayed us?"

Clint's smile faded for the first time, indicating that Gyanda had touched a nerve.

"Look, I read your book and it seems like you think you know Richie pretty well, but as his brother, I'm telling you that Tir's reasoning is perfectly valid."

"Why do you suppose so?" Gyanda asked, his eyebrows raised in genuine curiosity.

"My little brother has lived for Crane in the way you seem to do for magic," Clint replied in a measured tone. "You can call him a Betrayer all you want, but I won't believe he turned his back on his Intalan ideals until I hear why from his own lips."

Gyanda did sigh this time, seeing no need to conceal his disappointment. As far as he was concerned, neither Clint nor Tir were looking at this situation objectively, but it was possible he wasn't either. All he knew was that Richard Broger was a lifelong eccentric known for his unpredictability. He also recalled all of the times he had been burned by The Betrayer. How many lives had been lost simply due to his reckless handling of Garanda's soul? How many times had he made his beloved feel uncomfortable? He had long since learned better than to trust Broger, so he felt truly vindicated when the former Avatar revealed his allegiance to Erdas. Why was it so hard for anyone else to believe that the man who had frustrated him so many times had formed a genuine bond with his ultimate tormentor?

"The particulars of our religious ideologies need not necessarily include absolute loyalty to our deities," Gyanda said with a shake of his head. "I know that is possible to betray Crane while maintaining an Intalan identity because every step I took towards bringing my coven out of the shadows was a betrayal of Chaos. I did not have to renounce the Doctrine of Power to do so, nor did he need to renounce the Doctrine of Knowledge. But the fact remains that he has turned his back on our gods and aligned with our enemy."

Clint scowled and replied, "What if I told you I found proof that he's not in his right mind?"

Gyanda shook his head dismissively. "I'm well aware of the theory you share with Tir regarding Erdas' control over your brother. But consider my position. You may be correct in saying that you know Broger better than I, but you must concede that my personal experience with Erdas leaves me plenty of reason to be skeptical of this claim. After everything he has done to me, I have never felt any desire to aid in the genocide of my own people."

"It's a shame that the same couldn't be said of your mother," Clint replied bitterly.

"You're out of line!"

"Why? For pointing out your hypocrisy? Why does your mother deserve to be saved when she's guilty of the same thing you've condemned my brother for?"

"My mother's motivations--"

"Were petty and selfish! Yet she's wandering about this airfield somewhere while you plot revenge against someone who's only paying for his curiosity for the first time in his life!"

Gyanda might have conceded this point if he were in a more generous mood, but at that moment, he could only focus on the indignity of comparing Richard Broger to Matilda Maloran. While it was true that both had cast their lot with Erdas, he considered their respective motivations as comparable as night and day. While the God of Agony had exploited the Templar General's weaknesses, Broger appeared to have been seduced by an offer of knowledge that exceeded the bounds of what he could learn under Crane. But he had no time to argue this point because Clint's rant was not finished.

"Speaking of your book, I think you should know better than anyone that no one's perfect. I'm not going to sit here and listen to the man who murdered the family of a good friend of mine try to tell me that anyone is beyond redemption!"

Those words nearly drove Gyanda to remove the old man from his office on the spot. While there was some truth to the point that he was the last person who should be denying anyone a chance at redemption, pointing it out seemed counterproductive. No matter how firmly Clint was convinced that Broger was worth saving, it didn't change the reality of their mission.

"There is some truth to what you say, but your words neglect another truth that you may not wish to hear," Gyanda replied calmly. "Neither I nor my mother have ever proven to be as dangerous as your brother. He has injured Chaos, something no one ever thought possible. What is more, our reports from Mennon lead me to conclude that Broger does not wish to be saved. Our orders are not to risk the success of our mission on the assumption that he can be redeemed, but to neutralize him as a threat."

"I'm aware."

"If you are to join the Morta's crew, you must be prepared to see him dead," Gyanda continued insistently.

Clint returned Gyanda's hard stare and said, "You're going to need all the help you'll get keeping our people alive against these fish men and Sea Angels and I can provide that help. The only caveat is that I won't help you plot to kill my brother. If that's something you require, you can ship off without me."

Gyanda sighed and shook his head. "This disagreement is immaterial. The matter of what to do with Broger is over both of our heads. I can respect your desire to refuse your involvement in his downfall, as long as you do not attempt to undermine the decision we reach in regards to his life."

"I'm here to serve Resta," Clint responded with a stony expression. "If anyone is going to change your mind about this, it will be Tir."

Gyanda pulled a file from his desk and began to peruse it. "If that is the case, I will disregard this debate and make my determination based on your own merits. As it turns out, you have a middling physique among our recruits, which is impressive enough at your age. Your target range scores do not quite prove your claim about firing that shot at the festival, but they are otherwise perfect. In addition, our verbal sparring has proven that the mental faculties for which our king has insisted on your inclusion have not diminished."

"I may be older than you and without the elven blood to boot, but I have managed to stay in good health in part due to Richie's help."

Gyanda nodded noncommittally. Although his continued devotion to his brother might prove to be problematic, Clint was perfect for command. He would have to keep his eye on him, as he was likely to report on his moves to Tir. So, deciding to check the biases that Clint had just challenged, Gyanda made the only decision that made sense.

"Hm. Well, the results speak for themselves. You are perfectly qualified to serve as an officer aboard my ship. Welcome to the Morta, Vice Captain."

It Comes for Those Who Don't Run Part 12

Back to the Beginning

Previous

It's voice echoes through the halls...

Aennin's trek to deliver the ticking parcel was a quick one, despite the fact that he had managed to get lost along the way. He felt a sense of urgency well up at this point and was tempted to run, but Katim's specific instructions not to suppressed that urge. He was now in Pewter Lane, a Worker caste neighborhood several levels beneath where he had come from. This was unusual in that he knew Katim rarely dealt with workers. Although he gleefully allowed them to patronize his bar and would sell his drugs to them there, this was the first time the boy had ever been bidden to make a delivery this far away. He had never been there before, a fact which contributed to his growing confusion, but he knew better than to ask for directions. Any work he did for Katim had to be on the wrong side of the law, and he knew the guards couldn't be trusted to help him.

What was more, he wasn't particularly interested in talking to the locals either, as workers tended to be among his most hated classmates back in school. While he did not particularly feel any disdain for their way of life, he had been on the wrong side of their ire on too many occasions. He supposed that he ought to let this hatred go since the fact that his parents were gone and what remained of his family had no business to call their own made him consider himself less attached to his own caste. But as he glanced at the faces of the people around him as he walked, he could sense that the workers knew he didn't belong there. Let them have their frontier pride and move along, he told himself bitterly.

Aennin glanced at the note that Katim had attached to his package to refer to its directions once more, but sighed as he found them less helpful than the last time he looked. Wherever he was now, he couldn't recognize any of the landmarks that his employer had described. He had been close to dumping the package and formulating an acceptable lie when he felt an icy hand close around his wrist. He looked up with a start to find himself face to face with a brunette woman he had recognized from the pub. The boy had only seen this person a handful of times and thus had never learned her name. But she regarded him with an expectant look all the same.

"Is that the package bound for Pewter Lane?" she asked sharply.

Aennin nodded slowly. "Where else would I be taking it? Do you think I'd choose to wander this tunnel-dweller street for the pleasant company?"

"Watch your mouth!" the woman hissed angrily. "This is my home you are talking about, and your slurs are not welcome here."

Aennin sighed and gave her an apologetic shrug, figuring it best not to provoke her further. "Sorry! I'm just frustrated because I've never been here before and I keep getting turned around."

"Well, you can stop wandering around so conspicuously and hand the package over," the woman responded coolly. "I will complete this delivery."

This was worded as an offer and delivered in the tone of a request, but Aennin could tell that it was neither, but a command. This visibly startled the boy, with whom Katim had made it clear that he was not to let go of any of his parcels until he reached the place to which they were bound for delivery.

"I've seen you around the pub, so you probably know full well that I can't do that," Aennin replied with a stoic expression that bravely concealed the unusual fear that he felt in this woman's presence. "I'll finish my job if you can just tell me where to go."

"You've run out of time!" The woman snapped impatiently. "If you don't give me that box now, you will almost certainly die."

The bluntness of her threat sapped the courage he had been so careful to maintain, but no matter how scary she was, he feared Katim more. "And who should I say has it when Katim asks?"

"You can tell him that Thea generously decided to help you out," the woman replied coldly. "Now give me the box and go back to Bronze Street where you belong!"

The force of this reiterated demand overruled what remained of the boy's resistance. He handed the box to Thea, taking some comfort in the notion that he could pass the responsibility for this seemingly important delivery to someone else Katim knew. Without a word, she turned on her heels and walked away briskly. With nothing else to do, Aennin made his way back up the steps to the familiarity of Bronze Street to complete the delivery that Landah had arranged instead. This was a more routine journey that was punctuated by an unexpected encounter with Nazan. The man had been skulking through the street outside Katim's in a hooded cloak. Before he could go back inside to report his qualified success, the man grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and pinned him to the outer wall of an ingot dealer's store.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the man hissed in fury. "Do you know what you've just done?"

The boy shook his head wildly as he struggled to identify the man. After a moment, Nazan pulled off his hood and stared hard into his eyes. His head had been shaved and tattooed with a sickle pattern around his crown, giving him what looked like a black diadem, but his face was instantly recognizable.

"Nazan?" Aennin sputtered in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

The man sighed and released the boy before saying, "You were just in Pewter Lane, right?"

Aennin felt his skin go cold as he responded with a nod, then added, "I was delivering a package for Katim. He has me and Kana working for him since our mom died and father ran off!"

Nazan rubbed his temples wearily for several long moments. He seemed to be contemplating something, and months in Katim's company had taught him never to disturb such concentration. Finally, Nazan kicked the wall and hissed, "That fucking bastard!"

Aennin's eyes widened with alarm and he asked, "What?"

Nazan looked solemnly into Aennin's eyes. "Your father is dead. He was killed by an explosion."

This news should have shocked Aennin, but hearing of Morrin's death didn't feel the same as watching his mother die. Thinking back, he remembered the new type of weapon he had once read about. One that used the inner workings of a clock to combine petrified maulan skin and kerunite for a powerful explosion. This sort of bomb, known as a chaos buster, was used frequently in Resta although the maulan skin had become exceedingly rare in the many years that had passed since the Wave of Death. The boy clutched two fistfuls of his own hair as he thought back to the now-sinister memory of the ticking box.

"The thing he had me delivering sounded like a clock, but it could have been--"

"He used you!" Nazan snapped venomously. "And I thought I had plenty of reason to hate him before!"

"I can't keep doing this!" Aennin whimpered. "He's making me dismantle everything I cared about! You have to get us out of here!"

Nazan shook his head. "I want to help you, but I can't yet! Katim has eyes everywhere and if we're going to avoid them, we need to do this the right way!"

"When, then?" Aennin asked with a fearful expression.

"Just keep your head down and do your job," Nazan said quietly. "I'll come to you when I figure this out."

Aennin nodded shakily and watched as Nazan replaced his hood and disappeared into the crowd. For Aennin, the next thing to do was returning to work and pretending as if nothing had happened. He had never pictured himself having a harder time with that, however, a second difference between the deaths of his parents made itself apparent just then: he was partially responsible for Morrin's demise.

Next

The Coming of the Avatars

The following is a poem written by the Shadow Mage, Princess Tanya of Resta. It has since been enshrined among the hallowed texts of the Gilded Keep's Royal Library for its prophetic truth.

The Coming of the Avatars

The Gods have returned, and soon comes a choice
Of mortals qualified to speak with their voice.
The barriers between mortal and divine shall soon fade
When Gods and mortals share in common aid.

Terror of blood and a reluctant son
Shall draw Chaos' eye when they become one.
Though what results may be an unnatural thing,
He will be adored for the hope he'll bring.

The pride of Crane will be his first mistake
When he places his faith in a man from near the lake.
But when all seems lost, we'll look to his heart
And find a talented apprentice who's nearly as smart.

When a monster roars in fury and pain,
A believer in Serenity's beauty will make herself plain.
She'll come from an isle where no one has heard her name,
But she will defend her Goddess' interests all the same.

A land of dreams without conflict and strife,
Stirred by our struggle and bonded to us for life
Will bring us hope in the form of Salica's favorite son.
Who's felt less pain than scarcely anyone.

A hero of our movement, fallen from grace
will be the one to sire Geos' newest face
A son lost to his father will easily compare
to the torment of Chaos' eldest heir.

Death after death begets more death
Such is the truth of one who shares Maula's breath
They will also share a cynical attitude
And disdain for this world they've viewed.

Life is the greatest gift for all
Such is the truth of one who answers Kerun's call
The mysteries of her life represent the enigma of life
She chases the wonders with which existence is rife

Kneel before these hallowed souls as you would the gods
Though our future is uncertain, they are greater than our world's odds.

Elidol Dawnstrike, the First Avatar of Chaos

Art by Volt

Elidol Dawnstrike is a creature referred to by his creator, Richard Broger, as a flesh golem. With the combined souls of the Demon Knight Garanda and his own son and a body that resembles that of his former host, Elidol is a man who's constantly confused by his own existence. He maintains the memories of the various identities that compose his own soul, making his greatest gift insight into the lives of Gyanda Maloran and his creator. As a result, he possesses their skills and knowledge as well as the strength of the Demon Knight. This combination of power and experience make him the strongest of the Avatars, even without the gifts he's received as Chaos' Avatar.

In personality, he contrasts with the violent rage of Garanda and the timidity of Hector Blackstone, instead exhibiting the positive qualities of both. The result is a charismatic man who's charmed many women and men alike in his short existence. He practices the alchemy of Hector's former life as a trade, although the stubborn nature of Garanda has influenced him to trend towards transmutation instead of his original preference for brewing potions. Although he tries to be easygoing most of the time, he struggles to control his anger, which has caused him to invoke fear in the many who have not personally met him.

It may be some time before we see much of Elidol here on World of Comalan, but Elidol Dawnstrike remains an important part of Comalan's Third Age history all the same.

Zara, the Adjutant of Kerun

Zara, the Adjutant of Kerun

Zara was named adjutant by his dear friend and confidant, Voltairine Maloran, with whom he shares a long past that is mired in mystery and rumor. In recent years, he is known by his association with the Phoenix Blade and the kinship he found with its leader, a fellow Midanian named Takaa. He has made many friends in his travels, and it is common to hear stories involving him from the clubs of Rashara to the seedy pubs of Dalaska. He is generally known for his kind, if eccentric nature, and his love for flowers and animals. He has more than once been compared to the legendary Talib, who circled the world several times after pointing to a line of stars in the sky and vowing to follow wherever it pointed.

***

Zara took a deep breath as he felt the air around him move. It had continued to pick up as the sun dipped lower behind the rolling Galean hills. He noted the slight breeze and took it into account as he aimed carefully, looking down the shaft and adjusting the angle of his arrow. He released the shot and smirked in approval as the point stuck the center of the target, prompting an eruption of cheers and whistles from the small, drunken crowd that had congregated nearby. 

Volt watched, wide-eyed, as she hung on the shoulder of a handsome oni who had joined their caravan. The man seemed preoccupied with her, but she was engrossed in the impromptu shooting contest that had broken out. She turned her gaze to Zara’s opponent — a bearded, golden haired human with a refined Restan accent. He frowned as he eyed Zara’s perfect shot, and took several moments to line up his own. Everyone fell silent, careful not to distract the shooters and inadvertently tip the game in anyone’s favor. 

With a whirr, the man’s arrow stuck the center of the target, prompting another round of cheers from the crowd, who seemed to be taking nobody’s side in particular. They were simply glad for the entertainment. Zara smiled charmingly at the man. “Nice shot, mate.”

The Restan snickered, looking Zara up and down derisively. “The target is a bit close. And a bit still for what I’m used to.” He fumbled casually with his bowstring before fixing his gaze on Zara again, narrowing his eyes. He seemed particularly disgusted with the poppies Zara had braided into his locs. 

Zara ignored the man’s aloof manner and simply nodded in agreement. “In that case, let’s have a bit more fun with it, yeah?” He nodded to Volt, who cocked an eyebrow curiously before grinning and running off towards their wagon. The Restan eyed the woman with interest before she disappeared. Zara continued to study the man, noting his reaction to Volt. The woman emerged a few moments later, carrying a bushel of apples. Zara grinned approvingly as she approached him, giving the Restan man a coy glance. The tall Midanian reached into the bushel and pulled out one of the apples before leaning in towards Volt and kissing her on the cheek before covertly whispering something in her ear. A subtle smile curled her lips as she backed away. “Ready?” Zara asked the Restan man with a playful smirk, tossing the apple between his hands.

The man returned Zara’s smirk haughtily and raised his polished bow. “When you’re ready, Sir,” he replied. 

Zara pulled his arm back and tossed the apple high into the air. His eyebrows perked as it disappeared with a crunch, the arrow taking it out as it peaked. “Nice one!” Volt cheered and whooped loudly for the Restan, giggling and prompting the first genuine smile from the man. She tossed him an apple, and he looked to Zara. Zara nodded.

Zara raised his bow as he followed the apple’s path through the air. He pinpointed it, and moved his arrow a hair’s width to the left. His arrow grazed the side of the apple, prompting a groan from the crowd. “Damn!” he swore, snapping his fingers. “Guess I’m a bit more out o' practice than I thought!”

The Restan man snickered. “Too bad. I suppose fending for oneself is no substitute for proper training.”

“I guess not! Better luck next time, Zara!” Volt called to him with a vacuous tilt of her head. She giggled and stood up, filling a tankard of mead and taking it to the Restan man with a smile on her face. Zara eyed the pair and set down his bow and quiver, doing his best to look dejected as the crowd began to disperse. He shot a covert smirk and wink to Volt when he was sure the Restan’s back was turned. 

***

Volt grinned as she drove their wagon through the darkness, the trees thickening around them as they followed the road north.

“He’s tied up nice and tight, yeah?” Zara asked with a laugh as the air whipped against his face. 

“You know I’m good at knots!” Volt replied. “And anyway, he’s out cold. Prolly will be till we get him back to Resta!”

Zara sighed and leaned back, smiling as he ran his fingers over the finely-crafted bow the Restan man had been shooting with a few hours earlier. “Damn, this is a nice piece. That dick don’t deserve it. Guess that’s one o’ the reasons we do this, though,” he mused, spotting a small line of engraved text on the weapon. “Esia,” he whispered. His eyebrows perked.

“Keep it!” Volt called over to him with a smile as her braids whipped behind her. “It’s just a little bit o’ justice, you know?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Zara sighed soulfully as he gazed down at the item for a few more moments before pulling his gaze up towards the night sky.

Volt sighed, her own smile fading as she spoke with an uncharacteristically serious tone. “At least he won’t be able to hurt no one else anymore. I hope the spellwarriors don’t find out, but it kinda seems like those ladies have done this sorta thing before. At least, I hope so.” She slowed the wagon down as she started to catch a chill. “Karatal can be rough.”

Zara stowed the bow in his pack before folding a blanket behind his head as he continued to stargaze.“Yeah, but you’re right though. They seem like they know what’s up.” 

***

An arrow whirred towards a target and pierced it dead through the center as a few sunbeams poked through the grey sky over Midania. 

“Ooh! Nice shot!” Volt called with a whoop as the sable-haired woman lowered the bow with a surprised smile.

“You’ll have to thank that funny Midanian for me,” she replied as she lifted the bow and ran her fingers over the delicate spirals that were carved into the ruddy wood. “This is a nice item. Not surprising, since it came off that blonde bastard. Shame he couldn’t use all that money to buy a damn conscience, though.”

Volt snickered as she leaned against one of the pillars holding up the rickety building behind her. “Well, he doesn’t need neither where he is now. As for the bow, Zara seems to think it’s rare or something.”

“Well, we’ll be careful,” the woman replied, raising an eyebrow. “We always are.”

The Doctrines of Comalan

The Values of the People

Among the most important things guiding the various cultures of Comalan is how each relates to the Gods. For most, emulating the values of the four elder gods colors the temperament of almost everyone. A lot about each character's personality can be gleaned from their religious identity.

Basic Religious Identities

Non-Religious People: While the existence of deities is considered an established fact to nearly everyone on Comalan, some people choose not to follow the precepts of any religion regardless. This decision is often regarded with indifference among the majority as most simply assume they have yet to find the right religion. In stricter, more dogmatic regions such as Heron and Southern Resta, however, non-religious people are often treated with ridicule and hostility.

-Bolreck

-Aennin

-Kaleth Marle

-Eione Astersong

-Voltairine Maloran

-Benedicte Zeringue

Doctrine of Power- The Doctrine of Power, also referred to as the Doctrine of Strength, represents a complete devotion to the ideals of Chaos. It is believed that the king of the Gods values strength above all else, which is why he is said to have created all of the dangerous beasts and cultivated the existence of evil. It is through triumphing over adversity that those who follow the Doctrine of Power believe the path to glory in his eyes can be found. Practitioners of the Doctrine of Power prize courage, strength, and self-reliance, although many are criticized by outsiders for their austere personalities. This religion is practiced primarily in Heron, and in various parts of Resta.

-Garanda

Doctrine of Knowledge- This faith emphasizes worship of Crane and the desire to emulate his curious nature. Followers of the Knowledge Doctrine desire to understand the world around them and search for the gods’ intentions in everything they observe. This religion emphasizes scholarship, critical-thinking, and exploration and is observed primarily in Galeon and Resta. However, this religion has the weakness of lending itself often to arrogance, as pride in the scope of their chosen god’s contributions to the world tests the limits of other people’s patience.

-Tir Apollo

Doctrine of Tranquility- This faith dates back to Tanis, but has since spread through modern-day Resta. These followers of Serenity teaches people to appreciate the inherent value of peace and the potential that comes with it. Serene devotees often take it upon themselves to show others what they could be in a world without conflict; often turning tacticians into philosophers and warriors into athletes. Their virtues are calmness, pacifism, forgiveness, and protection, but their ideology leaves many people vulnerable to sloth. 

Doctrine of Storms- This faith is practiced mostly in Resta, but its basic precepts are observed in various forms throughout Midania as well. Interpretations of this religion are constantly in flux, but everyone seems to agree that the primary responsibility of good people is to manage their feelings and maintain a solid awareness of the consequences of their emotional choices. Followers of this doctrine value empathy, self-love, and friendship.

Hybrid Doctrines

Doctrine of Shadows- A hybrid of the Power and Tranquility doctrines that is practiced in the southernmost parts of Resta, most famously the city of Palon. Practitioners of the shadow doctrine view the most necessary qualities of Chaotic and Serene individuals are necessary components of the the other. To fulfill Serenity’s desire to protect the weak requires the strength found in Chaotics while their motivation to grow stronger is found in the comfort of their symbiosis with Serenity. Practitioners of the Shadow Doctrine typically maintain traditional identities, in that they worship one deity over the other. In addition, they regard any follower of the opposite faith  with the same kinship typically reserved for those who share their own.

-Seth Midas

-Telandra Dawnstrike

Doctrine of Rage- A hybrid of the Power and Storm doctrines practiced most commonly among many templars of the Blackstone Monastery. Followers of the Rage Doctrine are often the most zealous believers in both Chaotic and Salican ideals. This quality lends itself to a devotion to the gods that is so strong that they consider their body instruments of the gods themselves. This lends itself to a preference for healthy living, intense training, and rigorous self-discipline. It is said that the name is derived from the frustration of many who are tempted to quit their training as templars. Those who internalize the strength of Chaotic virtues and the motivation that comes with embracing Salica, however, tend to make the most competent templars the Monastery can produce. Despite this zeal, those who follow the Rage Doctrine tend to be the most supportive of other faiths in general as their mindset encourages them to think of all of the Gods as the most perfect beings. This religion contrasts from the Doctrine of Power due to its tolerance for weakness and from the Doctrine of Storms for its strict emphasis on feelings for the gods--sometimes to the detriment of everything else.

-Kartal Marle

-Mia Gold

Doctrine of Justice- A hybrid of the Knowledge and Storm doctrines, practiced as a minority faith in Galeon. Outsiders sometimes find the term “Justice” to be an odd one, considering the impression some receive of its followers. These people are sometimes seen as wild, lawless hedonists who eschew all authority, but this view ignores the philosophy behind the way of life of those who follow the Doctrine. It is a faith that values freedom and will above all, believing that the highest honors one can give to Crane and Salica are to follow one’s heart and mind without apology, and holding no mortal form of authority higher than this. Followers of the Doctrine state that the highest good, Justice, follows when every mortal is granted the right and means to live in this manner as well, with the only limit occuring when this imperative threatens the ability of another to pursue the will of their heart and mind. 

Doctrine of Dreams- A hybrid of the Knowledge and Tranquility doctrines that is notably practiced by people of the Theian faith tradition, founded by Aoide Theia, a Galean priestess and philosopher. Practice of this tradition is centered on Iris Isle, the site of the Theia Seminary, though it also prospers as a minority faith in Galeon, and to a lesser extent, Resta. This interpretation of the Doctrine of Dreams emphasizes peace and equality through rationality and mutual understanding. While devotion to the gods is a strong aspect of any Doctrine, the Doctrine of Dreams places a stronger importance on religious practice and fulfillment of certain ideals. Theians believe in honoring the gods through the creation of a just and compassionate society - one where each person, regardless of who they are, can pursue their dreams. The Doctrine of Dreams contrasts with the Doctrine of Knowledge in its emphasis on the societal and moral, while it contrasts with the Doctrine of Tranquility in its emphasis on the active pursuit of peace for all.

-Atunis Astersong

-Sara Marle

Doctrine of Ambition- A hybrid of the Knowledge and Power doctrines that is considered to be the farthest-reaching of all of the hybrid faiths since it represents the two longest-known deities. This combination of Intalan and Chaotic ideals is typically considered anathema to most who accept either set of ideals due to the historic conflict between the brothers. Despite this, followers of the Ambition Doctrine can be found in all parts of Mortanis save the western woodlands-- where the elves are famously hostile to Chaotic ideals. This religion emphasizes the value of the gods who created Comalan and encourages speculation on the purpose of their genesis. The prevailing theory among this faith is that mortals were created to help solve the extinction of the Fadalians’ own race. Thus it is the assertion of the Ambition Doctrine that mortals are destined to someday stand among the Gods as peers and possibly surpass them.

-Gyanda Maloran

Doctrine of Beauty- A hybrid of the Tranquility and Storm doctrines that’s observed near the Restan riverlands, often in isolated villages along the Clearwater River. Those who follow this religion choose to celebrate the sisterhood between Serenity and Salica. The Doctrine of Beauty teaches those to admire and preserve the beauty that they feel the divine sisters have brought to Comalan. This includes not only the virtues of both of their doctrines, but the splendor of nature and the diversity of animal life-- which were previously designed by Chaos and Crane only to sustain and temper the bodies of mortals. The first rules of the Doctrine of Beauty are to acknowledge that the Brothers created a world for people to live in, and to profess that the Sisters made the world worth living in.

-Maya Marzett