The streets were bustling with activity as they stepped outside the estate and onto the street. The sun was still low in the sky and being a northerner from her old world, Saga knew this morning was a bit later in the day than many others might assume. It was still winter, meaning the sun rose very late. Being this far south on what was a massive continent compared to her old home, however, meant it wasn't quite as back as to where she used to live.
The street was full of folks hustling about, many of them wearing colors that tied them to the Astrid estate or at least were directly in business with Astrid as servants from the house carried packages in and out of the gate or were talking to the people outside while haggling with some merchant about the prices of various goods. Saga was getting a clearer picture of just how big Olafs fathers influence was in the city. While walking away from the gates towards the street that would lead them to the Hall of Gods, they spotted Yrsa instructing a younger woman as to what fabrics should go whereas they were loaded onto a cart. As Saga and Sasha passed by the redhead she stopped and shot them a smile. “Morning”
“Morning Yrsa. Of to work?” Sasha inquired as she and Saga took a closer look at the wagon of goods. The fabric was all in deep and rich colors of green, red, and blue, some in hues that would be hard to accomplish even back home with all its chemicals and dyes.
“Something like that. We are loading the Reavers Gift with some of our lighter fabrics to sail east to the realm of the Frostcrown.”
“Frostcrown? That is the Elven kingdom to the east yeah?” Saga asked as she rand a finger across the light linen, marveling at the craftsmanship. This would cost a lot of money back home. They were never a fashion-minded person, but they had known enough people who were into stuff like cosplay and she had LARPED for a while. Material costs were always a big consideration.
“Aye. Our ship mainly travels along the northern coast and some of the isles a little further out.” Yrsa explained while loading the last of the rolls of fabric onto the wagon. “My brothers are the ones who take a ship across the frothing seas.”
“Olaf told me that is where you get most of your goods from.” Saga is sad as they helped her with the last rolls, picking them up, several at a time, and handing them over to the wagon driver.
“The raw materials anyways. We have plenty of wool here. But the silks and fine linens produced elsewhere are incredibly expensive. My brothers do the occasional mercenary and monster-slaying work with their cadre of warriors. I have asked them to always take their payment half in silk, half in gold. It’s made us a lot more money in the long term”
“Speaking of siblings, I spoke to Katla yesterday but your other sister didn’t say much.” Saga said, remembering that there had been a woman next to Katla who quickly had vanished to talk to others and that Saga never gotten the chance to properly introduce themselves.
“Magna? She is a silent sort. I reckon you’ll hear her voice sooner or later. She is a Herald of Iron. They don’t talk much in general.” Yrsa said with a shrug.
“Herald of Iron?”
“She’s a Priestess of Ayr. Peter is the god of Peace, Reconciliation, and Justice. As a god, he encourages his followers to only speak when they feel their words will carry weight and have the effect they desire it to have.” Sasha explained as she saw the cogs slowly turn in her lover's head. Saga could not imagine holding their tongue for too long, their impulse to let themselves be known was too great, for better or worse. Sasha continued the explanation before Saga could ask for any specifics as to how they would know if the words would have the effect one desired. ”As such, they are often used arbiters and judges. Their words carry weight as they are meant to be the result of deliberation and observation.”
“So. She spent the entire evening judging me in silence?”
“Yes. Pretty much” Yrsa said as she sat up into the wagon next to the driver. “So did Katla, albeit less silently. Good luck with the vow.” She said as she and the wagon set off. Saga narrowed their eyes at her as she vanished down the cobblestone street, feeling as if Yrsa just said that to make them extra nervous.
“What’s with the judging?” Saga turned to Sasha who was trying not to grin.
“You are a very special individual Saga. People are still trying to get the measure out of you” Sasha laughed softly as they continued down the same road that the wagon set down. Saga found that they could truly take in the city for the first time. No longer flabbergasted by the size and fantastical nature of it, they took their time observing. She realized there were mere species than just elves, half-giants, dwarves. humans and whatever Gothwald was. They had seen some lizardfolk before, but there seemed to also be some sort of beast folks that looked lionlike in their features. They were about the size of the average human back in her world, that is to say, they were slightly smaller than the average northerner. They seemed to be wearing clothing and armor that brought to mind the roman empire with armor that ended in a tasseled skirt made out of light plating and leathers.
“Who are they?” Saga nodded towards the small cadre of armored, furred warriors.
“The Hobs?” Sasha asked eyebrow raised.
“Hobs?” Saga looked at them again, wheels slowly turning.
“Hobgoblins.” Sasha clarified and it came as something of a shock to Saga, who just assumed everything in this world was straight up related to the Norse myths of their old world.
“There are goblins?” Saga looked at the hobgoblins, They didn't seem to notice their very obvious gawking, or at least they didn't seem to care much.
“Yes? But those are Hobgoblins. They are very distant relatives though. Kind of how humans and elves are.” Sasha said, now realizing that they set off one of Sagas 'fantasy tourist' moods.
“Wait. Human and elves are?” Saga blinked, realizing they kind of had to be for there to be half-elves.
“It's a whole big thing in our beliefs, yes. I am no priestess, so I can’t say I know too much in that regard. You can ask Vetra sometime.” Sasha waved off any attempt at getting her to elaborate further after that, putting an end to Saga's attempt to turn her into a tour guide again. Instead, Saga put the questions away for later when they could get ahold of Vetra as they had noticed her absence at the feast. But they weren't too surprised. She seemed like the type to prefer silence and meditation over getting trashed with some warrior folks.
As the two moved through the city Sasha would point out places of interest. From workshops and smithies where you could get new equipment to little holes in the wall that should serve special dishes or sold rare find materials. Sasha enjoyed being back in Alebridge and it made Saga realize just how cramped and lonely Sasha must have been up north. Sasha seemed to also be a face people recognized, even if it took them a while to place her. She had been away for some time, yet people she apparently knew since a child would stop the two on the street. It also made Saga realize how utterly alone they would be without Olaf, Sasha, and the others. And hopefully, Sasha would stick around, but not even that was a certainty. It was not that they doubted their connection.
It was just that sometimes in life, things didn't work out. Saga was an adult, they knew this was how things worked sometimes. All it meant was that they needed to make their connections and cherish their time with their gorgeous purple-haired girlfriend for however long it would last. This place was a new chance at life for them, a strange, dangerous life. But it was already shaping up to be worth their previous death. Which was a strangely morbid thing to think about.
By the time they reached the Hall of Gods, Saga had a pretty good handle of the city's main streets. There were only a few of them, and they seemed to all form rings that crossed the four large boulevards that led from the inner gates to the outer ones. IT made navigating the outer city a lot easier, even if there was a labyrinth of alleys and smaller streets in between the main ones.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
The Hall of Gods remained as majestic as it had ever been, rising above most of Alebridges skyline. This time the two were met by Katla and the Headpriestess who stood waiting for them at the open gates. IT was a strange image, Katla was armed and armored, standing a full head taller than the priestess who was attended by five of our six members of her clergy. They all wore dark greys and black, with their faces covered in dark silk that made Saga think of people grieving. The Priestess spoke in low tones that Saga could not hear, and the masked clergy left as one almost as soon as Saga stepped close enough possibly hear what was being said.
“What those guys,” Saga asked with a not so subtle nod to the ones scurrying away
“They are The Mourning. They are Deathsworn like Katla, but serve entirely an entirely different purpose”
“Oh?”
“They possess incredibly strong and sensitive souls and can channel the recently the dead. With the Goddess's blessing of course.” The priestess explained as she motioned for the two new arrivals to follow her. They didn’t go inside the massive building through the gates this time, but rather followed the wall and walked down the length of it. Saga had the time to look at the walls and found that it was all carved wood as the outside walls were impossibly detailed murals of gods and entities that seemed carved to perfection.
They eventually stopped outside of a small garden that consisted of a single dead tree and a veritable field of roses. The roses were all in shimmering grey, almost the color of silver and there was an almost oppressively magical field present. A boy tended to the flowers, white of hair and deathly pale. He stopped and looked up to see them arrive. Saga recoiled slightly as the boy's eyes were just two fields of churning darkness.
“What. What is he.” Saga spoke, a voice is suddenly small. Eyes fixed on the boy who looked back, uncomprehending of their deep, sudden sorrow and terror.
“This is Marcellus. He is what we refer to as a Gardener of Deaths Domain.” The priestess spoke softly as she moved toward the boy.
“A what?” Sagas' voice trembled, a deeply unsettling feeling dredged up from the pit of their stomach at the words. A feeling they could not explain. It was n instinctual, primal feeling.
“He is a lost soul, who cannot move on due to a curse or similar fate. An undead spirit” Katla spoke, words hard and steely.
“So he is undead. I thought your goddess hated the undead?” Saga asked, but knew deep inside what the answer would be.
“Our goddess hates and combats the magic that creates them and the beings that selfishly relish in it. She holds nothing but love for the unwilling victims of these very entities and individuals." Katla clarified and Saga nodded. They began to see the picture now and they were inclined to agree with the Goddess.
"This is the reality of undeath for the majority of those that fall to it." The priestess spoke softly as she nodded to the boy. "It is to be denied your final rest and left to haunt the world.” The priestess spoke softly, her eyes on the boy who quickly went back to tending to the flowers.
Saga felt that sudden heaviness grows by several magnitudes within their chest at the sight. He couldn’t have been older than 12 when he died and they now felt how some of their hesitations over today's plans burn away as a familiar rage boiled within them. It was the same feeling they had felt at the sight of the old couple killed by Ainars raiders. From the look on Sasha's face, she must have felt something similar.
“It is customary to take the oath within the Garden of the Lost.” The priestess motioned towards the field of roses. “This is where the souls of those denied by the evil of undeath go before they can move on. The Deathsworn's primary duty is to find the magic that fetters these souls to the world and shatters it. Be it a necromancer using their bodies for material, or a curse hanging over a tomb, left ages ago to fester within what should have been sacred ground.” She stepped into the field herself and Saga could see the air around her subtly shift as if she moved through some sort of forcefield.
As the priestess turned to face them, she held her arms out to either side and suddenly the air around her seemed to warp and shift. Silvery hues rose from the field of roses, manifesting in the forms of people, of all ages and races. All with the same haunting pools of black for eyes. All staring at the two. Saga could feel the weight of that stare, it was expectant, pleading. It asked them to help, to find a way to free them. To punish those that did this to them.
“The Vow of Death is not made simply to our Goddess, but to all those who are suffering the curse of undeath. It is a vow to tirelessly fight against an enemy that doesn't sleep. An enemy that does not care about anything but consuming the living. It is also a promise to release those souls who are tormented by it, that are denied their final slumber. A promise to all of them that you will make sure that their souls will be allowed to move on. It is a promise that one does not make with the intention of stopping halfway.”
Saga looked at the spectral shapes and the young, undead boy. Their resolve grew steadily, hardening to that of tempered steel. With a nod, they stepped into the now shimmering light that glowed inside the garden. A strange, cold, and alien feeling washed over them. Absolute serenity as if they had stepped into a void within the world. Before they stood men, women, and others. There were children, old people, people cut down in their prime, parents, grandparents. They were just people, a sea of them stretching as far as the eye can see. Saga felt their eyes water and heard the gasp of Sasha who stepped inside and saw what they did.
“What… did this” Saga asked. Not sure they wanted an answer.
“That is a story for another time, young soul” Came a voice. A voice they recognized. A voice that was unnervingly calm, almost serene. Saga looked towards the tree where Lady Death strode through the sea of lost souls as it parted before her.
"I will not ask you to kneel, for I believe you understand what it is I ask of you. I will simply ask this. Will you take my vow? Will you pledge to my sworn, to those that fight to prevent what you see before you? ” She said and suddenly there was no hesitation at all within Saga. They went down to a single knee without any hesitation. Their eyes stung with tears, an overflowing sadness that washed over them like like a great wave.
“I am Death. I am the rest eternal, granted all things that one lived, however, they lived their lives. I am the one certainty, the ever constant. I am the still sea carrying you to the shores of white bone. As am I the bleached bones underneath the burning sun, where no remnant of life remains.” Her words carried through the now oppressive silence, a quiet but steady dirge. There was no joy in her who she was, for she was Death. She was the end. And she served that purpose willingly. “Where there is life, there will always be death. Big or small. An ending may not always be fair, it may not always be a gentle passing in your sleep. Indeed, your ending may be cruel. But death itself is never cruel. I am never cruel. I welcome all to the final embrace. All are equal before me. I am at the end of life, yes. But in my embrace, there is no suffering.” She held out her hands before her and two roses of silver bloomed out in the space above each outstretched palm.
“Sara Ljungborg. Sasha Vladistock. I offer thee a covenant, between I who am Death and you who will be my mortal agents in this world. A holy charge, a purpose.” As the goddess spoke, the entire space around Saga shook with a truly dreadful amount of power. It didn’t bear down upon them, however, instead, it seemed to lift them, made them look up, and stare in the eyes of the being before them. Those eyes were swirling gates to a place they did not know. Deep spiral into the nothingness from which no life ever left. The roses in her hand twisted, flattened, and reshaped from soft petals to gleaming, silvery metal. Two brochures, one in each hand.
“Do you accept, as souls once spared my embrace, to honor this covenant, and bring the peace to those that seek it, to destroy those that deny it, and safeguard the sanctity of death?”
{You have been offered a Covenant by a divine entity; Death. Do you accept Y/N}
There was no hesitation as Saga answered, and Sasha followed immediately after. “I accept.”
The brochures lifted from the Goddess's hands and drifted over slowly, the darkness around them seemed to rip and tear from itself, as two cloaks formed, attached to the brochures. The two cloaks wrapped around each new Deathsworn, so light as if to almost not be there at all. Yet it felt strangely as if they were embraced by the Goddess herself as it settled over their right shoulder.
“Go now. And know that you carry a new, heavy purpose with those cloaks. One that most could never carry.”
With that, the Goddess began to fade, and soon they were standing back in the garden.
"Welcome, Fellow Deathwsworn" The priestess spoke with a small, but warm smile.
***