Odesday, 27th of Marcia, 470th Year of the 5th Era
The Sky had been greatly darkened by the black clouds that had conspired to block the rays of the sun from shining upon the earth. Partogi frowned as he felt the air chill and moisten as he looked back to his wagon and saw his wife start to shiver as she was cuddling their very young son. The wagon didn't have any roof and they were still a few hours away from their destination and if it rained then and there, Partogi would most definitely curse his fate.
They had been traveling for several days without much stop ever since his family was exiled from Goria due to their perceived lack of faith in their chosen religion. Though he tried his best throughout the journey not to grow bitter at his situation, it was much easier said than done. Being exiled wasn't the worst of fates as he was sure there were many villages and realms out there that would happily accept a four-star warrior, including the village he was currently destined for. But what he could not forgive was the cruelty his father showed in ripping away from him and his wife their two other younger children, all for the accursed reason that they had been baptized! Partogi clicked his tongue once more as he could feel the anger within him rising again. He was angry and in his mind he was cursing everyone who he perceived to have wronged him.
Damn his cruel father for turning his back on his own son and traditions all for the sake of the new foreign God. Damn his former mentor, the foreign swindler for being able to so successfully convince his fellow kinsmen in Goria to abandon their trust and faith in the Ancestors and Great Spirits. Damn his ungrateful son for choosing his religion over the parents that had cared for him, loved him, and raised him to be what he was… Timotheus… When even his own eldest son would bear arms against him, he was at such a loss for words… and above all he had cursed his own self from start to finish. Why was he so weak? Why couldn't he have stood up against his old, weak, and dying father? Why couldn't he just smiled, lied, and contented himself to pretend the part of being a good Christian, as he always had for the past few years? What did the old ways even mean to him at this point when he had been raised as a christian since he was ten years old?
All of these questions were eating away at him from the inside out. He didn't want for it to come this far but at the same time it felt like he had no choice. He thought back to when he had begun to truly lose faith in the religion. Was it truly because he had been led astray by his wife, like what the others had told him over and over? Perhaps in small parts. For over nearly two decades his beloved Lamria had tried to adapt to the Christian customs of Goria and during her younger years it looked as if she were more devoted to the faith than he ever was. The first cracks appeared when his beloved mother had died due to a sickness that looked like it was the very same one that now plagues his father. The best healers in the village with all there pomp of Western medicine and magic couldn't prevail much against it. Yet when his wife had suggested contacting a famous shaman from her home village to perform a ritual that could save his mother at the cost of the lives of some people, everyone objected, calling it heathen magic! He couldn't understand it. Magic was magic regardless of the source and if it were the murder of people that was of concern, surely there was no shortage of reavers or bandits in the land or any other form of lowly criminals to execute. But it was all for naught as his mother had died anyway. Such a lack of resolve was infuriating.
The next cracks came when he saw what the education of the church was doing to his children. Timo - who had shown much talent in magic since a very young age - was immediately given an education by the church and for that he was thankful but the way he came back and talked down about so much of the local customs of his people, calling his ancestors and his mother's family heathen idolaters and Devil-Worshippers. He grew fearful of being a parent to fanatics. He had heard stories from travelling merchants of the Christian Empires of Terradome and how in their religious zeal were waging deadly wars between one another for what in his eyes were a small matter of theological differences. He had always questioned why their church was called protestant. Who or what were they protesting? It wasn't only until later that he learned of the many different sects of Christianity and how many of their states were extremely imperialistic. Politically, Partogi could see no benefit at all for the people were they all to adopt Christianity.
But the straw that broke the camel's back for him was when his youngest son Togar was on the brink of dying due to his weak constitution and constant fevers and all remedies and medical techniques in Goria has failed, he finally had enough and on the pretext of visiting his in-laws, he and his wife had set out to that village to seek out the Mighty Shaman that lived and healed in his wife's home village of Saorma. And so when they travelled there and met with the shaman - his wife's uncle - the shaman readily agreed to accept the request of his niece to save his brother's grandson. And so with an elaborate ritual invoking the great spirits of the ancestors and the ritual cannibalism of two known adulterous criminals, Togar had been cured from his ailments, seemingly miraculously. That was all the convincing it required for him to realise that the Old Gods and Ancestors had not abandoned them completely and that they were still looking after the best interests of their children.
With all that to say, Partogi gave a silent prayer to the spirit of his Great Ancestors and that of the Creator Mulajadi Nabolon to strengthen his resolve. He gave a quick glance to the back and saw that his wife still had that blank stare painted over her face, the same look she had ever since they had set out from Goria. Instinctively, he reached out his hand to caress and comfort her.
“It's alright, Ria… everything will be fine. We've almost made it to your parents’... Just hang in there a bit more…” Partogi said
“...I want my children back..” Lamria said weakly as she held her youngest son closer to her bosom
“Don't worry about that! We can figure something out. We can have your father send an official request to see his grandchildren or something like that and we can use the pretext to see little Tiur and Tigor again.” Partogi reassured his wife once more but she only shook her head, staring at him with a look as if he wasn't understanding something.
“...I want all of my children back…” Lamria reiterated herself.
To that, Partogi could only look down dejected as he gave a heavy sigh. That would be too much even for him. He wasn't even sure if they still viewed the two of them as their parents and not some heathen curs to be cut down. But despite that, he understood his wife's pain very well. Just as the tears were once more trying to creep out from his eyes, he felt raindrops start to fall against his skin. He spat out a curse before he spurned the reins on his old tiger companion to make it move faster on the road as Partogi had one huge concern on his mind. Though his son had a better constitution now after the ritual, he still worried whether or not such weather and the cold would cause Togar to fall sick once again.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As the raindrops started falling more and more, Partogi had even strengthened his tiger companion with some of his aura while at the same time using the aura to shield his wagon from the raindrops though he could feel his own energy and mana reserves depleting at a steady rate. After about an hour more had passed, it was only then that from a distance they could start to see a settlement surrounded by a palisade with farmlands outside of it. Though it wasn't even close to being as large as Goria, Partogi had reckoned from his last visit that the village of Saorma had at least a couple thousand people living in it.
Partogi was glad that he had made it safely to the village of Saorma. The guards to the village had tried to stop them for a bit to check their identities but when they saw the tiger from afar and the fact that it was the daughter of the King that had arrived, Partogi and his wagon were allowed entry. As soon as he arrived in front of the Great Hall within the palisade walls of Saorma, he had asked to meet with his father-in-law, Raja Lombutua Radot Pasaorma. Not long after he had requested it, the King himself - a rather rotund looking-man of average height and who looked to be in his late fifties - had gone out and greeted them before hurrying them inside the hall to shield them from the rain. It just so happened that the elders of Saorma were having a gathering of their own to discuss the upcoming Harvest season and festival. Partogi had apologized to the elders there for the sudden interruption but no sooner after he did that did his body just slammed down to the ground as the fatigue from his depleted mana and energy reserves were starting to dawn on him then and there. Luckily enough, his father-in-law had quickly gotten a slave to fetch a mana-recovery potion and quickly fed it to the fatigued Partogi, just in time to prevent him from losing consciousness because of the mana drain. Partogi was placed on a cushion with his back against the wall to stabilise him. After waiting for about half an hour for the potion's effect to kick in, Partogi finally regained enough strength to start talking relatively comfortably. It was then when King Lombutua decided to inquire the purpose of his son-in-law’s sudden visit, barging into his great hall, to which Partogi only nodded as he started recounting the entirety of what had occurred to him, from his discovery by his nephew and son all the way to the consequences of his exile and the taking of his children.
All that Partogi had said was true and he firmly believed that he gave no false statement. After hearing the entire story, he looked around as he saw the Great hall was now abuzz with whispers and concerned conversations between the elders of Saorma on the implications this may have upon the wider Halaklands. All this while King Lombutua still chose to remain silent with a steely gaze as he stroked his dark gray beard and closed his eyes, appearing as if he was still processing the story.
“The Hulubalang has gone insane! To think he would exile his own son due to the tenets of some foreign religion!” An elder said with shock
“It wouldn't be the first time. I heard many among the Southern and Eastern clans have chosen to follow the religion of the Moslems! Wouldn't be odd if the Western and Northern Clans would fall to the missionaries…” Another elder chimed in
“I knew we should've just murdered all the westerners and eaten them all those years ago! They are a blight upon the land and threaten the very soul of our homeland!”
“This is not the time for us to act rashly! We must convene a council with the other kings on what must be done!”
As the room started to become filled with endless back and fourth discourse, Partogi couldn't help but wince at the indecisiveness of the elders, but at the same time he couldn't blame them as even if he were put in their shoes, his options would be severely limited. It was then when King Lombutua finally cleared his throat and looked as if he was about to speak.
“Hela (son-in-law)… There are many things that have concerned me from what you have told me about your plight…” King Lombutua said with his deep voice that reverberated around the great hall as he kept his stern look before softening somewhat when he looked at his daughter and young grandson “But allow me to at least reassure you this, son-in-law. The doors to my realm shall remain forever open to my family. And you, my daughter, and my grandson are most definitely family. And unlike the Hulubalang, I have no interest at all in staking claim upon my grandson because of some arbitrary concept from a foreign religion. But it has become clear to all of us here, methinks, that the Hulubalang has no intention of respecting our laws nor our customs, preferring the fairytales and doctrines of foreigners compared to the wisdom of our ancestors and the ancients who came before them!”
“But, my King, conflict with Goria will yield us no gain at all!” An advisor said
“This isn't about gain, it's about our honour, you avaricious coward! Our traditions and way of life must be preserved!” Another advisor quickly retorted
“For all I care, so long as he keeps it in his own realm, I don't care if they started worshipping pigs tomorrow!”
As the room came alive again with the rowdy discussions and objections, King Lombutua raised his arm once more to silence the village's elder council. The King then continued to lay out what he meant by his earlier preface.
“No one here is advocating for open conflict and war. We're not stupid, especially not with all the external threats at our doorstep, no.” King Lombutua said “But I would still say what must be said. The Hulubalang is a fool for punishing people for following the Old Ways of our beliefs, but he is still our Hulubalang. Even so, there are ways we can use to hold Goria responsible for their disrespect towards our rights as people of the Halak to eat like a Halak, participate in rituals of the Halak, and most importantly, the most basic right to live like a true Halak… we are left with no choice then. We must bring all of this to the other Kings so that they may be aware. And we must beseech the Raja Malim to convene a great council of the Kings.”
Partogi widened his eyes at the idea his father-in-law was suggesting.
“It has been almost two decades since the last Tonggoraja that elected my father as Hulubalang.” Partogi said, his tone serious “My father may be dying, but given his constitution it would still be years until he passes, if you are suggesting what I think you are then I shall have no part-...!”
“No no no… I am not suggesting anything so dishonorable as what you may be thinking. And as you said, given the Hulubalang’s constitution, there isn't much anyone can do to force things to take its course save for overwhelming force. No. What I'm suggesting is far more reasonable. As you have said, it has been far too long since all the Kings of the Halak had gathered and what better reason do we give the Raja Malim than to celebrate the most bountiful harvest we have seen in recent memory? We shall have all the Kings give a part of the Harvest as offerings to the Raja Malim at the Dolok Mulajadi. Not even the Hulubalang can refuse such an obligation lest he risk an even greater war than the last. This will force him to roll back on his more extremist tendencies and hopefully, a reconciliation may occur…”
Partogi nodded after pondering King Lumbatua’s suggestion for a while. It was a sound plan and the most peaceful and reconciliatory approach that they could give for now. And with his agreement, the King smiled as he immediately got working on the drafting of letters to all the other Kings of the Halak and the Raja Malim to convene a great Harvest Festival at Dolok Mulajadi. Partogi could only take his breath as he envisioned what was to come and he could only pray thatt hings won't escalate beyond what anyone was prepared for.