The Chosen One was flying over endless plains. He had already left the weather divide of the Limesian Mountains behind him. Although it should have been considerably warmer here in Camenia than in his homeland, he felt nothing of it up here in the higher layers of the atmosphere. A bitterly cold wind rushed around his ears and his limbs ached from the cold, but the sceptre continued to point south. “Where are you going to take me?”, Wenzel asked himself as he flew over the hilly, parched landscapes of the Camenian Kingdom. Smaller and larger settlements passed beneath him. Every now and then he even crossed paths with a flock of birds. In the farthest distance, he could now even make out the endless blue of the South Sea. Where was the Imperial Orb?
He crossed Galadea. Then the light in the blue stone of the sceptre, which he had stretched forward to show him the way, went out. “At last, something’s happening!”, the mage proclaimed. He turned around and realized that the Holy Artifact was pointing him to the Holy City of Galadea. At least, it was here, and not on the other side of the world or even in the depths of the ocean. That would have been a problem! As the man guided by the light of the stone set course for the capital of Camenia, he began to lose more and more altitude. He reduced his speed and, step by step, began to make out increasingly more details of the empire's first capital.
An ancient city, built on six hills. Wenzel came closer and closer and recognized the dilapidated-looking roofs of many of the old buildings. Much here seemed to be hewn from gray stone and took on more natural tones than the often snow-white or even brightly painted churches in Ordania. Eventually, he came down far enough to smell the floral scents of this foreign climate mixed with the salt of the sea air carried by the wind. It gave him a very special feeling and immediately transported him into a completely different world to the one he usually knew. But then a few thought processes began to take place in his mind. “I don't want to be recognized as the sovereign, otherwise I'll be mobbed by hundreds of curious onlookers,” predicted His Highness.
Consequently, Wenzel landed on the outskirts of the city in a place where he would remain as undetected as possible and went inside on foot. He was wearing a thick, gray coat anyway in order to avoid getting too cold during the flight. Now it would also serve as his inconspicuous camouflage. Although he was of course able to conceal his identity with the garment, it was incredibly hot underneath. It was almost summer and the sun in this subtropical latitude was absolutely searing during the day. The cloaked man made his way into the metropolis. On one side of the road were a few shabby homesteads, on the other, incredibly tall cypress trees lined the street. As expected, the closer he got to the city proper, the more people there were. From a side street, he finally turned onto the “Via Sacra”, the main pilgrimage route that led into the city from the north. There was a lot of traffic and Wenzel simply joined a group that also seemed to be heading into the city centre. They were almost all men, and they all wore traditional white clothing on their pilgrimage to the Holy City.
A quick check of the “divining rod” hidden in his sleeve confirmed that he had to advance further towards the city centre. This path led him past a plethora of saint statues. Ultimately, he passed the city wall, which surrounded the part of the city now known as the old city, but which was also usually meant when people spoke of Galadea in a historical or religious context. This wall also appeared ancient and almost as if it had not been maintained for centuries. That was probably the case, actually. Entering the historic centre of the Holy City was a breathtaking experience, at least for the faithful. But it was also for the emperor, albeit for a different reason. The pilgrims marvelled at the countless temples, chapels and holy sites that were all clustered together in a small space here. Wenzel, on the other hand, stretched out his head towards the ruins of the old aqueducts, which were several storeys high.
He separated himself from the travelling group, which was already getting lost in the tightly packed crowds here, and walked closer to the structural remains of the large aqueduct that ran through the city from the west. It was clearly made of much larger and differently cut stones than the houses that had been built between its pillars. All sorts of grasses and other weeds had grown out of the cracks and gullies of the ancient structure. It was clearly no longer in use. The ruler, who had now become an amateur historian, closely examined the cyclopean-sized stones in front of him. He was convinced that they dated back several centuries BEFORE the time of Melgar. “Most definitely a different stratum,” Wenzel mumbled into his beard.
Then he walked on, following the stream of people. Along the narrow alleyways, he passed countless buildings and smaller monuments that would have fascinated him to look at. However, the large crowds prevented him from stopping. There was a lot of chatter coming from those around him. Not only could the relatively well-known Galadean dialect be heard, but also other dialects of Camenian, as well as many other languages. Pilgrims were travelling here from all over. The procession of people moved slowly forward and with it our wizard. We passed countless merchants' stalls selling all kinds of bric-a-brac, but of course also hot food and clothing. Everything you could imagine could be bought here. He passed hairdressers, butchers, drugstores and many, many churches.
Finally, he reached a small square with an obelisk in the middle. Interested, he headed in its direction and was ultimately able to fight his way through the flood of people to its pedestal. Here he stopped and looked up vertically at the monument. There had once been inscriptions here, but they had obviously been ground away beyond recognition. At the very bottom of the obelisk, however, you could still make out a line that looked like Ostrisul. Wenzel knelt down and looked more closely. It was indeed Ostrisul. He stood up and looked over the square from his slightly elevated position. All the houses here definitely looked old, but that wasn't what caught his eye. No, what struck him was that the foundations of all these buildings were made of a different material than their walls. Each of these houses here had been built on something that had been here prior. It was a structure that, according to its appearance, was built from the same stones and therefore, according to the rules of logic, in a similar time period as the aqueducts.
This allowed only one conclusion to be drawn: the culture to which this stratum before the Melgarian era belonged, had built the aqueducts and many other large structures in this settlement. Here the emperor had tangible proof that the achievements and significance of the pre-Teleiotic culture had been erased from the historical record! Of course, he already knew this, but he was always looking for proof. He could not fall into the trap of believing everything he only had read and not checked for himself. But then he reminded himself of his actual mission here. “I shouldn't let myself be distracted by things like that!”, he reprimanded himself.
He checked the direction in which his Holy Artifact was pointing once more, then he rejoined the slowly moving masses here. Gone now were the sweet scents of flowers, replaced by the fumes of the countless dishes offered by the many food stalls here. Again and again, he could see young boys offering to polish the shoes of passers-by for a single paltry sesterce. Wenzel went over and gave a child wearing only tatters a sesterce without asking for anything in return. But he had to be careful not to attract too much attention. In the flow of the crowd, he slowly saw himself approaching the hill in the heart of the city where the main sanctuary stood. Apparently, his path led him there.
With loud voices, itinerant preachers on the side tried to attract the attention of the visitors. There were also women dressed in nuns' robes asking for donations. Their signs read “The Gracious Sisters of St. Elisabeth”. It was a large charity organization that was also known to our ruler. It operated all over the empire, so it must have had quarters here too, even if he didn't know it. “There is good in religion,” the emperor reflected. Despite all his discrepancies with the Commune, he had nothing against faith. He did not deny the existence of God or deny the positive aspects of the message of charity. Only the justification of cruelty and injustice in the name of religion displeased him to a considerable extent. He made a donation here too, hiding the fact that he had given a gold coin instead of a simple sesterce, like he had done with the young boy before.
The road took a bend here and the man followed it. After this, the path went straight up to the Serapinal, the hill on which the Temple of the Holy Taphos stood. It was the spiritual centre not only of Galadea, but of all of Kaphkos! At the top of the hill was a place of worship, which was the only building in the city with a golden roof. Wenzel laboriously dragged himself up the climb alongside the countless pilgrims. To the left and right, the beautiful but old and gray buildings stretched past them. They had a completely different architectural style than anything he had ever seen in Meglarsbruck. The hill itself was surrounded by a wall with only four gates, one in each direction. As they passed through the gate to the most important shrine of Teleiotism, and the reflection of the sun's rays were thrown back at them from the golden roof, the pilgrims increasingly began to shout religious slogans. Even Wenzel could not help but be moved by this. The crowds streamed past a neatly laid out park up to the highest point.
On the way there, the magician stopped briefly at a drinking fountain, otherwise he would have collapsed from the scorching heat. Then he carried on. When he finally reached the top, however, he was a little surprised. As impressive as the Temple of the Holy Taphos might have been, it was unexpectedly small. Wenzel looked at it from top to bottom, but he couldn't quite categorize the building. It seemed to combine various architectural aspects from different periods and styles. He was much less impressed by it than he had expected. The small plateau around it was full of people. The emperor waited a short while before turning his attention to the view over the city. It was a great feeling to be able to see everything from up here. His eyes wandered in fascination over the countless towers and buildings from bygone eras. A huge piece of world history was presented here in the Saeptasolio ward in a melange of different eras and strata that all seemed to exist side by side and on top of each other.
Here he was in the centre, in the place where Teleiotism had begun and spread across the entire continent. The countless millions, probably more like billions of its followers, who multiplied endlessly and spread everywhere, saw this place as the navel of the world, the place of their origin. After walking around for a while and taking in the view, he finally set out to do what he had come here for. He got in line to get inside as well. There were guards at the entrance, bearing a quite unique crest. It was very different from the sun flag of the empire and the triquetra flag of the Teleiotic Commune. The crest basically depicted the Temple of the Holy Taphos on a dark blue background. Slowly, the crowd moved on, and Wenzel entered the building.
The interior was unusually dark. A series of chapels were arranged in a circle around a central rotunda. In the middle of it stood a single, small structure, a kind of mini-temple within the larger temple. This so-called aedicula was surrounded by a sea of candles that illuminated the otherwise gloomy building. There was dead silence. Everyone moved thoughtfully and reverently through the premises. The vault above them was painted with a starry sky, one that frighteningly reminded Wenzel of Elizabeth's eyes when he had held her in his arms in her last minutes. And of course, the icons of Melgar were also omnipresent. Unrecognized, the emperor walked into the aedicule, which led one down a staircase and a little deeper still. There was nothing here except a tiny, narrow room with candles burning in recesses in the walls. In front of him was a simple stone slab with the outline of a man carved into it. There was no inscription, no frippery on this grave. It was just as He would have wanted it. No explanation was necessary. It was the grave of Melgar, the Chosen One.
Wenzel let the moment linger for a time. "I have taken over your title and your legacy. Never will I live up to it,” he spoke to the dead. He patted his chest three times. Only then did he take out his sceptre and activate it. The light shone only slightly as he pointed it down at Melgar's grave. Further to the right, but still pointing downwards, the glow became a little stronger again. "It's not here. It's even further below this place!”, he stated. “Why?”, the man asked himself, disappointed. The other believers who came down after him wondered what he was doing here and asked him about it. He ignored them, but soon noticed how the people's whispers increased and then moved from one person to another up the corridor. They must have guessed correctly who he was.
He pushed past the gawking visitors and made his way back upstairs. Then he went to one of the men dressed in priestly robes, who was leaning against one of the large pillars of the rotunda. The new Chosen One slipped off his cloak and unveiled the imperial uniform he was wearing underneath. Simultaneously, he now revealed his magical aura to leave no doubt as to his identity. "Good day! I have come here to take care of something important. I suspect that this will require the temporary closure of the shrine. "The clergyman was shaken for a moment and took a little while to react. Finally, however, he raised his voice and summoned one of his fellow brothers, “Tell the Guardians to close the temple for the rest of the day! His Holiness is here!" And so, it happened.
“We are honoured to welcome you here to the Holy of Holies of Teleiotism, Your Highness!”, declared the commander of the so-called Order of the Guardians of the Holy Taphos. He spoke in an almost stilted-sounding High Camenian, as he probably presumed that Wenzel would otherwise not be able to understand his thick accent. The addressee immediately returned, “Save yourself the formalities! I haven't announced my arrival, so this is a circumstantial, that is, an unofficial visit.” He then went on to explain, “My sceptre here can show me the direction in which the imperial orb is located. I have lost it. My search for it has led me here, but it now appears that it is not in Melgar's tomb or in this building per se. It appears to be somewhere UNDER this temple.” The knights and priests listened to him attentively. He noticed that as he spoke to them, their gazes remained fixed on his eyes. The sparkle of the little star in the pupils of the Chosen One seemed to have a magical attraction for them.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
When he had finished speaking, his listeners looked at each other in puzzlement. A few of them mumbled something among themselves. Finally, one of the chief priests of the temple replied, “Under the temple?....Hmmm. There have always been some rumours, but I doubt very much whether they have any substance. I am familiar with the ancient cisterns of the Serapinal. If Your Holiness is so inclined, I can take you to them." - “Do so, please,” Wenzel ordered without thinking about it twice. The entourage walked out through the halls, which had just recently been emptied of people, and down the wide outside staircase towards the east. No one else was here, which immediately transformed the place into a pleasant idyll. As they descended, Wenzel could hear the clergy talking quietly to each other behind him. “....stupid folk tales....shouldn't believe.....onster”. Apparently, there were a few rumours about something being under the hill.
The hill had several “levels” and they only went down one. Then they turned immediately left and walked over to a small, paved square with benches. At its edge, a large stone was visible in the ground. The man who had led him here now said to His Majesty, “Under this stone cover is the large cistern that once served as a water reservoir for the holy shrine many centuries ago. It has not been in use for a long time, and no one has looked into it for ages. There are no plans of it, and I've been told that it might lead deep into the mountain. Or it's all just humbug, and the cave is only a few meters deep. I can't say for sure."
“Thank you all the same!”, came from Wenzel. Then he approached the big thing and lifted it out of the ground with his telekinesis. Under the astonished gazes of those present, he placed the rock down as gently as possible. He leaned forward and looked down the pitch-black shaft, that he had just opened up. The mage exhaled deeply. "There's no helping it. Whatever has to be, has to be,” he thought. “Gentlemen, I'll be back soon!”, he announced to the knights and clerics. Then he slowly let himself float down into the hole, legs first. Immediately afterwards, he created a small flame in his hand so that he could continue to see. The shaft went down a few meters, then opened up into a larger cavity.
It was so big that all you could make out was a pitch-black, gaping void. The man flew in one direction and immediately arrived at a dark wall. He lowered himself further down, but at the same time moved in the other direction to find out where the next wall was. Nothing, nothing and still nothing. He moved downwards and sideways for a frighteningly long time without being able to make out anything. Eventually, however, he reached the bottom. He landed in a small puddle that at best moistened his soles a little. “The capacity of this cistern must have been incredible,” thought the man turned cave explorer. But he still couldn't see any side walls around him. So, he now shot a burst of flame forwards. This extended his field of vision just far enough for him to spot something in the distance.
Wenzel went in that direction and hit a wall hewn out of the rock. He walked along it until he finally found an entrance. It was a tunnel that led further into the mountain. “So, the rumours are true!”, he stated happily. A quick check of his Holy Artifact also confirmed that he had to go this way. Off he went. “Wait a minute!”, he thought to himself and considered briefly. He wondered whether there might be things he hadn't thought about, things he might still need to do or consider before moving forward. Nothing occurred to him. As a result, he now advanced into the bowels of the mountain. It couldn't be that far....
It was cool and damp down here. The long, oval corridor stretched out in front of him, bending once to the right, once to the left. Echoes of falling drops of water could be heard. Otherwise, silence prevailed here. Silence and loneliness. What was this place? And why had the orb been hidden here? All legitimate questions. Finally, he was able to observe something fascinating. The tunnel, which had previously looked more like a mole tunnel than an anthropogenic construct, now transitioned into a square corridor with ninety-degree angles. A few meters further on, tiny mosaic tiles began to adorn the floor. They formed abstract, angular patterns. Along one stretch of floor, however, there were inscriptions. They were written in the unmistakable writing system of the ancient Ostrisul.
Wenzel then paused for a moment to look at the find. “Probably an ancient site from pre-Teleiotic times,” he briefly noted to himself. He walked on. However, he soon began to notice a strange smell in the air. It was only very faint. “Are those rotten eggs?”, he asked himself. As he pushed further and further into the catacomb, the smell became steadily stronger and his flame began to get ever more restless, so that he had to reduce its “juice”. He came to a fork in the road, that lead in three different directions. The man decided to continue straight ahead. A hundred meters later, however, he ended up in a dead end. Annoyed, he turned around and when he got back to the crossing, he took the right turn. Soon there was another fork in the road, this time in two directions. This time he chose the left. This went on a few more times, which slowly made Wenzel worry that he wouldn't be able to remember the way back.
But then he witnessed a curious occurrence. A greenish smoke or haze drifted through the air. The stench also increased noticeably. It really smelled horrible! Now the wizard followed this smoke. It became increasingly thicker. Finally, Wenzel came to a ninety-degree bend. There was something on the other side, you could hear it clearly. Strange noises that sounded terrifying. They were quite unlike the sounds of any animal he had ever heard. A kind of mixture of hissing and screeching vibrated in his ears. By now, the stink here had become unbearable. Wenzel was somewhat awestruck and slowly crept up to the corner. He then carefully peered around it. A little further back in the corridor, he spotted it. Half snake and half cockerel, it was simply strolling through the catacombs. A basilisk!
The man immediately moved back a few meters. He now had to weigh up the situation. He had heard stories of such creatures before. They were said to dwell in wells or cellars and their gaze was said to petrify those who return it! A dangerous thing, if it was true. But he had to assume that it was. "Perhaps the gas here also has its origins with this one. Who knows how it will react if I'm not careful with the flame in my hand,” he addressed the issue in a soliloquy. But, oho! That was it after all! He knew what he would do now.
The emperor simply walked carefully towards the corner again. Then he quickly reassured himself with a swift glance. The basilisk was gone. “Damn it!”, he shouted. But then the screeching of the animal could be heard again. It followed the source of the noise it had just heard. Wenzel ducked his head back behind the corner. The further approach of the monster was clearly audible. He was already getting a little nervous, but he stood firm. When it sounded as if the creature would come to the corner at any moment, he then reached his hand around it. He lit a fire, the biggest one he could manage. Then it happened, as he had suspected. The gas was flammable. From one moment to the next, there was a deafening explosion! It travelled the length of the corridor. Shortly afterwards, the Chosen One immediately snapped out of his state of shock. He patted his clothes to put out the embers on them.
Only then did he look at his hand. It had definitely been caught by the flames and was badly burned! The first priority now, however, was to check the neutralization of the basilisk. There now was......nothing around the corner. This was extremely surprising. Put on high alert, the man continued on tiptoes. Much further back, he found the explanation for all this. A magic circle was glowing on the floor. A small rock crystal was placed in the middle of it. Now Wenzel realized what was going on here. The basilisk was an illusion created by this circle. The magician removed the crystal and pocketed it. Only now did he look after his wounded hand. He drew the magic circle he had learnt by heart a few meters away from here. It only took a few minutes, then the pain in his hand had disappeared and all the wounds had healed. On he went.
Would there be more traps lurking here? He would soon get the answer to this, as he arrived at a large stone gate shortly afterwards. Ostrisul letters could be seen on it, although they were visibly abraded. Wenzel braced himself mentally and pushed the gate open. On the other side was a somewhat larger room. It had a high vault and was supported by a few pillars. Apart from a single object in the middle, it was completely empty. There was a stone coffin, nothing else. The explorer approached it with great caution. He stopped half a meter away from it. The following was engraved on a stone tablet in front of it:
HINC UNA FIDES MUNDO REFULGET HINC SACERDOTII UNITAS EXORITUR
The sentence was in Old Camenian and was also written in Camenian script. Wenzel didn't quite understand it. Something about the world and priests, it said. Via telekinesis, Wenzel hesitantly lifted the lid of the coffin. He was unsure whether he should really look, but then he did. Old and dusty, a skeleton lay there. It wore a crown and also had a sceptre, a pendant, a sword and an orb. The latter was the only one of these objects that had a gemstone set into it! His Highness stretched out his hand, having been healed by his healing ritual. When he touched it and cast magic, he could see its stone light up. It was the original!
Now things were beginning to make sense to him, at least in part. These catacombs, ruins of a place of worship that predated the Melgarian Era and its religion, had been adapted by the First Chosen One. Wenzel cast a glance at the ceiling. In the spot directly above the coffin was an image of a sun that looked as if it had always been here. “A reinterpretation of the old,” the man noted. Now he examined the human remains in the stone sarcophagus more closely. After thinking about it a little, it made sense that Melgar would have preferred to be buried in secret. According to what he had read in the Testament about the God’s Chosen, he hated anything that went beyond the worship of the one God and described it as superstition. The cult of personality surrounding him could no longer be eradicated, so he had hidden his actual remains and protected them with a magic circle to deter grave robbers. This had apparently been effective.
The emperor now pondered for a moment what he should do with the relics of the Messiah. "I could reactivate the magic circle. I still have the stone for it. But why? What use is this? Melgarus Rex is worshipped anyway, real grave or not! People will find something to worship, you would have to stop them with all your might to prevent this. I won’t do that. I will neither deny human nature nor work against it!" These were Wenzel's thoughts. He, therefore, decided to take the whole coffin with him.
Eventually he returned to the surface. A now worried-looking group of men greeted him with relief when he appeared. However, they were shocked when he lifted the sarcophagus out of the hole. “I ask you to give His Holiness a proper burial,” was all he said. He did not give them any more information. He would not tell them what he had seen in the mountain. The gentlemen reacted with exuberant willingness and subservience; how could it be otherwise. The ruler immediately moved away from them, as this annoyed him. For a short time, he now let himself get lost in reverie. Over a few of the treetops here, he looked east over the city. Further down, the large gate caught his eye. It was walled up. He looked at it silently for a while, ignoring the hustle and bustle of the priests and knights around him. Eventually, however, he addressed one of them:
“Why is the east gate blocked in this way?” The clergyman did not have to think and answered immediately, “This was once the gate of prophecy, the gate through which God's Chosen One would walk to enter the house of God and begin a holy war that would change the whole world. But since there could only ever be ONE, this gate was walled up forever after his passing." Wenzel nodded to him that he had understood. He was acquainted with the augury from the Holy Scriptures. It had come true after Melgar's troops had defeated the army of the Kingdom of Galadea in the legendary Battle of Seranzo in the year 30.
Yet, he would not have guessed that it would be concocted and developed further in this way after the fact. There was only one Messiah, even if Wenzel had taken on his title, this was probably more out of tradition than for any other reason. The Holy War had spread Teleiotism throughout Kaphkos. The prophecy had been fulfilled. That’s why the emperor did not quite understand why people were afraid that a new or false Chosen One might come along. Likewise, however, this knowledge now gave him a new perspective on his coronation as emperor and the Kingdom of Camenia's initial resistance to the newly founded Holy Empire.
A hot wind was still blowing through his hair, even though the sun was already setting. "Gentlemen, I must inform you that I will not be present for the lying-in-state and burial of Melgar's relics. I have found what I came here for." Consequently, he held out the imperial orb to briefly show it to them. “This is regrettable, my lord!”, it came from the commander of the guardians of the tomb.
He spent the night in one of the rooms of the temple. Here he slept very poorly. It was chilly in the building and there was a constant breeze coming from some inexplicable direction. He was planning to set off on his return journey in the morning. This morning began for him when the trumpets' fanfare, which sounded everywhere in the old town at roughly the same time, woke him from his half-sleep. It actually was several different fanfares being blown from the countless church towers here, overlapping each other to form a strange yet simultaneously captivating cacophony. This was very different from the imperial capital of Meglarsbruck, where only the one morning fanfare from the main cathedral was authorized. In any case, people there always went to their nearest churches and not just one. Someone brought him some tea, bread and a few figs when he got up. He soon went out into the morning sun, which was nestling horizontally against the hill. Down in Saeptasolio one could already hear the hustle and bustle.
“May God protect you!”, said Jacobo, the commander of the Guardians of the Holy Taphos, who had approached him. The emperor paid his respects and gave him a polite farewell. He was about to fly away when he remembered something else. "Please keep it to yourselves that I was here. It wasn't planned in advance, and I don't want your king to get the impression that I've snubbed him." The gentlemen assured him that they would not say a word about what had happened. So, he thanked them again and went on his way. The priests waved after him while the figure of the wizard in the sky grew tinier and tinier. What he would never know was that they would only transfer the relics of the Chosen One to the tomb in the aedicule, which had previously only been a cenotaph, in a secret ceremony. No one would ever be informed of this. Officially, Melgar had always been buried here. The myth counted more than the truth. That’s the way it had always been.
Wenzel had a lot of time on his flight home, which he used to mull over all sorts of things. Now that he had all five Holy Artifacts back, couldn't he do something useful with them? Perhaps he could give them to his most loyal subordinates, as these objects could also be used by non-mages? He thought about it for a while. “Better not,” was his final decision. "I shouldn't undermine my power any more. I already have insufficient authority in the current state of affairs anyway!" While he was immersed in his thoughts like this, the landscape kept on passing by beneath him. It was still going to be a long journey to the “golden seas” of Ordania, whose waves consisted of endless fields of grain.