“Okay, explain what happened again,” Callan said as he made his way across the field. He slashed at another pod, catching almost all of the grain this time. Not bad for a born-and-raised city boy.

Last night Pivale called Kivi a ‘mudrat’. An insult that dates back to the previous age, almost to the moment of the lud’s creation, in fact. Amazing that it has survived for so long intact.

“So it’s a slur, then.”

In a manner of speaking. It points to the lud’s humble origins, reminds them that they were the gods’ first creations, less refined than those who came later. A way to diminish their accomplishments, to make them feel inferior. A system of control, in other words.

“So a slur.” Callan repeated, shaking his head. “I guess I understand why Kivi would have been angry over that. Didn’t the mayor call her that, too?”

Indeed. And you may recall that she exacted a heavy price through the negotiations in retaliation.

“But what did she extract out of Pivale, then? The whole family seemed a bit shook up when I came back.”

Hmm. Xeph shifted inside Callan’s skull as he thought. Nearby, Lisson glanced over, likely confused at only hearing half the conversation. A bit further on, his uncle Rym was harvesting even slower than Callan was, but at least he was making progress today. If Callan hadn’t seen him in his drug-induced stupor, he might have thought the yeth perfectly ordinary.

I cannot say for certain, but I suspect she may have threatened them with conscription should they prove dishonorable in their vows, the god said at last.

“Conscription? Like into the army?”

They share similarities, but no. Conscription in this sense is when a god takes non-followers to serve in some capacity. Anything from domestic tasks to hard labor, depending on a god’s needs and whims. In the past it was also employed occasionally when a particular follower proved... troublesome.

Callan frowned. “That sounds an awful lot like what Zavastu did to Kivi’s people. I can’t imagine Kivi would condone doing the same to others.”

Condone? Perhaps not. But using it as a threat to both ensure compliance and terrify a woman that had spoken out of turn to her? Even you cannot tell me you find fault in doing so.

“I suppose I can’t.” He frowned in thought. While he didn’t exactly relish making further enemies in the village, Kivi’s heavy-handedness seemed warranted in this case. Besides, Radavan and his family weren’t exactly their staunchest allies to begin with.

Of greater concern was the conversation that had taken place last night after they’d returned to the Etruscian guest house. Callan had been expecting Kivi to be worried about the situation back home, perhaps even demanding they return to investigate, but she’d been surprisingly nonchalant about the lost faith.

“It is only a single follower, yes?”

“So far. But that could change. If it is Ziln or one of the other kids—”

The priestess held up a hand to forestall him. “If there were more casualties, I might assume so, but wherever Ziln ended up, the other children likely are as well. No, I do not think this was caused by one of them—or any of the lud, for that matter.”

“What do you mean?” Callan asked.

“I mean, that a death seems unlikely, barring some accident while hunting or harvesting the pythian. All of our elders were still in relatively robust shape, likely with many years ahead of them. There was no sickness, and those injured during the battle against Zavastu were all on their way to recovery. No, I should think the answer lies closer to us than you suspect.”

Callan started to ask another question, then simply closed his mouth, waiting for Kivi to continue.

“I had feared we might encounter... duplicity from some of the yeth converts. That some might choose to proffer faith, only to recant once we were out of sight. Before we worry about the situation back at home, it is worth investigating that those who have already sworn are still loyal to Xeph. If we find that one of them is not...” She spread her hands.

“I guess we can do that. Xeph, you have the ability to detect followers?”

Of course. Provided they are inside your domain, it is a simple enough task.

“Then all we need to do is pay a visit to everyone who pledged to us so far.” Callan tapped at his chin. “We can probably exclude Belinda and Alyssa. Radavan too, maybe? I mean, we were literally collecting from his family when it happened.” He thought for a second, then said, “We’d better check Radavan, just in case. Still, that just leaves him and the two couples from the dinner party.”

“An excellent plan, Avatar.” Kivi gave a satisfied nod. “I have no doubt that this issue will be resolved quickly so we may put this whole unpleasant matter behind us.”

“Don’t be so hasty to celebrate, high priestess. Assuming you’re right, we’ve got another problem—a big one.”

“Oh? And what is that?”

“There’s no reason for any of the yeth to abandon their faith when it costs them nothing—unless it doesn’t. If one of those who pledged already has made a deal with Veritas, we could very well have a traitor and spy in our midst.”

“I think you give the yeth’s love of duplicity too little weight, Avatar, but I do admit that is a concern. However, until you have actually found the one responsible, it is a non-issue. Let us hear them out first, and then we can decide what judgement to pass.”

Callan shook his head as the memory dissipated. He’d need to make some time after work today to perform their inspection. Hopefully nobody would mind him showing up on their doorstep at sunset, covered in sweat and dirt.

Someone tugged on his shirt, and he glanced down to see Lisson standing beside him. “Excuse me, Avatar? Do you need any water?”

“Thanks, but I’m good, Lisson. Also, you really shouldn’t call me that. Out here, I’m just Callan.”

Lisson shrugged. “Not like anybody’s close enough to matter. My father—” He practically spat the word. “—is busy dealing with a weevil infestation on the other side of town. The only person in earshot is Uncle Rym, and nobody would believe him anyway.”

“Still, it never pays to be careful. At least for another three days. Then, one way or another, it probably won’t matter.”

“Yeah, about that.” Lisson glanced around. Not seeing anyone but Rym humming tunelessly some distance away, he dropped down into a squat and motioned for Callan to join him.

Callan crouched down, so that he was almost completely hidden from view by the waving adle stalks. The yeth boy leaned in close.

“Last night, you seemed real eager to get our faith. It’s important? To helping the village?”

“Yeah.” Callan nodded for emphasis. “I’d say it’s important.”

“Then I want to offer my faith to Xeph-Zul-Karatl.”

Callan froze. Somewhere inside of him a little flame of excitement began to spread. Maybe he’d be seeing that second tier sooner than he’d thought.

Then his excitement cooled. “What about your father? He said he didn’t want you swearing an oath until you were older.”

“I’m not going to tell him. Are you?” Lisson’s face cracked into a mischievous grin. Callan’s own expression quickly mirrored his.

“Of course not. In that case, repeat after me: I, Lisson—”

Mortal.

“Dangit, Xeph, what is it? We’re doing a whole thing here.”

We can’t accept this boy’s faith. It isn’t just his father’s edict. I have my own standards, and I won’t allow a child that hasn’t come of age to swear themselves to my congregation.

Callan groaned. “Seriously?”

Quite. Other gods may have less compunctions about following tradition, but I am a god of mountains, and mountains are nothing if not slow to change.

“Fine, fine. Wouldn’t want to risk your damn compunctions when death is on the line or anything.” Callan turned back to Lisson. “Sorry, but Xeph says no. Maybe in another year or two, hey?”

For a moment, it looked as if the boy was going to argue, but at last he simply nodded and rose to his feet. Callan followed.

“We were this close to getting the next tier, Xeph,” he said as Lisson moved dejectedly after his uncle. “You know that, right?”

I understand your frustration, mortal, but the needed faith will come in time. Who knows, if we can manage to locate the apostate who betrayed us already—

“That’s a shot in the dark, and we both know it.” He let out a sigh.

—And even if we don’t, there is always our reward for defeating Veritas. With the rest of the village swearing their oaths to us, a single faith will mean little.

“You’re assuming we beat Veritas, though. Going to be difficult to do with them so much more powerful than us.” A thought occurred to Callan. “How is it that Veritas is so powerful, anyway? Didn’t you say it would be impossible for him to gather many faithful here in the badlands? Unless he’s also been traveling to a bunch of villages...”

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

I do not believe that to be the case. Rather, I suspect that much of the faith Veritas possesses they already had accumulated long before arriving in Aos.

“What’s that mean?”

You recall how many mistake us for a god and avatar that fled trouble in the north. I suspect this Veritas is one in truth. That is likely why he also felt confident declaring open rebellion against Zavastu—because he still maintains a cult somewhere else on the continent, one he continues to draw support from, however minor that might be in the grand scheme of things.

“Huh. Minor for the north maybe, but it sure makes a difference here.”

Indeed. It may be I’m misinterpreting the situation, but I cannot conceive of another method by which they would have built such a reserve. Still, this could be to our advantage.

“Oh yeah?” Callan was willing to grasp at any silver lining that presented itself at this point.

If Veritas does still have a cult in the world, a place that they can, eventually, return to, they may be more willing to entertain our challenge. It is a slim hope, but better than if we face a god who knows certain destruction will await them if they fail here.

That insight did go a long way towards cheering Callan up—even though they’d hit a few stumbling blocks, their plan was still moving forward. He just needed to be patient and see it through.

After that, the rest of the day passed uneventfully. Callan managed to collect a bit more grain than he had the day before—though that wasn’t saying much, considering how they’d stopped at noon to hear the debate. Still, Radavan said nothing beyond a grunt of acknowledgement when Callan returned his equipment.

That one still maintains his faith, Xeph confirmed as they walked away. Callan nodded. One down, only four more to go.

As he headed towards town, he caught sight of Dosoti taking a leak against a tree. Perfect, just the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He moved closer until he was standing right behind the man.

Dosoti gave a last shake, pulled his britches closed, then turned around. He leapt back at the sight of Callan, clutching his chest. “Brigand’s piss, boy, you trying to kill me?”

“Sorry, I didn’t want—” I didn’t want you to go running off again. “—you to think I wasn’t being friendly by not introducing myself.” He stuck out a hand. “I’m Callan.”

“I know, Radavan mentioned.” The older yeth eyed the proffered hand warily. “You did, too, the other day. Thought I told you I wasn’t interested.”

“Interested? In what?”

“Whatever it is you’re selling. Yeth from the north like you are always trying some scam or other. You’ll try to recruit me to your new ‘business enterprise’ or some nonsense. Fell for that once, how I ended up living here. Won’t happen again.”

Callan held out his hands in front of him. “I swear, it’s nothing like that. Just trying to get to know everyone.”

“Hmmph.” Dosoti glowered and crossed his arms. As he did, an idea struck.

“Maybe you can help me,” Callan said. “I wanted to talk with... ah... Barnum’s... wife?”

It occurred to him that he’d never actually caught the woman’s name at dinner the other night. Whoops.

“What do you want Moas for?” Suddenly Dosoti looked downright suspicious. It occurred to Callan that asking about another man’s wife might have problematic connotations here. Or maybe he was just extra jumpy after his encounter with Alyssa the other night.

No time to course correct now, though. He pushed on. “Oh, I wanted to thank her for the food she made me the other night. I didn’t exactly bring my own supplies, and there’s nowhere to cook in the guesthouse anyway, so...”

Dosoti’s suspicious look had faded, so that seemed to have worked. Now all he needed to do was get the man to lead him to the remote farmhouse. And while they walked, they could chat, get to know each other better. Maybe even open up and share some secrets about a certain masked avatar—

“I know where Barnum’s farm is! I’ll even take you there myself!” a voice said from behind. Callan turned and found Rictee standing behind him, a wide grin on his face. Inwardly, he groaned.

“Well, sounds like that’s settled.” Dosoti turned and started stumping off. “I’ll leave you to make friends. Me? I just want my warm bed.”

“Wait, you could still—” Aaaaaaaaaand he was gone. Great. It took all of Callan’s willpower not to glower at the yeth man beside him.

“Shall we go?” Rictee asked blithely. Callan let out a sigh.

“Sure, lead the way.”

They headed down the road that ran alongside the fields. A few people still working glanced up at their approach. Rictee waved at them each time, a big smile on his face. Perhaps Callan’s experience the other day when he was out exploring had been an outlier, and the villagers were simply wary around outsiders.

Then again, only one in five returned Rictee’s gesture, and even then rather hesitantly. Seemed the only outlier here was Rictee himself.

“So what brings you to the village?” he asked, turning away from waving at a farmer that looked to be shooting the both of them a death glare.

“Oh, you know, the usual. War in the north, having my home burned to the ground and my family enslaved. That sort of thing.” Callan waved a hand casually, like these were everyday occurrences. Hell, maybe they were. What did he even know about the north, really?

Rictee nodded. “But why here? What led you to Aos in particular?”

“Honestly? The lud I’m with. They were all, ‘a yeth! I know where you need to go’. So I followed them, and now I’m here.” The lie came easily to Callan’s lips. Maybe he was getting better at this cloak and dagger stuff.

“And they’re really Etruscian traders? From Tok?”

“Yep.” Callan paused, then realizing his slip, added, “I think? They never mentioned their specific village.”

“Hmm. My own parents fled here from Aglibor when it fell to the Southern Reach. Still, I hear things are pretty stable up there now. Better than here with Zavastu breathing down everyone’s necks.”

“Seems like this village is doing alright,” Callan said, pretending to glance around.

“We’ve managed to avoid her predations so far,” the yeth agreed. “I just worry about how much longer that can last. With Aglibor and Kempf gone, the Reach will be turning its attention this way soon enough, you know?”

Callan, who didn’t, nodded sagely. He needed to pivot this conversation before his lack of actual knowledge became apparent. “How do you know so much about what’s going on up north, anyway? Seems you guys are rather cut off living here, even more so than a lot of the other villages in the Badlands.”

“We may be cut off, but we still trade plenty with the surrounding plateaus. What do you think we grow all this grain for?” Rictee gestured around them. “It takes a bit longer, but word eventually reaches us. Plus, the mayor teaches geography to all of us at the creche. She knows plenty about the world outside our little village!”

“Does she now.” Callan wondered idly if there was a way to pick Belinda’s brain before they left that wouldn’t arouse suspicion. Or maybe by that point it wouldn’t matter. Let the woman know of his own ignorance, if it helped them fill in some of the gaps on the map back at the temple.

“Alright, we’re here,” Rictee said, gesturing to a small farmhouse in the distance. “It was good talking with you, Callan. We should be friends. Always good to have more friends.”

“Uh, sure.” He waved goodbye as the yeth man walked away, then set out for the farmhouse.

Well, that was enlightening, Xeph said as Callan approached the front door.

“You mean the geography lesson? Yeah, we’ll need to ask Belinda later for more—”

Not that. The way he subtly teased information out of you. It seems that even that one is not immune to playing yeth games. I’d initially taken him to be too simple-minded for such things, but he cultivates that persona well.

“Really?” Callan asked. “But I hardly told him anything!”

True, but the way you answered, or didn’t answer, likely told him as much as your words themselves.

“Dangit, I’m getting sick of this crap. Is it so much to ask to meet a single yeth that hasn’t got some sort of secret agenda?”

The god let out a gravelly laugh. A yeth without schemes—

“Yeah, yeah, I got that. What do you think he was even trying to...” He trailed off as the door opened and Barnum looked out, his gaze finally settling on Callan.

Another faithful, Xeph noted. Callan mentally ticked him off the list.

“Hey, sorry to bother you at home like this. Can I speak with you and your wife for a moment?”

“Of course Av—” The man coughed, seemed to struggle over an alternative title for a moment, then finally gestured inside. “Come in, please.”

Callan followed the man to their kitchen, where he encountered a pleasant surprise. Across from Moas sat Millica, sipping at a cup of tea.

“Avatar!” The merchant’s wife rose and gave a slight bow. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, though that could have just been from the warm drink. “Such a pleasant surprise. What have Barnum and Moas done to deserve such an honor?”

“Oh, nothing much. Just checking in on all our new followers. Making sure everyone’s... ah...”

He didn’t want to say, still loyal, so instead he went with, “...Ready for Veritas’s next visit. I’m hoping it won’t come to bloodshed, but wanted everyone to prepare themselves for the possibility.”

Both Millica and Moas blanched at that, while Barnum muttered darkly under his breath.

These women are also still faithful, Xeph confirmed while Callan shifted uncomfortably, wondering what to say next. Relief swept through him.

“Okay, well news delivered, I’ll just be on my way... Hey, Millica, is your husband visiting here, too? I should probably also let him know.”

The yeth woman blinked in surprise. “Falchion? He never comes along when I visit Moas. Probably back manning the trading post in case anyone needs supplies for supper. Not that we ever seem to sell much when I’m not around. Tch. Useless man.”

She shook her head, then added, “I’ll be sure to deliver the message to him when I get home.”

“Oh, no worries, I’ve been meaning to stop by and see this trading post, anyway. I’ll let him know.”

“Alright, Avatar. If you’re certain.” She sat down again, taking up her teacup.

After receiving directions about where the trading post was—right next to the smithy, apparently—Callan set off again. The sky was already well into twilight, but the way ahead was clear. In the distance, a moon had risen over the horizon, but it was either small or very distant, and so not really a major concern at the moment. He hoped.

The trading post lay right where Millica said it would be, a wide two-story building bearing the same painted designs as the rest of the village. There was no sign to indicate it was anything more than a largish house.

“Hello?” Callan knocked on the door, then gave it a gentle nudge. It opened on silent hinges. “Huh. Nobody’s here.”

Oh, there’s someone there, alright. I can detect two followers in the back of the building.

“Really? Two?” Was Belinda visiting her former brother-in-law? Or some of Radavan’s family, maybe?

More importantly, why weren’t they answering?

He stepped inside. Rather than the hallway that seemed typical in most yeth homes, this one opened into a large living room. That was also a trading post, apparently. Chairs and benches lined the walls similar to Radavan’s home, but the shelves here contained everything from bags of dried goods to rolls of cloth. It was... a weird mix.

“Seems like an inefficient use of space,” Callan muttered as he studied several unlabeled bottles on a shelf.

I’m sure the yeth have their reasons. Maybe there is a more social aspect to trade here in Aos.

“What, you don’t know?”

No, I do not, Xeph grumbled. Not everything is a trait bred into the elevated races. Individuals and societies do eventually develop their own culture, especially after thousands of years. The lud caste system is evidence enough of that.

“Okay, okay, no need to bite my head off.” Callan glanced around, wondering where Falchion and this other unknown faithful could be hiding. He called out again. No answer.

Upstairs, Xeph said, sensing the direction of Callan’s thoughts. After a minute of searching, he turned up a staircase in the back of the house past the kitchen.

The stairs creaked a bit on his way up, lending an unneeded air of spookiness to this whole situation. A sudden thought occurred to him. “You don’t think they’re up to anything nefarious up there, do you? Meeting with the cult behind our backs, maybe?”

Possible, but unlikely. If it were our traitorous faithful, perhaps, but then I wouldn’t be able to sense them. This must be something else.

Callan nodded. He was probably on edge after Xeph’s revelation about his conversation with Rictee. Not everything was a scheme.

Still, he tried to step quietly on the last few steps, then tiptoed his way across the landing. There were only two doors on the second floor, both closed.

Inside there, Xeph noted, nudging him towards the furthest door.

Callan approached it, then hesitated. Should he just... knock? Would they think it strange he’d climbed all the way up to the second floor like this? He could always claim he was here to buy something, but seeking out Falchion in his obviously private quarters did seem a little bit overzealous in hindsight.

Before he could decide what to do, he caught a voice through the door.

Not words. Just a single, drawn-out moan.

Immediately, Callan’s face grew hot. He started slowly—and quietly—backing up.

Mortal? What’s wrong?

“Sorry Xeph, but we really misunderstood the situation,” he hissed. “We need to get out of here before—”

The door swung open, light spilling out into the hallway. Callan squinted in the sudden glare. Through half-closed lids could just barely make out Falchion standing there, frowning at him.

Even worse, the man was completely naked. Well, at least I confirmed that the extra finger is the only noticeable difference between us, Callan thought, trying to keep his eyes from involuntarily flicking downward again.

Then he saw who was sitting on the bed behind the old man, and any thoughts about yeth anatomy immediately fled his skull.