“Is that …?” Benkin asked Jeanne.
“The Shepherd,” Jeanne confirmed. “Or the most common image used of him.”
The Wolves looked around, Jeanne herself feeling a sense of sadness as she over the scene. “This place has seen much better days,” she said to Robert.
“Much better days,” Robert replied. “This old place doesn’t see many people come inside. Not for a long while.”
“Why is that?” Silvius asked.
“Most people have simply lost faith. When their betters became curs, they turned to the Sheperd for their salvation. When nothing happened, they turned from their own faith. Some have even begun worshipping the Old Gods, forsaking all they once knew.”
“That can’t be easy for you,” Jeanne said, holding the door open for Kveldulf as he negotiated himself inside with Pyrdwen’s remains.
“Few things ever are these days. I’m starting to think the only easy days are the ones behind me. I’m almost too afraid to think of what my little ones will inherit when it is their time to become adults.”
Robert gestured for Kvledulf to follow into a room behind the altar, inside were series of tables, all covered in bodies draped with plain cloth. Shelves had been built into the walls of the room, all holding bodies of the deceased. Everyone winced as the smell caught them. Kveldulf have trouble holding the body as he tried to adjust to the stench.
Looking around the room, Robert spotted an empty shelf space near the back. “Here, there’s a place for Prydwen.”
Kveldulf nodded quickly, taking short breathes through his mouth as he made his way over, gently placing the dead Prydwen onto the shelf. He quickly made his way out of the room, Robert casually walking behind. Once into the hall, Kveldulf began coughing out loud, occasionally gagging as he gasped for air. Jeanne patted Kel’s back, trying not to breath through her nose, as well.
“How can you deal with that smell?” Kveldulf asked.
“It’s something you get used to,” Robert replied. “But certainly wasn’t eager to do so.”
“This … this is just wrong,” Leonidas said in a hushed voice.
“I don’t wrong is the right word for this,” Jeanne replied, “not anymore.”
“Things have been hard. Really hard.”
“And whoever’s doing this hasn’t left any signs?” Cid asked. “Nothing to why they’re doing this?”
“Aren’t the bodies enough?” Robert asked. “Some people don’t need a reason to be a monster. They just enjoy nothing more or less. They could have all the advantages life could give, and still they strive to burn all they have and love, just to watch the ashes fall afterwards, or to hear the cries of the broken lift their spirits. They gave themselves to a darkness even devils would not want.”
Jeanne looked around at the bodies. She felt her fist gripped tightly to the point of shaking. Her jaw shut with such force, she could feel her teeth pressed together. She tried to control her breathing and keep her thoughts from wandering into darker places in her mind, but the wanting to break and sunder these Kolville began to become greater than anything else in the world.
She closed her eyes and took an uneasy breath in, feeling a sudden chill in the air. When she opened her eyes, she found the others frozen still, and a voice speaking from behind her. “Tis the truest form of a tragedy. Unabridged and utter complete.”
“I am in no mood right now.”
“Nor would I expect you, Lady Marais. Such horrid sights leave bitter tastes in ones mouth, unless they had forsaken their heart entirely.”
“Why are you here?”
“Would you believe me if I said to check on you?”
“That would be a rich one.”
“Fair enough. But I know the road you’ve been on has been rough. More so than I had anticipated. And I thought it was only right that I made some effort to see how you’ve been faring.”
“I’ve seen villages burn, including my old home. Entire families be turned into monsters, and now because of this stupid war, people are rotting in a place of worship while their priests go off trying to win divine favor. This isn’t right. This blasphemous in every sense of the word. And what are the gods doing as the world is being torn, and ripped, and burned into a damned wasteland. Nothing! I don’t know what they’re doing and I’m starting to not give a shit, because any faith in them is almost a wasted effort.”
“I would probably not say that.”
“Then they can get their lackadaisical asses down here and tell me personally. Where is the justice for all these people who gave them far more devotion and belief than the bastards who took their lives? Why aren’t the Kolvilles struck down by some divine smiting? What the hell do they need to do for someone to do something? They’ve burned down enough of the Sheperd’s churches, where the hell is he? The hell is waiting for before he actually tends to his fucking flock!”
Jeanne could feel the sweating beading on her forehead as she finished. She straightened herself up and took a few deep breaths as The Figure raised his eyebrows and shifted his stance somewhat. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Better. Still livid, but better.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“Are you ever not livid?”
“When I’m not dealing with this shit, sometimes.”
“Fair enough.”
“But … how are people supposed to keep their faith in anything when those they pray to do nothing?”
“This reminds me of a parable –”
“If you go into an hour to explain something a sentence can convey, so help me …”
“… But, I was going to jump to the main lesson. If people feel a higher power will solve every problem, then they will create problems. They will turn, they will tear, they will break and soon, they will be nothing. But if they know that they must find the solution to whatever challenge they face. If they know no unseen force, or divine hand will swiftly clean away the mess before them, they will, in time, find the path needed to succeed and find the world they wish to make.”
Jeanne stared at The Figure for a long moment. “All right, just tell me the damned story, so I can have the context.”
“As you wish,” The Figure replied, “Once there were a people who walked this world before the days of the elves, dwarves, and men. During the Aetaite Coridia, or the Age of Beasts as you now call it, specifically. They were the Murinia, of Mice-People.”
“Murinia?” Jeanne asked. “I’d never heard of them.”
“Few have,” The Figure said, “But their kingdom was a golden utopia, for their god watched over them with a careful eye. When famine and drought robbed their fields of food, stores would be supplied with whatever they needed to survive. When an enemy army marched against them, thunder and fire would rain from the heavens and smote the foes into ash and dust. Those people knew not want, or pain, or suffering or all the woes that life brought … in the beginning.”
“And for a while the city was a shining example of a brilliant civilization. Because people did not fret over how they would survive from day to day, they focused on the arts, sciences, and building their city into a wonderous metropolis.”
“What happened to them?”
“They happened,” The Figure replied bluntly. “The city began to well up with more citizens than anyone knew what to do. No one wanted to leave the city for fear of what might happen if they were to explore past their borders. No one took effort to feed or clothe themselves, expecting the greater power to attend to the matter. People stopped cooking, cleaning, learning the basic elements of living were completely alien to them.
“And one day, their god saw something they did not expect. Mother began having difficulties carrying pregnancies to term. Many who did, left their children to fend for themselves. The men dove into behaviors so unspeakable, their legacy inspired the darkest myths and fables of your childhood. Depravity mixed with barbarism laced with complete isolation that their society fell apart.
“Social interactions became non-existent. Families grew apart and then turn on each other. Any semblance of kinship no longer existed. Violence was constant and soon harvests of death cut a terrible swath through much of the city. And with the population dwindling from a lack of new children being born, there wasn’t much for the people to do.”
“What about the god? Didn’t they do anything?”
“They wanted to, that was without a doubt. But what stopped them was not knowing where to draw the line? At this point the whole situation was caused by being involved too much in the lives of their worshippers. And now they had not the tools to handle the problems before them. When the god came to their peers, the god was rebuked for letting their flock become so inebriated with overprotection that they were nothing more than glorified newborns. And so, they did the only thing they could do … they walked away.”
“They walked away?” Jeanne blurted out.
“There was no easy way to remedy the problem, and their god was at a loss of what to do. So they stepped away and let those who could survive do so. And the rest … well I think you can put together what happened.”
Jeanne stepped back, pressing her back against the wall to support her weight as her knees began buckling. “Shepherd’s mercy, that must’ve been horrifying.”
“If there was ever a hell on earth, in the history of all the ages of this world, it would have had to have been there.”
“What happened to the city after all of this?”
“Well, with all the death and ruination, many of those who survived, which was a small part of the population left the city. Leaving it to be a graveyard to what was once a thriving tapestry of civilization. And within a few generations, there wasn’t much left of the people to even give them much consideration beyond faint influence in fairy tales and myths.”
“But why did you think of this regarding what’s happening now?”
“Because if they gods came in and dealt with one small miscreant, then it sets a precedent, which leads to another, and a another and many others. And soon you’re back to the very thing you tried to prevent. So many give their flock the tools needed to fix the problem, but not much else. How the tools are used, and when they’re used to their full potential, that’s for you all to decide.”
“That sometimes feels like a copout, but I can see what you’re saying. But I still don’t like it.”
“Well, that’s a shared sentiment with more than a few divine persons. But You don’t have to like the truth to understand it as the reality.”
Jeanne looked back to the bodies. “It just isn’t fair.”
“Well, there’s been one of a few things I’ve learned in my wanderings. One that tends to come back regularly is how easy it is for people to say how they feel about a matter and do little to fix it. They want to feel like they’re empathetic, when it’s all a front. But if you care about this, and I mean truly care about all of this, then you actually need to get out there and be a part of the change.
“Because in the end, the people who call out their discontent on what they find wrong with the world, and sit back and do nothing, or less than the barest minimum of work to convince themselves they’re not a part of the problem. They’re worse than the problem. Since instead of putting any effort or diligence to making anything better, they leave the problem to fester and grow so they can still have the thing to nag about. So if this is something which you want to fix, then go fix it.”
“I think I’m the last person to be fixing things,” Jeanne said.
“For what it’s worth. There’s a reason why heroes aren’t remembered for being perfect. They’re remembered for making a difference. For moving when others stood still, breaking the silence when others feared to speak, and doing what they knew was right without so much of a second thought. But perfection never entered the conversation, not should it. Heroes shouldn’t be perfect to be heroes. They just have to not be complacent.”
Jeanne rubbed the back of her neck. “That feels like you had that speech rehearsed. You not the first one I’ve given that to. No offense.”
The Fugure let out a short chuckle. “None taken.
“I just wish I knew what I can do in all this … madness,” Jeanne confessed.
“More often than not, it isn’t as hard as you’d think. It’s just doing what you think is right and seeing the thing through. Though many times it’s the seeing it through that can be the hardest of the two.”
“You can say that again,” Jeanne said under her breath.
“But I think perhaps there comes a time when those trying to do the right thing are given an extra hand in achieving that end.”
“I don’t suppose a sword of fire would be in the cards?”
“No, but I might have something in mind.”
“What’s that?” Jeanne asked.
“What was that?” Kveldulf asked.
Jeanne looked at Kveldulf wide eyed for a quick moment. “What?” she asked back.
“I thought I heard you say something,” he said to her. She looked around and saw the others were now moving as they once were, and The Figure was now complete gone from the room.
Of course he’d do that, she thought to herself.
“Is everything all right?” Leonidas asked.
Jeanne nodded, “Yeah, just was thinking out loud,” she said, trying to avoid cringing at the situation. He really had to do that, didn’t he?