And so, the evening passed.

Whiskey on her way to a troupe's mudflat; Zan talking late into the night with Penne; and Jiehong on his way to a traveler's lodge for substance comforts. Despite the late hour and the evident exhaustion of all, none of them wanted sleep. Fired, intrigued, invigorated by ideas about the world and how it worked, especially once they salacious assumed themselves having a role, none of the young heroes budged from their places, being enamored with foundation shattering ideas about life.

As all youth eventually do, our heroes tired and found sleep.

Waking in the morning after an uneventful rest, Zan spoke into his headset. "Hey guys. I'm back. Zan... sorry for not letting all of you know when I was done with my stuff. I finished with colonel Winters and then found myself distracted by the festival. I met a wonderful priest, and we talked through the night. I only got a nap in now. Let's plan on today being another personal day. I will meet Winters later to pick our rewards for helping the rescue. Once I have that reward, I will let you all know."

His friends all gave a quick confirmation of his words. Saying a bit about their own activities, it sounded to Zan like Jie and Whiskey each had their own adventures. Good, he thought. Both of them deserved to have fun. They are such good friends.

Zan finished dressing himself and left the traveler's room. He and Penne had talked late into the night about all manner of topics. Prophecy took the lion's share of their time with Penne describing various stories he heard and read about concerning people with prophecies looming over and at them. What it meant and how people reacted. Desperate to understand himself, Zan had kept tossing questions at Penne. By the time Penne's energy depleted, it was late enough in the night where the line between dark and dusk blurred. Penne brought Zan to a room and bade him to rest for as long as he wanted.

Up and ready for more, Zan left the small room -- more cloister than room, he thought -- and went in search of Penne.

Walking around the church, Zan called out, "Penne! Penne! Where are you?"

Being a small building, there were only so many places for Zan to search. Opening a door, Zan found Penne still asleep in his bed. His priestly accommodation was a mess. Clothes and books littered the floor, the bookshelves were a tangle of half-pulled, partially organized books and knickknacks, and the walls were coated with splotches of layered paint which he used as a palimpsest to repeatedly write upon.

"Penne...?" Zan asked.

No response.

Moving in close, Zan wondered if Penne had died in his sleep. But he hadn't. Once Zan grew close enough, he saw how Penne's chest moved up and down as he breathed. He was snoring. How had Zan not heard those Z's?

Gently shaking the man awake, Zan whispered to him all the while, "It is morning, Mister Priest. Shouldn't you be rising to start the day?"

Shaking the man ever harder, his snoring eventually slowed. Penne's eyes opened, the lids struggling against the gross gunk crusting on the edge of his face. He slowly said, "Zan? What... you... why did you wake me?"

"It is morning, sire. Shouldn't you be getting up? I have a hundred and more questions to ask!" Zan said with the excitement of a child half his age.

If it had been possible for Zan to understand Penne's appreciation of him, Zan would have seen himself as an annoying twerp. "Zan..." Penne said. "Please. A few more hours. I and my flock spent all yesterday kicking ourselves into a gallop. Please, a while more."

Returning to his sleep, Penne snored again before long. Had Zan been a little older, he would have realized Penne was faking the snoring until he fell asleep and snored for real. With the cover established, though, Zan left the man be. What would he do for a few more hours?

Perhaps one of his friends was up to something?

Ready to touch his earpiece and speak with his friends, Zan heard instead a voice. "Penne? You still asleep?"

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Zan went to investigate the sound. He found a large woman whose hair came down halfway down her spine. "Oh? Who are you, young man?"

"My name is Zan. I met Penne last night and we talked into the night. I want to talk with him more, but he is sleeping," Zan said.

The lady snorted. "Typical priest behavior," she said. "It's nice to meet you, Zan. I assumed you stayed the night, here? The priest is friendly, but he is not as committed as he needs to be to his schedule!" This last part she said slightly louder than the rest, as if she expected the priest to hear him through his slumber. "Is there anything I can do for you while he galivants with the dream lord?"

"Maybe? Are you with the church?" Zan asked, unsure.

"Where are my manners? I'm sorry. My name is Fisher. I am a sub-priest here. I can answer any questions you have about our group and place and history. How can I help ease you?"

"Fantastic!" Zan practically squealed. "Nice to meet you, Fisher. What can you tell me about this organization? It's a church? Your place of worship looks a lot less finished than the nearby buildings. Are you guys a new denomination?"

"Heavens no! We've been around for ages. People have a lot of names for us. We typically go by 'the blank denomination.'"

Mouthing each word back to himself, Zan silently mouthed out the sounds. The blank denomination...

"What does that mean?" Zan asked.

"Blank as in we don't support any one particular god or pantheon of gods. We welcome anyone who want to worship any god or collection of gods. Hence the word blank," Fisher explained.

"I get it, now," Zan said.

"Did Penne really not explain this to you?" Fisher asked with a laugh.

"He might of? I'm not sure. We mostly talked about prophecy stuff."

"Ah. 'Prophecy stuff' isn't my forte. We will need Penne for that. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Zan considered. His many questions came to mind. He asked, "What is practice like?"

"It depends on what you would like to do. Some of us like lots of book learning. History. Others hate that stuff and want to do nothing but help people. Community organizing. That kind of practice. You could do anything from plant gardens like thinking about the gods to studying the history of the heavens. That is only our street-level practice, though. We have also a so-called 'professional practice' resting on efficiency with heavenly auras."

"Neat. What does that mean?" Zan asked, Fisher directing all of his attention.

"It means we pride ourselves in finding solutions to issues between the gods and their followers. Mostly their followers, if we're being honest. It could also mean a lot of other stuff. Like encouraging the flow of magical energy into a region, building shrines to under-appreciated gods, or even fine-tuning yet unfinished magical attunements. None of this means anything to you right now. Everything I'm saying is jigsaw words, I know it must seem. Everything I am talking about relates to an element of what we do, which is encourage complexity and connections between gods, worshippers, and the practice of therein. Am I making myself understood?" Fisher explained and asked.

"I think so?" Zan replied, still churning in his head all the information Fisher presented.

"You're kind of 'here nor there,' then, eh?" Zan said, a forced chuckle to keep it lighthearted.

"We have been accused of being too lackadaisical in our program. What our detractors fail to understand is our dedication to the gods if not so watered-down. It is concrete. And stable in its philosophical underpinnings. Are you thinking of joining a religious movement?"

Again, considering and thinking to his strange dream-vision, he said, "Maybe? What would it entail of me? I'm in a Martial Order at the moment. Sort of their leader, actually... would joining with you guys' mess that up?"

"I couldn't imagine why it would. Why don't we go and use the priest's office to talk about this more?" Fisher suggested.

Relenting, Zan allowed himself to be pushed into the office so he could chit-chat more. There, he told Fisher about his dream-vision. She stared at him, her mouth agape, as his story was told.

"And blam! Now I'm here!" Zan said, finishing his tale for the umpteenth time and growing tired of doing so.

"A remarkable story. Now you're on your way back to your base. I see..." Fisher said, mostly to herself, as she processed Zan's story.

"Yeah. I guess I want to learn more about the gods. My role in worshipping them. If I had this vision, then it might mean something, right? Goes double if I have a prophecy."

"I can see your point. Your motivation. I know it might seem like I am itching for a new recruit -- which I am; I love to spread our faith! -- but I do think you would be a good fit with us. Your illiteracy might be a small issue but there are work arounds for that. The biggest of which is you could learn to read. We have teachers."

"Okay, okay. Let's slow down," Zan said, wanting to put the brakes on topics which were going way too fast.

Over the next while Zan and Fisher discussed the large events in Zan's life. Zan did not want to learn to read. It seemed a step too far at the moment. He did want to join the church. Or at least a similar organization.

"Phew! We've covered a lot of ground, today, Zan. Shall we take a break?" Fisher asked.

"Yeah. Let's -- actually. Can we get the joining forms out of the way?"

"Normally we have an application process. We want to make sure people join us for the right reasons. You seem eager and willing and like you know what you want. Clearly, not the typical candidate. Sleep on it, Zan. Let it stew in your mind for the day. If you still feel ready to join up at sunset, come back to us and we will get you started on your journey."