23

Sacred Duty

Sin. Heresy. Blasphemy.

It is everywhere.

It festers in the hearts of men, women, even children.

They spurn the very bodies gifted to them by Great Phaos. Such meticulous craftsmanship, a gift from the divine. They spoil such a thing, giving in to the temptation of the flesh. Rotting such a pure thing with alcohol, narcotics, whores, and coin.

These fools have yet to see the light. They wander blind, grasping and clinging to a world that is not theirs. A world they do not appreciate. A world tainted by their sin, their lust, their vices.

This was his mission. He would be the hammer that would smash their brothels, the fire that would burn their alehouses, the plague that would consume their bankers. The fools would not help themselves, no matter how much the missionaries tried. They tied themselves too heavily to their addictions and their vices. If they would not accept the light of Phaos willingly, then they would accept it by force.

He saw it, foretold by the seers. A land consumed by the great fire of war. A fire that would burn so hot it would turn radiant white. The corrupted would be purified in holy white flame.

It would burn far sweeter than this farmhouse.

He nodded at one of his missionaries, whose hand conjured forth an orb of flame. He tossed it at the farmhouse, and the thatch roof ignited immediately.

The door burst open, and a farmer came out, swinging a hatchet. The Exemplars surrounded him. The masks and robes against the flames must have looked of something out of a nightmare. Fool. No wonder he was so scared.

The hatchet caught one in the arm, who fell backwards, clutching at the bleeding wound.

For a farmer, he held them off well. That was until the mace of one Exemplar cracked him on the back of his head, and he collapsed onto the dirt.

The exemplars took him. Bound him to a pyre before his burning home.

Some children tried to escape through the back. One fell. The other went to help them up. The Exemplars caught them before they got far.

A boy and two girls. How excellent.

The exemplars stuffed the children into the prison wagon, among the others. Their wails and moans an annoyance that could easily be silenced with the crack of a whip.

The boys would make fine acolytes, the girls would make finer seers.

He turned back to the farmer, screaming at the exemplars and struggling against the ropes that held him in place.

He clicked his fingers at an exemplar who came running at his call.

‘Read him his crimes.’

The exemplar unfurled a scroll and began reading out loud. ‘Citizen of East Versia, you are hereby tried for crimes against the great Lord Phaos. For the worship of heretical deities, for impeding the duty of his servants, and for sin of living without your allegiance to him.’

Two exemplars ignited the kindling at the base.

The farmer screamed harder, pleading for his children.

He struggled harder till the flames consumed his body. Sheep wool ignited quick, and it wasn’t long before the violent thrashing ended and, like his house, he was nothing more than a charred mass.

The traull dragged the prisoner wagon along and walked the long road back to their territory, to the Tower of Phaos.

This was merely the beginning.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

The League proved to be a struggle. The lords proved to be rather wily, and their leader proved to be a far greater strategist than they anticipated. An all-out war would prove costly, no matter how righteous it would be, so they must do everything short of outright war.

Still, their weapons were growing. Their seers would guide them. It could take years. Decades. Maybe even a century.

They would be victorious, no matter how long it would take.

‘Paragon!’ exclaimed a young masked missionary.

‘Yes, Exemplar Kaou?’

‘Bells! From the old chapel!’

‘It appears the fools still cling to their heretical “gods.” We shall hang them upon the spire. Make an example and the world shall bear witness.’

‘I shall send a detachment to investigate.’

‘No, you will do nothing without my permission. I will see to this myself.’

This is good work. It is just work. It is work of the Lord.

This was not his work. If it was, the chapel would not have been allowed to stand. Paragon Faeo most likely; he did everything by half-measures.

Stone may not burn so easily, but that’s no excuse for the pure laziness of his fellow Paragons. He would have to mention this to Inquisitor Silt later.

Within, the candlelight warmed the sacrilegious altar. A small figure hidden in thick robes kneeled before it in prayer.

The Paragon stepped forward and his exemplars filtered out throughout the room. An impressive display of discipline and military-like precision.

He nodded to an Exemplar who then stepped forward.

‘Citizen of East Versia, you are guilty of the crime of heresy against His Holy Greatness: Lord Phaos. What say you in your defence?’

The robed person said nothing. They only rocked back and forth and muttered unintelligible prayers at their desecrated altar.

‘Take her.’ Again, the paragon directed at his exemplars. One stepped forth, brandishing his mace.

Even as the enforcer of the paragon’s will stepped forward, the praying peasant refused to move. She just gently rocked as she muttered her prayers.

The Exemplar took a handful of her burlap robe, ready to yank it from her, when something caught him in the back.

He staggered forward and fell to the ground.

The others lept back in a panic, holding their maces and glancing at every shadow.

‘You fools!’ Yelled the Paragon. ‘Secure the wo-’ He couldn’t continue, as some heavy burlap material connected with his face.

‘Behold, zealots!’ Some lizard wielding a staff stood where the praying woman once was. The Paragon couldn’t see this, as he was having trouble removing the sack on his head.

Another went in, swinging his mace overhead, but an arrow met the side of his torso. A cat from somewhere in the rafters.

A pew rose into the air and launched itself into two other exemplars. Where it came from stood a young fox, looking incredibly pleased with himself.

Another began summoning a gout of flame, but a falcon dropping from the rafters crushed his body.

He finally removed the burlap to see the chaos around him.

‘Paragon! What are your orders?’ Exemplar Kaou yelled, trying to fend off the falcon woman.

His exemplars were fools, always needing his guidance.

‘Three of you, focus on the falcon! Two for the fo-’ He wanted to finish, but a thunderbolt came his way and was deflected off his ward. Quite strong, but didn’t manage to break its way through. Anymore of that and his mana reserves would be dangerously low.

‘Please,’ said the lizard at the centre of the room. ‘Show me the magic of Phaos.’

‘Silence, heretic!’ He summoned the flame in his hand and cast it at the wizard. A quick and simple ward deflected the ball of flame, which bounced off and flew straight into and eviscerated the stained glass window.

The rainbow glass exploded, sending the shards scattering through the hall and out into the countryside.

The paragon took the shards using a fairly advanced form of telekinesis and directed them towards the lizard.

They sliced through the air, only stopping when the lizard released a solid blast of compressed air around him, knocking the shards and sending them tumbling through the air.

‘Ah, the magic of Vesterwys. Nothing compared to the teaching of the Lord!’ Using his hands, he made a downward gesture towards his opponent. The lizard felt the onset of something heavy.

Very heavy.

His ward held, but didn’t hold well.

He could feel the ward begin to crack. He could feel the fissures form around his shell.

It’s an awful feeling, having your mana get depleted. It’s like a kind of physical and mental exhaustion. A splitting headache right behind the eyes, unable to focus, hampered cognitive functions.

‘Your knowledge of spells is quite impressive,’ the paragon said. ‘But you lack the fortitude. How shameful, to hold such small mana reserves.’

He could see the sweat begin dripping from his brow as he maintained the ward as best he could.

Despite this, the lizard maintained a constant, sly smile.

It was insulting. He’d see if he kept that smile as he burned the scales from his flesh.

‘Not so good when the heretics fight back, are you?’ He turned in enough time to see the black wolf standing behind him, yet he didn’t have enough to do anything about it before the hilt of his blade came into violent contact with his face.

He was down for the count, only able to lie there and see the last of his exemplars be picked off.

Exemplar Kaou took a nasty end when he was bisected by the falcon’s blade.

They couldn’t do anything without his guidance.

Fools.