“What’s the point of this… peace bond thing?” Nathen asked, looking at the delicate ribbon tied around the hilt of his sword and its sheath, “I could probably rip it with a solid tug.”
“It’s not meant to stop you from drawing your weapon,” Elizebeth replied, double checking the knot, “it serves as a reminder that you shouldn’t draw it. And if you do so within the City of the Gods you risk Their wrath.”
“Drawing your weapon for any reason other than defense isn’t allowed,” the heavily armored guard agreed, his voice echoing slightly in the steel helm, “the Peace Bond is proof that you know and agree to these terms.”
“But if some thugs jump me in an alley, or something, I’m free to break it?” Nathen asked.
“As long as you are willing to justify your choice of breaking the bond, before the Gods and the Templars,” the guard replied simply.
“Hmm,” Nathen grunted in thought as Elizebeth presented the peace bound blade to the Templar Guard, with a quick check and a wave of what was likely a holy symbol over the weapon he nodded, allowing her to hand the sword back to Nathen.
“There, bound and blessed,” she said, “now let’s get moving, I’m looking forward to a proper bed.”
The city of Templeholm, Nathen noted, wasn’t that much different from what he expected. Most of the buildings were constructed of a light colored stone, rising to two or sometimes three stories. There was a prolific number of symbols that may or may not have been symbols of a god plastered across every building, but otherwise it seemed like any fantasy city.
Until you looked up. The great stone upon which all the major temples were built towered over the city, requiring the use of one of a handful of elevators built into the few buildings that were built around the base of the rock. It almost reminded Nathen of being in a big city, with great sky scrapers surrounding you, except for the realization that this was a single massive stone.
Elizebeth led them through the lower city, quickly reaching one of the towers that contained an elevator. After another check, during which she presented a letter written by the old priest, they were allowed to ride the elevator to the top of the stone. Made of solid wood, and powered by a few horses it was a slow, but surprisingly smooth ride. Still it took nearly ten minutes for the contraption to reach the top, which was enough for Elizebeth to go from excited about the construct to boredom.
To Nathen’s surprise, the top of the stone was, indeed, seemingly perfectly flat. But he didn’t get much chance to admire it as they were greeted by a man in a dark robe.
“Ah, you must be the Ascender I’ve been expecting,” he said, stepping up to greet Nathen.
“Your god tell you I was coming?” Nathen asked.
“Indeed,” the friendly old man said, a grin breaking through his short beard, “though it wasn’t on his behalf.”
“Greetings, Father Bishop,” Elizebeth said, stepping up along side Nathen and bowing.
“Rise, my daughter, rise,” the Bishop chuckled, “not often we get a Sister of Guidance coming here. Do you need help finding the Church of Guidance?”
“No, father,” she said respectfully.
“Well, the young Ascender’s presence has been requested, you are welcome to accompany us if you wish.”
“The god of,” she paused to inspect the symbol hanging from his neck, raising her eyebrows as she did, “Dalthus, God of the Winds, requested him?”
“Mmm? Oh, no, no,” he said, holding up a hand, “the temple that requested him is short of staff, so they requested I bring him.”
“If I may ask, father, who requested him?”
“Looking out for him, are we?” the Bishop asked, mischief in his eyes.
“What? I- I just want to know where to find him,” Elizebeth stuttered, her face reddening, “he has yet to be paid for escorting me here.”
“I see,” the older man replied, his grin not fading, “in any case I shall bring him to the Church of Guidance once he’s done, if that’s acceptable.”
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“Of course, father.”
“Great, now, if you wouldn’t mind following me, Sir Ascender,” the bishop said, turning and gesturing for Nathen, Elizebeth walking off towards the Church of Guidance.
“It’s not often that I’m asked to show someone to a church that isn’t my own,” commented the bishop as he walked with Nathen.
“Did your god ask you?” Nathen replied.
“In a way,” the older man nodded.
“So he just, what, descended a beam of holy light and told you to bring me somewhere?”
“No, no,” chuckled the Bishop, “nothing so… ostentatious.”
“But he did speak with you directly?”
“Ah, I see, forgive me, I’m not in the Church of Guidance, sometimes I forget new ascenders don’t understand the gods. It’s likely your previous world didn’t even have gods. Allow me to explain, the gods aren’t distinct entities as we think of them. They’re more like… the clouds, moisture in the air,” the Bishop explained, “they exist everywhere as an intangible force, but lacking any body or center. Occasionally their power will gather in response to any number of things, and when they do, just like how water will form clouds their power and influence becomes more noticeable. Those of us with a god’s blessing have an easier time noticing these influences. It was in signs like this that my god informed me of what to do.”
“But you mean the gods are just intangible entities that may or may not influence the world,” Nathen said, “they don’t, like, descend and walk the earth?”
“They can,” the old man countered, “if enough of their power is drawn to one location it can take form, just like how water can rain from the sky if enough of it gathers and the conditions are right so too can the gods. But, unlike the rain, such events are rare. Indeed I, myself, have only ever seen one such manifestation.”
Nathen didn’t reply, thinking about what he’d been told, wondering if it would have any ramifications for him. If gods could manifest in this game, on occasion, would it only happen in scripted events? He wasn’t even able to tell if the game had any scripted moments, it seemed remarkably free form. By that reasoning it would be possible for him to summon a god in the right situations, which would be a powerful trump card. But how hard was it to allow a god to form? How powerful were they in that form? Based on the explanation the form they took was only a fraction of their power that managed to condense into physical form, which implied that they might not wield the full might of a god. Maybe that was intentional for balance? If a cleric could just wave their hand and summon a god that would be seriously over powered, making the manifestations weaker, with this explanation, would make it more reasonable. Possibly.
“Ah, here we are,” the Bishop interrupted Nathen’s train of thought. Looking up they’d arrived at the front of one of the smaller structures built atop the massive rock. Though calling them different buildings was almost misleading as all the structures were connected by covered walkways and rows of marble columns. Even still this wing, or annex or whatever the technical term was seemed… run down.
“Here?” Nathen asked, motioning to the church.
“Indeed,” the older man nodded, “perhaps you can understand why I was asked to lead you here.”
“I’ll admit the church of Kalasen has seen better days,” the voice of an old woman called from within the church, “but it’s hard for me to do much in my state. Now, get in here young man.”
The bishop with Nathen gave him an apologetic smile before gesturing for him to enter the church, indicating he’d await him outside. After a moment of confusion Nathen slowly walked into the run-down building. Within it looked very similar to the pictures of old cathedrals he’d seen, only it was much darker. The stained glass windows clearly hadn’t been washed in some time while many of the candle holders around the large room were either empty or unlit. Only the front altar was well illuminated.
It took Nathen a moment to scan the room before he noticed a single figure sitting in the pew closest to the front. From behind he could only tell it was an older woman with a messy bun of grey-white hair.
“So you’re the one Kalasen asked for,” she said as he reached the front of the church, standing beside her. Even as she spoke she didn’t turn, leaning on an aging scepter as she sat.
“That’s what I’ve been told,” Nathen replied carefully, stepping in front of her. Even then she didn’t look up but from this vantage Nathen could see that her eyes were a milky white.
“Yes I’m blind,” the old woman said as if she could tell what he was thinking, “that’s why I asked the Bishop to lead you here.”
“I guess you don’t have anyone else to help,” he responded, looking around the dark, messy church.
“Hmph,” she snorted, “you clearly ascended young, no respect for your elders.”
“What?”
“You were just thinking the church was poorly kept.”
“Can you read minds?” Nathen asked, surprised.
“No, just a benefit of age,” she chortled, then motioned to the altar, “now that you’re here, might as well speak with Kalasen.”
“What do I do, exactly?” Nathen asked as he turned. Atop the altar was a small display for what he assumed was a relic of some kind, a grey disk inscribed with faded representations of stars.
“Touch the compass,” the old woman said simply, “if Kalasen wants to speak that’ll let him.”
“Couldn’t he just… manifest if he wanted to speak?”
“Young man, does it look like we get many worshipers? Fewer believers makes it harder for a god to act. Now, touch the compass and we’ll see why that old man spoke for the first time in forever.”
Nathen decided to not comment on her seeming lack of respect for her own god, perhaps that’s just who she was. Or maybe this Kalasen didn’t have enough followers to be picky about who was his high priest. So he did as he was told, carefully reaching out and brushing his fingers against the stone disk that was, apparently, a compass.
The moment he did everything seemed to come to a stop, the room grew lightly brighter as a fresh breeze brushed against his skin. Despite that he found he couldn’t move, frozen in place just as he’d touched the relic.
“Greetings Nathen,” a gentle voice echoed in his ears with no apparent source, “it’s been a long time since there has been an Ascender so attuned to my faith. I am Kalasen, God of Freedom.”