[hider=Johannia’s First Tract, Exerpt]

…Yet for all that, it is not a crime to act in self-defense. Saint Klebrithy may have been subject to a martyr’s death, but Devi Marius[sup]1[/sup] was a warrior who fought for the faith. This we call a holy, or a crusade. And just as Devi Marius fought his crusade against the heathen, we must now fight against the heretic. This is no easy task. The heretics have spread deep into the Church, and who commands even the ear of the King. Yet we are not aggressors. Only against the oppressors are we to fight, and we must accept all others as our brothers and sisters. We are unlike the heretics who stand in the Grand Temple in Nyhem and do their preaching with a sword and rack.

Yet remember most of all that we remain King’s men. It was not by righteous Alasdair’s hands that the slaying of so many of our brethren came, but by that beast Lycaon. He once masqueraded as our hero, but in fact he was merely a devil in disguise, who delighted in egregious and unnecessary massacre of our brethren. Now this devil with his silver tongue has taken the ear of the King, and has forced the King to condemn us by spreading foul lies and by intimidation and threats. By destroying the heretics who occupy our Church, and bringing down Lycaon and his “holy order” we may cleanse both the body and spirit of this land. Repeat this, my friends, when the wayward call you heretics and traitors.

Johannia,

[1. Marius was a great warrior, and one of the main leaders of the Church when it became the state religion. He claimed to be a Devi (an incarnation of a deity) of Timtos, a claim recognized by the Church.]

[/hider]

[hider=A Meeting without Lycaon]

Lycaon was away at the moment, but his knights had gathered nonetheless. In a way they were able to talk more easily, for without his presence their words would seem less binding. Nonetheless, their words would no doubt make their way to Lycaon eventually, and to Lycaon they were still more like friends than subordinates. Everyone had made their way to the Holy Order’s headquarters, to a room where they would not be bothered. Sir Glynda had made her way there as well, though she had been too late to arrive in time for the riot. Much was on their mind, as there was much for them to think about at a time like this. And it was not a time of small, nor was it a time to discuss the game of kings. Now more than ever seemed to be a time for change, for revolution. It could be felt in the air, or so they thought.

“It was ill news to hear that lady Felise has fallen,” Sir Glynda said.

“Indeed,” Sir Oswyn said. “It has weighed heavily on all our hearts.”

“But it must also weigh on our minds,” Sir Daeleth said. “Such events, along with Raeya’s death, have made it prudent that Lycaon choose a successor. That role has fallen to you, Glynda.”

“Me?” Glynda said. “Sir Daeleth, you are the one Lycaon’s oldest friend among us, his closest lieutenant, and his highest ranking one. Compared to you I barely know him.”

“And for all that, I could never do it, and we all know it. I was a mercenary, and a criminal, and some other things. I still am, in my own way. But I am not the sort that can lead Holy Order,” Sir Daeleth said. “I’m sure Lycaon’s told you lot he doesn’t expect to live to see the end of this. When that happens, you’ll be in charge.”

“But I am not like Lycaon,” Sir Glynda said. “I am no visionary. Lycaon is like a like a light, like…a beacon. I cannot be him.”

“You will not need to be, if all goes according to plan,” Daeleth said. 

“And the rest of you…?” Glynda looked around herself, wondering how the other two felt about this.”

“I am but a soldier,” Sir Oswyn said. “And if Lycaon has chosen you, that means he has placed his trust in you for this task. I shall remain where I always have been.”

“It is too dull for me,” Sayer said. “I will continue to serve Timtos through my sword.”

“Very well,” Glynda said. “I am surprised, but this duty I shall accept wholeheartedly.”

“Very good,” Daeleth said. “Now, there’s one more message you all need to know. Our task in Nyhem was mostly a failure. Whatever Alasdair has given us, Lycaon suspects that he shall be uncooperative in the near future. Lycaon will be leaving as soon as possible, and we shall be leaving immediately. With a new leader in the Church, along with our brigade, we may be able to improve our situation regardless. Oswyn, you shall remain here in Nyhem and continue our efforts in this province. Sayer, the heretics have been becoming especially thick in the east, so you are being sent to oversee those regions. You know what to do. Glynda, you shall go south. The Church has powerful allies over there, and your diplomatic subtleties will be needed. Lycaon shall return home, to our base’s national headquarters. It is safer than practically being a hostage of the King.”

“And what of you, Sir Daeleth?” Oswyn said.

“I will go south, of course,” Daeleth said.

“Into Blackwell land?” Glynda said.

“Lycaon is fond of putting me in charge of all the most dangerous operations,” Daeleth said. “I am not too worried. Their King is fearsome, but Beatrice is the one of his children I truly feared. His heir is a pompous ass like Alasdair, and I am not afraid of him. He is clever, cunning, but Alasdair is more so, and we have survived just fine here. Still, I will have to be careful.”

[/hider]

[hider=The Holy Debate]

Rumors that had reached Lycaon told him that there were many that believed he was in charge of the Church. He hoped that there were many important people who believed such, as it would certainly be a great bargaining tool from him. Yet Lycaon could tell that those who thought so severely underestimated the Church’s unique ability to factionalize in even such dire times as these. There had perhaps been no time in which the Church had been more corrupt and powerless than it was now, and there was no doubt that would be readily apparent in the upcoming election. Lycaon had been able to make inroads, and had created a coalition of reformers, but even so this was not enough to ensure that he would be able to get the right candidate confirmed as High Priest. However, he did have a plan. Currently the bishops had gathered to select a new High Priest or Grand Cleric within the Grand Temple. Even though it had been heavily damaged during the riot, the symbolic significance it held could not be ignored; every leader of the Church since it became the state religion had been elected here. Even so, Lycaon himself could not be present. Only bishops could now enter the Grand Temple, and to defy this order was to incur an automatic excommunication. Lycaon for now would have to rely on the conniving of others, and hope that his luck had not run out.

Within the Grand Temple sat Bishop Irenaeus. He held a specific honor among those present, as the Grand Temple came under his ecclesiastical jurisdiction. Even so, he could still only vote once, and he was unsure of whether his side could win. Lycaon’s loyalists made up a majority in the chamber, to be sure, but in order to elect a new High Priest it would be necessary to gain at least a 2/3rds majority. Whether this could be achieved remained possible, but the results were still unsure. Irenaeus sat among his allies, and the same could be said of all those present. It was as if they were parties or factions, and these factions were in turn separated into cliques which represented specific interests or groups. 

Irenaeus sat among those who were sometimes called the Moderates, strong advocates of substantial reform in the Church who had been rallied by Lycaon, but who were nonetheless quite conservative. Corruption was widespread within the Church, and this faction was very far from being an exception. However, Lycaon had promised them many things, and convinced them that the only way the immortal and inalterable Divine Church could survive is if it could make substantial reforms without sacrificing the traditions and wealth of the Church. Coin and promises of the continuance of their wealth was persuasive, but the threat of the heretics was far more so. They were the largest faction here, but they would not be enough alone. Among their leaders foremost was Irenaeus himself, but there was also Oriela of Ashcroft, the famous theologian, and the firm, intelligent Henri Saint-Simon. 

To the left were the so-called Reformers, the most liberal, some said heretical, faction of the Church’s bishops, led by the theologians Valence Canrobert and Ramiro of Uzgob. They believed great and essential reforms were necessary for the Church to survive, and often accused of being Secularists, those who favored the authority of Kings at the expense of the Church. They certainly did believe that the authority of King Alasdair was clear, as he had been supported by the Kings and lords of Formorath (or so they said). Notably, they were unlike others in the Church in that they had no problem with mages, and even wished for better relations with the Circle, and accused the anti-mage cliques of being akin to Johannianism. 

Close to them were the moralists led by the respected reformer Bernarda Avicebrol, who worked closely with the Reformers due to their shared belief in the necessity of great reform. Unlike them, however, they thought that a return to an ancient and austere piety was necessary, they were not so friendly to mages, and they scoffed at the reasonings of the university schoolmen. Philosophy and the liberal arts does nothing to make one closer to the gods, after all. 

Then to the right sat the Conservatives, who were unmoved by any words of reform. Any hint of this, they said, was simply a sign of the corrupt times, and they decided they would wait until such corruptions passed by and would diligently oppose any reforms. Of course, they were without a doubt the most corrupt faction. Though all claimed that they were merely opposing false innovations into the Church, many simply wished to retain their wealth. Their leader was the implacable Andronicus of Orog.

“With the authority invest in me by my position as Speaker, I pronounce this session opened,” Irenaeus said. “We are here to choose among us a new leader. So, my friends, prepare to cast your vote for a new Grand Cleric or High Priest. It is quite simple.”

Yet it was anything but simple. There was much whispering among everyone. How the voting would go was still undecided.

Turning to Irenaeus, Oriela told him, “There are no problems among our cliques. It should be unanimously for you among the Moderates. As for our allies among the Reformers, we shall yet see.”

Later, Irenaeus was approached by Valence Canrobert and Ramiro of Uzgob. They wanted to talk, and judging from their serious expressions Irenaeus knew that they would not be as easy to convince as his fellow Moderates.

“Honorable Irenaeus,” Valence began. “We admire Lycaon and his message of reform very much…”

“But we have many questions and misgivings that still have not been dispelled,” Ramiro finished.

“I can assure you I shall do everything in my power to combat corruption and reform the system,” Irenaeus said. “And I can only point to my record and history, and have it speak for itself.”

“Does it, my esteemed colleague? Yet it was reported that you were over-tithing[sup]1[/sup] here in the Grand Temple,” Ramiro said. “And all for your own benefit.”

“The state brings no funding for the Church, and this holy shrine has fallen in disrepair,” Irenaeus said. “Without assistance from the Grand Cleric, raising the tithe was the only way in which I could keep the Grand Temple in an acceptable state.”

Yet Ramiro scoffed at this suggestion. “Among other grievances, you voted to have Johannia killed. You could have prevented the motion for her death from passing.”

“She was a heretic, and a vile one,” Irenaeus said.

“And now, my esteemed colleague,” Valence said. “We have an unnecessary conflict which has only created discord among the faithful. All because of unnecessary haste towards one unimportant heretic.”

“My friends, this is no time for quarreling,” Oriela said. She knew exactly what Valence and Ramiro were doing. They were not too fond of Irenaeus, and perhaps for good reason. Yet that was not the issue now. “We have discussed all this before, with me, with Lycaon, and with Saint-Simon. You have grievances. Yet we cannot decide things at our leisure, you know that. We are part of coalition, and compromise is of the essence. Or perhaps you would like the Conservatives to have their way? Maybe even see Andronicus himself become our High Priest.”

“My esteemed colleagues, I recognize your grievances,” Irenaeus said. “And I shall swiftly deliver reform upon the Church.”

“You have our votes,” Valence said, annoyed. “For all our sakes, I hope that Lycaon’s faith in you is well-placed.”

Irenaeus was calmed, slightly, though annoyed at their unnecessary argument. However, he knew that the worst was yet to come. Now they had to deal with the Moralists and Traditionalists. They would accept no call for quiet negotiations, and so it was only through debate that any agreement and compromise could be reached with the Moralists. The Moralists were nominating their own candidate, the unblemished yet puritanical Thomas of Legon, while the Traditionalists rallied around the incredibly wealthy and corrupt Ruggiero of Akki. The Traditionalists knew they couldn’t win, but were trying for a compromise in their favor, while the Moralists were hoping that their candidate, after sufficient debate, could gain traction. The Moderates extolled the virtues of Irenaeus’ candidacy, while the Liberals stayed treacherously quiet. Bishop after Bishop made speech after speech. After two hours things were becoming more and more heated, as the bishops became more and more tired. That was when Andronicus of Orog stood up, which resulted in one of the most infamous exchanges of the night.

“In this holy chamber we select our new leader, and I will not have it defiled by the intervention of outsiders,” Andronicus said. “That man Lycaon has made a mockery of the Church by swaying the minds of the bishops, much like a seducer charms her prey after the trap is set. But we are the Church, we are an edifice that is immortal, that belongs to kingdom or dynasty, but to the gods themselves. Thus, we ought not to be seduced by their talk of so-called ‘reform.’ For how can the divine, which is already perfected, be improved. If it is changed, it is only made inferior. And this Lycaon, this lover of mage-”

At this the Liberals erupted into jeers.

Andronicus continued. “He would sell us out to none other than the Circle! And who else has done the Church as much harm as they? Already Lycaon has made, without our approval, an ‘official’ Church agreement with his Majesty’s new favorite mage-”

As he went on about his dislike of Lycaon and how he sold them out to the mages, boos emerged from the Liberals which only intensified as he went on. Yet he continued.

“-The Circle has since its beginning served as the Church’s enemy, and even now they are always undercutting us. We have long since learned that their mages are not to be trusted-”

“Heretic!” one of the Liberals shouted. The shadow of Johannia now towered over every discussion of magic in the Church. 

“-I will not be silenced! Even if it is the death of me, I will defend this holy edifice with all my might! There are many of us who do not appreciate the ” Andronicus said.

As things intensified it seemed as if Andronicus would tossed from the stage by force. Things had reached the level that it seemed inevitable that the bishops would ultimately resort to violence. Compromise was the furthest thing from anyone’s mind at the moment. It was at that moment that an obscure bishop, Clovis of Telmarion, arose to speak.

“Is this how Bishops of Formaroth behave? Are we no better than children? In times of trouble we ought to debate, and through insight and understanding come to a decision. We are not to act like common criminals, who settle our debates with our fists. Esteemed colleagues, if you have any wisdom you shall behave yourselves at once! What shall posterity think, when they find that the Church now elects its leader through a brawl? If that should become the case, then indeed we are truly lost. So, my friends, calm yourself, and see to it that the gods are honored for this auspicious event. But I know tempers are not easily cooled, and that even now you are still unsure who among us ought to become our leader. So let us retire for the night, and return in the morning when our heads are clearer.”

“That will not be necessary, my esteemed colleague,” Bernarda said. “There can be little doubt who shall be able to lead the Church. Amongst our own factions we will never agree, but if one comes soaring down like an eagle upon us we cannot help but bow. I, for one, nominate thee for our new High Priest!”

That was the turning point. Irenaeus was very nervous, and when Valence concurred with Bernarda he knew it was all over. He felt tired, enraged, and especially betrayed, but it did not matter. Bernarda, it had seemed, had utterly defeated him. Seeing this Clovis of Telmarion appear, to the Moderates he appeared the perfect compromise candidate. At least he was clever in speech, and he seemed to know how to bring unity. Thus the Moderates concurred with the Liberals in supporting Clovis, and chose to abandon Irenaeus as well, leaving him without any supporters. Only a few moralists remained loyal to their original candidate, Thomas of Legon. Thus, though the Traditionalist remained obstinate in their opposition, this unknown bishop was elected handily. Those who remembered it later were themselves surprised at what had happened. Some supposed it could only have been a miracle from Jykher himself. Others, however, saw only that Bernarda, despite supposedly having been eclipsed by Lycaon and stripped of most of her influence, had once again emerged victorious within the Church. Irenaeus was ashamed and humiliated, and he could not imagine he would ever indulge in politics again. Thomas of Legon felt betrayed as well, and could barely contain his rage. He left without saying a word, intent on having nothing to do with any of this ever again.

~

Yet the outside world was still unaware of what had happened. Lycaon stood not far from the steps of the Grand Temple. He was surrounded by holy soldiers adorned in the heavy plate and mail of a knight, but they were not of his Order. Lycaon stood next to Grandmaster Octavia Celestine, the leader of Order of Saint Zacarias. Lycaon of course did not have a monopoly on Church military orders. His own was new, while that of Saint Zacarias was very old. Under order from the Church, they were formed during the Elven Invasion in order to repel the foreigners. They had then fought with unflinching courage and loyalty for their country and their gods, but today were greatly reduced. Though their austere piety remained, they had become increasingly irrelevant, relegated to guardians of temples, churches, and monasteries, and occasionally as a mercenaries. During King Heylot’s reign they had almost been completely eliminated while in service of House Mandarass in the Great Civil War. However, they were still alive and well in the Southern Alliance. Lycaon knew that in the future he would need their support, and so he had invited them here.

It was about that moment that a messenger from within the Church out, and he shouted, “We have a High Priest!” There were cries of jubilation, and those that had them threw their hats into their air, creating a raucous sight. It was certainly a day for celebration. Lycaon wondered the result had been. For all the influence he had tried to build in the Church, this was the one day that he was blind. Yet then the messenger shouted, “Make way for our new High Priest, High Priest Clovis III!” Adorned in the vibrant and opulent robes and the crown of the High Priest, Clovis emerged from the Grand Temple with a look of power and authority around him, though the fact that figures such as Mildred wore the same robes. It was not Irenaeus, his own candidate. Nonetheless, there was no change in Lycaon’s expression. Octavia looked over at him.

“I’ve never heard of him before,” Octavia said. “Was this your doing, Lycaon?”

“Even I am not all powerful,” Lycaon said. “It is a surprise that such a surprising figure would become High Priest, but the gods clearly have spoken, and they have offered us a leader.”

“And we shall diligently follow them,” Octavia said.

Octavia was supremely suspicious of him, but Lycaon knew that for the time being he would not need to worry about her loyalty. She was loyal to the Church, and of course to strengthening the Church, his own goal. More importantly, he was thinking of the results of the election. In truth, it was not a surprise. He had no idea who Clovis was, or where he came from, though in time he would. However, when he heard the hagiographic account later during the day he doubted it would surprise him in any great deal. The bickering reformers would reluctantly rally around Irenaeus, who would fail to gain sufficient support, yet would prevent any traditionalist candidate from gaining traction. Only a strong compromise candidate, one not tied down to any faction and who made a strong impression, would emerge. Lycaon presumed that was this Clovis.

1. A tithe is the income of the faithful that is voluntarily, yet mandated by holy doctrine, given to the Church. Usually it is 10% of the income of the faithful. Over-tithing refers to when it is set higher. This is not forbidden or illegal, but is very controversial, and many in the Church regard it as a particularly egregious act of corruption and greed.
[/hider]

[hider=The Exodus]
Things had gotten far worse than she could have ever had anticipated, yet somehow things had gotten quiet. Rhodanthe for the time being had been staying in a quiet inn. Everyone in there was a believer, and considering that she was still alive she supposed none of them were spies. Even so, things were bad. No one talked especially loud, but Rhodanthe had heard all sorts of rumors. Apparently the King had sided with the Church, and that anyone who was a “heretic” would die. Rhodanthe didn’t know a whole lot, but she knew enough to know that that was very bad. She was getting anxious. Her problem wasn’t that she might end up getting hurt. She had gotten plenty hurt already, and it wasn’t as if she expected that this would be an easy job when she took it. No, what was making her anxious was that now she was sitting around. She still had a job to do, and it didn’t involve her waiting for the King’s men to finally catch on come knocking down their door. 

“Come on, you all!” Rhodanthe said. “We can’t just keep sitting here, twiddlin’ our thumbs, whisperin’ about this and that here and there.”

“Rhodanthe,” one of the serving-women began. “It’s frustratin’, I know, but that’s how it’ll be now.”

“You’re all fine with that?” Rhodanthe said. “You’re fine with livin’ out your lives in fear out here, hopin’ that yer’ not the next one on the King’s chopping block?”

“Whaddya suppose we do, young lady?” one of the men said. “We ain’t soldiers, just men. We can’t fight. We’ve all seen what happen when ya’ do.”

“No, we can’t fight,” Rhodanthe said. “But we might well be able to leave.”

This couldn’t technically be allowed right now, but Rhodanthe had a feeling it’d work out if things worked out well. She couldn’t say that they couldn’t kill them all. That was exactly what happened in the riot, for instance. However, though Rhodanthe wasn’t sophisticated she thought things might be a bit more complicated than they appeared. Lycaon, he was very bloody, and he’d probably have them all put to the sword, no questions asked. That’s what he did before. But the King was a different person. Maybe he’d be different. She was Uzgob, she knew they didn’t call him the Snake for nothing, but this was all they had. If they stayed their doors’ would be knocked down one by one, and everyone knew it.

“Would if we could, miss,” one of the men said. “None o’ us want it t’be like this, but what choice we got? Do you really think we’d jus’ be able to get up an’ leave?”

“The best plan we got,” Rhodanthe said. “Maybe we survive a little longer if we stay, but mark my words, we’ll be picked off one by one by the king’s men. This is the only choice we got now. We gotta hope that the King’ll let us be. We’ll be out of his city and out of his business. We’ll head south. King’s got no power there, so we should be safe there for now.”

“If I ever heard anyone else tell me that I’d say they were insane,” the serving-woman said. “But you’re a prophet. If there’s someone we oughta listen to, it’s you.”

“Well, I’m more like a part-time prophet anyhow,” Rhodanthe said. “But if you’ll follow this part-time prophet I promise you all that’ll defend each and every one of ya to the death.”

However, one more thing was needed for them to have any measure of success, and it all depended on the barman behind the counter. He was Olivier, a brewer, a bartender, a smuggler, and the pillar of the community, at least around these parts. And everyone knew that he was an atheist, not that it mattered too much. His support would mean more than anything for Rhodanthe.

“And how about you, Olivier?” Rhodanthe said. “Will you join us?”

“My brother was killed by Johannia’s men in the riot,” he said as he cleaned a pewter mug, his voice showing hesitation and anger. “But my wife and daughter were killed by Lycaon’s. Count me in, prophet.”

“Then we’ll be quick as we can,” Rhodanthe said. “Come nightfall we might not be able to leave. Who knows?”

~

Rhodanthe was not afraid. She was standing in the front of a large crowd of people, all of whom had chosen to follow her out of the city. She never could have imagined it. It seemed incredibly illogical, that anyone would chose to follow a sixteen year-old girl from faraway Uzgob, but word seemed to have spread that she was a prophet. She didn’t question the truth of that aloud, but she couldn’t be sure she believed that herself. What mattered now, however, was for them to all get out of Nyhem. Perhaps one day they would be able to return. Rhodanthe wished so, but a voice within her knew that they would never see this city again unless it was for them to be tried. She was an outsider. She could never understand how much this city meant to these people. At this moment a thought went into Rhodanthe’s mind. Only a few days ago Rhodanthe had entered this city, and she had been dazzled. Now she could only think that it was dirty.

“My friends!” Rhodanthe was shouting as loud as she could. “This is a sweet moment! This is the time we make our lives!”

That was all that needed to be said. They had definitely taken everyone by surprise. Thousands were leaving the city of Nyhem by the gates, and Rhodanthe was the one leading them out. No one was stopping them. Rhodanthe had apparently called her cards right this time. No one laid a hand on them as they walked out of the gates of Nyhem and into the Sypius Plains. Where they would go now was unclear, but Rhodanthe thought she might try her luck in the Southern Alliance.

[/hider]