[color=772d99][center][h1][i][b]Bread and Circuses[/b][/i][/h1][/center][/color] [hr] The sun had barely risen over the walls of Ketrefa, yet the Court of Flames was already bustling. The shanty of stone houses in disrepair and stacked gutter houses had families milling out onto the streets. Not unlike the misnamed market-turned-red light district that was the House of Ambrosia, the Court of Flames had fire neither in the heart of its residents, nor had any noble of esteem paraded the length of its two streets intersecting into a small square in many decades. The square - once a grand shrine to Evandra - had been preserved out of fear of displeasing a god, but the adjoining temple structure had long since been usurped by animal handlers that converted the spacious area into a makeshift stable. Today was different, however. A well-dressed procession had garnered interest in the early light, and as the residents realized that the visitors were setting up food stalls and cook pots, the word had spread like wildfire among those who struggled to make ends meet. A single man in moth-bitten garb allowed his curiosity to get the better of him, and approached the service. A young oaken-haired woman dressed in almost regal finery intercepted him with a warm smile. They talked for a brief moment, before the man was given a bowl of stew, a ladle, and a piece of bread. It didn’t take long for a line to form after that. The routine was simple, each hopeful commoner met the young brunette, who told them the Great Goddess Neiya loved them all, and that it was House Akellos duty to look after all who the Goddess loved. They received their food and praised the goddess together, before the next in line had their turn. It continued like that for the entirety of the early day, until finally, one man in the line mustered the courage to strike up a longer conversation. “I’m sorry, my lady. I-... Someone down the line said that you were also offering work to the willing?” He mustered with an unsteady smile, pulling the leather cap from his head humbly. The woman smiled warmly at the man. “You can call me Mira, child. We are equals before the Goddess,” she began with a sweet tone, then turned to gesture towards a handsome man standing by one of the cook pots, dressed in finery as her, far beyond that of a cook. “When we’re done here, you may return and speak to my husband Kalet, over there. Make sure to let others know, there is food and warmth for all who wish to work.” She continued, as the man was offered a bowl, ladle and bread by one of the others preparing food. Mira turned back to the man. “Praise the Goddess, and her eternal love,” she said, and the man repeated it with thankful glee. [hr] Another long day in Ketrefa’s convoluted bureaucracy was about to come to an end, as the sun finally finished it’s journey over the Walled City, starting to invite the twilight as it dipped under the top of the wall. Matan, tired from a long day of house-calls, impromptu meetings and instructing an endless stream of messengers, slowly dragged his feet over the streets of the city, weaving between the houses of minor nobility until he found himself deep into the terrace that housed much of the upper class and overlooked the older parts of the city. Weaving around a last corner, he finally sighted his last destination for the day - the once luxurious Akellos estate. It was sizable and grand, but forgotten in the bustle of everyday life, much like its inhabitants. Or so Matan had thought until a few days ago. He made his way towards the entrance, a stone arch that someone had vandalized with symbols and crude attempts at murals - most of which made no sense to Matan. Most prominent was the heart-symbol of the love goddess, though someone had further ruined that by drawing what looked like six spikes, or horns, around its edges. Matan found himself stopped, idly viewing the extent of the damage defacing the front of the estate. Perhaps it was recent, and they’d not yet gotten around to fixing it. No prominent noble would allow this vicious destruction of his property, surely. Movement from the entrance beyond drew Matan’s attention back to the real, and not many moments later a young man dressed in plain, but certainly upper crust, clothing stalked out of the arch to nearly bump into him. “Oh, I apo-...” The man began, but chuckled as he recognized Matan properly. “Matan? Are you all the way out here? At this hour? The denizens of the House of Ambrosia must be missing you.” “Yaren,” Matan replied with a growing smirk. “What can I say? It’s been a long day, justice never rests, and all that.” He sighed quietly, examining his comrade. “We missed you and your brother at the ceremony last week. You know Kelet can’t make his way through the Blessing of the Five to save his life without your piety to guide the way.” Yaren laughed warmly, and gave only a small shrug in defense. “And what’s this, not wearing the symbol of the Five?” Matan inquired further, smirk still lingering on his lips. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and become one of those heretics who deny the gods, now.” Again Yaren laughed, offering a smirk back at his inquisitive friend. He patted at his neck theatrically as if to look for the item in question. “Not at all. In fact, this last week I’d say I feel closer to the divine than ever before. I must’ve just left it at home.” He smiled at Matan, looking him up and down. “What’re you doing all the way out here, anyway? Got business with Old Man Akellos?” Matan nodded and sighed, running a hand up to scratch at his own neck. “Aye. Guards’ been running around all day beating down poor folk and beggars raising hell all over the fancier districts. Ripping symbols off of people’s necks, breaking shrines and vandalizing murals. A few of them said two nobles affiliated with House Akellos put ‘em up to it.” Yaren made a face and shrugged once more. “News to me. Sounds like someone’s trying to smear my Great Uncle, honestly.” “That’s what I thought,” Matan agreed. “But given how the Old Man has been talking in the courts in the last two weeks, riling nobles up and stirring up old piety laws - well, the magistrate is worried he’s making an attempt for his position.” Yaren frowned, the youthful man stroking at his chin briefly in thought. “Well, he has been more devout as of late. I suppose you should come on in. The Old Man is busy right now, but I’ll let him know you’re waiting.” He affirmed with a nod, and gestured towards the entrance. Matan nodded in turn, and the two men walked through the arch to enter the old estate. Matan had not seen the Akellos estate from the inside for at least five years, yet nothing seemed to have changed in that time. Opulent chandeliers, rich weave curtains and mats, and embellished cushions and artwork littering every corner of the grand entry hall. Yaren smiled back at him, and gestured up towards the ceiling. He offered a quick “I’ll be right back then,” and scarpered up the nearby staircase to vanish to the upper floors. Matan took his time looking at the rich and old valuables that stood for open viewing. Old busts of Ketrefan nobles and saints that had not been relevant for many years. Carvings of old legends now caked with a layer of dust. Come to think of it, the estate was very quiet. Matan glanced around, but there was not a servant in sight. No errant slave-girl, no cooks making the last round back to the kitchen before evening meals. No servant waiting in the hall to see to his own needs. Were they so forgotten by Ketrefa that they no longer could support themselves? He drew a finger along a seat cushion, and it came away with a thin layer of dust. Frowning, Matan idled in the silent entry hall waiting for Yaren. But Yaren did not seem to be in any hurry to return. Perhaps he had been forced to wait, out of respect. It made Matan restless all the same, and his inspection grew in range, as the Magistrate’s assistant began to pace about the room, eyeing new details. He was just about to turn back towards the stairs when an open archway at the end of the hall caught his eye. Normally covered with a regal cloth that had been tied to one side, Matan could just barely spot another room at the far end of a small hallway. Even from afar, he saw what looked like an altar. Matan glanced back towards the stairs and listened. He could not hear Yaren, nor anyone else, approach, and in that moment he decided to go on a small journey. With surreptitious grace befitting that of a bureaucrat, he slunk in beside the tied curtain, and walked down the short hallway with newfound curiosity. A few steps later, Matan stepped into another room - and what felt like another world. The walls were covered with strange murals of blue, black and silver. Strange symbols not unlike those outside, complete with hand-painted drawings of horned women and grotesque depictions of what Matan could only imagine were some kind of vile ritual. In the midst of the room, with a blue hue cast over the entire scene thanks to the paint, stood an altar of sleek marble. A few candles stood quiet on it now, burned down and melted out over the stonework. Matan moved further into the room, and glanced down when he noticed his feet touching something. All over the floor were cushions, pillows of fine make and a multitude of covers. One could sleep in here - nay, host an entire party. Finally, on the far wall beyond the altar, the unmistakable symbol of the Love Goddess Neiya was painted with a rich blue colour. From afar it looked almost like a river bending in on itself to form a heart. Matan exhaled shakily, steadily walking towards the altar as he eyed the spacious shrine. The murals filled him with a growing unease, and none of the symbols looked anything like what the clergy would sanction or spread. Were it not for the Love Goddess sign, he would have immediately considered it heretical. A gnawing worry deep within still did. Matan stopped at the marble altar at last, and ran his fingers along the stone. His fingers came away clean, and he scrubbed them against each other to be sure. No dust in here. Some of the paintings looked recent as well. He glanced up towards the symbol of Neiya once more, and noticed that even this large blue painting had horns embellished on its sides, barely visible in the gloom. Narrowing his eyes, Matan walked closer to the back wall, running his hand against the grotesque symbols and figures as he tried to make more of it out in the poor light. He stayed like that for a longer time than he had first intended, each new carving intriguing and revolting to his pious senses in equal measure. It was inherently captivating, yet deeply disturbing. Unlike any chamber or shrine he had seen in his time. Then, from out of nowhere, a sharp breath and a voice from behind made him stiffen with surprise. “Ah, there you are. We thought you had left out of boredom.” a man’s voice spoke with warm tones. Matan spun around, and found himself looking at two new faces; an oaken-haired young woman in a finely spun silk dress, and a handsome dark-haired man in dress clothes. They both smiled at him warmly. “When Yaren said you waited below, we thought he meant the entrance hall.” Matan breathed a shaky sigh, scratching at the back of his head and hurrying out from the back of the shrine, walking into what little light gleaned into the room. “Heh, I’m-... I’m sorry. I got curious. Have we met?” The man shook his head and smiled, stepping forward with powerful confidence to extend his hand for Matan to shake. “I am Kalet Akestos, a minor branch house of Akellos,” he introduced himself with a gleaming smile as Matan shook his hand, and then twisted to the side to gesture to the woman, who greeted Matan from afar with a warm and comely smile. “This is my wife, Mira Anestra.” Matan nodded to her with a small smile and she curtsied, tugging on the silk dress to let her complete the motion. “Pleased to meet you both,” Matan breathed with a little relief, though still unnerved by the room they were in. His brow furrowed soon after. “Isn’t Anestra also a branch house of Akellos?” he questioned, and Kalet chuckled warmly. “You’re right! Our union ended a many decade-long feud. We are thankful to the Goddess that she brought us together so wonderfully.” He offered with a pleased grin, and Mira looked equally happy in unison. Matan nodded and adjusted his shirt. When silence spread, his attention fell on the grotesque wall murals once more. After a moment’s hesitation, he cleared his throat and spoke. “What, ah, what is this room, exactly? I’ve never seen anything like it?” “Oh, this?” Kalet returned with a confidence undeterred by Matan’s returning doubt. “This is a shrine to Neiya, who touches our hearts with her divine and eternal love.” “I see,” Matan replied, a brief frown at his explanation. “It doesn’t look anything like the shrines I’ve seen before. There are some… artistic liberties, I think.” Kalet simply laughed, and his wife smiled in the background. “Just because the clergy have an image that we follow, my friend, does not mean it is right. We hold all aspects of the Goddess dear, and close to our hearts.” Matan nodded, glancing back at the murals in thought. He was about to speak when Kalet interrupted his thought, another chuckle as he tapped his forehead. “Ah, yes! I almost forgot. We were supposed to tell you, Master Akellos will be unable to see you this evening. I’m afraid he’s stuck dealing with a family matter. He will see first thing at dawn.” “Oh,” Matan shook his head, and forced a small smile. “No issue. I did arrive unannounced after all.” He waved a hand to dismiss the issue, clearing his throat. With a last smile, he took a single step to the side to move for the exit, but Kalet stopped him with a lifted hand. “No, please, my friend. Yaren told me how far away you live. I would not force you to walk all this way again on the morrow.” Kalet took a few steps back himself, smiling warmly. Almost mischievously. “I insist that you let us house you for the evening.” Matan offered a sheepish smile, and felt a chuckle bubble loose as he scratched the back of his head. “Yaren is always thinking of others, huh.” Kalet and Mira both smiled at each other before smiling at him. “You’ll find that in this house we try to spread the love to all who deserve it.” Matan nodded and offered a brief word of thanks. It seemed however, that Kalet was not finished. He slowly took his wife in hand, and together they once more approached Matan, who cleared his throat. The couple came to stand a few short paces from him, and Kalet gently led Mira in front of him, facing Matan. She offered him a soft, if a little shy smile. Matan stood silent, watching the two with a gentle tension resurfacing. He could not help but watch Mira as she stood displayed before him in her silken dress. Kalet grinned from behind his wife, and finally broke the silence. “Let us show you hospitality worthy of the one true goddess, Matan,” he voiced calmly, before his hands lowered to her back. With a single well-placed tug, the straps loosened, and the luxurious dress fell to the ground, disrobing the woman in one fell swoop. Matan stared transfixed in disbelief as Mira gingerly stepped across the cushion-covered floor to close the distance between them, hands already moving to lay against Matan’s chest. Matan stuttered a few words in confusion, taking a single step back as Mira pressed against him. “I am not sure my affection is enough for such an upright man. Husband?” Mira spoke with soft words, that alone seemed to make Matan shiver with anticipation. Behind her, Kalet smiled, already undoing his shirt as he walked towards the both of them. Matan began an unsteady protest, but before more than a syllable had left his lips, Mira’s finger was upon them, shushing him with desire in her eyes and a firm touch. Her other hand wandered down over his chest, as Matan felt Kalet run his hands over his shoulders. “Let us show you how we honour the One True Goddess.” Mira whispered in his ear. Matan felt their hands roam on his clothes, and he offered a slow nod. The Magistrate could wait another day for his report. [hider=Summary] We open in a poor-man’s district in Ketrefa, where Kalet and Mira from the Cult of the Horned Goddess are feeding the poor. One man checks on a rumour that they are offering work, and Mira suggests that they will offer a job for anyone who wants food and warmth. Later the same day, Matan, a beleaguered magistrate’s assistant is travelling to the Akellos estate to check on some rumours about them hiring people to wreck shit in Ketrefa. He meets Yaren, who he knows from before. They talk for a bit before Yaren invites him into the mansion and leaves to go talk to the head honcho. While he is gone, Matan goes on a spy mission and finds a weird-ass shrine devoted to Neiya. His ass is caught by Mira and Kalet, who he quizzes on what the truck this shrine is. They tell him Akellos won’t see him today, and he tries to leave. Kalet and Mira have other plans, and get him to stay the night. [/hider] [hider=MP Summary] Nope! [/hider] [hider=Prestige] Cult of the Horned Goddess: 4 +5 = 9. Total: 9. [/hider]