The padlock on the door remains and offers no way of getting through. "You lost?" says a gray-robed priest from a chair in front of the stable, shielded from the morning sun by the awning above..
The thought of getting his possessions back was very enticing. Had they completed their first level of initiation, then? At the very least, he felt prepared to just leave if he had to.
Still, he needed to complete the day's labors. It turns out that being a shepherd had its uses--there were herd animals to tend to.
He was still getting to know the animals, but the experience went well enough.
Then it was morning prayers, which he silently directed at Erastil for favor, and lunch to recover and to share information learned.
Some cleaning had to be done, it felt quite excessive and unnecessary, like much of what he had already experienced. He was simultaneously grateful and annoyed that Sledge was with him. "Where in the nine hells were you, Sledge? Get any more visits from Razmir while the peons slaved away?" He was genuinely curious. "I'm doing fine," he adds. "One step down, just 30 to go."
It turns out that talking with Sledge and cleaning at the same time is not the most efficient strategy. Silvio becomes exhausted from the effort.
His exhaustion catches up to him in his prayers. And suddenly Krant noticed. Ugh, no! Stupid Krant always singled him out! Who knew what cruel punishment he would invent this time?
The last, most arduous task was transcription. This was probably not going to end well.
---
Near the end of the dreadful afternoon service, the service is interrupted by the noisy thud from a certain halfling falling over after issuing a loud snore. Before Silvio has a chance to reason out what is going on, he sees the large figure of Krant muscling his way over towards him. Wordlessly, he picks him up with a twist to the fabric of his robe and throws him over his shoulder. The speaker stutters for a moment before regaining his composure and continuing on through the speech.
Krant carries Silvio through the vestible and kicks open the doors to the Courtyard, where he throws the halfling onto the dusty ground. "What, short stack, didn't get enough beauty sleep?" he growls, cracking his knuckles. "I'll teach you to disrespect Razmir."
"Well you sure have a habit of looking where you're not supposed to," responds the priest. If Garen wasn't mistaken, he'd think it might be the same priest as the night before who caught him looking around in the basement.
"Whaddya think, Ceroneth: who should we inform about this acolyte? Brother Faltore? Brother Xanthar? Brother Rennec? Brother Egarthis? Brother Krant?"
Ceroneth responds with a chuckle. "Lucky you Sister Aglanda and Brother Naramoc are gone with the High Priestess."
"Is it lucky?"
"While at least even Krant will leave him his dignity. And his spine."
"Good point. What do you think, nose-where-he-doesn't-belong? Who should we tell about you?"
Silvio really, really wants to put up a fight. But there was a mission. Always the mission. He would endure what he had to. And perhaps heal a lot more quickly than one might expect, thanks to Erastil's favor.
Charles greatly appreciates the suggestion of directing morning prayers to Erastil and follows suit.
With Silvio being taken out, he offers up silent prayers to Erastil for Silvio's safety, but does not directly go out unless others do as well.
"I'll deal with him," comes a voice from high above the Courtyard. A beautiful set of green glass windows stretches 20 feet across the western face of the building. One of these is open, and there stands a man with an iron mask and black robes, though the robes are currently open to reveal a lithe but powerful physique.
One of the priests jumps up and moves forward. "Yes! Brother Egarthis, he was--"
"Yes, I saw," Egarthis says, his voice calm. "He was being curious. Bring him to the meeting room. The Living God will decide what to do with him."
"All hail the Living God!" the two priests shout, not quite uniform but certainly stumbling over each other to repeat it first.
---
Krant moves up swiftly and delivers a swift, savage kick to Silvio's gut. Seeing the halfling not fight back, Krant gives a choked chuckle. "Not bad." He kneels down to the ground and lefts Silvio up by the hair before slamming his masked face down into the dirt. "D'you get it yet, short stacks?" he says, standing up and taking a step to the side. He lifts his heavy booted foot up and slowly presses Silvio further into the ground. "I'm higher'n you, so my boots speak with more of Razmir's authority'n you do. I don' know if you're a true believer yet if you're fallin' asleep on your third day here. Do I need to do more, huh?"
---
Silvio gasps as he receives a vicious kick in the gut that knocks the wind out of him. As his face hits the dirt, he's glad for once that he has the stupid mask on--it keeps the dirt from digging into his face.
"No, no more!" he gasps. "I'm sorry, I'll pray harder!" Pray harder to Erastil, of course. He's glad a second time for the masks that hide his pathetic cowering in front of all the other acolytes. Oh, Krant was going to pay for this--Silvio now owed Krant two Krantings.
Jia watches horrified as Krant drags Silvio out to the courtyard, and wonders what she should do. She waits for a bit, but can’t seem to recognize any plea for aid as Krant starts working Silvio over. She wonders again about what drives her friends’ curiosity, as she raises her hand with a wiggle of her fingers that could be taken as either the offer of a spell or, by someone in less of a plight, working out some poor circulation or a cramp.
Whatever it is, the plan seems to be to hold tight for now. She casts her thoughts over ways to avoid or mitigate such entanglements in future, opening her heart to any inspiration such spirits as might brave Razmir’s temple have to offer. Perhaps – but no. A spell to charm the brute? Fortunately for Krant, the vows Jia’s sworn to Findeladlara especially, as a goddess of art, prevent her from resolving to give his head a knock if she finds a way to catch him sleeping, not that she’s entirely sure that that would actually disfigure him any more than he already is.
Still, with the trail she’s following seemingly grown cold, she’s about ready to see if she can turn anything up by poking about where she shouldn’t, and if she gets kicked out for it, to count it as no loss, if she can keep her friends out of trouble.
Sledge feels uncharacteristically angry at Krant. But he keeps it bottled up, and calls out to Silvo after Krant lets him go. "Brother Silvo! Over here." Raising his voice even further, he loudly proclaims, "Let it be known that Razmir forgives those who pays their penance!" His hands glow with a divine healing energy. "Is anyone else injured? Razmir works through me, and I can do this all day."
Silvio slowly moves toward Sledge as he calls out. He's still baffled at how Sledge can call forth healing! But he accepts it all the same. "Thank you, Brother Sledge," he states, getting in on the act. He does actually feel a fair bit better. "Truly remarkable!"
"All hail Razmir for the healing of the penitent! He is just and has shown his judgement on the matter!" With a loud gasp and a pointing finger, Charles adds in the pointed question, "Does this act of Razmir indicate that Brother Krant has displeased him and he has lost favor?"
Jia watches Sledge’s theatrics with curiosity, approval, and a tiny bit of jealousy. If he means what he says – and she has no reason to doubt it – the man is clearly someone sensitive to the spirits, although presumably different ones than she’s used to. Hers haven’t revealed the secret to such abundant healing yet, so she might have to ask him how he won them over to that, at some point.
Vocational interest is interrupted by Charles’ pointed question, which, depending on how well the average acolyte has been trained in magical theory and how quick Krant and his minions are at repartee (probably less of a worry), might lead to a more general physical altercation than Jia would like, so she braces herself for having to ask the spirits for some magical interference and threading a miracle through the conversational needle.
Krant grunts as Silvio accedes and requests mercy. He lifts Silvio up and pushes him forward as the two walk back through the vestibule and into the Sanctuary. The sermon, which had been on obedience to authority (and was nearing its end), stops immediately. All eyes turn to Krant, who shrugs his massive shoulders.
Sledge calls Silvio over to him and heals him. A susurrus burbles over the gathered Razmirans as a mere acolyte, having joined not three days prior, demonstrates healing capabilities. Sledge, Charles, and Silvio each contribute in their own way towards the gambit as they try to get Krant thrown under the bus.
"Come forward, Brother Krant," says one of the heralds, whose voice the group recognizes as Egarthis. Egarthis is sitting prominently with the other heralds not currently preaching in the front row. Krant walks forward and bends down to one knee in front of Egarthis. "I did good this time, Brother Egarthis. I only hit him two times. And he's still alive."
Egarthis reaches out and slaps Krant in the face. "Fool," he says. Krant seems to have barely budged with the slap, but stays kneeling. Egarthis stands and strides to the center of the sanctuary. "Brother Faltore has spoken this afternoon of the nature of obedience," he says. "For those who have ascended the steps speak with the authority of the Living God."
Egarthis turns to face Sledge. "You must be Brother Sledge. Brother Faltore told me of your private tutelage and your fervent belief in the living god. Your zeal is to be commended. But listen to me, my brothers and sisters: Sledge has not yet ascended so. He, too, is a Fool." Egarthis spreads his arms wide. "All of us are Fools who think ourselves above our station. Above our step. Above our betters."
Egarthis' voice rises as he takes fervent command. "Obedience is right and just because those of us who have ascended higher know the truth of Razmir: the truth that shall set all men free. I am but a humble herald, beneath the High Priestess who guides us here in Tamran. Yet I know this: rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men."
Egarthis turns his iron mask once more to regard Krant and Sledge simultaneously. "Woe to him that claims obedience when it is not due; woe to him that refuses it when it is."
The herald lowers his arms and walks up exactly seven steps. From there, he points down. "For speaking above his station, Brother Sledge will don the mask of shame for 5 hours. For carrying out a harsher punishment than was necessary, Brother Krant will don the mask of shame for 3 hours." Egarthis indicates four priests sitting near the front, who get up and shuffle off out of sight.
"Razmir is a jealous god. If you accept him, then he will raise you up. But he knows our hearts. If you are found wanting, then he will strip you of his blessings and all will know. All will see. And all will believe. All hail the living god."
"All hail the living god!"
The four priests return, each carrying an iron mask that looks much more complex than that the simple ones worn by everyone else in the room. Two approach Krant, who though still being on his knees still nearly matches the height of the priests behind him. They remove his rusty iron mask, revealing his scarred, weathered face for the briefest moment. Then they place the new contraption over his head.
Moments later, the other pair remove Sledge's mask. When the mask of shame is affixed to his head, the world disappears. Although Sledge can breathe, he is unable to speak, hear, or see anything.
---
The service formally ends and people get up from the pews uncertainly. One of the priests--which one is anyone's guess--goes to speak briefly with Egarthis. Egarthis looks over at Garen and nods. Then the priest ascends to the third step. "Following a five minute recess, any acolytes who have been in the Church for less than one month and who have not been assigned another duty will proceed out into the yard for training as typically scheduled. I will be responsible for the training today. All hail the living god."
Brothers Egarthis and Faltore intercept Garen. "Come with us, Brother Garen," Faltore says, leading him towards the meeting room adjacent to the sanctuary.
Are you kidding me? What Krant did was horrible! And he gets less punishment than Sledge?
It was interesting to get a peek at Krant's face, though. It looked like a face that had endured many trials.
Sledge takes this time to sit in quiet contemplation. Egarthis was a fool to not see Sledge's potential to gain further sway over the flock. Too desperate to cling to his own power instead of doling out a little bit to another. He would continue to claim to be the Oracle of Razmir, and it would take more than some sensory deprivation to break his spirit. This was still far more comfortable than his nights spent in Kassen's crypt. Power brimmed around him- no within him, and he would make it work for him. They would all work for him in the end.
Sledge spends his time scheming peacefully. The other devotees of Razmir would learn to love and respect him in a way that his peers in Kassen never had.
Jia watches with grudging respect for the cunning compromise offered by Egarthis, which reasserts the Heralds’ authority, more or less wrangles both Sledge’s and Krant’s actions into overzealous but Razmiran-theologically-comprehensible terms, and still lets Krant off easy (see previous, re: Razmir's theology). The shaman wonders if she should promote Egarthis to the brains of the outfit, at least while the high priestess she just missed is out on whatever quest she’s after, and someone to watch out for.
For now, she decides to see if she can spare a few moments to keep an eye on Silvio and Sledge through the afternoon work shift to make sure their condition doesn’t worsen. If it’s too strenuous for Silvio to catch his breath from the beating he’s taken, she’ll plan to ask the spirits for some more healing for him when she can.
When he gets the chance, Silvio finds a private moment for himself and then conjures some healing.
He felt much better, by Erastil's grace.
The mask and robes hide a lot, but Jia may notice that Silvio has healed surprisingly quickly.
Charles silently asks Erastil for patience as he sees the horrendous behavior of those leading the church of Razmir. The thought of Father Prasst back in Kassen treating anyone like this was absolutely unthinkable. He shook his head subtlety, his frustrated face hidden by the iron mask, as he looks on.
This place is so much worse that I expected, he laments silently. His efforts at boosting or even just maintaining morale among the acolytes seem to be frustrated by Krant at every turn. And the black-robed priest seems to only have surface disagreement with Krant's behavior. Erastil keep me. Just a few more days, he reassures himself.
Within the adjacent meeting room, Egarthis nods to Faltore. "I heard that you were curious about a door in the basement last night. Go there now."
Brother Faltore waits for a beat, and then shakes his head. Brother Egarthis shrugs. "Blindfold him then."
If Garen had brought any of his weapons in and retrieved them during the morning, they are removed from him. And then his world goes dark.
---
Jia, Silvio, and Charles go out for a bit of training on their own while Garen and Sledge are otherwise indisposed. There are a small handful of other acolytes as well--Elvar is almost certainly there with the rest of the group, along with a few others that Jia might be starting to recognize. Following a bit of additional walking training, the priest in charge of today's training nods appreciatively at the group.
"It is near time for you to begin assisting in the sermons to the people of Tamran. Those of you who do well today will have the honor of joining us in tomorrow's efforts. You will move among the crowd that we gather and extol the virtue of Razmir, using your talents to draw the attention of the crowd so that we can look for potential followers and solicit donations. So show me what you can do."
---
Sledge's long scheming meditation remains unbroken. Total sensory deprivation is likely an uncomfortable and potentially unfamiliar experience, however. Is anyone else nearby? How much time has passed? Is Krant actually going through the same thing, or was he released early just to make a joke of Sledge? Any number of questions might bubble up in Sledge's mind as the hours drag by. No dinner. Discomfort as lunch digests but there is no opportunity to relieve himself.
---
In his own darkness, Garen is led down one set of stairs, turning right where there is a pause while he hears the sound of a key unlocking a door. The stench of sweat, dust, and something else foul that he can't quite put his nose on greets him. He shuffles forward, pausing again before walking down yet another set of stairs. One more door opens and the stale scent of perfume and incense greets his nose. After a moment, the door closes and Garen's blindfold is removed. He finds himself in an opulent chamber with pillows, carpets, and other fineries covering the floor. Silk curtains hang over the walls and ceiling, where warm light streams and dances between the fabrics. Half-empty bottles lie about the room, and an exotic water pipe is set up in the middle, where the scent of rich tobacco is strong. Golden censers, currently unlit, hang from columns around the room.
On the north side of the room, a gilded throne, bedecked with tiny gemstones, sits upon a raised dais, atop which Brother Egarthis is currently seated. Egarthis' left elbow rests on the arm of the throne, and he has leaned his masked face on his hand. Egarthis' outfit is notably different from the other heralds in that he isn't wearing his hood, revealing long, dark hair parted in the middle. Red shoulder accents rise in prominent horn-like protrusions from the top of his cloak, which is now parted slightly to reveal a silver necklace on his bare chest. In his right hand, he holds a loosely coiled whip.
"Brother Garen, is it? I am told that you are quite curious about areas such as this one that are above your current station. You have been found trying doors twice in the last two days. So tell me." The whip unfurls, the end dropping to the floor. "What are you doing here?"
As Charles had already been entertaining and encouraging the other acolytes with his minor cantrips, he was already well versed in using his spells to entertain others. He begins using Dancing Lights to make glowing orbs move around. Then he moves on to using Prestadigitation to color, soil, and clean a variety of objects. As time allows, he mixes in tearing pieces of clothing and then using Mending to repair them.
With the instruction to prepare for some pointed story-telling, Jia listens carefully to her heart and the prompting of the spirits as she searches for inspiration. After a few minutes with a writing tablet to jot down some first ideas, she starts thinking about how she might want to put them together.
Naturally enough, she puts quite a subversive twist onto Razmir’s teachings as she understands them, stressing the solidarity among the believers and how they can support one another at the same time as glorifying their god, rather than the insistence on Razmir’s uniqueness and the paranoid idea of some monetary conspiracy against him. From what she’s been able to glean of the south, a thought flickers across her thoughts to meditate on later: It’s a miracle that Razmiran and Druma aren’t at war yet. If that’s not enough to convince people that the other gods exist and can be merciful, I don’t know what is.
Again, she pays lip service to the more troubling side of Razmir’s cult in her peroration, “Where were the gods when the Starstone fell?”
Her people’s, at least, inspired them to prepare themselves and their neighbours as best they could, not least under the auspices of the followers of the Guiding Hand, but that’s an awkward – or rather – wicked subtext. “What reward did the faltering, fickle people of Gormuz win from their goddess? Will you see the gifts of Razmir brings and be ungrateful?”
It's not the worst speech Jia's ever given, as she practices her arguments, but the emphasis is in all the wrong places. Building up to a climax threatening divine vengeance - and a thinly-veiled example of a case in which even a deity decided she had gone too far - sits uneasily with how the shaman started, and threatens to raise doubts about Razmir's jealous wrathfulness all too obviously.
She considers whether she might be more successful providing accompaniment to a more gifted speaker.
Sister Silk Violet is remanded to the Starday Music Committee.
(If she has time, Jia will cast around for one such and practice improvising musical accompaniment on her zither.)
Silvio feels at a loss for what he could do that would impress anybody. Other than perhaps calling forth magic. And if Sledge's experience taught him anything, it's that he didn't want to draw attention to himself using magic.
He decides that the most impressive thing he had to offer was actually Winter! Silvio lets out a whistle, and Winter comes. "Good boy! Let's show these folks what you can do!"
. Winter sits, stands, twirls, rolls, and jumps on command! He even runs through an impromptu obstacle course. The display goes remarkably well--perhaps his trusty companion was starved for attention. At the end of the show, he gives Winter a warm, affectionate hug.
* * *
Silvio saves a portion of his dinner for Sledge--it wasn't much hardship when he received human-sized servings.