Societal Solipsism - Chapter 4: The Gospel Truth

Nebo Terrace

63 Zephyr, 1330 AE

Nebo Terrace was small.

It had always been small. Its history was storied, dotted with Peacekeeper occupations and centaur sieges over the last few centuries, but the hamlet had never boasted a large population of bustling industry to match. Given its size, and proximity to the larger Ascalon Settlement to the east, some people thought of the quaint priesthood within the walls of Nebo Terrace as a vestigial thing: a relic of a time before the Ascalonians had made their pilgrimage across the Shiverpeak Mountains. Most people were respectful enough to admire Angelo's piety and devotion as a Priest of Kormir, but passersby still found the situation a little unusual.

To these people, Angelo liked to point out the myriad differences between Krytan and Ascalonian religious practices. Their patheon may be the same, but their interpretations and devotion to the same was not. While stating broad differences was tricky, given that the unique ways in which each god was thought about and worshipped made for equally-unique differences between the two cultures, the Ascalonians tended to be, in a word: grim.

Angelo liked to believe that he spoke of the beauty inherent in truth and adherence to it. His sermons called to mind a great plans written in the heavens by a force even higher than Kormir herself, and the many ways she in turn influenced those plans. He spoke of such esoteric truths that they could not be understood by any one person, but Kormir could look upon the whole and see the grand and gorgeous tale played out across reality itself. He spoke of Kormir's role as interpreter, weaver, and storyteller, bringing the same Krytan warmth to the people of Nebo Terrace that his family had for centuries.

Ascalon Settlement's Priestess of Kormir, by contrast, slanted somewhat darker. She referred to truth as 'the sole force separating us from the dirt we walk upon and think so little of'. This last comment drew ire from the local Priest of Melandru, but Trina could hardly have cared less: if she thought something was the truth, she would say it. To do any less was, to her, so great a violation of Kormir's trust that she deserved to be stripped of her sapience for having abused the gift bestowed upon her. Where Angelo positioned truth as a higher concept to strive for, Trina seemed to believe it was a thin net barely keeping all of humanity from regressing into primal beasts.

If you asked him, he would defend Trina's interpretation of the scriptures, and then quietly state that he found his more comforting.

Generally, anyway.

Earlier that morning, a Seraph dispatch had arrived at the town. The messenger quietly informed the family of a member of the Seraph that their wife and mother had fallen in the line of duty. The claim was that her superiors had been holding out for her safe return to the city, but the tired ache in the messenger's voice implied that the chaos of the Lake Doric campaign was the primary motivating factor. Her remains had been found in the Bloodstone-tainted hills of the Harathi stronghold. The messenger had reported to her husband after a bout of prolonged begging for more information.

Face wet with tears, the soldier's daughter had run off. Angelo had followed her to the western side of the hamlet, between the inn and the exterior wall defending against the centaurs. Despite his best efforts, she remained inconsolable. The path of truth was often a difficult one to walk, for it did not often allow itself platitudes. As such, those deeply entrenched in Kormir's following found themselves in a flow between highs and lows: admiring the world for all its conceptual beauty, and then sliding into deep pits upon confronting the uglier parts of reality.

Hours had passed, and eventually the child had taken her leave of him, evidently no longer comfortable sharing space with a person who could provide her no comfort. Mentioning the god realms was less assuring to someone who had been born after regular contact with their masters had ceased. Alone, Angelo retired to his house. It was a modest place utterly dominated by books. Being surrounded by them was almost like a ritual, immersing himself in truth just by virtue of being near the physical agents of its propagation.

He calmly rested upon his knees in the middle of the floor, his gaze locked on the wooden beams above. Attempts to truly communicate with her, invite her voice into his head, had failed in the past, but he was going to give it another shot. Angelo took a deep breath, and prayed.

"Please, Goddess Kormir. Just this once, anything to know that you're listening. Explicitly." Angelo whispered into the dimly lit room. No voice spoke directly to his mind, so he tried another tradition. Taking a page from his priesthood, Angelo grasped the nearest book, opened it at random, and allowed his gaze to fall to the first word it would.

Platitude.

Angelo set the book back upon the floor, 21 years of life telling him that affording the book any less care was out of the question, and dug the heels of his hands against his eyes. Unable to deal with the surrounding walls of text, he stepped back outside into the orange glow of twilight.

Nebo Terrace was small, and that meant there were very few quiet places. For the second time that day, Angelo found himself sitting between the inn and the outer wall, perched on the edge of a small flower bed that had been neglected. By itself, the young girl's strife would have been something he could handle. It would have been sad to be sure, but within the levels of emotion he was used to as a Priest. What really chewed at him was the compiling sense of mounting dread that underlined it all.

Even if the White Mantle were gone for good, centaurs still stomped outside their doors, eager to take slaves north into the Woodland Cascades. If that war ended, there was still the long term feasibility of the Ebonhawke Treaty to consider, and what the charr would do once they were done with Ascalon. Beyond all of that, worse still than the threat of Kryta being annihilated, were the Elder Dragons. Nothing else mattered, so long as the world was doomed to be drained and destroyed. Even if every comprehensible threat were dealt with, there were forces so wholly and completely of another echelon entirely that even the gods had gone silent. Angelo didn't want to believe The Six had abandoned humanity to the dragons, but Kormir's priesthood was determined to seek the truth. Perhaps this was just a truth so painful that had not come around to accepting it yet.

Angelo smiled to himself and held back a sob. Trina would have been proud of him for facing stinging enlightenment, after she got over berating him for his crisis of faith. The thought caused him to laugh sadly and then choke on the hiccuping sob that followed. He repeated the awkward, almost bubbly, sound a few times despite himself. Between his youth, the time of night, and the mounting aura of hysteria emanating off of him, a stranger would not have been remiss to speculate that he had been drinking.

Instead, the stranger stood before him expectantly.

Angelo looked up into the face of an asura. The large green eyes caught him first, out-sized as they were within the smaller person's frame. Angelo coughed, stood up, and tried to collect himself. He brushed the dirt from his white pants, self conscious under the asura's quickly analysing gaze.

"I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be in quite a state. I'm certain there's something I can do to help." Stated the asura. It was less a question about the human's state of mind and whether he required assistance, than a frank admission the human required his assistance, and affirmation that he would be able to provide it. Angelo shook his head, prompting the asura to speak again almost without pause. "I insist. Doesn't the Church of Kormir state that salvation can be found through discussion?"

Angelo nodded. "Yes..." It was unlike asura to take keen interests in human religious affairs. Generally, they were more fascinated by the mechanics of the gods, and how they fit with other pieces of their Eternal Alchemy. The pursuit was passionate, but wholly uncaring when it came to human emotions.

This was all the invitation the asura needed to continue standing there. With Angelo sitting down, their eyes were almost level, making conversation fairly comfortable. "I understand that talking about the problems you are facing can allow the other person to best address them." The asura spoke like a teacher explaining basic interpersonal concepts, but Angelo could not find room within himself to be upset by this. Here was an opportunity, brought up unprompted by a stranger, to vent about his problems. Another issue with Nebo being small was that the gossip mill only had so far to go. Invariably, anything you said to anyone would make it into the public sphere. The prospect of speaking to an uncaring third party about his religious qualms became tempting, under that light.

Angelo had never been self-conscious about his tendency to ramble. Quite to the contrary, Kormir's people often encouraged the unfettered stream of consciousness that poured from children's mouths. Rather than cull these instincts away, they would focus on honing those skills to produce intelligent, mature discussion. Still, this left Angelo in the position of pouring his heart out with few mental censors impeding him. The asura nodded as the priest detailed the increasing distance he felt from Kormir, the struggles of the people around him hanging like an ever-heavier weight around his neck, and the consuming angst that this world would be destroyed by forces he could never hope to understand, let alone combat.

The asura had been mostly silent all through his newfound companion's meandering monologue: a rare miracle, given his species. He had offered the occasional "go on", or "mhm", but finally opened his mouth to properly contribute. "If you could do anything about that, the Elder Dragon crisis, what would you do?"

Angelo laughed at the absurdity of the question and quickly stopped himself. He was suddenly reminded that the receptacle for his venting was an asura. "What, anything? I would get rid of the Elder Dragons, of course."

The asura half-nodded, as if giving out partial grades as an incentive for an exceptionally slow student to keep trying. "And if that weren't possible? Or if the world that was left over still didn't please you? There are problems besides and beyond the dragons, of course."

"Well..."

"Think of where you came from." The asura hinted, trying to steer Angelo on the right path.

"My family's from Nebo Terrace."

"Further back. Where humanity came from."

Angelo squinted. "I suppose that in that case...I would take everyone with me to the Mists. I would find a new world out there, or perhaps the one we came from. Anywhere that is safer than here."

The full nod came, acknowledgement of his student passing. "Angelo, I think I can help you."

The human looked confused. "Wait, wait, hang on. I don't even know your name."

"Ruulit."