Chapter 6

The sun was well over the horizon by the time the Paladins finished at the temple, and the Priestess bade them a safe journey to E-Rantel. Outside, the sparse array of merchant stands in the town square remained unchanged from earlier in the morning. Along with the sight of the unfinished buildings and freshly painted walls that could be seen along the streets, it underlined how recent the charter of the settlement was.

Near the middle of the square, a man in a vaguely familiar uniform sat astride a horse, turning his head about nervously. His gaze fell upon the group of Paladins exiting the temple and he urged his mount towards them.

“Is there a Captain Lorenzo here?” He asked.

The Paladins parted to allow Lorenzo to come through to the front, and he looked up at the stranger through bushy eyebrows.

“I am Lorenzo,” he answered. “Have you some business with me?”

“Thank the gods,” the man’s relief was visible. “I thought I had gone blind and somehow missed your party on the highway.”

“Well, as you can see…”

“Yes, of course,” the man said. “Please excuse my delay. I’ve come with a delivery, straight from the E-Rantel Merchant Guild.”

Lorenzo looked to Marcus, and he shrugged in response. There was nothing concerning the Merchant Guild when it came to their orders. The captain looked back up at the rider.

“We have heard nothing about any delivery,” Lorenzo said. “I assume there is some sort of explanation that comes with it?”

A confused expression washed over the rider’s face for a moment, but he quickly composed himself and dismounted. Removing an expensive-looking leather case from over his shoulder, he stepped forward and bowed before the captain, holding the article out with both hands.

“Compliments of Countess Clara Odilia Dale Corelyn,” he told them, as if the words were enough on their own.

At the sound of the powerful Noble’s name, the contingent’s chatter ceased, and all eyes were riveted on the leather case. Perhaps what had been impressed upon them by the Priestess concerning the Countess affected them more than Marcus had initially thought. Seeing that no one else dared to move, he stepped forward and retrieved the object held out towards them.

It was lighter than it looked, and no sound issued from within as it changed hands. He turned it over as he examined it, finding a pair of clasps holding the lid tightly shut. Marcus looked to Lorenzo, who nodded, and his hands worked to open the case. He lifted the lid and, too late, he noticed that there was a thin film of some material sealing it from the inside as well. There was no time to ponder this, however, for his eyes were immediately drawn to the shimmering objects within.

Strips of polished green metal were inserted into slots in the case, arrayed four by nine. Each gleamed in the morning sun, and he squinted at the slivers of light that entered his vision. Angling the reflection of the sun away, he removed a gauntlet and tucked it under his arm so he could fish out one of the objects within. As soon as he glimpsed what he had drawn out of the case, Marcus felt his jaw drop open.

A mithril plaque lay in his hand, fitting comfortably within his palm. Over its shining surface was the mark of the merchant guild amidst artistic embellishments that could only be perceived as an intricate work of art. On the other side, was an emblem that matched those on the blue banners that fluttered beneath those of the Sorcerous Kingdom – the sigil of House Corelyn. Marcus did not think he would ever hold something like this in his entire lifetime. He looked back up at the man who had delivered the case, unsuccessfully keeping the surprise off of his face.

“This is…”

“They are marks of credit,” the man said. “Valid with all members of the Merchant Guild, including those who only hold accounts with the Guild.”

“But why?” Marcus fought to keep the stammer out of his voice, “There is one for the each of us. Should one for all not suffice?”

“They are each for your personal use. Countess Corelyn desires that you want for nothing, and be spared of any inconvenience on your journey.”

A slender hand reached out from the side towards the open case and Marcus swatted it away. He handed the container of mithril plaques to Lorenzo.

“Where should they be returned, once we have completed our journey?” The captain asked as he glanced down at its contents.

“You can leave them with Bishop Austine at the E-Rantel Cathedral,” the man answered. “He’ll send for an agent of the Merchant Guild. Oh, don’t worry if you lose them: they are enchanted and we can locate them even if you accidentally drop one into one of the rivers along the way. Please – feel free to use them while you’re here: I’ll be at the Merchant Guild branch office over there if you have any questions or concerns.”

He gestured over to one of the completed buildings facing the square. With a deep bow, he stepped back towards his horse and led it away in the direction of the office. The Paladins gathered around Lorenzo.

“What are you, a flock of pigeons?” Lorenzo muttered, “Form up: you have half an hour to figure out how these are used…and by the gods, if anyone comes back to the wagons looking like a Cockatrice, I will pluck you myself.”

The Paladins dispersed into the square and the open shops nearby after receiving their plaques, though most only picked up an early lunch from the market. Marcus stared down at his own, which had been accepted without question or pause. The vendor at the stall he chose to purchase his meal from turned overwhelmingly friendly at the mere sight of the thing.

It was a degree of provision that Marcus had not experienced before. Paladins were well received wherever they went in the Theocracy and basics such as accommodations, stabling and simple necessities were provided by the temples. Even in far-flung rural corners of the nation, there was always at least a monastery that would shelter them. Putting together what coin he could before his departure from Altamura, he had wondered if they would even be afforded that much in this strange and foreign land.

Instead, they were provided with the means to purchase whatever they wished for their journey. There was seemingly no limit attached to the plaques: they could stay at the finest inns and dine in luxury, purchase any supplies or services they might want for. Marcus thought he could probably purchase one of the spacious, newly-built homes in the town with it, but he felt that he would be struck by lightning if he tried.

“Brother Marcus,” Alessia continued to hover close to him even after being released to go shopping, “I like these houses here. Do you think I could – ai! Why did you hit me so hard? I am not wearing armour, you know.”

“The gods must have driven my fist to smite a greedy little girl,” Marcus replied lightly. “You heard the Priestess, yes? This Countess Corelyn is said to be a shrewd noble, so this hospitality of hers may be a test for us.”

Alessia turned her own plaque in her hands, eyeing it suspiciously. She flexed the thin plate of metal back and forth, which unfailingly returned to its original straightness upon being released.

“I am curious of this Countess Corelyn,” she said as they walked back down the street to their wagons. “She does not seem like the aristocrats from home. The townsfolk carry themselves very differently; even the Priestess could not stop singing her praises.”

As an orphan, Alessia probably did not have a high opinion of the Theocracy’s territorial administrators. Though the tenets of the faith addressed the issues and principles of rule and the Inquisition ensured that any corrupt and decadent officials were dealt with as soon as they drew suspicion, the fact of the matter was that the land was not so bountiful that it could provide freely for all.

The orphaned and impoverished relied on almsgiving and what the temples could afford them, which – if one were to be blunt about it – was barely enough to meet their needs. There were some who speculated that it was done on purpose in order to encourage a steady stream of entries into the priesthood and faith militant, which offered their Acolytes and Squires much-improved living conditions.

Marcus considered it a prudent allocation of resources, but he supposed that it ultimately produced the same result. Alessia was one such orphan who had been enticed onto this path, at the time not understanding that she had already been scouted as a promising entry to the Paladin Orders.

“You take issue with the aristocrats at home?” He asked.

“Eh…what I mean to say is that rarely do you see the common people think either way about them. Maybe you sometimes think ‘this one is too greedy’ or ‘the summer fair was nice this year’, but the people here possess a disposition which is on an entirely different level. After one look at the crest on this plaque, I thought they might kiss it; then try to kiss me.”

“Are you saying something else is going on?” Marcus frowned as he considered the possibilities behind such behaviour, “An enchantment or some Ability? Administrator Abilities do not usually have such a pronounced effect on so many people.”

Through centuries of recordkeeping and study, the Slane Theocracy understood that those who pursued civilian vocations – though not as directly apparent as combatants – manifested abilities related to their profession. Though anyone could pick up farming tools and try their hand at growing crops, professional Farmers demonstrably produced more and were capable of several other things that proved impossible for those who were not. The same applied to miners, craftsmen and even administrators like nobles.

Due to this realization, cultivating bloodlines, establishing institutions, and identifying aptitudes were all important aspects of the Slane Theocracy’s governance and culture. The doctrines of the faith, too, supported this – indeed, it was their religious teachings that laid the groundwork for their state. Adherence to the faith and the discoveries that it led to resulted in a nation that towered over its neighbours in both economic and military might.

The nations of the north struggled with these ideas, and it was not due to the Theocracy being selfish with what they understood. The great seeding carried with it what the Slane Theocracy knew at the time, yet this precious knowledge had been warped and twisted by presumption and selfish notions of entitlement, or cast aside entirely as foolish superstition. As the Faith of The Six waned in the north, so too did the people fall further away from these basic truths of the world.

Still, it was entirely possible that Alessia’s observation was caused by someone who had realized a new vocation or ability. If the lands bordering the Slane Theocracy adhered to the tenets of the faith, it was possible that such individuals might appear. Their identification would be of great interest to the chroniclers and researchers at home.

“It could be that this Corelyn is all that the people here make her out to be,” he mused. “These lands near to us have close ties to the Theocracy and have kept the faith. This Noble might be one who has manifested her bloodline’s potential, and if the blood of the gods flows through her veins…”

Alessia’s face screwed up strangely.

“The chroniclers will faint if this is true. Ai…this is bad – no wait, is it good? I cannot tell.”

Marcus wasn’t sure, either. Traces of divine blood were widespread in the Theocracy, and it was something that was monitored very closely by the Temples. If a child was even suspected of manifesting its potential, they were immediately whisked away to be groomed for future service to the state in a martial or magical capacity.

In the north, where the Temples of The Six lacked the same resources and authority, it was not impossible for someone like that to go unnoticed and be raised normally. With the tens of millions of Humans in the northern nations, it was actually unlikely that it didn’t happen once or twice in a generation, only to be squandered in ignorance.

“It is entirely possible,” he replied, “though the chances are extremely small. If the Sorcerous Kingdom is as powerful as rumours suggest, however, they may have the knowledge to match. Perhaps they already know and have placed her over so many territories for exactly this reason. Even if she is not of divine lineage, she may have still awakened to some other bloodline. Or maybe it is a previously unknown vocation.”

“Hmm…should we attempt to dispel magic on someone nearby and see what happens?”

“Use of hostile magic on people and their property without permission or warrant is illegal everywhere I can think of,” Marcus replied immediately. “You might think that your suspicions may merit an investigation here, but remember that we have no such authority in this country. Besides, if an Ability is the source, it probably cannot be dispelled anyway.”

After placing their things on one of the wagons, Marcus remained standing to work on the straps of his vambraces.

“What are you doing?” Alessia looked down curiously at him.

“What does it look like?” He replied, “Getting out of this before I miss my chance. The day is looking to be a hot one, and I do not want to be feeling like a pot of boiled socks by the afternoon. At least half of the contingent must be combat-ready at all times, so riding in comfort is a limited opportunity.”

“You are not worried about what lies ahead?”

“Even if I was, there is nothing we can do about it without running afoul of the laws here. Doing so would result in the failure of our mission, so I will give my horse an easy time and have a relaxing journey.”

Alessia hopped back out of the wagon to help him with his armour. She was his Squire before her ordainment, so the familiar routine had everything off and packed away in short order.

“I thought you did not like feeling like a Squire again?”

“Duty to my fellow man, yes?”

Marcus smiled to himself lightly and climbed into the back of the wagon after her. To his surprise, the seats at the front of the wagon bed were well-cushioned and comfortable. He felt himself sink slightly into place, unable to feel the wooden base of the seat.

“You made this sound like an imposition rather than a luxury,” he raised his eyebrow at Alessia.

“I said nothing about the wagons,” she gestured around her, “only all these old lumps of cheese.”