As he put an end to the Age of Chaos, Ur put rules into place, so that the Gods couldn’t throw the world back into disorder with their scuffles.

First of all, he had them live in planes that are separated by our own, but that still overlap it, the greatest of which is the Golden Mountain. I am sure that you heard about that one. Mh? How is that overlapping bit possible? Know your place, boy. You’re three hundreds years too young to ask these kind of questions.

Where was i? Ah, yes. Ur put rules in place, weaving them into the barriers between the planes. No more a God would be free to come and go as he pleased between his homeplane and our world. Instead, he would be limited to subtle influences. Dreams, whispers, those sort of things.

As a God obtained followers, his influence over our Plane would increase, but even like that it couldn’t ever intervene directly, bring his full power to bear, nor step in person in the Material world.

In only three cases this could be overturned: first, if the followers of the God opened a portal for him to pass through. Second, if the Material Plane came to find iself in danger. Third, if Ur allowed it. The first is never going to happen, as we humans lack the means for a feat like that; the second i doubt it will happen in your lifetime and the third who knows. So be merry and do all the blasphemies you want, but don’t make me catch you while you do it or i will kick you. Now get out, i am busy. Exceptions? There always some of them, boy. Divine laws aren't exempt. Get out.

From the lessons of Gorren An-Tudok to his apprentice.

He passed a few hours scouting. Apart from Blackstone, he found a few more villages and another, lesser city. He also noted several places of interest, of which many were old Truvian ruins.

He had done the flight many times now, but practice made perfect, and the work helped him to work out part of his anger. He intended to have a mental map of the zone soon enough.

Eventually, he decided that it was enough, and returned to Blackstone.

Landing in a back alley close to the mansion, he undid his trasmutation, and walked out into the street. Still, he didn’t return home. Instead, he walked at a brisk pace toward the more inhabited part of the city.

People, sitting by their doors or going about their business, shied away or whispered as he passed, throwing suspicious, doubtful or even open hostile glances his way. He ignored them all, and kept walking.

It was lunchtime, so the central square was mostly empty. Gorren made his way through the closed stalls, attracting the narrowed glances of merchants busy preparing their wares for the rest of the day.

As he reached the other side of the square, he hesitated for a moment, then resumed his path with decision.

The church of Blackstone was one of few the buildings that had been built ex novo, rather than use the foundations of old buildings. Built with sturdy blocks of gray stone, its austere facade loomed over the square like a menace.

As he climbed the stairs leading to the vast doors, Gorren found a priest busy sweeping the front floor with a broom.

Gorren stopped, surprise surging. It was the same priest he had seen preaching in the village.

The man noticed him just then, turning eyes of a stunningly clear sky-blue toward him. He smiled, and wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Greetings.” He said cordially, his voice sounding much younger than Gorren gave him. “Can i help you?”

Gorren watched him for a moment, thinking. Even flying the journey had taken him some time. How much had that man to walk to reach Blackstone before him? And with how much relentlessness?

His attention strayed to the feet of the priest. They were wrapped in blood-stained rags.

“I have never seen you here before.” The priest said, straightening up from his chores. Not his smile nor his tone were affected by Gorren’s silence. “Have you arrived recently? A merchant, maybe?”

Now that he had him close, Gorren noticed that the man was built like a column. His hands were large and looked more than able to stove skulls in. He could see little of him under that large tunic, but could guess corded muscles and not an inch of fat. Rather than a priest, he looked like a warrior.

He planted his gaze over the man’s face, took in his sun-burned, honest features.

“No.” He grumbled. “I am here to stay. I have bought a villa here in the city.”

The big man lit up with happy realization. “Oh! The new citizen!” Putting the broom aside, he walked to him. “I intended to make a visit to your mansion, sir, but i feared to disturb you, since you seem still busy fixing the place. I am glad you came.“ The man gave him his hand, and Gorren hesitated only for a split second before taking it. The priest clasped his it with both of his own, a large smile plastered over his broad face. Gorren noted how powerful and rough his hands were. They felt like two pieces of boiled leather. “Allow me to give you my warmest welcome to Blackstone, sir. It’s splendid to have a new faithful among us.”

Gorren was taken aback. The man almost sparkled with honesty and what it looked to be a heartfelt gladness.

“You have to excuse me.” He said, seeing the priest noticing it. “I didn’t expect this kind of welcome. The people of the city didn’t seem happy with a stranger taking home here.”

The priest grimaced. “Yes.” He admitted with reluctance. “I fear that my brothers and sisters aren’t as welcoming as it should be proper. But don’t be discouraged.” He said, quickly retaking his smile. “Theirs is but a pious fear of the unkwnon. When they know that you’ve come here to give your homages to Our Light, i am sure that they will be immediately mollified.”

The priest seemed to really believe in what he said. Gorren doubted that it would be so easy, but made sure to keep his emotions hidden this time.

“I am sure that will be the case.” He said, making up a calm smile. “But truth to be told, i am ignorant of the ways of the Flaming Light. I came here because i hoped to learn more about it.”

Realizing that he wasn’t talking with a true member of his own faith didn’t seem to touch the priest in the slightest. Instead, he became excited.

“Oh, a new possible convert, then?” he said. “I will answer to any question you have! Come, come inside!”

He walked toward the doors with enthusiasm, gesturing for him to come. Gorren followed, shaking away any lingering surprise and focusing over his reason for being there: to gather information about the Cult. Let the priest be happy as much as he wanted, it didn’t matter.

The priest pushed the doors open and entered, Gorren in tow.

The interior was surprisingly simple. A double row of benches led the way toward a large altar, behind which towered a grand statue. Stocky columns supported a vaulted ceiling, frescoed with solar and light motifs, the same that were reproduced over the walls. Two rows of large windows made the place airy and luminous.

“Wonderful, isn’t?” The priest asked with pride. “Our founders built it, stone after stone, with their own hands.”

Gorren wasn’t listening.

Frozen over the threshold, he had eyes only for the statue. It had no face. Where that was supposed to be there was instead a sunburst, the rays forming a crown of sharp blades.

Gorren could feel it; a force, brilliant like the sun, deep like the sea. It was hidden in that graven image, so vast that it encompassed everything, smothering him with its might. And there, at its center, a will, watching him, judging him. He felt its vague disdain, its dismissive judgement. Like a giant addressing an ant, its attention falling over it only in passing, only to pass beyond, the ant already forgotten.

In that moment, Gorren felt two absolute certainties burrow into his brain. The first, that presence would squash him, annihilate his body and erase his soul. It would do so with the same easiness of a man that draws a breath, and it would do it without even aknowledging its act, so superior it was to him.

The second, that presence was his enemy. It was so in a incontrovertible, absolute way. It was his mortal enemy. It hated him, and hated every breaths he took, everything he cherished and loved. It hated that he dared to think, to hope and live, and would rejoice at crushing him under its heel, to annihilate his freedom and cage his mind until the end of eternity.

For a moment, Gorren faltered under the scrutiny of that terrible presence.

Then, anger surged.

But already the presence was gone, leaving behind only the impression of a colossal thing retreating away like a river flowing underground, and of hatred and disdain so deep than one couldn‘t see the end of them.

Gorren clamped down his teeth, struggling to contain the raging anger like a pugilist that had thrown all of his weight in a blow only to find his target slip away, leaving him unbalanced.

He turned to the priest, mouth working. He pursued his lips, and, with a supreme effort of will, managed to retain his composure.

“It’s… a nice place.” He said.

The priest watched him with curiosity for a moment. Then, he smiled widely.

“Right?” He said. He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, but where are my manners? I didn’t even present myself!” He puffed out his chest, grinning. “My name is Erminium, but to the faithful i am Brother Erm.”

Still deeply shaken, Gorren went along with the conversation. “Are you the head priest of this church?”

“Oh no no.” The priest waved his hands in denial. “I am but a humble priest. Me and my three brethren serve the Elder.” He passed a hand over his bald pate, looking embarassed. “Unfortunately, he is not here at the moment. It would be him to guide you otherwise.”

Gorren nodded. The smile he managed to produce felt strained. “I am sure that you will make for a good guide just as well.”

“You are too kind.” The priest chuckled good-naturedly. “Ah, again, my manners fail me. I don’t have asked for your name.”

Gorren clutched his hands behind his back to stop them from trembling. “Lucius. Lucius Cartus. I am a businessman in search of a new home.” His attention strayed toward the statue. There was nothing there. Whatever presence he had felt was gone for good.

The realization alleviated his agitation only in part. He had to force himself to not run out of the church and back into the sun.

Calm down. If it wanted to attack you, it would have done already. And it’s gone anyway.

He remembered Nama’s oath. Also, he had distanced himself from world-rending magics. The Gods couldn’t touch him; they lacked the immediate excuse to break their rules. And even if that presence tried something, it wouldn’t be able to open up a portal wide enough for something dangerous to pass through before he could transfer his coscience away.

Unaware of his inner turmoil, Brother Erm bumped his chest with a big hand. “Give it some time, and i am sure that Blackstone will become just what you are looking for, my friend! Now, what do you desire to know about Our Everlasting Light?”

Gorren needed a moment to put his thoughts in enough of an order to be able to ask a coherent question. It helped that the topic was just what pressed him.

“I heard much about the Flaming Light.” He began. “I know that it teaches to stand against magic, but apart from that i know little of sure.”

Brother Erm folded his tree-trunk arms before his chest, nodding with relish. “Ah, yes. Quite typical. Many that come from outside the Flaming Kingdom know only a little of Our Blessed Light. Allow me to explain.” He paused, looking like he was thinking how to best put this, then began. “Our Flaming Light is a God of Order and Peace. It teaches us to obey our superiors, to respect the natural order of society and to search for peace in the role that has been assigned to us in it.” He clasped his hands together. “It’s a unity, you see. A kingdom cannot prosper without a king that decides, soldiers that defend the borders and farmers that work the lands. Nor it can’t survive if a farmer tries to do the king, or, worse, a soldier! That would be chaos! Everyone has to stand at his place, because that place is the most adapt to his abilities.”

“And the Flaming Light decide who gets which place?” Gorren asked. Subtly, he pushed his perceptions outward. Nothing. He couldn’t feel any more hostility. It seemed that the crisis had failed to materialize. Reassured, he started to calm down.

Brother Erm nodded. “Mostly, yes. One’s place is usually decided by birth, but there’s still space for you to decide. Our Flaming Light is compassionate, and allow you to seek for it, if you feel a strong vocation or try to better your life.“ He pointed at his chest. “For example, i was a mercenary before heeding the call of the priesthood. Eventually, what it matters the most is that you become an useful part of society. To seek contentment in what one is born with is still strongly looked with favor upon, though. Unrestrained curiosity, not so much. It‘s one of the main reasons the Catastrophe happened after all, and we must learn from our past.”

“I see.” Gorren hummed. He still kept an eye out for trouble, but the words of the priest interested him. “What other precepts there are?”

“Well, our doctrine preaches the importance of work and humility, of family and societal ties. As the members of a single unity, we must strive to help each other in times of need and forget insults in the name of brotherhood. Also, Our Flaming Light teaches us the value of righteous justice. In fact, the only case one is justified to rebel against the status quo is to stand against corruption and injustice.”

“What is the Flaming Light’s vision about other religions?”

“Ah, you’re probably thinking about your own position, i presume. Fear not, my friend. Our Gentle Light is no tyrant. As much as it’s only a matter of time before the faith spread all over the world, we are allowed the freedom of choice. True salvation cannot be bought without it after all. We of the Cult do our best to make others see the True Light, but always peacefully. Nobody is forced to take the wow. At the same time, whoever wants to join us is more than welcome to do so, no matter his age, race or condition.”

Gorren nodded slowly, mulling over those informations.

“And, what about magic?” He asked.

The priest’s expression darkened. “You’ve probably heard about the Hunters.”

“Only rumors.” Gorren lied. He had scavenged more than simple voices about the exploits of the Flaming Light’s magehunters.

“Oh, there’s no need to be corteous about it.” Brother Erm chuckled, but then became serious. “Regretfully, fear and intimidation are the tools of their trade. But, please, don’t think that they enjoy what they do. It’s the opposite. If only it could be avoided…” He sighed. “You see, it stems all from by the relationship between this world of ours and Our Flaming Light. We believe that the world is a gift from our God, refulgent with its divine essence. A sunrise. The songs of the birds. The summer. The sky. They are all beautiful, aren’t they? We believe that each contain a spark of Our Flaming Light, a reflection of its majesty. As such, we think that it’s not for man to meddle with it. Of course, we build houses and cut forests. It’s just natural, since Our Light gifted us with the world as well as with the joy of work. But to call the rain? To raise mountains? To make fire rain from the sky?” The priest cut the air with a sharp gesture. “That it’s an invasion of what pertain to the divine. It’s unnatural, a blasphemy against nature, the arrogance of a man that believe himself a god. What can be born from such a thing but devastation? Isn’t the corruption of the Old Kingdom the most flagrant demostration of this?”

Brother Erm was getting heated. Noticing it, the priest paused.

“Forgive me.” He said, calming himself. “Sometimes my emotions get the better of me.” His smile was apologetic.

“Nothing to apologize for.” Gorren reassured him. “It only shows your dedication.”

“You’re too kind.” The big man looked almost embarassed. As the topic reasserted itself, he returned serious. “That said, you must never think that Our Flaming Light blames mages to be born as such. Their curse is a remnant of the dark arts practiced by the Old Kingdom, and it’s to be pitied, not condemned. The Hunters of our Cult falls only over those that give themselves to that curse, those that make use of it. Warlocks, that’s what they are, a blot over our fair world, bringers of chaos and distortion, enemies of Our Sovereign Light.”

Busy trying to keep his own emotions in check, the priest didn’t notice the slight stiffening of Gorren’s posture.

“Of course.“ Brother Erm continued. “Those that repress it, or that give themselves in the custody of the Church, so that they can be protected from their own curse, don’t have anything to fear. They are children of the Light as much as you or me.”

“I understand.” Gorren nodded slowly. “A last question, if you don’t mind. There’s a Kingdom ruled by your church, further to the east. What can you tell me about it?”

Brother Erm’s smile widened at the question. “Ah, you bring a worthy topic, friend. The Kingdom of Light is a wonderful place, where peace and order rule. I came from it, and i recommend you to visit it absolutely. The experience is enlightening.” Gorren nodded with a gentle smile. “That said, if you fear that the New Kingdom could bring war to these lands, let me put those doubts aside. The Ecclesiarch, our King that is, mantain peace as the greatest value to be followed. His armies move only to protect his subjects. Even the presence of our church here has purely religious and preaching aims. We don’t mix with politics.”

Yeah, sure, Gorren thought, but kept it to himself. He had heard and seen enough for now.

“I thank your for your explaination.” He said. “You’ve cleared up many of my doubts. I won’t take more of your time.”

Brother Erm took the hand he extended to him, shaking it with vigor. “Oh, don’t ever mind that. It’s a great pleasure to me to show the doctrine to new possible adherents. I hope that you will decide to become one of us.”

Gorren gave him a soft smile. “I will think about it. For now, allow me to give you my thanks for your work to keep up the peace. It won’t be just words, though. A donation, i think.”

The priest’s features lit up. “Oh, thank you, sir!” He shook his hand with both of his. “I will include you in my prayers, be sure of it!”

Gorren gestured in polite aknowledgement, but added nothing else.

A few moments later, he was outside the church, walking down the stairs while Brother Erm waved him off.

He was thinking about all he had learned when a familiar raspy voice sounded at his side.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Gorren threw a subtle, sideway glance toward the Goddess walking at his side. Still, before he could decide how to reply, a man walked up to him.

Gorren recognized the military outfit of the city guard.

“Guardsman Andre, glad to serve you, sir.” The man presented himself, tipping his head toward him. The standard helm of the guard framed a ruggedly handsome face, but tinted with a slyness that Gorren didn’t like. “I heard that you are our newest citizen.”

Gorren planted a cordial expression on his face. “You heard well. My name is Lucius Cartus. How can i be of service to the guards?” He noticed a knot of other guards, probably the rest of the patrol, waiting by the base of the stairs. They stood at ease, but there was no friendliness emanating from them.

Andre the guardsman grinned in an unpleasant way. “Well, you see, sir. We just wanted to give you our welcome to our fair city. It might not be much, but it’s ours. Isn’t that so, boys?” He barked the last bit over his shoulders, eliciting a small wave of nods. “We don’t do much, us of the guards. “He continued, turning back at him with that smug smile still plastered on. “We walk about, we keep an eye out for the troublemakers. You know, sir, the ones that doesn’t belong in a nice and quiet city.”

Gorren caught the message right away. The man was informing him who was in charge in those streets, and that he wasn’t welcomed. Well, if anything else, he was being explicit about it, instead of only grumbling when he passed by.

“I am quite pleased to know that these streets are guarded in such a meticulous way, by such attentive guards.” He replied, his tone cordial. “But tell me, if you like, what one must do to, how you put it, belong?”

The man’s eyes sparkled with greed, an impression that he was quick to hide. “We’re poor fella, sir. Me and my boys. We work and work and work. And, well, our throats get parched. You know how it is.”

I know indeed. Gorren thought, keeping his cordiality up.

“Is that so? Such a shame. Maybe this can help you resolve that problem?”

Quick as a snake, the guardsman snatched the coins he gave him. His gaze lit up with satisfaction as he took in the amount.

“Well, sir.” He said, pocketing the bribery with evident relish. “Believe me when i say that me and my boys are sure you’ll fit right in in this lovely place of ours.”

“Good.” Gorren nodded with an approving smile. “And let’s say that i like to offer drinks to those that bring me informations when i need them. What you and your boys think of it?”

Once again, greed flashed in the man’s gaze. This time, he didn’t bother to hide it. “I say that it’s a good habit, a very good habit indeed. A good day to you, sir.” He tipped his helmet and walked away, leaving him alone.

Gorren watched him go for a few moments, then turned to the Goddess hanging by his side.

“You talk smooth for a supposed hermit.” She noticed, sounding mildly surprised.

“Don’t underestimate me.” Gorren grumbled under his breath. “I passed two centuries walking the halls of power to remedy to the bumbling of my apprentice.”

Without waiting for an answer, he turned to regard the church looming beyond him. It was empty now. Not a spark of divinity, not a lingering presence, nothing. It was but a building, none of the holy energies that a true temple should bear on sight. It was an empty shell, a meaningless idol, a temple without a God.

Except that he had felt that divine presence.

Gorren set his jaw. The memory was enough to mak his blood boil and freee at the same time. Tha contempt, that absolute cruelty. It didn’t match up at all with what the priest had said of their God.

What even is this Flaming Light?

It seemed that for each question answered, another two popped in its place.

Turning his back at the building, he briskly walked away, the shadowy Goddess in tow.