--- Little Sis POV

None of the Matriarch’s court offers words of support or sympathy, her shame then is well known and somewhat expected. I cross over to her, extending my hands, reaching for hers. Tears fill her eyes when she lays her hands within mine. Her feint pale purple snakeskin lifeless dull whereas the Matriarch’s shines with purpose.

“My name is Nami, Prophet of the Goddess Aphrodite and your name is?”

She blinks and looks into my eyes. “Ralora, Sister to the Matriarch of House Burning Fang.”

I nod. “My Goddess wishes to bless your birthing and your Matriarch has permitted such a boon. Firstly though, we must pray. You must accept my Goddess into your heart, such that you call upon her in your times of need and you offer her prayer at other times to strengthen your Goddess in turn.”

Tears forgotten in an instant, she snaps a cold glance towards her Matriarch. “Sister what have you promised on my behalf? I don’t like these grey skinned strangers.”

“Like them or not, you will heed their words and accept Lay Worship of their Goddess to receive their boon. This is a test of them as much as yourself sister.”

My hands feel the tremor in hers, realising her tell she flings my hands away. “No. No, I won’t. Ask another … argh.” Her hands caress her belly as she bends over on the bed.

“You know best sister, enjoy your pain and know your sacrifice will always be greatly appreciated.” The Matriarch nods to her bed bearers, who instant move forward into position.

“No!”

“No what, sister?”

“I will listen to them, but I don’t promise … anything.”

“Nami, Prophet of Aphrodite do you need any privacy?” asks the Matriarch.

I try to hold my inner smile in check. “No Matriarch, there are words spoken, explanations made and either Aphrodite enters your sister’s heart, or she rejects my Goddess’ Divine embrace.”

“Oh good.” She drains the last of her wine and then wiggles the glass towards Big Sis who is quick to oblige. I note the glass of wine is two-thirds full when my helpful sister steps back.

“Matriarch I need to sanctify the ground and when I do you will all feel a closeness to my Goddess, this is temporary while I preach to your sister. My preaching is known to be passionate and imploring and while I direct this most earnestly towards your sister, I confess your casual listening may lead to your court’s enlightenment also. Is this acceptable?”

“Yes, yes, get on with it … when I punish with lightning there are always those nearby who are struck with forking …” She rewards me with drunken grin after taking another guzzle of wine. I would suggest restraint, her being a first-time consumer of the fermented grape except my plan counts upon her current level of consumption. Her revealing utterance to all within earshot a shock to her sycophants and yet none caution her.

I cast Sanctify Area [Aphrodite] and wait for any shouts of alarm. The Matriarch is content and so is her court. I quickly follow with Worship [Aphrodite] and then [One Mind] and begin my oratory. As my Goddess instructs I emphasis free will, worship of Aphrodite is a choice. I touch three hundred and thirty-three souls with my sermon and while Ralora embraces Aphrodite as expected, Yinrel, Matriarch of House Burning Fang does so without any reservation, our theological discussion earlier in the night bearing fruit while her wine addled mind opens up to accept change.

[Due to Level of Faith, Yinrel, Matriarch of House Burning Fang promoted to Adept of Aphrodite, Priest Profession unlocked at Level 3]

[Due to Level of Faith, Taha, Initiate of Aphrodite promoted to Adept of Aphrodite, Priest Profession unlocked at Level 1]

[Due to Level of Faith, Ralora, Daughter of House Burning Fang promoted to Initiate of Aphrodite.]

[Consecration of Shrine +0% Divine Dominate. Total Divine Dominate 76%]

My Goddess fills a need. This Snake Kin House holds onto a void of darkness, her love pours into the emptiness and they answer with a fervour and within [One Mind] I answer their questions so all draw in the knowledge I freely share.

Big Sis leans across Ralora and casts [Bless Wife]. A glorious white light reflects off her purple snakeskin, now brighter heartened by her faith. She screams and Big Sis draws upon the stolen Faith Magic Spell [Sooth Birthing] and the pregnant Snake Kin mother falls silent, adopting a serene countenance.

“Push,” I whisper to her as the urgency of her birthing labour comes upon her. With [One Mind] still active I know at least two midwives hasten to attend.

The first hatchling wiggles in my hands, female with snake head, snake tail and hominine torso. New arrivals crowd me out and I willingly retreat.

The sister of the Matriarch produces twelve live births. The midwives encourage her to push again and soon the eggshell follows. No one speaks. All trying to comprehend the events and the meaning.

“I do apologise Matriarch as I didn’t expect the worship of the Goddess to resonate so fully amongst you and your House.” I bow low.

“Arise Prophet of Aphrodite, a full vessel can accept no more, and therefore we must admit our emptiness has been answered.”

I straighten. “Some will stray in the days ahead, second thoughts, alternatives. I beg you not to punish. Cherish the Shrine your lounge has become, my sister took the liberty of carving our Goddess’ runes into the stone and such is the level faith in your House the Shrine is the result.”

“What if I can’t adhere to the Truth Rune, it isn’t Snake Kin,” the Matriarch hisses.

“Between you and I it is absolute. Between worshipers and non-worshipers there is leeway provided by the Disorder Rune. Your answer must be truthful, and it is up to the listener to further query if your answer isn’t complete.”

Relaxing back into her lounge the Matriarch sips her wine while porters carry her sister out of the tent on her bed, midwives in attendance. The tent flap closes, and the Matriarch awakens from her thoughts.

“The singular runes are powerful and yet only a fool would ignore the combinations. What does Death mean when combined with Truth?”

“Utter, irrevocable death, the Spirit and Soul are separated from the Body and destroyed.”

The Matriarch wiggles her wine glass and Big Sis obliges. “This is the last Matriarch.”

Her eyes fall upon my sister. “Where can I acquire more?”

“The Badger Kin, Matriarch. They venerate herbs and plants for healing and remedies … grape growing is an extension of that interest, while some of their Kin perfect wine from those grapes.”

She almost spits out the final portion of her wine. “Badger Kin? Why is this not common knowledge?”

“They ferment wine as an interest, much like the Bear Kin ferment honey to produce mead, Dog Kin ferment wheat to produce ale, while cider is popular with Lion Kin since wild apples can be harvested when in season.”

She hisses, “We know we don’t like ale. Would you have mead or cider in your pouch?”

“No Matriarchy, I have but another bottle of wine and a glass.”

Her light purple snakeskin darkens and glows as her eyes turn upon me. “I see your plan now Prophet, clever, very clever and yet I know given my enlightenment there is no rune for such machinations.”

I return an innocent smile. “Perhaps you underestimate the Disorder Rune? To gain acceptance our Goddess needs to break old ways and traditions, introduce new opportunities to those who would listen, knowing full well rejection is as easy as acceptance.”

“I am not bitter or resentful of your methods, in fact Snake Kin would admire such a subterfuge given the win-win outcome and I will observe with interest when you introduce the Matriarch of House Silver Scale to wine and our Goddess, for she arrives tomorrow at dusk and perhaps arrives thirsty.”

I throw my sister a glance. “Your two Houses are in an alliance?”

“Of convenience, yes. She has lost track of her Adjutant, Saida while I have lost faith in my Deputy, a name you do know, Alasse. By chance or otherwise both in Quest Town, a town which introduced worship to our world, and we desired to visit the source without the danger of either one of us stabbing the other while one absent.”

“I see.” Bowing I ask, “My sister and I will take our leave, we have much to prepare for.”

“Not so fast Prophet Nami, what news do have to tell me of Alasse and Saida?” She smiles in anticipation, knowing full well we are both under the influence of the Truth Rune.

I sigh. “Of Saida, I know nothing, this is the first I have heard of that name. Of Alasse, I believe the Matriarch of House Burning Fang has no chance of re-acquiring her Daughter.” I pause for a fresh breath.

“Why Prophet Nami, tell me.” Matriarch Yinrel leans forward in her lounge, eyes ablaze with morbid curiosity.

“Alasse, Daughter of House Burning Fang is no more.” The Matriarch pulls her body back, head slanting. “If you visit the Great Temple of Aphrodite in Quest Town, you will be met by Alasse, High Priestess of Aphrodite.”

Big Sis and I exit the huge tent, our padding feet the only sound. No Snake Kin guards show any interest in us as we stroll through the encampment and when we pass the picket guards, they wave to us recognising their Goddess’ Prophet. Barald and Faybeth reach camp when we do, while not entirely certain, I believe Broken Lance’s arrival at the same time more than coincidence since he shadowed us once clear of the Snake Kin camp.

Miraphine to my surprise hugs me. “From afar we felt the embrace of your preaching and knew you to be safe. Is the Matriarch at least a Lay worshipper of Aphrodite?”

I break our embrace. “For better or worse she is an Adept and her lounge is a Shrine.”

Faybeth chuckles uncontrollably and soon we all join in. Once we recover, I make an announcement.

“House Burning Fang and House Silver Scale have made an accord, they wish to know about God worship in Quest Town and the fates of two Snake Kin in particular, Alasse and Saida.”

“But … but why?” asks Miraphine as she takes to slithering back and forth.

“Both were on a mission for their respective Houses when they went missing …”

“We all know of Alasse’s fate and unfortunately this Questor Group knows of Saida’s fate,” responds Miraphine, a nervous tremble in her voice.

I rush forward and place my fingers over her lips. “If you tell I would be obligated to reveal the truth if ever asked.”

A voice from the dark disagrees. “Unfortunately, my employer is keen to know the truth, so before you do anything unwise know you are surrounded. Snake Kin aren’t as stealthy as they should be, but from a faraway start while prey are in conversation, good enough.”

Our modest campfire reveals a number of Snake Kin guardsmen, the owner of the voice still remains in the dark.

Miraphine leans over to me and whispers, “We can break free of them Prophet.”

After casting [Locate Faithful] I reply, “We are not here to shed blood but to win over converts.”

“They aren’t breakaways from House Burning Fang?” Her voice rising enough in surprise for others to hear.

“No, my dear, we are from House Silver Fang, call us the advanced scouting party if you wish, ensuring House Burning Fang is where they say they would be and doing nothing more than waiting for our arrival tomorrow.”

“Fox Kin you can reveal yourself now if you wish,” mumbles Macer, clearly over the cloak and dagger.

“Well if you insist …” As tall as Macer and yet wiry. He fastidiously picks his nails with a short dagger as he swaggers from cover. “How did you know?”

“Your attempt at Snake Kin adequate although not accomplished,” replies Macer with a perfect Snake Kin accent.

“Whoa, who said you can’t teach an old Dog Kin new tricks … now enough of that, line up real nice and don’t go for your weapons and we won’t have to use ours.”

Barald barrel laughs, “Is my shoulder good enough?” He repositions his two-handed hammer to emphasize there is no other place.

“I don’t need to, your Prophet commands you and she wishes to talk, and to talk we need to travel a little way first, so line up and follow my friends.”

---

The camp of House Silver Scale is a near duplicate of House Burning Fang, without taking a count I assume their numbers the same also, probably part of the negotiation. House Silver Scale though has commenced decamping, I can only assume to ensure they arrive on time at dusk. Taha and I are muscle tired and sleep deprived when we arrive at dawn. The Questor Group are different levels of sleep deprived and nothing more. No preliminaries, they march us to face the Matriarch, no subtlety or pretence.

“My scout tells me you lead this … group. Why and what for?”

I offer my hand, “My name is Nami, Prophet of the Goddess Aphrodite. Matriarch Naesatra of House Silver Scale I presume?”

She slithers to one side, ignoring my hand. “Answer my question.”

“The Kin are a Dungeon Questor Group, who offered to escort my sister and I on a pilgrimage. We seek to spread the word of the Goddess Aphrodite and welcome all to her bosom.”

Slightly behind me now I can only guess she inspects my companions. “A noble endeavour I am sure, what business did you do with the Matriarch of House Burning Fang?”

Her tongue flicks at me from behind passing by my right ear.

“No business, I introduced the Matriarch to the wonders of worshipping Aphrodite over a glass or two of wine.”

“Ha-ha, that Badger Kin swill. Did she like your wine?”

“Yes, immensely, we managed to match the offered wine to her tastes. She finished the bottle.”

“Well … never mind. What do you have to say about Saida, Adjutant of House Silver Scale?”

“I know nothing of her fate …” I wait for him.

The Fox Kin struts forward. “Matriarch, she revealed as much when we surprised their camp. What she hasn’t revealed is this one.” He points at Miraphine. “Does know of her fate.”

“Foolish grey skin, my House is well served as always.” Her simpering words annoying, a cheap price to pay to encourage her attitude of superiority. The Fox Kin of course soaking up the praise.

Her gaze turns upon Miraphine, “What do you have to say?”

“Matriarch?” Miraphine’s voice a frail squeak.

The Matriarch raises her voice. “Tell me the fate of my Adjutant, are you stupid?”

Miraphine describes Alasse’s encampment and the meeting of the minor Matriarchs. Her inspiring story telling holds the Matriarch of the Silver Scale at bay. How could a mere Daughter of Burning Fang organise such an event is the mystery.

A female Snake Kin scoots around the guards, interrupting Miraphine to speak to her Matriarch. Miraphine takes the chance to turn to me. Her eyes narrow, each hand holding the other steady. I mouth the words, ‘have faith’. An outburst from the Matriarch warns us both.

“Don’t disturb me again, take my pavilion down around me, fool.”

Her eyes chase down Miraphine. “Continue.”

A sheen of sweat covers the middle of Miraphine’s back. Does this signal our doom? Whatever Miraphine is to reveal next isn’t a happy ending.

“An entourage interrupts and imposes itself upon the meeting. Saida the undeniable leader, announcing herself as such.”

The Matriarch nods. “She learnt well from her Matriarch, a good student.”

“Right …” Miraphine takes a moment to collect her thoughts, swallowing. “She claims Alasse is dismissed and needs to return immediately to her Matriarch for discipline, waving a parchment proclaiming this truth.”

Nodding a number of times, the Matriarch House Silver Scale adds, “Her Matriarch and I signed as a dual authority.”

“Alasse questions this, given none of House Burning Fang are present in the entourage, claiming a ruse, accusing House Silver Scale. And then …” Miraphine’s voice falters.

“And then,” screams the Matriarch. We are in the open now, tent gone.

“And then Saida stammers as if struck, uttering a single word before falling down.”

“What? How? Describe ‘struck’, no lightning, fire, or blast of cold? Nothing?”

“No Matriarch, one moment talking with authority and the next struck dead …”

Miraphine’s hands find her mouth. I sympathise with her, the words are out, she can’t take them back.

The morning sun beats down upon us and the crunch and rattle of a wagon train underway doesn’t disturb the Matriarch as she sinks into thought. The arrival a fine wheeled carriage pulled by a strange domesticated beast, which snorts in protest, awakens her.

“Only a Matriarch can instant cast her element and yet nothing manifested? Impossible! You lie.”

The Matriarch’s hand darts out, wrapping around Miraphine’s neck, trying to strangle our companion.

“Lies,” she screams again.

Eventually something clicks and the Matriarch pushes Miraphine away with enough force to drop our Snake Kin companion to the ground. The Matriarch swivels to bash the side of her carriage. None within earshot approach, intent on continuing with what they are doing, except our guards who back away.

“Impossible,” she mutters and reefs the carriage door open. She doesn’t wait for the teamster to lower what looks like a ramp, heaving herself inside, hands grabbing handrails and torso taunt to ensure her tail clears the half-step of the low-slung carriage.

“Away,” she shouts. The guards hint we follow, and we fall into line behind the now moving carriage. Shortly after pickets join us swelling our guard numbers to fifteen. As we trudge on, the day dries out the soil into dust, very unpleasant for Faybeth the shortest of us although Barald walks in front of her as a block.

A beckoning hands waves from the carriage door window. A summoning shout, “Prophet and Snake Kin.”

Miraphine and I quick to obey, breaking into a jogging pace until level with the carriage window, I choose the closer position.

“A Prophet and carriage of separation is probably best just in case I feel the urge to do violence once again. Continue storyteller.”

Miraphine glances at me and I try to reassure her with a smile.

“When Saida fell, her attendants tended to her, their administrations quick then scanning the crowd for the murderer. One of her companions picks up the parchment and before she can say a word, also falls dead.”

A loud thump echoes from within the carriage the Matriarch’s response. I hold and then release Miraphine’s hand, nodding encouragement.

“The last companion calls upon the escort, yet for all their fine weapons and armour they are greatly outnumbered and surrender to the mob.” Miraphine pauses, a dust-dry swallow. She takes another glance in my direction, before lowering her head.

The silence too long.

“What could be worse than what you have said, speak!”

“The last companion is held while the Matriarchs meet with Alasse to discuss their future, whatever that means as no one outside of the meeting are privy to the discussions. A disturbance shortly follows, the last companion claims she is a Matriarch and has every right to attend the meeting. There is no one of authority outside of the meeting to really question her and when she enters the tent to attend, she isn’t flung out, which leaves us wondering.”

Miraphine takes a swallow of water from the waterskin I hold to her mouth.

“Next, we see she is accepted as an equal, as a Matriarch like the others. Not being a Matriarch herself, Alasse has no authority over them and yet seems to be the one who binds them together.”

“Who is this Alasse, what is her purpose?” the Matriarch mumbles, murmuring to herself.

I am certain the Matriarch doesn’t expect an answer, yet I nudge Miraphine to offer one.

“Alasse declares herself a Daughter of House Burning Fang and her only interest is forming Questor Groups to enter and survive the Dungeon, wishing only to hone her talents and skills nothing more. The Matriarchs can help with their own sons and daughters or go about their own purpose she declares.”

The four-leg bovine beast pulling the carriage snorts and shortly after a slap, the tail?

“Easy now girl,” shouts the teamster.

Miraphine and I need to sprint until once again alongside the carriage, managing to hold level with the carriage door … wondering.

“Tell me more about this Alasse, not a Matriarch, yet Matriarchs listen to her.”

I nod to Miraphine and mouth the word ‘slowly’. To her credit she begins our High Priestess’ story from the very beginning … “She formed the first successful Dungeon Questor Group reaching the second level of the Dungeon …”

Trusting in another is the ultimate test of faith. Miraphine, attentive as always to my signs, quickly realises we need to play for time, recounting in detail, side stories, deeds of greatness and anything else. The Matriarch listens in silence.

Suddenly a question. “You haven’t declared your House?”

Miraphine’s arms embrace her chest. “No Matriarch,” she replies, while glancing at me.

The Matriarch’s hand, a bluish tint, darkening, grips the windowsill of the carriage door. “Don’t be obtuse, your House girl before I lose my patience.”

“House Aphrodite, Matriarch,” Miraphine half whispers.

“What city is such a House chartered in? You aren’t making sense.” The window in the carriage door frames her deep blue snakeskin face, looking past me and staring at my Snake Kin companion.

“I am an Initiate of the Goddess Aphrodite and no longer swear loyalty to any House.”

Already dark blue, somehow the blue deepens across the Matriarch’s face to almost black. “Don’t be foolish, your House now or my guards will torture you until you are either dead or truthful.”

“I am an Initiate of the Goddess Aphrodite and no longer swear loyalty to any House.”

“Away,” she shouts.

We take the opportunity to fall back and join the rest of our company

---

Middle of the day and the wagons form a circle near a river ford while we trudge after the carriage until the teamster draws us to a halt dead centre. The escorts and escorted reach for water skins to quench thirst and wash away the dust of the trail. The rest of the camp breaks out food and quiet chatter.

We notice the guards stiffen dropping their waterskins, two rushing to either side of us. Her voice assaults Miraphine as a guard grabs an arm each. “I ask again, your House?”

Miraphine draws herself up shaking free of the guards. “I am an Initiate of the Goddess Aphrodite and no longer swear loyalty to any House.”

“All belong to a House you can’t escape such love.” She nods to her guards.

The two guards hold her in position and another two tie her hands to a wheel of the carriage while the Matriarch peers out of the carriage door window. Miraphine’s leather armour is cut away and while upper torso nakedness isn’t a taboo, when vulnerable the condition adds to the helplessness of the situation. The guard of choice uncurls a whip and with a flourish takes a practice stroke. He grins with satisfaction as he approaches Miraphine.

“None of you will leap to her defence?” asks the Matriarch.

I have instructed them not to, I have a plan.

The Matriarch nods to the guard, who draws back the whip.

“Matriarch!” an urgent shout sounds across the wagon circle.

“What now,” she crumbles, opening the carriage door. “Wait here my dear I will return shortly. You.” She points to the guard. “Stay ready.”

On the ford side of the wagon circle there is a meeting, which shortly breaks up. The Matriarch slithers towards us, the last lengths of her tail up, undulating, snaping back and forth.

“Well my dear, you are spared and why this silly game … argh. Free her.”

The guard returns the whip to his belt and unties Miraphine while the Matriarch slithers back into the carriage, snapping the door shut once inside.

“Tell me more of Alasse,” the Matriarch demands.

Miraphine rubs her wrists and drinks our offering of water. Nodding to herself she sallies up beside the carriage door to continue the story telling. Those of House Silver Scale conclude their lunch as Miraphine summarises the events leading up to the death of Saida.

“Wait my dear. Where has all the detail gone, surely you can’t skim now? In fact, I insist you don’t.” The insistent slyness in her voice a warning.