Storyteller's note: This article can be read in The Tradesmaster's Dispatch, a Wezellian newsletter. This particular edition can be found in the van Zaar residence in Zaarbrügge.
The Tradesmaster's Dispatch
Räderhafen - 11 / MXXI
The Attack on Free Thought
as illustrated by the persecution of the Argonauts.
The Royal Guild of Argonauts was founded by Lord Solar Macharius, King of Pendrell and Corillia in YE 89. The guild was tasked with preserving the secrets of navigation and astronomy, and for centuries it was the backbone of the Pendrellian navy; only on few occasions did any one not a member of the guild rise to admiralcy.
The guild served the Royal House of Pendrell with honour, adhering to the mandate laid down by Macharius. We ourselves owe them some gratitude for the prosperity brought by the trade routes opened by the Argonauts before the Wezellian Renaissance. Let us not forget that early in this age, our kingdom stood without the wealth of enlightenment other realms inherited from the Scythian Empire.
The Argonauts have lost a great deal of influence, prestige, and resources over the last generation. There have been a few scandals involving prominent Navigators, but the greatest blow is a most recent one: the Tribunals of Pure Thought. These tribunals, as the astute reader will know, have been founded in order to weed out freethinkers and heretics, and are strictly counter-Enlightenment. They follow the doctrines laid down by the Presbyterium, and operate outside the Habeas Corpus. To date, at least twenty-three gentlemen of standing have been sent to the pyre by these tribunals, several more have been imprisoned or exiled. It should also be noted that the property of the convicted does not befall the Crown, as is customary, but the Parliament.
That such an ancient order as the Argonauts are being eradicated should be cause for concern for all enlightened gentlemen, for if the secrets of navigation are to be suppressed, the very foundation of reason and commerce is threatened.
The Tradesmaster is informed that over the last year, the Board of Onkels have granted asylum to several prominent scholars, thinkers, peers and gentlemen of good standing, all of whom have had to flee from unjust persecution and slander. It is the conviction of the Tradesmaster that the outcome of these horrendous actions can only lead to a dilution of the very essence of Erian civilisation -- that of pursuit of wonder tempered by rational thinking and enhanced by scientific achievements and philosophical advancements. Was it not these very qualities that enabled Man to emerge victorious from the Second World War? Should we then abandon our best hope in the face of what may well be the greatest peril Man has ever faced?
We, as a culture, nay, as a race, are now besieged by great and terrible forces -- forces of darkness, corruption and ignorance. The Syndikaat has committed itself to this conflict, this war, this, the Third World War.
The Tradesmaster can do nothing but condemn those that seek to shackle and make mute those gifted individuals who are our best hope for salvation. If war is the only way to survive, we must all answer the call to arms. The Third Age is ending, and the Fourth Age must be born in blood. We must strike down those who wish to poison and destroy our brothers with furious anger, whatever they be, where ever the are. Let us not fear this struggle!
The fate of the Navigators is but one example of the tyranny of evil men. What sets it apart from the Temple's rampant persecutions of free thought and enlightened vision is that it happens with the blessing of the Cabal of Pure Thought. If the thought is no longer pure, let us then, for the sake of our sons and daughters, abandon it and embrace the truth. The seeing must lead the blind, lest we all perish.
Showing posts with label Macharius. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Macharius. Show all posts
Thursday, 10 December 2009
Wednesday, 30 September 2009
Black Friars
The Monastic Order of the Black Friars of St Erecius stems from Lord Solar Macharius's own legion, Legio XXIII 'Nemesis'. Their teachings are modeled after the works of Macharius's bloodbrother, St Erecius, and places great weight on the individual's duties to Creation.
For centuries, the Order of the Black Friars have served the Kings of Pendrell as advisors and bodyguards, but after the Revan's Eve Plot in YE 996, they lost standing in the court due to their inability to prevent the assasination attempt on the king.
Six years later, in YE 1002, they were accused of blasphmy, and acts of enmity against Man. The case led to the Order being declared Anathema, and its lands being transferred in equal parts to the Royal House and the Ministerium. Ninetythree friars were imprisoned, seven were executed, and the Order was disbanded.
The fall of the Black Friars caused great harm to the Macharite philosophy, and in its stead, the Presbyterian teachings have gained hegemony of the Pendrellian society.
For centuries, the Order of the Black Friars have served the Kings of Pendrell as advisors and bodyguards, but after the Revan's Eve Plot in YE 996, they lost standing in the court due to their inability to prevent the assasination attempt on the king.
Six years later, in YE 1002, they were accused of blasphmy, and acts of enmity against Man. The case led to the Order being declared Anathema, and its lands being transferred in equal parts to the Royal House and the Ministerium. Ninetythree friars were imprisoned, seven were executed, and the Order was disbanded.
The fall of the Black Friars caused great harm to the Macharite philosophy, and in its stead, the Presbyterian teachings have gained hegemony of the Pendrellian society.
Macharius: Codex of Creation
Storyteller's note: This is an excerpt of the cornerstone of Macharian thought and the Doctrine of Pure Thought. This work is central in most Western Erian thinking over the last millennium, and is arguably the most read book on Argos.
Lord Solar Agenmar Macharius was the greatest general of the Scythian Empire during the Second World War, and the founder of Pendrell. He was also the greatest mind of the Cabal of Pure Thought, and today, a thousand years after the Covenant his thoughts still guide the pure of thought.
Lord Solar Agenmar Macharius was the greatest general of the Scythian Empire during the Second World War, and the founder of Pendrell. He was also the greatest mind of the Cabal of Pure Thought, and today, a thousand years after the Covenant his thoughts still guide the pure of thought.
Chapter I
The Ascension of Man
i
In the dawn of time, Man rose from the dust of Creation. He hunted the beasts that grazed the plains, and gathered the fruits that grew on the trees. He was content in his existence, living in smoke filled huts, for he knew not of anything more.
ii
In this world, peace reigned, and Man was ignorant of anything else, for he was protected by Elf, his elder. Thus he spread across the lands, not by design, but instead following the great animals that were his prey.
iii
It was here that the first gods found Man, for they saw the power in his soul. Man, grateful for their aid, paid the gods in sacrifices. In these early days the gods stayed close to the smoke from the altairs, and Man was given safety and good fortune in return for his slaugthterd lambs and worship.
iv
There was a Great Enemy, come into Creation from Outside. The agent of this darkness was the Orc, a twisted creature, not of Creation. Against the Enemy stood the Elf, but as the Dark Horde grew in power it came that the gods themselves had to do battle with the Eternal Foe, for darkness threatened to engulf all.
v
Against this enemy Man was powerless, and as his guardians were locked in battle he suffered. The very flame of his soul were flickering in these winds of war.
vi
Thus it came to pass, that in this darkest hour Man proved his mettle. Seeing that his guardians were hard pressed, and that each night grew darker and colder, he snuck into the Halls of the Gods and stole that which they would not give, even on the brink of defeat. This, the secret of Creation, the gods guarded with such jealosy that they'd rather see the lands made barren, and all of Creation laid to waste, than share it with Man.
vii
Man, now armed with what was rightfully his, rose from the howels and caves in which he dwelled. He built the First City, and from it he marched to stand beside Elf and gods against the Enemy. What the guardians could not defeat, were now driven back by the combined armies. By claiming his right, Man prevented the greatest of defeats. Thus it was that the Orc was crushed, and Darkness driven to the very depths of Creation. Here it lies, entombed til the end of time.
viii
The Enemy defeated, the gods grew jealous of the Enlightenment of Man for they had not forgiven. Fearing the loss of their power, and hungering for obedience, they demanded more and more of those they should protect. Once content with prayer and sacrifice of crops or animals, they hungered for more. Their greed would only be quelched with the blood of Man.
ix
Those who refused to meet the demands of the cruel gods were punished with famine, pestilence, plagues of pests, and the einmity of their brothers who worshiped still.
x
Likewise, as the realms of Man grew, the older brother, Elf, once the benevolent protector, grew resentful. Forgetting the blood shed together against that common foe, the Eternal Enemy, they now turned upon Man with great fury.
xi
In the face of such unfathomable betrayal, the Light of Man once more seemed close to extinction. It was in these fateful days Man claimed his rightful place in Creation. No longer protected by his former guardians, Man turned to himself and found great power. He went to war against Elf and gods, driving them from his lands, and strenghtening his own flame til it burned the strongest.
xii
Thus it was that Man's old allies, turned traitors, were defeated, and from the ashes of this war the Hegemony of Man arose.
xiii
We must never forget that only in himself can Man find the strength to overcome those who wish to prey upon him. Only in his own brother can man find community. We, Man, are the Exalted, the First of Creation.
xiv
Look to your brother, Man, and there you will see your duty. Stand true, and serve him well, for there are no one else who will come to your aid. The Light of Man must burn, and you must stoke its embers faithfully, ere it will extinguish.
xv
Let these great treacheries never be forgotten, and remember always that Man is the Master of all Creation. Let it be known that the Greatest Betrayals are that of worship of a god, that of allying with Elf, and that of communing with an outsider. He who makes himself guilty of any of these Betrayals are to be named Enemy of Man.
So say we all.
Further on the Codex-
Chapter II: The Eternal Duties
Where he speaks of every man's obligation to advance his civilization.
Chapter III: The Purity of Thought
The Principles of Macharius
i
I will not give worship to gods, for they serve none but themselves.
I will not seek their aid, nor their blessing.
I will not take their gifts, for the prize is the purity of my soul.
I shall not taint my soul, for my soul is a part of the Light of Man.
ii
I believe in thought and reason, I believe in work and sacrifice.
I believe in the pursuit of Enlightenment of Man.
I believe in the Sanctity of Man.
I believe in the Hegemony of Man.
iii
I will do my duty to those who have gone before me, for they have made the world I know.
I will do my duty to those who stand beside me, for they will shape the world I see.
I will do my duty to those who comes after me, for they will refine the world I leave.
I will do my duty to Creation, for Man is its protector.
iv
Though I am tempted by gifts from Gods or Outsiders, I shall not accept.
Though I am threatened with pain or loss by any who wish to sway my mind, I shall not yield.
Though I find myself in the Valley of Darkness, I shall not despair.
For even if I may perish, my soul will return to Creation.
v
I will not practise dark arts, for they will weigh down my soul.
I will not practise arcane arts, for they will tarnish my soul.
I will not practise acts of worship, for they will dilute my soul.
I will guard the purity of my soul, for it is the Soul of Man.
vi
I am Man, I am pure in mind and soul.
I am Man, I am steadfast in my work.
I am Man, I am the protector of life.
I am Man, I am the Light of Reason.
Chapter IV: The Enlightened Society
Where the distribution of power within a realm is discussed.
Chapter V: The Order of Things
Where Creation is described, and things are placed in relation to eachother.
Chapter VI: The Duties of Those Who Rule
Where the rulers's duties to the civilization are discussed.
Chapter VII: The Duties of Those Who Serve
Where the duties of the common man to the civilization are discussed.
Chapter VIII: The Duties of Those Who Fight
Where the duties of soldiers are discussed.
Chapter IX: The Duties if Those Who Think
Where the duties of scholars and philosophers are discussed.
Chapter X: The Dangers of Complasency
Where we are warned of the dangers of not pursuing the constant progress of the civilization.
Sunday, 13 September 2009
Timeline of Argos
As drawn by the good Doctor Hieronimus el Rei Misterio, professor emeritus of Universidad Santandres, medicus, alchemist, astrologer, scholar extraordinaire, magician and formerly physician to his Exalted & Most Enlightened Majesty, King Carlos Pedreo XI of Aragorn.
First Age (Dawn of Man)*
Second Age (Mythic Age)*
YE 2 - 5
Lord Solar Agenmar Macharius of the Penderii leaves the Imperium and the Temple of Man Supreme, founding the Cabal of Pure Thought and the Kingdom of Pendrell. He is followed by the Livonii and the Wezellians.
YE 33
The Ordo Hermetica leaves the Dominion of Reason.
YE 213
The Skythian Empire collapses after Aragon declares its independence. The last Emperor, Agustyn IV of the House Adiadin, is killed by Istvan Palladinus of House Elderell, First King of Aragorn, thus ending the Imperial Line.
YE 213 - 257
Wars of Succession. The Great Houses of the Skythian Empire battle for the Iron Throne, ripping the Imperium apart. There are twelve emperors during these years.
YE 251
Wildemar Erenson is crowned as King of the Narbonii.
YE 262
The Ruhan tribe leaves the Imperial Remnant
YE 272 - 307
The Corinthian peninsula is factionalized. Cities and noble houses form independent states.
YE 311
King Ragmar II Hakenmark of the Ruhani defeats Hodrinus the Black Duke in the battle of the Temple Gates. The Enlightened City is declared a sovereign realm.
YE 399
King Thedrich Blacksleeves of the Alemani tribe conquers the three tribes of the Merenmarch and declares himself Emperor of Man.
YE 409
Emperor Thedrich I crosses the Elfswall and sacks the Enlightened City, occupying northern Corinth.
YE 421
Thedrich is defeated in the Battle of Cortona by the combined army of the Corinthian city-states and the Kingdom of Ruhan. Shortly after, the Enlightened City is freed.
YE 477
The High Masons of the Alemanii join the Cabal of Pure Thought.
YE 555
The colony of Victoria is founded by Aragorn on the Northern Shores of the Dark Continent.
YE 632 - 639
The Surge. Black Blood warbands attack Livonia and northern Pendrell.
YE 743
The Dukes of the Kingdom of Alemani elect Helmand Alfgarde as the first Emperor of the Enlightened Scythian Empire.
YE 959
Dr. John Locker's Tropospheric Gondola completes the first scientific flight of man in Pendrell.
YE 971
Franko da Cola is born in the village of Scutino in the Principality of Andron.
YE 995
The Crypt is opened. Magic awakens.
YE 997
The St Revan's Day Plot. A scheme to kill King Arthor XIII of Pendrell is thwarted by the Second Witness (Sir William Blackstaff, the Blackstaff).
YE 998 - 1022
The Reign of Reason. The Ministerium assumes full control over the Cabal of Pure Thought, and a period of persecution towards freethinkers and Awakened follows. This is brought to an end with the Elven Scourge and the Pendrellian Civil War.
YE 1000
The Orc is given Industry by an Outsider known as the Futurist or the Rogue Navigator (the Emmisary?).
YE 1002
The Black Horde of the Orc, led by Urgal Kahn Ghurandakh, conquers the colony of Victoria. The Barrier is broken by Franko da Cola.
YE 1003
The Living Prophet of the Hannuman Caliphate is slain by the Grishnak Gahalar. Aziz becomes the new prophet.
YE 1005
The last city of Man on the Northern Shores fall to the Orc.
YE 1008
The first cult of Shaitani is tried by the Ordo Manus Nigrum in Lavarre in Aragorn.
YE 1009
Frank da Cola reveals himself as Shaitani to an Argonaut in Freeport. He speaks of the Olympos and the end of the world.
YE 1011
Franko da Cola strikes at the Ministerium and the High Temple of Man, killing scores in both attacks.
The Black Horde turns south, crossing the Charred Plains and attacking the Empire of Stygia.
YE 1012
Truth until Paradox, by Franko da Cola, is published in Andron. It is blacklisted by the Temple the same year, and shortly after placed under a print-ban by the Ministerium.
YE 1015 - 1017
The Corillian War. The King of Narbonne, 'Mad' Phillyp, backs the Free Macharites of Corillia against the Ministerium. Pendrell declares war, and defeats Narbonne in the Battle of Crezen.
YE 1016
Aziz turns away from the Grishnak Gahalar. The War of Fate begins.
The Lost Regiment vanishes.
The Process of Enlightenment is started by the Temple of Man Supreme. The Ordo Manus Nigrum is given 'supreme discretion in all matters heretical and all acts of enmity against Man.'
YE 1017
Emperor Constantinius Ada of the Enlightened Skythian Empire is named Protector of the Temple of Man by Arch Primarch Inocens XI.
YE 1019
Friedrich Roeder, formerly margrave von Roeder and commander of thevLost Regiment, (somehow) manages to convince the Kings of Eria to raise the Host of Man.
YE 1020
A horde of Nightmares is unleashed on the followers of Grishnak Gahalar. Some are granted access to the prime material plane of Argos.
The good ship Pius starts her journey.
YE 1021
Grishnak's Legions of Light is defeated by Aziz's Mujahed and an army of Nightmares under Morfeus himself in the Battle of the White Tower. Aziz is slain by Grishnak, who is in turn slain by Morfeus.
The Counsil of Awakened Viziers declare that Aziz is the True Caliph, and rules the Caliphate in his stead.
The Host of Man musters on the island of Cora and invades the occupied Colonies. The host is cut off from the Lands of Man when their bridgehead on Cora falls to the Black Ships.
The Wezellian Syndicate strikes the Lex Arcanum from the Laws of the Realm, in effect making magic legal.
YE 1022
Pendrell declare war on all witches and magicians, and invades Wezell on the first day of the year.
The Five Forts are burned by a Great Dragon. The Great Hunt of the Frost Elves descends on Pendrell, this is known as the Elven Scourge.
King Arthor XIII of Pendrell falls on his own sword. Duke Rowar Garwellyn of Ayre claims the Oaken Throne. Civil war breaks out.
The host of Man is brought from the Dark Continent by a miracle of Arkon.
King Rowar II of Pendrell is crowned (20 Primium) and crosses the River Ayre, defeating the Parliamentarian Force in the Battle of Sander Bridge.
The First Arcane Congress meets in the Wezellian town of Ghoerwald (1 Tertium). The Concord is signed (21 Sextum).
The Enlightened Alliance is formed by Wezell, Livonia, Maravia, Pendrell and the Ordo Hermetica.
The Temple of Man Supreme calls for a War of Enlightenment on the Arcane Congress and the Enlightened Alliance.
Alliance forces cross into the Enlightened Skythian Empire (13 Septium).
The First and Second Battle of Geminon Field (22 Septium). The Flood army under Samil Raga is defeated by a small force of Kengellians and Wezellians, led by the deity Geminon and the Pius Cabal.
The Great Explosion of Rederhafen.
* The exact dates of the events of the First and Second Age are uncertain, I have therefore elected not to list these.
---
~o~
- The Dark Star falls upon Argos - the coming of the Exarch
- Darkness comes to the world
- The Fall of House Hedhrindal (Elf), and the Rise of the Black Blood (ref.: the Lament of the Orc)
- The First Great War, wherein follows the Awakening of Man, the Darkness is defeated, and the Black Wyrm (Nefrangap, Troy, Ahriman) is defeated and imprisoned by Arkon (St Marcus, Huntsman)
Second Age (Mythic Age)*
- The First City of Man is built in the land of Enokia
- The Orc is vanquished by the armies of Man
- The Eriandu tribe settles in Eria after defeating the Orc Horde of Nifsunfall
- The War of the Silver Lance is fought between the Eriandu and the House Valedil (Elf)
- The Rise of the Cults - the tribes of Man falls to religious worship
- The Wars of the Priests are fought amongst Man, the gods unleash the Great Mortality - several of the great tribes succumb, the Eriadu amongst them.
- The city of the Erdangars fall, ending the centuries long Angarlaw imposed on the Old Kingdoms of the North (Bolgen)
- The Scythian Empire defeats the deity Xuul in the Godslayer War
- The death of the goddess Ruinn by the hands of (Prince Aegir of) the Enæïdùn triggers the Second Great War(?); Elf strikes at Man - weakened by the anger of the gods; Man goes to war against Elf and gods
- The Scythii unify the Western Tribes under the Imperial banner - the lands of Eria is cleansed of gods and Elf
The last century of the Second Age
- The Second Age ends with the end of the Great War, and the Covenant of Waymar
YE 2 - 5
Lord Solar Agenmar Macharius of the Penderii leaves the Imperium and the Temple of Man Supreme, founding the Cabal of Pure Thought and the Kingdom of Pendrell. He is followed by the Livonii and the Wezellians.
YE 33
The Ordo Hermetica leaves the Dominion of Reason.
YE 213
The Skythian Empire collapses after Aragon declares its independence. The last Emperor, Agustyn IV of the House Adiadin, is killed by Istvan Palladinus of House Elderell, First King of Aragorn, thus ending the Imperial Line.
YE 213 - 257
Wars of Succession. The Great Houses of the Skythian Empire battle for the Iron Throne, ripping the Imperium apart. There are twelve emperors during these years.
YE 251
Wildemar Erenson is crowned as King of the Narbonii.
YE 262
The Ruhan tribe leaves the Imperial Remnant
YE 272 - 307
The Corinthian peninsula is factionalized. Cities and noble houses form independent states.
YE 311
King Ragmar II Hakenmark of the Ruhani defeats Hodrinus the Black Duke in the battle of the Temple Gates. The Enlightened City is declared a sovereign realm.
YE 399
King Thedrich Blacksleeves of the Alemani tribe conquers the three tribes of the Merenmarch and declares himself Emperor of Man.
YE 409
Emperor Thedrich I crosses the Elfswall and sacks the Enlightened City, occupying northern Corinth.
YE 421
Thedrich is defeated in the Battle of Cortona by the combined army of the Corinthian city-states and the Kingdom of Ruhan. Shortly after, the Enlightened City is freed.
YE 477
The High Masons of the Alemanii join the Cabal of Pure Thought.
YE 555
The colony of Victoria is founded by Aragorn on the Northern Shores of the Dark Continent.
YE 632 - 639
The Surge. Black Blood warbands attack Livonia and northern Pendrell.
YE 743
The Dukes of the Kingdom of Alemani elect Helmand Alfgarde as the first Emperor of the Enlightened Scythian Empire.
YE 959
Dr. John Locker's Tropospheric Gondola completes the first scientific flight of man in Pendrell.
YE 971
Franko da Cola is born in the village of Scutino in the Principality of Andron.
YE 995
The Crypt is opened. Magic awakens.
YE 997
The St Revan's Day Plot. A scheme to kill King Arthor XIII of Pendrell is thwarted by the Second Witness (Sir William Blackstaff, the Blackstaff).
YE 998 - 1022
The Reign of Reason. The Ministerium assumes full control over the Cabal of Pure Thought, and a period of persecution towards freethinkers and Awakened follows. This is brought to an end with the Elven Scourge and the Pendrellian Civil War.
YE 1000
The Orc is given Industry by an Outsider known as the Futurist or the Rogue Navigator (the Emmisary?).
YE 1002
The Black Horde of the Orc, led by Urgal Kahn Ghurandakh, conquers the colony of Victoria. The Barrier is broken by Franko da Cola.
YE 1003
The Living Prophet of the Hannuman Caliphate is slain by the Grishnak Gahalar. Aziz becomes the new prophet.
YE 1005
The last city of Man on the Northern Shores fall to the Orc.
YE 1008
The first cult of Shaitani is tried by the Ordo Manus Nigrum in Lavarre in Aragorn.
YE 1009
Frank da Cola reveals himself as Shaitani to an Argonaut in Freeport. He speaks of the Olympos and the end of the world.
YE 1011
Franko da Cola strikes at the Ministerium and the High Temple of Man, killing scores in both attacks.
The Black Horde turns south, crossing the Charred Plains and attacking the Empire of Stygia.
YE 1012
Truth until Paradox, by Franko da Cola, is published in Andron. It is blacklisted by the Temple the same year, and shortly after placed under a print-ban by the Ministerium.
YE 1015 - 1017
The Corillian War. The King of Narbonne, 'Mad' Phillyp, backs the Free Macharites of Corillia against the Ministerium. Pendrell declares war, and defeats Narbonne in the Battle of Crezen.
YE 1016
Aziz turns away from the Grishnak Gahalar. The War of Fate begins.
The Lost Regiment vanishes.
The Process of Enlightenment is started by the Temple of Man Supreme. The Ordo Manus Nigrum is given 'supreme discretion in all matters heretical and all acts of enmity against Man.'
YE 1017
Emperor Constantinius Ada of the Enlightened Skythian Empire is named Protector of the Temple of Man by Arch Primarch Inocens XI.
YE 1019
Friedrich Roeder, formerly margrave von Roeder and commander of thevLost Regiment, (somehow) manages to convince the Kings of Eria to raise the Host of Man.
YE 1020
A horde of Nightmares is unleashed on the followers of Grishnak Gahalar. Some are granted access to the prime material plane of Argos.
The good ship Pius starts her journey.
YE 1021
Grishnak's Legions of Light is defeated by Aziz's Mujahed and an army of Nightmares under Morfeus himself in the Battle of the White Tower. Aziz is slain by Grishnak, who is in turn slain by Morfeus.
The Counsil of Awakened Viziers declare that Aziz is the True Caliph, and rules the Caliphate in his stead.
The Host of Man musters on the island of Cora and invades the occupied Colonies. The host is cut off from the Lands of Man when their bridgehead on Cora falls to the Black Ships.
The Wezellian Syndicate strikes the Lex Arcanum from the Laws of the Realm, in effect making magic legal.
YE 1022
Pendrell declare war on all witches and magicians, and invades Wezell on the first day of the year.
The Five Forts are burned by a Great Dragon. The Great Hunt of the Frost Elves descends on Pendrell, this is known as the Elven Scourge.
King Arthor XIII of Pendrell falls on his own sword. Duke Rowar Garwellyn of Ayre claims the Oaken Throne. Civil war breaks out.
The host of Man is brought from the Dark Continent by a miracle of Arkon.
King Rowar II of Pendrell is crowned (20 Primium) and crosses the River Ayre, defeating the Parliamentarian Force in the Battle of Sander Bridge.
The First Arcane Congress meets in the Wezellian town of Ghoerwald (1 Tertium). The Concord is signed (21 Sextum).
The Enlightened Alliance is formed by Wezell, Livonia, Maravia, Pendrell and the Ordo Hermetica.
The Temple of Man Supreme calls for a War of Enlightenment on the Arcane Congress and the Enlightened Alliance.
Alliance forces cross into the Enlightened Skythian Empire (13 Septium).
The First and Second Battle of Geminon Field (22 Septium). The Flood army under Samil Raga is defeated by a small force of Kengellians and Wezellians, led by the deity Geminon and the Pius Cabal.
The Great Explosion of Rederhafen.
* The exact dates of the events of the First and Second Age are uncertain, I have therefore elected not to list these.
---
Storyteller's note: This is perhaps the most comprehensive outline of the history of Argos as of yet. Any errors or mistakes belong to the good Doctor Misterio.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Temple of Man Supreme
The Temple goes back almost a millennia and a half, to the Cult of Man Invincible in the Erian Empire. The Empire itself was destroyed by an Elf army from the House of Cherlandar around 300 BC (Before the Covenant). By then, the cult had gained a foothold in the Skythian tribe, and the Massacre of Bàrn Tallar, as the battle has come to be known as, gave the cult an increased following.
At this time, the Wars of the Priests had lasted for almost a generation. These were wars where powerful priests led their followers in war against unbelievers, and several tribes were destroyed or forcefully converted. The most famous of these tribes is the Enæïdùn (see the Chronicle of Mirryn).
In this turbulent time, the Skhytians, a large tribe that lived on what we now know as the Corinthian peninsula, built their empire. The first emperor, Flavus Pentagenal, led his legions against the worshipers of the deity Xuul, and in a campaign that lasted five years he destroyed every temple to the god. The Godslayer War ended when the emperor's adopted son, Ares Demagos, slew Xuul himself at the Battle of God's Demise. Ares was killed himself, but he was elevated to sainthood by the Cult of Man Invincible on the battlefield.
The empire's victory led to several tribes seeking the emperor's protection against the Elf and the armies of the gods. The empire grew enormously over the next century, and the cult became the state religion, and transformed into the Temple of Man Supreme.
The largest of the tribes that joined the empire was the Penderii, a powerful nation that originated north in today's Narbonne and Corillia. This tribe had pushed the Elf back for a generation, and brought a large army to the banner of Man.
Over the following two hundred years, the Skythian Empire forced the elves out of mainland Eria, burned the great Aelvinwoode in present Pendrell, and eradicated all the god-worshiping cultures in these lands. The wars were ferocious, as the elves called upon the dark powers of the Creation, and the gods turned their full wrath upon Man; plagues, droughts, floods and other disasters were unleashed upon the peoples of Eria.
When Emperor Mariganus led the Great Armada to meet the Fleet of the Elf outside Waymar, fifteen tribes and a thousand ships sailed under the Banner of Man. Here the Elf was forced to sue for terms, and the Signing of the Covenant marked the end of the Second Age, and the beginning of the Third Age, the Age of Enlightenment.
With the enemies of Man defeated, the greatest general of the empire, Lord Solar Macharius, led his tribe, the Penderii in leaving the empire. The Penderii had followed their own philosophy, even when they followed the Temple's teachings, and now they abandoned the worship of the sanguine soul of Man in favor of the Doctrine of Pure Thought.
Today, a thousand years after the Covenant, the Temple maintains hegemony in the kingdoms of the old Empire, while the Cabal is followed in the kingdoms of the tribes that followed Macharius. There have been several wars between the two philosophies over the years, and there is still dissent between them.
The High Temple of Man lies in the Enlightened City of Skythia, north on the Corinthian peninsula, and it is all that remains of the old empire - the Enlightened Skythian Empire claims direct descendance from the old empire, but in practise it is too wracked with internal problems to be a proper factor in religious politics.
Organisation
The Temple is led by the Most Sanguine Pontifex, who occupies the High Temple of Man in the Enlightened City of Skythia. He is advised by a council of cardinals. Cardinals also lead the provinces of the Temple, and below them, the præfects oversee larger areas, such as cities and mundane provinces. The faithful are guided by the perfecti, and it is they who preach the Message of Sanguine Existence to the unwashed masses.
There are two major orders within the Temple. The Most Sanguine and Faithful Order of St. Ares, who devout themselves to the pursuit of the Quintessense of Creation and the purification of the soul.
The High Order of the Mendicant Hospitalers of St. Hieromon seek to fully understand the Mysterium of the Flesh, and are widely regarded as the best physicians on Argos.
Lately, another order has become more influential, and today there are few humanists who do not cast a glance across their shoulder when its name is mentioned. Few know its true name, but it is referred to as the Black Hand, or the Witch Hunters. They have received a wide mandate to hunt down all Enemies of Man in the humanist kingdoms, and they do not shy from extreme procedures to safeguard the purity of Man.
Doctrine
Man is the purest of all creatures, and the soul of Man is a shard of Creation. Thus each human is sacred, even the lowliest beggar. What sets one man above his neighbour is the quality of his soul, and that of a king is naturally of a much purer grade than the soul of a peasant.
Through leading a sanguine life, an individual may purify his soul, and thus rise in the Hierarchy of Creation. The Arienites follow a regimen of purification in where they eat nothing that will taint their soul, such as meat, milk or anything that originates from a lesser creature. It is quite common for humanists to go through such a ritual, often with the intake of herbal teas to help the body cast out any impurities, before death so that their soul is as pure as possible before being returned to Creation.
At this time, the Wars of the Priests had lasted for almost a generation. These were wars where powerful priests led their followers in war against unbelievers, and several tribes were destroyed or forcefully converted. The most famous of these tribes is the Enæïdùn (see the Chronicle of Mirryn).
In this turbulent time, the Skhytians, a large tribe that lived on what we now know as the Corinthian peninsula, built their empire. The first emperor, Flavus Pentagenal, led his legions against the worshipers of the deity Xuul, and in a campaign that lasted five years he destroyed every temple to the god. The Godslayer War ended when the emperor's adopted son, Ares Demagos, slew Xuul himself at the Battle of God's Demise. Ares was killed himself, but he was elevated to sainthood by the Cult of Man Invincible on the battlefield.
The empire's victory led to several tribes seeking the emperor's protection against the Elf and the armies of the gods. The empire grew enormously over the next century, and the cult became the state religion, and transformed into the Temple of Man Supreme.
The largest of the tribes that joined the empire was the Penderii, a powerful nation that originated north in today's Narbonne and Corillia. This tribe had pushed the Elf back for a generation, and brought a large army to the banner of Man.
Arthagon and the Priest King Garanmar
Over the following two hundred years, the Skythian Empire forced the elves out of mainland Eria, burned the great Aelvinwoode in present Pendrell, and eradicated all the god-worshiping cultures in these lands. The wars were ferocious, as the elves called upon the dark powers of the Creation, and the gods turned their full wrath upon Man; plagues, droughts, floods and other disasters were unleashed upon the peoples of Eria.
When Emperor Mariganus led the Great Armada to meet the Fleet of the Elf outside Waymar, fifteen tribes and a thousand ships sailed under the Banner of Man. Here the Elf was forced to sue for terms, and the Signing of the Covenant marked the end of the Second Age, and the beginning of the Third Age, the Age of Enlightenment.
With the enemies of Man defeated, the greatest general of the empire, Lord Solar Macharius, led his tribe, the Penderii in leaving the empire. The Penderii had followed their own philosophy, even when they followed the Temple's teachings, and now they abandoned the worship of the sanguine soul of Man in favor of the Doctrine of Pure Thought.
Today, a thousand years after the Covenant, the Temple maintains hegemony in the kingdoms of the old Empire, while the Cabal is followed in the kingdoms of the tribes that followed Macharius. There have been several wars between the two philosophies over the years, and there is still dissent between them.
The High Temple of Man lies in the Enlightened City of Skythia, north on the Corinthian peninsula, and it is all that remains of the old empire - the Enlightened Skythian Empire claims direct descendance from the old empire, but in practise it is too wracked with internal problems to be a proper factor in religious politics.
Organisation
The Temple is led by the Most Sanguine Pontifex, who occupies the High Temple of Man in the Enlightened City of Skythia. He is advised by a council of cardinals. Cardinals also lead the provinces of the Temple, and below them, the præfects oversee larger areas, such as cities and mundane provinces. The faithful are guided by the perfecti, and it is they who preach the Message of Sanguine Existence to the unwashed masses.
There are two major orders within the Temple. The Most Sanguine and Faithful Order of St. Ares, who devout themselves to the pursuit of the Quintessense of Creation and the purification of the soul.
The High Order of the Mendicant Hospitalers of St. Hieromon seek to fully understand the Mysterium of the Flesh, and are widely regarded as the best physicians on Argos.
Lately, another order has become more influential, and today there are few humanists who do not cast a glance across their shoulder when its name is mentioned. Few know its true name, but it is referred to as the Black Hand, or the Witch Hunters. They have received a wide mandate to hunt down all Enemies of Man in the humanist kingdoms, and they do not shy from extreme procedures to safeguard the purity of Man.
Doctrine
Man is the purest of all creatures, and the soul of Man is a shard of Creation. Thus each human is sacred, even the lowliest beggar. What sets one man above his neighbour is the quality of his soul, and that of a king is naturally of a much purer grade than the soul of a peasant.
Through leading a sanguine life, an individual may purify his soul, and thus rise in the Hierarchy of Creation. The Arienites follow a regimen of purification in where they eat nothing that will taint their soul, such as meat, milk or anything that originates from a lesser creature. It is quite common for humanists to go through such a ritual, often with the intake of herbal teas to help the body cast out any impurities, before death so that their soul is as pure as possible before being returned to Creation.
Sunday, 23 August 2009
The Cabal of Pure Thought
One point should be made before I continue. Both the Temple and the Cabal have one thing in common – neither worship a god, or gods. In fact, both regard such worship as the greatest act of blasphemy, the highest betrayal of Man. These religions are not based on belief in the divine, but the belief in Man Enlightened.
The Cabal is the dominating religion in Western Eria, rather, it is the dominating system of belief. The Cabal consists of several philosophies, all with the common belief that Man is the purest and most advanced of all the races, and that the individual is inferior to the community. In the Second World War, the Lord Solar was the greatest of the generals of Scythian Empire, and after the victory he claimed the Aelevian Peninsula, and his tribe, the Penderii, settled the area that now forms the Kingdom of Pendrell. Other tribes followed the Penderii's example, and settled Livonia, Wezell, Corillia and parts of what is now the Enlightened Scythian Empire (ESE). These realms, with the exception of ESE, are all named after the tribes that settled there, and each brought their own philosophies into the Cabal. The Cabal itself was founded by Lord Solar Macharius, and represented a clear break, not only with the Scythian Empire, but with the Temple of Man Supreme (to be explained further in a later post). Over the centuries that have followed there have been a few religious wars.
The Ministerium
The common denominator between the different sects, cabals and orders that form the Cabal of Pure Thought is the teachings of Macharius, and central here is the book 'The Ascension of Man'. Apart from this, there are several differences amongst them, and just as there have been fought wars between Temple and Cabal, blood has been shed over differences within the Cabal as well. To try to avoid open conflict, the leading figures of each of the philosophies met in a Grand Council in the capital of Pendrell, Crondor, in YE 745. The result was the appointment of the Ministerium as the highest body of the Cabal, with seven ministers as its highest authority.
The Ministerium is an amalgam of most of the orders that make up the Cabal, the universities and colleges of Western Eria, as well as several lodges and more than a few more or less secret societies. It has the final say in matters of doctrine, and since its founding at least three orders have been declared anathema. The latest of these is the Black friars, a monastic order of orthodox Macharites. In later years, the Ministerium has also gained an enormous amount of influence in the Pendrellian Parliament's House of Scholars.
The largest of the factions that make up the Ministerium is the Presbyterium. Originally, the Presbyters were a small movement of preachers following the teachings of Artemis Prester, a Macharian predicant of the 7th Century of Enlightenment. Fyermark attacked the nobility, as he believed that birth alone did not set one man above another, and he died in prison after having led an uprising in northern Pendrell. Since then, the Presbyters have moderated their doctrine somewhat. They remain unpopular among the upper classes, but have gained a substantial following amongst farmers and craftsmen. Today they are control a majority of the House of Commons, as well as the House of Scholars.
As a result of increased Pendrellian dominance and focus over the last century, both the Wezellian Syndikaat and the Adolfians of Livonia have ceded from the Ministerium. Whether this will lead to open conflict in the future remains to be seen.
Orders of the Ministerium:
- Presbyterium
- High Fellowship of Craftsmasons
- University of Man
- University of Stafford
- Collegium of Pure Thought
- High Council of Guilds
- Cabal of the Dragon
- University of Ardenburg
(List is not complete)
The Wezellian Syndikaat
Most Wezellians follow the teachings of Adam Herzog, a great 5th Century Neo-Macharian philosopher. His greatest work, 'Prosperity', lays out the ideal state as one where every day's worth of labor is part of the same economy. The Herzogenites place great value on hard work, thriftiness and clear thinking. The successful merchant is the model all men should strive towards, but a lowly farmhand is just as important. Each cogwheel has to work perfectly to drive the machine of he state.
In YE 1021 the merchant houses of Wezell declared the Royal House bankrupt, and subsequently took over all lands owned by the Crown (apart from seven castles and estates), all executive authority, and instituted a constitution. Now the King of Wezell holds only ceremonial powers, and the realm is ruled by an oligarchy of the seven largest merchant houses as the Wezellian Syndikaat.
Rumors
"We must never forget that only in Himself can Man find the strength to overcome those who wish to prey upon Him. Only in His own brother can Man find community. We, Man, are Exalted, First among Creation. "
-Macharius (The Ascension of Man, I:xiii)
The Cabal is the dominating religion in Western Eria, rather, it is the dominating system of belief. The Cabal consists of several philosophies, all with the common belief that Man is the purest and most advanced of all the races, and that the individual is inferior to the community. In the Second World War, the Lord Solar was the greatest of the generals of Scythian Empire, and after the victory he claimed the Aelevian Peninsula, and his tribe, the Penderii, settled the area that now forms the Kingdom of Pendrell. Other tribes followed the Penderii's example, and settled Livonia, Wezell, Corillia and parts of what is now the Enlightened Scythian Empire (ESE). These realms, with the exception of ESE, are all named after the tribes that settled there, and each brought their own philosophies into the Cabal. The Cabal itself was founded by Lord Solar Macharius, and represented a clear break, not only with the Scythian Empire, but with the Temple of Man Supreme (to be explained further in a later post). Over the centuries that have followed there have been a few religious wars.
The Ministerium
The common denominator between the different sects, cabals and orders that form the Cabal of Pure Thought is the teachings of Macharius, and central here is the book 'The Ascension of Man'. Apart from this, there are several differences amongst them, and just as there have been fought wars between Temple and Cabal, blood has been shed over differences within the Cabal as well. To try to avoid open conflict, the leading figures of each of the philosophies met in a Grand Council in the capital of Pendrell, Crondor, in YE 745. The result was the appointment of the Ministerium as the highest body of the Cabal, with seven ministers as its highest authority.
The Ministerium is an amalgam of most of the orders that make up the Cabal, the universities and colleges of Western Eria, as well as several lodges and more than a few more or less secret societies. It has the final say in matters of doctrine, and since its founding at least three orders have been declared anathema. The latest of these is the Black friars, a monastic order of orthodox Macharites. In later years, the Ministerium has also gained an enormous amount of influence in the Pendrellian Parliament's House of Scholars.
The largest of the factions that make up the Ministerium is the Presbyterium. Originally, the Presbyters were a small movement of preachers following the teachings of Artemis Prester, a Macharian predicant of the 7th Century of Enlightenment. Fyermark attacked the nobility, as he believed that birth alone did not set one man above another, and he died in prison after having led an uprising in northern Pendrell. Since then, the Presbyters have moderated their doctrine somewhat. They remain unpopular among the upper classes, but have gained a substantial following amongst farmers and craftsmen. Today they are control a majority of the House of Commons, as well as the House of Scholars.
As a result of increased Pendrellian dominance and focus over the last century, both the Wezellian Syndikaat and the Adolfians of Livonia have ceded from the Ministerium. Whether this will lead to open conflict in the future remains to be seen.
Orders of the Ministerium:
- Presbyterium
- High Fellowship of Craftsmasons
- University of Man
- University of Stafford
- Collegium of Pure Thought
- High Council of Guilds
- Cabal of the Dragon
- University of Ardenburg
(List is not complete)
The Wezellian Syndikaat
Most Wezellians follow the teachings of Adam Herzog, a great 5th Century Neo-Macharian philosopher. His greatest work, 'Prosperity', lays out the ideal state as one where every day's worth of labor is part of the same economy. The Herzogenites place great value on hard work, thriftiness and clear thinking. The successful merchant is the model all men should strive towards, but a lowly farmhand is just as important. Each cogwheel has to work perfectly to drive the machine of he state.
In YE 1021 the merchant houses of Wezell declared the Royal House bankrupt, and subsequently took over all lands owned by the Crown (apart from seven castles and estates), all executive authority, and instituted a constitution. Now the King of Wezell holds only ceremonial powers, and the realm is ruled by an oligarchy of the seven largest merchant houses as the Wezellian Syndikaat.
Rumors
- The Ministerium was behind the attempted assassination of the Pendrellian king on St.Revan's Day in YE 997.
- The Ministerium is controlled by an Outsider.
- The Ministerium's plan is to bring all of Eria under its control, by force if necessary.
- One of the Seven Ministers is a Shaitani-cultist.
- The Syndikaat plans to throw Eria into a geat war to make more money.
- The Syndikaat is controlled by a circle of wizards.
Saturday, 22 August 2009
Port of Call
This was written as a sort of cut-scene a week where we didn't meet to play, and is published after requests from the players.
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The heavy postwagon trudged steadily through the rain, pulled by its team of four. The horses were large animals with a relentlessness about them. The breed had a reputation for doing the same route in the same time, summer as winter. The two coachmen, wrapped in their looming oilskins, tricorns pulled down to shield their collars from the downpour, were indistinguishable from the black mass of the wagon. In the dark, heavy rain, the driver couldn't see much more than the lead mare and the odd tree by the highway. This was not his first wet drive towards Stafford, and not the lead's either, so he trusted the old lass to follow the road to the turnpike.
Captain Sir Tomas Moore was miserable. He was far from his ship, and perhaps more importantly, far from the sea. He didn't feel comfortable on land, or more to the point, the only place he felt comfortable was on a ship. The constant, incessant jolts from the wheels falling into potholes or hitting rocks never found their rhythm. He felt like his kidneys would come loose, and the insides of his cheeks were sore from countless involuntary bites over the last two days. The thing that made the young naval officer the most ill at ease was two of his fellow travellers. Each seemed perfectly capable of damaging his composure, but he was actually morbidly impressed by the combination of the two.
The young lady was sitting beside him, so close he could feel the warmth of her hand against his own. When they had introduced themselves, she had told him her name was Miss Jessica Purphroy. Her discreet lavender-scented perfume teased his senses further, and made sure he never forgot her presence. Every time he had looked at her over the last two days, he had been stunned by her striking beauty. She was tall, and even if she was a little thin, her stature, the curve of her hips, the lines of her neck, the fullness of her lips, all these were as if designed to distract. Today she was wearing a dark green dress, cut just a tad higher than the line of decency. When he had seen her at breakfast at the inn where they had overnighted, he had felt like a moth, attracted to the perfect curves of her breasts pushed upwards by her corset, rising and falling gently every time she breathed. Still, it was the way she looked at him that really made him lose his course. There was a playful, challenging innocence in those large, brown eyes. It was all he could do not to look at her right now.
And the presbyter knew it. Of that there was no doubt. The second of this diabolical duo sat right accross from him, and the old preacher seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense when morality was in jeopardy. Although Sir Tomas was a Macharite, like most knights and nobles, he was very much familiar with the Presbyterian creed. The two schools were not all that different, both belonged to the Cabal of Pure Thought, and both were founded on the teachings of Macharius. The main difference was that where the Macharites's placed great emphasis on the wonders of Man and the advantages of the Western Erian culture, the Presbyterium adhered to the strict moral codes established by stern men like Archibald Arson and Jonathan Steewell. After the St. Revan's Day Plot against the king, just before Sir Tomas was born, several Macharites, some even MPs, had been arrested and hanged, and the Night of Bloody Daggers were still remembered. Afterwards, Steelwell's militant party had gained control of the Commons and still held it. It was said, though seldom loudly, that during those days Pendrell had been one murder away from a civil war.
In his current predicament, Sir Tomas briefly wondered if his situation would have been less unbearable if it had come to an open war back then. He had heard some stories from that turbulent time, and he was not convinced that it hadn't all been about power, and as a Macharite and a knight, he was certain that had it come to a war, the Ministerium would not have become as powerful as it was now. These possibly treasonous thoughts were abandoned when a bump in the road caused Miss Purphroy's hand to touch his, if only briefly. More than once during the journey the desolate officer had recovered from one of the young lady's spells just to find the presbyter looking at him with such stern dismay that he felt like a midshipman having to explain his mistake to an admiral. And the fact that the watchdog appeared to be sleeping didn't reassure him the least. He had found that such trivialities didn't stop the black-clad minister from preventing lasting damage to the pure souls of his fellow Man. This time, however, he looked to be lost in whatever dreams men like him entertained, and so Sir Tomas suffered on.
He was trapped in a chain of events that seemed bound and determined to make sure he was kept from getting to grips with it. Again he tried to distract himself from the present by going through the last weeks in his head.
It was a fortnight since he had taken 'the Sparrowhawk' into port after a routine patrol in the Northern Ocean. His orders had been to stay within ten miles of land, and to collect the reports from the small garrisons protecting the dozen or so trade posts along the Forsaken Coast. The only thing that diverged from the steady routine was the storm. They had been a day from home, outside World's End, when it came. Every sailor knew that the weather changes at the drop of a hat in those waters, but what hit them was not at all common for the season, or any season, for that matter. The ship had been making excellent speed, sails trimmed, and a strong wind from North by North West to speed them to port. Then the wind turned and increased.
Within the hour they had a full storm trying it's damndest to drive them into the rocks. Thanks to a fine crew, a good bit of seamanship, and a terrific ship, all hands had gotten safely to port. Still, there was something about that storm that didn't sit right. And there are all sorts of stories circling about these days, many of them concerning the end of days and dark magic. And it is also no secret that on more than one ship in the fleet, things are practiced below decks that will curl the blood of most enlightened gentlemen, even if the King's Code calls for a full hundred lashes in such cases of blasphemy.
And the she had been spotted. 'The Pius' had come out of the storm. She had first been called three cable-lengths to port, flying a full rig. At first he had thought her at peril, for he was certain that she had been surprised by the change in weather and had lost too much of her crew to trim sails. He had felt the helpless dread a sailor feels when he is forced to witness a tragedy, for surely no ship could stand such a wind with that much canvas. When 'the Pius' had vanished behind a raising wave he had lowered his head in prayer for their souls. Then the lookout called her again. She had come into view a lot closer this time, raging ahead like a demon from the dark, and he could see that she had furled her topsails. That was when he realized that the captain of 'the Pius' was riding this beast of a storm. He knew the ship only by reputation, and of her captain, Gryff Galan, he knew nothing but the name. She was one of the brand new frigates, with a slender hull, new rigging, and, they said, a secret weapon aboard. But what really filled him with pride was the Pendrellian colours flying from her mizzen-mast in defiance of the elements.
Upon anchoring in Ipwyth harbour, he had taken his log, his report, and the correspondence, to the admiral. He had returned to 'the Sparrowhawk' expecting a week of refurbishing and resupplying, and had had just accepted an offer to join his firstmate, Regis, at dinner with his wife when the admiral's dispatch dingy pulled up to his ship. The orders were as vague as they were clear. He was to take 'the Sparrowhawk' to Crondor at best speed, and he was to personally bring his log to the Admiralty at his earliest convenience.
When he had informed his laconic firstmate, Regis had answered, "Ours is not to ask, but why?", then shrugged. And so four days later he had again anchored up and brought his logs to have them signed by his superiors, but this time he had discovered that it was his chance encounter with 'the Pius' that had changed his course.
Now, Sir Tomas is not a man easily baffled by gold-embroidered jackets and the company of stiff peers, but still, over the course of the following week, he was baffled. He gave his account before a brace of admirals of the White, and then before an old admiral of the Gold and a scattering of senior officers of all colors. He was interviewed by two high-ranking Argonauts. Then he talked to a dubious character from the Foreign Office, and he reported to the Ministerium to answer a string of questions from a trio of somber clerics. And thus the week went, one conversation after another, questions about 'the Pius' and her crew. "Have you ever met Captain Galan in person, Sir Tomas? "Do you know anyone who serves on her, Sir Tomas? Have you ever been to Göteshaven, Sir Tomas? How about Freeport?" and so on and so forth. Within Second Freeday he had already cursed the day his outlook called the blasted ship in the storm. Still, even if he felt like a helpless piece of driftwood caught in currents far greater than he could see, his curiosity had been sparked. It would seem that Captain Galan and his crew were somewhat controversial in the higher stratas of Crondor, and it was obvious that at least for the time being he himself was caught up in their wake.
He was snapped from his reverie by a particularly inconsiderate pothole that shook the postwagon violently and threw the more amicable of his two scourges against him. As if by instinct, he grabbed her to stop her from falling to the muddy floor. His hands found her slender waist with a will of their own, and she giggled softly as her eyes met his, so close he could smell mint on her breath. He felt completely lost, and felt his words failing him miserably.
"Thank you ever so much, Captain," she said.
The silence that followed was broken unceremoniously by a dry cough from the seat across from them. Sir Tomas let go of the woman immediately and felt anger and shame flooding up in him. Before he could look away from the angelic face in front of him he caught a mischievous little smile, and a discreet wink.
"I'm sorry, madam," he managed to say, cursing all things in general, and 'the Pius' in particular, under his breath.
He could feel the condemning look from the presbyter, and was painfully aware of the knot in his lower belly left after his involuntary indecency. The succubus were laughing beautifully at something one of the other passengers said, and he felt a pang of jealousy. With a feat of willpower he returned to his previous train of thought.
Two days ago he had been ordered to travel to Stafford by the fastest means available. He had actually considered renting a horse, but the Pendrellian countryside in autumn was not easily traveled if you didn't know the roads and the land. Thus he had come to find himself trapped in this torturous coffin. He missed the steady rolling of a ship.
He wasn't quite sure what awaited him at the University, but somehow he knew that he'd be spending more days answering questions about the storm and the ship riding it. His orders said that he was to report to a Doctor Witgard Harbough, fellow of Whiteshield College. The name was familiar, although he knew little of the man bearing it. When he had taken his lieutennant's exam, Doctor Harbough's 'Trigonomical Approaches to Navigation' had been the chief source of most of his dread before he appeared before the board.
Before boarding the postwagon in Crondor, Sir Tomas had met briefly with a friend of the family, Mr. Hobart, who was connected to the Ministerium. Apparently the Doctor was a leading scholar in the field of Metaphysical Anomalies, whatever that meant. Mr. Hobart had also adviced him to jump through all the hoops they placed before him, and to remain pure in thought and stick to the facts. He had been rather unwilling to speculate about why the sighting of 'the Pius' had caused so much ado, but had briefly mentioned an incident in Corinth not long ago. He didn't say much, but had whispered that Captain Galan and his officers had been declared Enemies of Man by the Temple of Man Supreme. The term had sent a chill down Sir Tomas's spine. The Temple had reacted even harsher to the upsurge of hersy than the Cabal, and stories of book-pyres and inquisitions in Corinth and Aragorn had lost their novelty over the last five years. Before they had parted, Mr. Hobart had said that there were parties who were looking to apprehend the officers of 'the Pius', but that Captain Galan so far had been protected by someone close to the King. Then he had touched his nose, and added that mere mortals did wisely to distance themselves from such matters.
Somehow he managed to fall asleep. He dreamt of 'the Pius'. She was fighting a storm fiercer than anything he'd ever seen. It was as if the ocean itself were trying to break the ship as it was tossed around, battered and harried by giant waves. Drowned men were trying to pull him down into the deep, and he was trying to shout to the captain. His voice was drowned out by the raging storm, and he was being dragged towards the railing by dead sailors, frothy seawater running from their mouths. Then the captain turned slowly, and he saw his own drowned face looking back at him.
He awoke with a voilent cough. It was as if he could taste the cold, salty seawater in his mouth. In his mind he thanked providence for the diversion as the driver had stopped the wagon and now shouted, "Elmwilde Turnpike, half hour rest, change to Stafford University!" Still, the dream had rattled him, and he just let himself be swept by the polite efficiency of the stablehands as they helped the passengers through the rain and into the small turnpike inn. He was feeling utterly out of his depth, and absentmindedly ordered a mug of spiced wine to warm his spirit.
He could see the presbyter talking to a stranger, but the young lady was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had been met by a wagon and had disappeared. The lost, if hopeless, oportunity, hurt, and he took a deep draught of his mug, finding some consolidation in the warmth that gathered in his belly. Still, he could not shake the cold his dream had left completely. He had a vague feeling of forboding, as if a shadow had just passed beneath his keel.
The new driver opened the door and stepped in, removing his tricorn as he entered. His long, greasy hair was dark from the rain and plastered to his skull. He had a jagged scar running from his left temple all the way down to the corner of his mouth, fixing his face in a cruel smile. "Right, ladies and gents, mount up for University!" the man said, turning on his heel and replacing the soaked and battered tricorn as he stepped into the rain again.
The new wagon was smaller than the last one, and only had two of the great beasts teamed to it. Sir Tomas was almost shocked when he saw Miss Purphroy hurrying out of a door in one of the houses clustered around the turnpike. She was wrapped in a long traveling cloak, and had an elegant little tricorn fastened to her hair, the gem on the hatpin catching the light from the hissing torches held by the stablehands. A local servant was doing his utmost to shield her from the rain with a tassled umbrella, as she navigated around the deepest puddles on her way to the coach.
As he helped her aboard the wagon, it dawned on him that the mean old preacher was nowhere to be seen. He felt his spirits rise a little as he noted that there were no other passengers for the last leg of the journey. He tipped the servant, and just as he stepped into the wagon he caught the coachman staring at him, the ugly grin all the more menacing in the dark. Sir Tomas returned the look for a few seconds, angered by the frivolity of the man, before the coachman nodded and pulled at the brim of his tricorn, turned, and climbed the steps to his seat.
The next hour went by fast like a childhood summer. The two passengers quickly warmed to the unchaperoned situation. She laughed and joked, and seemed very interested in the adventurous life of a naval captain. They discovered mutual friends, and they joked about the dreary old preacher. The rain kept up its steady tattoo, and for the first time in a while, Sir Tomas felt like things were going his way.
The coach had stopped, and it had been remarkably quiet a few minutes when Miss Purphroy placed her delicate hand on his. "Listen carefully, Sir Tomas," she said, "I need your help."
He was completely taken by surprise by the seriousness of her voice, "Name your favour, Miss Purphroy, I am yours to command," he said, confident and invincible.
She had a sad smile as she said, "I have not been completely honest with you, my dear Tomas. My errand for this journey is to stop you from creating a fuss, you see."
"Pardon me?" he said, feeling like a whale driven into a shallow bay to be slaughtered. "This is all about the blasted 'Pius', isn't it?"
"Yes, my dear, I am afraid it is. You see, Tomas, there is quite a lot of controversy surrounding that ship. It is one of three ships built by the king himself, by plans he claims were given to him by a mysterious lodge.
"Moreover, the captain of 'the Pius' has become involved in several acts of blasphemy, and he is believed to be in league with known members of a dark cult worshipping the Drowned Man."
At this, Sir Tomas felt as if the shadow that had been following him had finally caught up with him.
"And exactly what is it you want from me?" he asked.
"You see, Tomas, our good Captain Galan has become quite dangerous, and there are forces that can no longer allow important members of our realm to ignore his continued blasphemy. Your naïve testimony threatens to further move the focus away from this, and thus, I'm afraid, you, my darling Tomas, have to be prevented from muddying the waters further."
She leaned over to him and kissed him slowly, and he let her, knowing that whatever happened next, he would not get back to port.
She sat back, took off her cloak, pulled out her hatpin and ruffled her long brown hair, the hat falling to the floor. All the while with that look of detached regret in her eyes. She ripped open her dress, tearing seams and exposing small round, white breasts. Then she screamed.
In the blink of an eye, the doors to the couch were thrown open, and several men in wet oilskins converged on him. He was dragged out and thrown on the ground, his hat trampled under a muddy boot. His arms were bent behind his back, cold water soaking his clothes, and he felt the coarse rope tearing his skin as they bound him. They pulled him to his feet and he was made to face his captors. He recognized the coachman and one more fellow from the inn - the same man the presbyter had been talking to. Then he saw the preacher standing behind the men, that same unforgiving look on his face, and he heard him say, "Well done, Jessica."
Sir Tomas almost laughed when he heard her response, "Thank you, papa."
---
The heavy postwagon trudged steadily through the rain, pulled by its team of four. The horses were large animals with a relentlessness about them. The breed had a reputation for doing the same route in the same time, summer as winter. The two coachmen, wrapped in their looming oilskins, tricorns pulled down to shield their collars from the downpour, were indistinguishable from the black mass of the wagon. In the dark, heavy rain, the driver couldn't see much more than the lead mare and the odd tree by the highway. This was not his first wet drive towards Stafford, and not the lead's either, so he trusted the old lass to follow the road to the turnpike.
Captain Sir Tomas Moore was miserable. He was far from his ship, and perhaps more importantly, far from the sea. He didn't feel comfortable on land, or more to the point, the only place he felt comfortable was on a ship. The constant, incessant jolts from the wheels falling into potholes or hitting rocks never found their rhythm. He felt like his kidneys would come loose, and the insides of his cheeks were sore from countless involuntary bites over the last two days. The thing that made the young naval officer the most ill at ease was two of his fellow travellers. Each seemed perfectly capable of damaging his composure, but he was actually morbidly impressed by the combination of the two.
The young lady was sitting beside him, so close he could feel the warmth of her hand against his own. When they had introduced themselves, she had told him her name was Miss Jessica Purphroy. Her discreet lavender-scented perfume teased his senses further, and made sure he never forgot her presence. Every time he had looked at her over the last two days, he had been stunned by her striking beauty. She was tall, and even if she was a little thin, her stature, the curve of her hips, the lines of her neck, the fullness of her lips, all these were as if designed to distract. Today she was wearing a dark green dress, cut just a tad higher than the line of decency. When he had seen her at breakfast at the inn where they had overnighted, he had felt like a moth, attracted to the perfect curves of her breasts pushed upwards by her corset, rising and falling gently every time she breathed. Still, it was the way she looked at him that really made him lose his course. There was a playful, challenging innocence in those large, brown eyes. It was all he could do not to look at her right now.
And the presbyter knew it. Of that there was no doubt. The second of this diabolical duo sat right accross from him, and the old preacher seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense when morality was in jeopardy. Although Sir Tomas was a Macharite, like most knights and nobles, he was very much familiar with the Presbyterian creed. The two schools were not all that different, both belonged to the Cabal of Pure Thought, and both were founded on the teachings of Macharius. The main difference was that where the Macharites's placed great emphasis on the wonders of Man and the advantages of the Western Erian culture, the Presbyterium adhered to the strict moral codes established by stern men like Archibald Arson and Jonathan Steewell. After the St. Revan's Day Plot against the king, just before Sir Tomas was born, several Macharites, some even MPs, had been arrested and hanged, and the Night of Bloody Daggers were still remembered. Afterwards, Steelwell's militant party had gained control of the Commons and still held it. It was said, though seldom loudly, that during those days Pendrell had been one murder away from a civil war.
In his current predicament, Sir Tomas briefly wondered if his situation would have been less unbearable if it had come to an open war back then. He had heard some stories from that turbulent time, and he was not convinced that it hadn't all been about power, and as a Macharite and a knight, he was certain that had it come to a war, the Ministerium would not have become as powerful as it was now. These possibly treasonous thoughts were abandoned when a bump in the road caused Miss Purphroy's hand to touch his, if only briefly. More than once during the journey the desolate officer had recovered from one of the young lady's spells just to find the presbyter looking at him with such stern dismay that he felt like a midshipman having to explain his mistake to an admiral. And the fact that the watchdog appeared to be sleeping didn't reassure him the least. He had found that such trivialities didn't stop the black-clad minister from preventing lasting damage to the pure souls of his fellow Man. This time, however, he looked to be lost in whatever dreams men like him entertained, and so Sir Tomas suffered on.
He was trapped in a chain of events that seemed bound and determined to make sure he was kept from getting to grips with it. Again he tried to distract himself from the present by going through the last weeks in his head.
It was a fortnight since he had taken 'the Sparrowhawk' into port after a routine patrol in the Northern Ocean. His orders had been to stay within ten miles of land, and to collect the reports from the small garrisons protecting the dozen or so trade posts along the Forsaken Coast. The only thing that diverged from the steady routine was the storm. They had been a day from home, outside World's End, when it came. Every sailor knew that the weather changes at the drop of a hat in those waters, but what hit them was not at all common for the season, or any season, for that matter. The ship had been making excellent speed, sails trimmed, and a strong wind from North by North West to speed them to port. Then the wind turned and increased.
Within the hour they had a full storm trying it's damndest to drive them into the rocks. Thanks to a fine crew, a good bit of seamanship, and a terrific ship, all hands had gotten safely to port. Still, there was something about that storm that didn't sit right. And there are all sorts of stories circling about these days, many of them concerning the end of days and dark magic. And it is also no secret that on more than one ship in the fleet, things are practiced below decks that will curl the blood of most enlightened gentlemen, even if the King's Code calls for a full hundred lashes in such cases of blasphemy.
And the she had been spotted. 'The Pius' had come out of the storm. She had first been called three cable-lengths to port, flying a full rig. At first he had thought her at peril, for he was certain that she had been surprised by the change in weather and had lost too much of her crew to trim sails. He had felt the helpless dread a sailor feels when he is forced to witness a tragedy, for surely no ship could stand such a wind with that much canvas. When 'the Pius' had vanished behind a raising wave he had lowered his head in prayer for their souls. Then the lookout called her again. She had come into view a lot closer this time, raging ahead like a demon from the dark, and he could see that she had furled her topsails. That was when he realized that the captain of 'the Pius' was riding this beast of a storm. He knew the ship only by reputation, and of her captain, Gryff Galan, he knew nothing but the name. She was one of the brand new frigates, with a slender hull, new rigging, and, they said, a secret weapon aboard. But what really filled him with pride was the Pendrellian colours flying from her mizzen-mast in defiance of the elements.
Upon anchoring in Ipwyth harbour, he had taken his log, his report, and the correspondence, to the admiral. He had returned to 'the Sparrowhawk' expecting a week of refurbishing and resupplying, and had had just accepted an offer to join his firstmate, Regis, at dinner with his wife when the admiral's dispatch dingy pulled up to his ship. The orders were as vague as they were clear. He was to take 'the Sparrowhawk' to Crondor at best speed, and he was to personally bring his log to the Admiralty at his earliest convenience.
When he had informed his laconic firstmate, Regis had answered, "Ours is not to ask, but why?", then shrugged. And so four days later he had again anchored up and brought his logs to have them signed by his superiors, but this time he had discovered that it was his chance encounter with 'the Pius' that had changed his course.
Now, Sir Tomas is not a man easily baffled by gold-embroidered jackets and the company of stiff peers, but still, over the course of the following week, he was baffled. He gave his account before a brace of admirals of the White, and then before an old admiral of the Gold and a scattering of senior officers of all colors. He was interviewed by two high-ranking Argonauts. Then he talked to a dubious character from the Foreign Office, and he reported to the Ministerium to answer a string of questions from a trio of somber clerics. And thus the week went, one conversation after another, questions about 'the Pius' and her crew. "Have you ever met Captain Galan in person, Sir Tomas? "Do you know anyone who serves on her, Sir Tomas? Have you ever been to Göteshaven, Sir Tomas? How about Freeport?" and so on and so forth. Within Second Freeday he had already cursed the day his outlook called the blasted ship in the storm. Still, even if he felt like a helpless piece of driftwood caught in currents far greater than he could see, his curiosity had been sparked. It would seem that Captain Galan and his crew were somewhat controversial in the higher stratas of Crondor, and it was obvious that at least for the time being he himself was caught up in their wake.
He was snapped from his reverie by a particularly inconsiderate pothole that shook the postwagon violently and threw the more amicable of his two scourges against him. As if by instinct, he grabbed her to stop her from falling to the muddy floor. His hands found her slender waist with a will of their own, and she giggled softly as her eyes met his, so close he could smell mint on her breath. He felt completely lost, and felt his words failing him miserably.
"Thank you ever so much, Captain," she said.
The silence that followed was broken unceremoniously by a dry cough from the seat across from them. Sir Tomas let go of the woman immediately and felt anger and shame flooding up in him. Before he could look away from the angelic face in front of him he caught a mischievous little smile, and a discreet wink.
"I'm sorry, madam," he managed to say, cursing all things in general, and 'the Pius' in particular, under his breath.
He could feel the condemning look from the presbyter, and was painfully aware of the knot in his lower belly left after his involuntary indecency. The succubus were laughing beautifully at something one of the other passengers said, and he felt a pang of jealousy. With a feat of willpower he returned to his previous train of thought.
Two days ago he had been ordered to travel to Stafford by the fastest means available. He had actually considered renting a horse, but the Pendrellian countryside in autumn was not easily traveled if you didn't know the roads and the land. Thus he had come to find himself trapped in this torturous coffin. He missed the steady rolling of a ship.
He wasn't quite sure what awaited him at the University, but somehow he knew that he'd be spending more days answering questions about the storm and the ship riding it. His orders said that he was to report to a Doctor Witgard Harbough, fellow of Whiteshield College. The name was familiar, although he knew little of the man bearing it. When he had taken his lieutennant's exam, Doctor Harbough's 'Trigonomical Approaches to Navigation' had been the chief source of most of his dread before he appeared before the board.
Before boarding the postwagon in Crondor, Sir Tomas had met briefly with a friend of the family, Mr. Hobart, who was connected to the Ministerium. Apparently the Doctor was a leading scholar in the field of Metaphysical Anomalies, whatever that meant. Mr. Hobart had also adviced him to jump through all the hoops they placed before him, and to remain pure in thought and stick to the facts. He had been rather unwilling to speculate about why the sighting of 'the Pius' had caused so much ado, but had briefly mentioned an incident in Corinth not long ago. He didn't say much, but had whispered that Captain Galan and his officers had been declared Enemies of Man by the Temple of Man Supreme. The term had sent a chill down Sir Tomas's spine. The Temple had reacted even harsher to the upsurge of hersy than the Cabal, and stories of book-pyres and inquisitions in Corinth and Aragorn had lost their novelty over the last five years. Before they had parted, Mr. Hobart had said that there were parties who were looking to apprehend the officers of 'the Pius', but that Captain Galan so far had been protected by someone close to the King. Then he had touched his nose, and added that mere mortals did wisely to distance themselves from such matters.
Somehow he managed to fall asleep. He dreamt of 'the Pius'. She was fighting a storm fiercer than anything he'd ever seen. It was as if the ocean itself were trying to break the ship as it was tossed around, battered and harried by giant waves. Drowned men were trying to pull him down into the deep, and he was trying to shout to the captain. His voice was drowned out by the raging storm, and he was being dragged towards the railing by dead sailors, frothy seawater running from their mouths. Then the captain turned slowly, and he saw his own drowned face looking back at him.
He awoke with a voilent cough. It was as if he could taste the cold, salty seawater in his mouth. In his mind he thanked providence for the diversion as the driver had stopped the wagon and now shouted, "Elmwilde Turnpike, half hour rest, change to Stafford University!" Still, the dream had rattled him, and he just let himself be swept by the polite efficiency of the stablehands as they helped the passengers through the rain and into the small turnpike inn. He was feeling utterly out of his depth, and absentmindedly ordered a mug of spiced wine to warm his spirit.
He could see the presbyter talking to a stranger, but the young lady was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps she had been met by a wagon and had disappeared. The lost, if hopeless, oportunity, hurt, and he took a deep draught of his mug, finding some consolidation in the warmth that gathered in his belly. Still, he could not shake the cold his dream had left completely. He had a vague feeling of forboding, as if a shadow had just passed beneath his keel.
The new driver opened the door and stepped in, removing his tricorn as he entered. His long, greasy hair was dark from the rain and plastered to his skull. He had a jagged scar running from his left temple all the way down to the corner of his mouth, fixing his face in a cruel smile. "Right, ladies and gents, mount up for University!" the man said, turning on his heel and replacing the soaked and battered tricorn as he stepped into the rain again.
The new wagon was smaller than the last one, and only had two of the great beasts teamed to it. Sir Tomas was almost shocked when he saw Miss Purphroy hurrying out of a door in one of the houses clustered around the turnpike. She was wrapped in a long traveling cloak, and had an elegant little tricorn fastened to her hair, the gem on the hatpin catching the light from the hissing torches held by the stablehands. A local servant was doing his utmost to shield her from the rain with a tassled umbrella, as she navigated around the deepest puddles on her way to the coach.
As he helped her aboard the wagon, it dawned on him that the mean old preacher was nowhere to be seen. He felt his spirits rise a little as he noted that there were no other passengers for the last leg of the journey. He tipped the servant, and just as he stepped into the wagon he caught the coachman staring at him, the ugly grin all the more menacing in the dark. Sir Tomas returned the look for a few seconds, angered by the frivolity of the man, before the coachman nodded and pulled at the brim of his tricorn, turned, and climbed the steps to his seat.
The next hour went by fast like a childhood summer. The two passengers quickly warmed to the unchaperoned situation. She laughed and joked, and seemed very interested in the adventurous life of a naval captain. They discovered mutual friends, and they joked about the dreary old preacher. The rain kept up its steady tattoo, and for the first time in a while, Sir Tomas felt like things were going his way.
The coach had stopped, and it had been remarkably quiet a few minutes when Miss Purphroy placed her delicate hand on his. "Listen carefully, Sir Tomas," she said, "I need your help."
He was completely taken by surprise by the seriousness of her voice, "Name your favour, Miss Purphroy, I am yours to command," he said, confident and invincible.
She had a sad smile as she said, "I have not been completely honest with you, my dear Tomas. My errand for this journey is to stop you from creating a fuss, you see."
"Pardon me?" he said, feeling like a whale driven into a shallow bay to be slaughtered. "This is all about the blasted 'Pius', isn't it?"
"Yes, my dear, I am afraid it is. You see, Tomas, there is quite a lot of controversy surrounding that ship. It is one of three ships built by the king himself, by plans he claims were given to him by a mysterious lodge.
"Moreover, the captain of 'the Pius' has become involved in several acts of blasphemy, and he is believed to be in league with known members of a dark cult worshipping the Drowned Man."
At this, Sir Tomas felt as if the shadow that had been following him had finally caught up with him.
"And exactly what is it you want from me?" he asked.
"You see, Tomas, our good Captain Galan has become quite dangerous, and there are forces that can no longer allow important members of our realm to ignore his continued blasphemy. Your naïve testimony threatens to further move the focus away from this, and thus, I'm afraid, you, my darling Tomas, have to be prevented from muddying the waters further."
She leaned over to him and kissed him slowly, and he let her, knowing that whatever happened next, he would not get back to port.
She sat back, took off her cloak, pulled out her hatpin and ruffled her long brown hair, the hat falling to the floor. All the while with that look of detached regret in her eyes. She ripped open her dress, tearing seams and exposing small round, white breasts. Then she screamed.
In the blink of an eye, the doors to the couch were thrown open, and several men in wet oilskins converged on him. He was dragged out and thrown on the ground, his hat trampled under a muddy boot. His arms were bent behind his back, cold water soaking his clothes, and he felt the coarse rope tearing his skin as they bound him. They pulled him to his feet and he was made to face his captors. He recognized the coachman and one more fellow from the inn - the same man the presbyter had been talking to. Then he saw the preacher standing behind the men, that same unforgiving look on his face, and he heard him say, "Well done, Jessica."
Sir Tomas almost laughed when he heard her response, "Thank you, papa."
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