Deliver None (novelette)

Chapter 1: Society for Thyself

"O God, though we are called traditionalist by many, primitive by most, and rather unusual by almost all, know that our pure community will forever stand by you and your glory. Though we sin with all admission, know that we will never ever cease to serve you, your people, and your ultimate mission, to cleanse the world you created of evil and heresy caused by your children misusing their blessed gift of freewill. May you bless us, O God, O Father, in all that we do in order to serve you and live by your name!"
"Amen," replied all of the parishioners within the church, including myself.
"This hereby concludes today's ceremony of glorifying, worshiping, and celebrating our glorious, most Holy God"
"Amen," all of us parishioners once again replied.
"Go forth in peace, for God shall set you free."
"Amen," we replied for the final time.
"So it is done," Father Harold, as he was known to most, spoke these words before ringing a silver bell, signaling the end of the service.
With this ringing, we all slowly scattered around the seats and began to rise and converse with our fellow believers. It wasn't exactly a welcoming room for loud conversation - the brown walls easily reflected even the quietest of sounds so that the room would echo even with the drop of a pin - but that didn't discourage people from talking, nor did the builders of this church intend it to. Glass paintings of various depictions of our religion, including those of key prophets and symbols, dotted the walls across all levels and floors. It's a miracle they got them all the way up to the top of the building right below the roof, considering that this was the tallest building in all of Terrafidei.
As I make my way down to Father Harold, who I just refer to as "Dad", I'm always able to overhear some of the conversations other parishioners hold amongst themselves. Each time, it's always something interesting.
"I gotta tell you, that was a particularly captivating ceremony today," one man spoke to the woman next to him, presumably his wife.
"Yes, indeed. It's interesting to think about all these new scientific developments in the godly way that Father Harold described," she replied.
"Yup, I'm definitely passing that information on!"
As I made my way down the stairs to the bottom floor, I ran into my friend and partner in fellowship, Roberta.
"Hey Harriet, you still down to spread the word in East Square tomorrow?" Roberta had her signature smile on her face as she asked this question.
"Yup. Hopefully nothing disruptive comes up between now and then," I replied.
"Hopefully. I'm looking forward to it!"
Dad was already out the door by the time I got to him. He smiled at me, placed his hand on my shoulder, and we gazed at one of the best views of Terrafidei one will ever get anywhere. The entire town, with its brown roofs and multi-colored walls, was like a kaleidoscope on the ground right before our eyes. The beauty of both mankind and God was spread all around in a very holy harmony. We could look at it for hours and not get bored. Not that there were a lot of boring things, let alone opportunities to become bored, in Terrafidei, but still, the view from the church was a spectacle in and of itself.
Our town was a town of God. Obviously, it was mankind who broke the grounds, laid the foundations, and built the buildings. But all people in Terrafidei followed God's most Holy laws, ways, and morals. We constructed our homes stone by stone with God's grace in our hearts and the Lord fully taking over our souls. He has given us this perfect land to harbor our community, and in return, we make sure to give thanks to him often, through rituals, acts of goodwill and charity, and many other ways as well.
"That was a great ceremony, Dad. As always, of course!"
"Thank you, Harriet. But obviously, do not compliment me, for all praise goes to God," Dad replied.
"Of course, all praise goes to God," I repeated.
"Now, I believe we have stared at the town long enough. Let us go home and change out of our ceremony clothes," Dad suggested. For him being the head of our local church, he did know how to relax.
"Yes, let's!" I was excited. While our ceremony clothes were comfortable, nothing compared to the everyday loose clothes that God gifted us to wear.
"Once we get home, we should probably decide what we're going to be eating for our next meal. Any ideas?" Dad knew when I was hungry, even if I didn't tell him.
"I dunno...how about we finish off the vegetable roast our neighbors gave us," I suggested. They gave it to us after we helped install their new windows.
"Perfect!" I could sense the joy in Dad's eyes.
The sky today wasn't any more blue than it was on hundreds of other days that I've experienced in my lifetime, but it sure did seem like it was. Scattered squawking of birds dotted the sea of wind blowing that made up the sounds that we in Terrafidei have the pleasure of enjoying every single day. Making our descent into the main town streets felt like descending from heaven down to an earth trying its absolute hardest to intimidate heaven. It was different, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't still incredibly beautiful.
However, even more beautiful than the skies and the landscapes of Terrafidei was my family. Dad, Father Harold, was obviously the head of our local church. My mother was a textile weaver, and the best in town at it, according to almost everyone who shared to me their opinion of her. I had two older brothers, Dave and Frank, as well as a younger brother, George. As per the most gracious laws of our religion, we all had roles to play both in our community and our family. However, despite these rules, life surely couldn't be any better.
It has been said that our church was one of the first that were constructed following the aftermath of the most recent resurrection of God, when he had taken physical form in our world. According to the elders of this town, he had stepped on this land and designated the entire valley beneath the surrounding mountains to be given to us as holy land. Soon after, God returned back to the supernatural realm, and we were getting to work building this community and honoring God in the land that he blessed us with.
Once we arrived home, George was the first to speak. "I'm hungry. When do you guys wanna eat?"
"I'm down to eat whenever. Harriet suggested eating the leftover vegetable roast," Dad replied.
"Yeah, I'm cool with that. Only problem is we ran out of vegetable seasoning," Frank noted.
"Shoot! Should've thought of that." I blurted. I have a tendency to forget when we run out of seasoning. We always buy and use a lot of it.
"It's okay. We'll just go buy some more once we get out of our clothes. You can stay with George, Mom," Dave suggested.
"Sounds good," Mom replied.
Despite being the home of the head of our local church, our home was a humble one. Big enough for the six of us, but not much more. However, it was all we needed. A central living area contained the kitchen and the family room, with bedrooms on all sides positioned like flower petals. My room was the furthest east, George's the furthest west, and Dave's, Frank's, and my parents' in between. We have lived here our whole life, as did all of our ancestors, at least all of those that I can remember. I'm not sure if it was inhabited since the birth of our community, but I can assume that it probably was.
There is not much that I can say about my bedroom. It was average-sized. There was enough room for a bed, a desk, and some walking space, but not much more. But as I walked into it to change out of my clothes, I was reminded that, like our house, it was everything that I needed. It was my center for study, entertainment, and rest for my entire life. One would think that I'd feel bored there eventually, but I never did. The great variety of things to do here, as well as the knowledge that this was God's room gifted to me, helped ensure that.
My ceremony clothes, as one would obviously expect, were much more elaborate and precisely weaved compared to my everyday clothes. Decorations were spread across all areas of my churchgoing attire, whereas my everyday clothes, while not without decoration, were much more plain overall. They were a lot more loose and fluid compared to my formal clothes. But with looseness comes comfort. There's a time and place for everything, and I was relieved that now, after our ceremony, it was time to get comfortable.
Once I changed into my loose clothes, I reentered the central living area to see that everyone else had already done the same. While their attires had plenty of differences compared to mine (George's was blue whereas mine was white, for example), the overall changes compared to everyone's church clothes was the exact same: fewer decorations, more loose, less formal, more comfortable. Our clothes were uniquely designed to be far from identical from each other, yet with enough similarities to signal to outsiders that we were one family.
"Well, I see that we are all dressed out of our churchgoing clothes," Dad was the first to speak.
"Yup. I see no reason to linger around here any longer." George was eager to get going.
"Where shall we buy our new vegetable seasoning," Mom asked. "The local shop is closed for reconstruction."
"I think Mr. Bart a few roads down sells vegetable seasoning," Frank suggested. "I only got a glance or two when I was passing by the other day. Not sure if it's the kind we usually like though"
"Well, why don't we try something new? Could be fun," Dad suggested.
"Good idea. Let's go," I agreed. Without anyone else saying anything more we opened the door.
The sun was a little bit higher in the sky at this time of day. Not by much though, as obviously not a whole lot of time has passed between the time we entered our house in church clothes and right now, when we just got out in our comfortable clothes. The atmosphere was mostly the same. Scattered squawking, wind blowing, leaves and grass swaying, still so constant and still so beautiful. Things were a little brighter now, but it was mostly the same. The only other difference was that the town was much, much louder.
There was already a large amount of people just nearby our doorstep, but as we made our way towards Mr. Bart's, the amount of people on the streets grew and grew. Clearly something was going on. Soon it became a sea of citizens all gathered around something, but what it was, I did not know. That is, until I was able to make out a specific cry piercing the cacophony of discussion and bewilderment: "The heretics are coming! The heretics are coming! Agents of the Devil! Agents of the Devil! They call themselves the Society for Thyself!"
I now saw and understood what had caused so much uproar. Several pieces of red paper, presumably all reading the same thing, were being passed around, and soon enough, I got my hands on one of them. "The religion of God is a lie. Discover the opposition, and you will discover the truth. Come be both our guest and our host in the Society for Thyself, for we shall deliver none from evil! Be there for the resurrection and the manifestation of liberty and heresy," it read, though it took me a couple of moments to process what the paper had read. I had never seen heretic words like these in my life before.
"What has happened? Why are agents of the devil coming to our sacred community," one person screamed in visible pain.
"Moreover, what gives them the comfort to reveal themselves this overtly," another screamed in reply.
"Quiet! We must settle down! We will put a stop to this!" Dad's priestly voice penetrated through the chaotic crowd.
"How? We cannot put our entire community at risk! Agents of the devil have never appeared here before," someone asked loudly. It was impossible to tell who did it or where it came from.
"We need not deploy the entire community. One of us should go and see what's going on!" I knew that Dad gave the best suggestion that he could, given the confusion and the chaos surrounding him in the moment.
"But who? Who will go scout for us," multiple people asked at once.
Silence shrouded the entire crowd for a few long, foreboding moments. It was immediately obvious why: everyone was trying to think for themselves about who would be the best person to go and scout this seemingly supernatural threat.
"How about Father Harold? Should he be the one," someone asked.
"No, he's rather old, and we need him to stay and run the church," someone else answered.
"Well, if not him, then who?"
I scanned the entire crowd, or at least as much of it as I can see, in order to process my own thoughts. Much of the town was either aged, aging, not in great physical condition, or otherwise not exactly fit to go on a journey that posed potentially dangerous threats on a supernatural level. I thought about every person I've ever known within this town, and could always think of a reason why they shouldn't go on this potentially perilous mission. Then, when no other person presented themselves in my brain, I turned to myself. My young, bright-eyed, physically fit self. I happened to have just scored the highest grades in my physical education class, after all. Most of the town knew that.
I thought about it for a moment, and then decided to say what my subconscious mind, and perhaps those of the rest of the crowd, knew I probably should say. "I'll volunteer to go." As expected, gasps filled the air, followed by a return to silence. "I am young and physically fit. I cannot think of anyone else in this town that does not have a good reason not to go." The words came out of my mouth like pigeons being released from a cage. It was all unexpected and chaotic, but freeing at the same time.
The silence continued. I was honest with myself when I thought that I sensed that everyone else was thinking the same thing I was, which made the silence even more surprising for me. Why wouldn't the rest of the town want me to go? I see no reasons for anyone to go. Dunno...maybe that's just what happens when one thinks about themself for the first time in a while. Regardless of whether they were thinking it or not, murmurs of "Harriet? Harriet volunteers to go," and "oh my...wow..." filled the atmosphere.
"Daughter, this could be a long and dangerous journey. Are you sure you wish to volunteer," Dad asked with easily detectable worry in his eyes.
"Yes...to tell you the truth, I have always been thinking of more ways I can serve our community and serve God. Now that there's a threat, I wish to seize my grand opportunity while I still can. And besides, I've never experienced other people with differing beliefs before. This could be interesting," I improvised.
The whispers of wonder turned into murmurs of agreement. From all over I heard a lot of "welp, she does make a good point," and "well, if she's volunteering, I suppose we must let her." Then the agreements turned to praise. "How brave of her, to volunteer to investigate devil worshipers," and "I wish I were as courageous as her, how proud God must be," flooded my ears. I was expecting this to happen - certainly it's illogical to expect people to react with aggression at such an act of bravery - but it still caught me off guard.
Eventually, Dad spoke again. "Very well, so be it this way. Let us move to the church for the pre-departure blessing." After briefly exclaiming agreement, the entire town moved in the direction of the church. It was a rather awkward feeling, walking amongst your entire community knowing that they regard you as a beacon of bravery and hope, whilst also knowing that you won't see them again for a good long while, if ever. But still, it wasn't a bad feeling. In fact, I'd say it was pretty good. It was what I truly believed was best, after all. But it was still awkward. Probably nothing could change that, not even theoretically.
When we arrived in the church for the second time this day, Dad quickly excused himself to the backstage area of the church. We assumed he was preparing for the blessing, and after a few moments, the items in his hands confirmed our assumptions. A chalice of holy oil was held in one hand, a golden sword in the other. Dad immediately made his way to the altar and, careful not to spill the sacred oil on the pure white fabric covering, placed the chalice on the left side and the sword, no longer than an arm's length, on the right.
The church was still as beautiful as ever. The big difference now was that, as this was a very special occasion, the torchlight was now greatly dimmed. Still bright enough to illuminate the glass paintings, but now the room gave off a still very comforting, yet admittedly rather ominous atmosphere. I suppose this was a rather ominous occasion, after all. No one knew what lay ahead for me. After letting me look at this marvel of man and God's beauty one more time, Dad signaled me to come forth toward the prepared altar.
As I made my way towards the front of the room where the altar stood, Dad took the golden sword in his hand and dipped it into the chalice of sacred oil. He tapped my left shoulder, then my right, then the top of my head with the sword, and recited a prayer. "Lord God, be with our most dearest Harriet as she embarks on this mission to serve you and to investigate the motives of your opposition, the spawn of the devil. Bless her in every way, and grant her all the strength, wisdom, courage, and power that she may need to serve you at this time. Amen!" With everyone repeating "amen," the blessing was over.
"Alright, Harriet. Here is what you need to know: the flyers that we got our hands on were apparently blown towards the town from the south, so our suggestion is that you go there. If you see more flyers, you'll know you've gone in the right direction. If the concentration of flyers increases, you'll know even more that you're headed down the right path. We will ask that you not engage them unless you have good reason to. These are very dangerous people we could be dealing with here. Your primary objective is to learn about who they are and what the plan on doing." Dad's instructions were very thorough, but that was what I liked.
"Got it. But I do have one question, though. Do you have any idea how specifically I will know which individual building houses these underground devil worshipers? I assume they're not exactly going to be overt about where their headquarters are, considering the high percentage of the population that sees them as mortal enemies," I asked. I didn't expect Dad to have a good answer, as as predicted, I didn't exactly receive one. "I don't know. But I believe you will know when you see it. God knows that you are doing your absolute best to serve him and his people. I trust that he will provide you with all the proper guidance."
And without saying anything more, I nodded my head and began to walk away from the church. All around me were cries of "good luck," and "we believe in you, Harriet!" I responded to each with a nod and a smile. As I opened the door, the sun was shining its rays right into my face, instantly re-illuminating the church once again. The last thing I heard was my father's powerful voice calling to me. "May God bless you on this journey! May his love and our love protect you in all that may occur!" I turned my head to take one last look at Dad, my community, and my church, before turning around, looking for devil worshipers, and not looking back.