Tresalia Unversed (working title)

2 - The Question Answered

   Sol, searching for the correct answers, took a deep breath and collected himself. "I first heard of The Sect of the Blood Prayer when having a few drinks with some of my fellow knights in training down at the pub. The man who mentioned them was an older gentleman, grey-haired and wearing a dark red cloak. He was speaking to a whole group of people as if he were telling a story. The older gentleman was accompanied by two other large men. I couldn't see their face, but given their size, they looked to be of the Motrokin people." Conjurer rolled his eyes, "Hmph! Motrokins. Big brutes with wide arms. If you need something broken or crushed, you enlist one of them. But, every so often, a smart one comes along that doesn't try to eat the first book they see. I remember whe-" Conjurer stopped himself, realizing he was rambling. "A name. Did the old man say his name or the names of his accompaniment?" Sol searched back through his memories, grasping at straws, trying to find another correct answer. "Hoyst! One of the Motrokins was name Hoyst!" At the name being spoken, Conjurer rushed to a bookshelf, leafing through multiple at a time. "Hoyst... Why does that sound familiar... Who are you...?" Sol sat there, daring not to get up. "Conj-" "Not now! Not while I'm reading," Conjurer shouted, cutting off the increasingly scared boy. Realizing what he was doing, Conjurer stopped and walked over to Sol, kneeling down to meet him eye to eye. "Sol, I apologize. I don't mean to frighten you. But the name you heard and the question you asked are but gears in the great plan of this realm. And I have feared this day..." Sol, not saying anything for fear of being shouted at again, nodded his head. "Oh! Oh, please do speak, boy. No harm will come to you. Well, none from me, anyway. Continue answering my questions."

   "This all happened about five days ago. Around supper time. I didn't feel like the usual mess hall food, so my friends and I walked to the pub. If I had known what I'd hear would get me in this situation, I would have welcomed the mess hall food." Conjurer chuckled at the last remark, still flipping through books. "Ah! Hoyst! Found you! He's one of the bodyguards to... Warmonger Abbot Reddrick..." Sol got a puzzled look on his face. "'Warmonger'? What sort of title is that?" "The sort of title that should make your blood run cold, boy. You were, in fact, sitting next to the founder and leader of The Sect of the Blood Prayer." Conjurer whipped around at the sound of rushing water, to find Sol had spit out the water he was drinking. "Excuse me?! I thought The Sect itself was just a myth!" Conjurer sat back down, still going through multiple books, some floating around him and turning the pages by themselves. "That's what people in this day and age are supposed to believe. The Sect is supposed to be one of those stories you tell children to make them go to bed or eat their vegetables, but it was, at one time, a full-blown order and a full-blown problem." "What happened to them," Sol asked. Lowering the books, he rubbed his eyes and let out a sigh. "It's not what happened to them, really, it's what did they do that turned them into a myth? A whole order, gone, off the face of the realm. But, I'll give you a brief rundown." Sol moved his chair closer, eager to hear what he believed to be hidden knowledge.

   Conjurer shut his eyes and began. "The Sect of the Blood Prayer was the beginnings of chaos. They were what started the war that had ended sixty years ago. They were founded by Reddrick Sontarbin, who started calling himself Warmonger Abbot Reddick over time. The reasoning behind the forming of the Sect is unknown to many, but some speculate that it was to bring chaos to a perfect world. No one reason to disrupt the natural order of things, but just to do it. Because it was possible. Reddick wandered through the known regions, looking for people to join his cause, much like he was doing in that pub of yours. That story he was telling? Probably a tale of freedom and triumph, hoping to lure in young minds to a horrible cause with the promises of whatever their hearts desire. After a while, he got a rather massive following. A lot of young, hot-blooded men and women, passionate to fight for their freedom and rights. This resulted in the first of many capitals being overrun. Tell me, boy. Do you know the city of Zechit? In the region of Don'ot?" "The City of Forged Hope. Any weapon from there is worth five from anywhere else. It's the one with the massive training facility on the ocean, correct?" Conjurer smiled. "You're half right. That 'training facility' is, in fact, a fortress in disguise. It was built after the Sect had finished ravaging the city. The ruler at the time was so worried and paranoid about another possible attack from the Sect that he had it built. It's might not look like much right now, but once it's activated, it's nigh impenetrable." Conjurer paused, as if remembering something, then went on with his story. "Now, you had just said that Zechit's weapons are incredible works of art, correct?" Sol nodded quickly, eager for the rest of this history lesson. "Zechit fell within a few hours of the Sect's arrival... It wasn't raw power or powerful magic that won the day for the Sect, but strategy. Reddick is a cruel and ruthless man, always quick to figure out where to strike, when to execute his plans, and how hard to hit..."

   Sol raised his hand as if he were still in a studies class at the academy. Conjurer choked on a laugh and spat out, "Yes, Sol? What would you like to share with the class?" Looking around, Sol lowered his hand sheepishly. "How exactly did Zechit fall? I've never been there myself, but I've heard that the local militia and army are very diligent with almost everything. Not in an oppressive way, but more protective then you'd expect from a military force." Conjurer raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, someone's been doing his studying. Yes, Zechit's military has the same attitude and admiration for its citizens as a loyal dog. Quick and vicious to defend its subjects, but docile and caring once the danger has passed. That was their initial downfall. You see, the day that Reddick had chosen to attack, well, rather invade Zechit was in the middle of the city's Citizens Feast. The city was locked from the inside and out, barring anyone from entering or exiting, but the residents, militia, and even the ruler himself were all in the middle of the great square, where tables upon tables of glorious food and drink were laid out. Every target that Reddick could have wanted, all corralled in the middle of town. Like cattle." "Oh, no," said Sol, solemnly "You're beginning to see where this part of the story goes, boy. Just as the dinner for that night was wrapping up, a terrible explosion came from the castle. Everyone turned to look and saw Reddick himself standing on the palace steps, giving both an ominous and sincere smile. And, just like in your pub, he began to talk. He told his stories, gave his false promises, and, eventually, the town had turned on itself. Almost right down the middle. One half believed Reddick and the other half believed in the ruler and the strength of Zechit." Sol piped in, "But what of Reddick's forces? Didn't they attack? Take lives?" Conjurer cocked his head, puzzled. "What forces," he asked. "Reddick went to Zechit alone." Completely wide-eyed, Sol stood up, shaken at what he had just heard. "Alone?! One man made one of the most powerful city's in the realm fall within mere hours!?" Nodding his head, Conjurer continued, "Mhmm, indeed. Nobody in their right mind would attack a peaceful looking man such as Reddick, even given his insane mind. And what better way to destroy a city than by the people who know it best? It's own residents."

   Sol sat back down, his mind folded over itself trying to imagine what kind of power one man could possibly possess. "I had no idea such beings existed in this world... But now it makes sense why he had bodyguards the night I saw him. Surely, he's quite old now." Thinking back, Conjurer said, "Well, back at the time of the attack on Zechit, he was an old man. And, if he's an old man now, something is wrong. By all accounts, he should be dead." Absentmindedly, Sol spat out, "If he's human." Conjurer, who had risen to put his books back on the shelf, stopped dead in his tracks. "Human... Human! God, I'm so slow! Famous for it, but never mind that! If he's still alive, he can't be human. I need to find him. There are few things that can live that long at his age and none of them are good. Sol!" Startled, Sol stood up. "Yes, sir!" "Take me to your commanding officer. I'm taking you out on loan. We're going to track down an abbot!"