#writing
The Descent of Pirithous II
Immediately post the debate between Pope Saint Velles and the Young Emperor Richard IV, a shift occurred in the systems of governance. The houses close to the House of Jonas, which was one of the wealthiest and mightiest in the land, swore allegiance to Richard at once. They were as blinded as he was in the eyes of faith, preferring dangerously the riches of the mortal realm that prayed commonly on the emotions of vulgar men. By siding with Richard, they would cut themselves off from the splendors of heaven and ensure themselves and their people would suffer eternally in the next phases of life, and sealed the fate of their states to crumble into ruin.
The other houses, the ones more feeble or devoted, stayed loyal to the church. Some maintained their oath out of devotion to the true God, but it is quite likely that the smaller houses hoped that when the conflict was all over, they might assimilate the ruins of the once larger dissident houses and also find themselves elevated in the eyes of the Church. Nevertheless word of the great schism eventually reached the commonplace. In all states there was outcry and general turmoil, but after a time this stabilized itself as minorities were silenced or learned to keep quiet.
The House of Jonas had one notable advantage over the Church, that being its size. The House provided a large levy of troops to the Imperial Army, and indeed their peoples made up the bulk of the military and provided the majority of the finances that bought weapons, armor, and food. The Imperial Armies, despite a name that might invoke a sense of unification, were anything but. They were highly variable in terms of size, training, equipment, and most importantly faith. Some soldiers were no better than mercenaries, loyal only to the coin. These people, mostly peasants, sought wealth beyond what a feudal life might offer and joined the militaries. Other soldiers, still motivated by coin, were loyal to their commanders and to their homeland over the church. A rare few, were driven by faith itself, notably those heralding from the core citadels like Runeshold. Jonasburg had both coin and loyalty. Many officers, commanders, and generals were of Jonasburg descent and were trained in its military academies. The standing armies were financed by the banks and mints of the eastern ports, which had strong ties to Jonasburg and accompanying houses. So it was that the armies, upon the schism, devoted themselves to the dissidents, and the church was left scrambling to both populate and fund a new standing army. This put a large strain on the smaller houses. They were forced to levy large amounts of their population to arms and pay taxes on grain to feed the new army. The banks of the nobles was emptied, and hushed discussion heretical to the church became common in wellborn halls.
For a time the tension grew, but no action was made on either side. Travel became less common between settlements and a line was drawn between the two Empires: The Jonesburg Empire to the North and the Holy Runstein Empire to the South. Emperor Richard IV founded a surrogate church, which in his eyes redeemed himself in the eyes of the divine graces. Pope Saint Velles in counter labelled him an imposter, a man opposed to God, and and his followers were labelled as men of lawlessness who would bring about ruin to the realm. The new church did not have another Pope, which would’ve been regarded as a puppet of Richard nonetheless. No, Richard labelled himself God Emperor. He claimed a mandate from heaven; A right to rule and conquer all the lands before him. It was then that tensions grew to a point of bifurcation, and the opposing armies began to bring ruin to the land.
Armies of both sides met as they roamed the countryside, razing friendly and unfriendly settlements alike in search of food and loot. When they found themselves in enemy territory, they burned what crops and homes they could find. Clashes between them were bloody, and battlefields were so numerous that bodies lay rank and rotting in the fields for months, festering and bloated under God’s son.
Richard’s motive here should also be discussed. His action was perhaps catalyzed by the endeavors of his father, Richard III, who ruled as emperor before him. Richard III was a good and just emperor, respected by all the houses and the church alike. Such as it was with all the rulers of the Jonas dynasty there was great success under his rule, and exploration throughout the land was encouraged to expand the Empires domain. Richard III and the Pope, who before Saint Velles was Saint Moent, wished to expand to the other lands to both initiate trade and to establish settlements there, with the eventual goal being a conversion of the populace into the true religion of the Celestine Faith. A great many expeditions were sent out on huge ships. The ships were packed with trinkets of gold and silver, clothes of the finest silks and rarest dyes, and the best steeds, as gifts to display their eloquence and benevolence. These ships, which were dozens in number, with masts as thick as a redwood tree and nearly as tall, bearing huge sails for catching wind, set out over periods of years. As was the case for the past few centuries, many of these ships were lost. It is not known if they were lost to the torrent of the seas or arrived at their destination unable to return. One of these ships, the Elysius, would however survive its journey into the raging seas and return battered and half-crewed. They did not make it to the other lands, but the sailors proclaimed to have found something just as profound.
The first mate, for the captain had died in one of the many storms, had been navigating the waters with another ship, The Orpheus. Both ships had been driven widely off course by a storm and separated from the main fleet, and now found themselves navigating blindly calm waters enshrouded in a thick fog. Even from the tallest point of the mast one could not pierce the fog. It had not let up for several days, and they travelled without the aid of any instrument besides a compass. They travelled West, for that was the direction of home, and they figured that they were between the two great landmasses and were closer to home than the Other Lands, having been blown significantly off-course by the winds. They also figured that eventually the fog would have to disperse and the boats would know where they were.
The boats travelled in a line, the Elysius only a few feet behind the Orpheus. They were connected by rope and by lantern, which could only be seen from the very front of the Elysius or the back of the Orpheus. Occasionally, information and supplies was ferried across the rope when necessary. As they travelled it also grew colder, and small chunks of ice began appearing in the ocean.
Early one morning all sailors of both ships were asleep, save for the helmsman who kept them on course. He stood sleepily, keeping the tiller straight. It was unstimulating, and the fog that surrounded him would’ve sent him into a slumber had he not been awoken periodically by the cold chill of the air. Yet in that moment he heard yelling from the forward ship. He shrugged it off as typical foolery. The sailors on both ships were growing desperate. Many of them often drowned their fears in alcohol, which was severely punished. Being without a captain—on both ships—lent itself to some leniency nonetheless. And yet the yelling did not let up. The helmsman was joined by a sailor from below who was roused by the commotion.
“Aye, what’s that racket all about?” He said coming up the stairs shivering. His coat insufficient above deck.
The helmsman pointed, “Its from the Orpheus it seems. Another drunken spat I ‘spose.”
The sailor peered out, “‘Can hardly see past my nose in this fog. What’re they on about?”
They both stood for a moment, listening to the sway of the ropes and the groan of the ship. The screaming didn’t stop and seemed to originate from more than one voice.
The sailor continued. “By the God they’re chatty! I wish we had some of that stuff left. They must be drinking themselves into a stupor. ‘Wonder whose on the wheel.”
“They’ll settle down, just give them time.” Said the Helmsman. They waited for awhile longer, and then at an instant there was a loud thud and they were thrown to the ground. The helmsman struggled to stand up, slipping on the icy wood. The sailor hoisted himself up on the side of the ship with some rope. The sound of splinting could be heard and lanterns clinked together violently. The ship shook violently and seemed about to explode.
“By the Gods!” Said the Helmsman, still struggling to stand, “What was that?”
The sailor, who was now on his feet looked out to the horizon. “Look there man, the lanterns gone! Have they cut the rope?”
A great commotion occurred below deck and immediately more people began to surface. Some ran to the sides of the ship, some to the back. They scurried about like headless chickens, unsure of the situation. One of the sailors from the front of the ship screamed out in horror, “Its gone! The ship is gone!”
The helmsman ran up to him, along with all the other sailors and leaned over the edge of the ship. The ship in front of them, which could barely be seen at all even from the front through the thick mist, was not to be seen. The men looked out into the fog, hoping to see a hint of shape, and so nothing. They called out to the Orpheus, and there was no response.
The helmsman stood there for a moment, staring out into the fog. He noticed a new sound that was quite peculiar. It was a roaring sound like that of running water, or a waterfall of great size. The helmsman looked down, not forward, and was shocked.
“God in Heaven! They’ve gone over the edge! The Orpheus has fall over the edge of the world!”. He immediately fell to his knees and began praying in between sobs. The older sailors looked down as well and were horrified. The ocean they had been sailing on had come to an end. It appeared that the world was not connected around in the shape of a sphere as some of the church astrologers had predicted, but was flat and came to an abrupt land far beyond the main continents. The Orpheus, without realizing, had sailed off this edge and toppled into the abyss. The sailors peered into the darkness, their minds scarcely able to comprehend its scale. They could not see the Orpheus, it was swallowed up in the darkness. The water along the edge was mostly ice, but it seemed that the Orpheus had swept through a current and had bypassed the ice. The Elysius, by a stroke of luck or divine will, had been caught by a large block of ice. It was now teetering over the edge, though quite structurally stable. The rope that had once connected the two ships now hung limp, having snapped under the immense weight of the falling ship.