#writing
The Descent of Pirithous IV
The Celestine Church was a complex organization with many moving parts. It had existed for thousands of years in some form or another, but it was not until the rise of the houses and their relatively unified rule some seven hundred years ago that they truly began to gain prominence. The church was structured around Runeshold, the city in which the Divine was said to have first come down and proclaim his dominion over the Universe and created his first vicar. The city sat along the edge of the Eastern sea a little south of the great and wealthy port cities, a crucible at the center of the great arterial rivers from which all commerce, trade, and culture emerge. From here the Church spread out through a network of missionaries and monastic individuals. The different dominions at the time, then little more than warring city-states, were ruled by brutish warlords. Commerce was rare and relations were hostile or nonexistent. Travel between states was met with hostility not only on the roads where brigands roamed free but also in the towns, where people behaved much like enclaves who were opposed to other peoples. Through the spread of the early church, monasteries and parishes were established which educated the populace on religious doctrine. A sense of unity was created, and the teachings of the Celestine faith served to provide a moral order to the peoples of the common realm.
The process of this was widely contested of course, and progress was drawn out over centuries of efforts. In places where a strong incumbent religion already existed, conversion to the true and good faith was much harder as locals resisted conversion. In some places conversion was done only through the gradient mind of children, who grew up under the influences of multiple competing cultures. Their children and their children’s children however, would soon find their antiquated faith diluted enough that in their turbid mind they would accept the gospel.
With establishment came legitimization, and so the rulers of the meagre city-states soon turned to the Church for anointment. The Church accepted this arrangement, provided the states adopted the Church as its dominant religion and paid their share of tithes thrice yearly. It appointed its first divine Kings, each warlord purified of their transgressions and wreathed in holy armor of silver. These states once legitimized, seemed emboldened by the vigor of the holy spirit. They drove their holy fleets into the opposed lands, striking down all who stood in their way. The armies of these states rode from town to town, cutting down the hordes of non believers. They cleaned the roadways of villainy and crime, leaving the heads of sinners upon pikes in lines miles long as a warning to any who may repeat the sins of their predecessors. Whole towns of resistance were burned along with their populace, and in the ruins of the inferno, akin to a savanna after a wildfire, sprung up new settlements of devoted individuals. The fields were fertilized by the ashes of the secular, and the waters runeth red into the soil from the blood of the iconoclast. The opposed rulers, who by now were sure they had witnessed the manifestation of God himself soon fell to their knees at the rumble of approaching armies and smartly converted to their faith. It is here that the Runstein empire is truly founded and the vassal states of the Houses comes into existence. Each city-state with their remaining rulers became Kings and that first state which had harbored and birthed the early Church became the center of the Empire. This house would much later become the famous, or perhaps infamous, House of Jonas. The esteemed scholar Kesiod the Younger, who lived this period of triumph, describes it as, “A golden age foretold by the seers of old. It is a carefree time when the men guided by faith and virtue are led to wealth without succumbing to it; It is a time without sorrow or labor and an age of order”.
In the almost modern times, when Emperor Richard III ruled, we return. The Church allowed a great degree of autonomy over the House of Jonas and its operations, especially since it held its finger on the pulse of the Empire itself and there was no need to disrupt what worked so well that its framework may itself be considered divine. Since Richard’s operations, the economic machine seemed to work better than it had before, and the treasuries of the Church had not seen such capacity since the ‘Golden Age’ of the last crusade, as the period was referred to by the more archaist historians. The realm enjoyed a great many splendors and security, due in much part to Richard III’s rule; He was in fact regarded as a great and just ruler, even by the Pope at the time Saint Moent who had with him a close relationship. They often spent many afternoons with one another where they spoke of the old times and discussed the state of the world. They were intellectuals in a world where literacy was rare and a book more valuable than the rarest gem, and they devoured each other’s minds with voracity. Due to the size of Richard’s expeditions, it was only natural that at some point it should osmose into the purview of the Church. Perhaps by a disgruntled scholar who disagreed with the new findings, or by the mouth of a drunken sailor, a multitude of who had been employed in the many voyages to the edge. When information of Richard’s activity was brought to Saint Moent’s attention he tried his best to unhear it. He allowed a certain degree of autonomy to Richard’s activities and to his incompatible discoveries so long as the rivers continued to flow with gold. This leniency might also have been attributed to Moent’s personal views as well. Being a man of science and God, he was ordained to understand the world God had created for man. Was it any wonder he himself wished to understand unfettered the full state of the world?
This agreement was allowed to exist until Pope Saint Moent eventually came upon an untimely death. His departure seemed to be an accident, and indeed he was expected to rule for many more years in good health of mind and body. The admiration for him was reflected in his funereal processions, which were funded wholly by the banks of Emperor Richard III. It lasted for three weeks, taking place through the main streets of Runeshold which seemed to freeze in place all activity for the venerated Saint. He was placed in a great parade that circled the plazas of the whole city. It led a century of soldiers in gold and white embroidery, and cavalry of the finest steeds with fur of shining silver. Upon each wall and scarp of the towering cathedrals, forums, and arcades were onlookers, each silent regardless of creed or belief for the lost Pope. They stood shoulder to shoulder, watching as the white chariot holding Moent went past, stifling cries and dropping pedals of rose and lilies down from the arched cloisters above. In the air was a frost that floated down and layered the buildings and crowds in a holy white. It smelled everywhere of incense, and the music of harps and horns and organs of a most wonderful variety echoed through the large stone buildings which made up the bulk of the city; The corridors and passageways were filled with the sigh of angels who had come to escort one of their own.
The procession made its way to the central Cathedral, where God himself was said to have come down that millennia ago and delivered man the gift of his mercy and guidance. Each seat was filled with the highest members of the Clergy and the Houses. The hall was silent, echoing only the footsteps of the Royal Guards who now carried in the white marble casket.
As the casket was lowered into the labyrinth below the church where all the Popes, Cardinals, Saints, and holy individuals were laid to rest, a singular organ began to play. A Cardinal began a prayer as well to send off the newly ascended soul. High above the seats of the Cathedral though a group of robed men observed the situation and whispered amongst themselves. One of these men, who looked on with the eyes of a wolf, was Velles. At the time he was younger, still wearing a a full head of charcoal black hair and without the aging wrinkles of stress that afflicted men of stature. He was then a popular individual among the bishops and unofficial parties of the church, and he had his eyes on the seat of the Vicar itself. He would eventually take the seat, some years later, to much celebration and encouragement of the major party within the Church.
Despite the widespread support of Moent and his office, there was a large silent—and powerful—group of individuals within the church who opposed him on theological grounds. They did not approve of his curious and progressive actions. These opponents aspired to the thinkers of antiquated ages, and saw movement through time as a degradation from the virtues of before. While Moent’s rule had been stable and prosperous, they did not approve of its direction.
There were those who thought that Moent’s demise had not been an accident but a deliberate expedited attempt at securing his position. To speak of such activity was highly heretical of course, since it meant publicly speaking against the most powerful authority in the land. Nonetheless, gossip spread under threat of sword as it often does, though no investigation even came to fruition.
Once in office, Velles immediately took to scrutiny of Emperor Richard’s activities. His book keeping was searched by the inquisitorious—a highly secretive arm of the Church that investigated heretical activity—and his libraries containing knowledge of his inventions and discoveries were eventually discovered through unseemly interrogation of certain officials within Richard’s government.
Immediate action was taken by Velles, through the ruthless hand of the Inquisitorious. His men, cloaked all in black opposite the colors of the church, went into Richard’s government. They abducted accountants, scholars, librarians, and engineers and subjected them to unseemly methods of interrogation. It started in the smaller towns and hamlets, before eventually descending into the capital of Jonasburg itself. The inquisitorious identified key bits of information and began a great purge. They assassinated sailors and burned their ships along with maps that told the location to the edge. They hung scholars and thinkers in town squares, accusing them of witchcraft, and burned their libraries to the ground. Individuals associated with Richard’s activity had great bounties put on their head, and in many cases angered mobs in rural villages set upon each other, accusing individuals of forbidden knowledge.
What is quite incredible was Emperor Richard III’s response to the manner. All around him his servants and workers were being abducted and murdered. His halls were filled with paranoia, and he wondered if he himself should fear for his and his families life. He knew nothing could be done against Velles and his inquisitors. They were a mysterious, widely feared faction, with connections throughout the realm. If Velles had decreed his operation be destroyed without trace, Richard could only sit and hope that he would not go with it.
Eventually, Velles did come for Richard, though they did not come for his head. A group of robed men, clad in onyx, invaded his house and spoke to him, unmolested by any guard. They had rounded up his family, which now sat upon the cold marble floor at the sword of a hooded individual. Richard pleaded before them, kissing their shoes and begging that they at least spare his wife and only child, young Richard IV. The head inquisitor, a tall sinister man stared at him and laughed.
“Look now at the Emperor, kneeling before the hem of my robe. Do you smell that? Emperor? The smell of smoke and ash from the heretical scrawlings within your state which we have so graciously burned? Do you see the blood, crimson in color, that sits caked into my clothes from the heathens that meddled within your halls?”
The Emperor looked up, shaking. The inquisitor stared down at him, surrounded by a pervading darkness. An inquisitor off to the side, holding a sword stained in old blood, stared longingly at the Emperor’s wife and child. “Your Grace, I have been nothing but loyal to the Church. I have served, as has my family, the Church valiantly as its servant for centuries. I have upheld its doctrines and expanded its borders. Please, I beg you in the lords name to spare me, or if not at least my young child and his mother. They know nothing of my actions.”
“You dare use the lords name! Your tongue mutilates the air as it speaks. Your actions and obsessions are altogether antithetical to the church, and to do so in secret from the Church! Your tongue should be cut out and fed to you, and your family should be struck down without heavenly restraint.”
“Please!” cried Richard, his face now streaming with tears. He couldn’t bear to look back on his wife and child, who at such a young age would see his father be killed so pathetically. “It was curiosity! Nothing more! I beg you understand, what I did was for the church, for the betterment of the Empire!”
The Inquisitor stared at him, with the playful eyes of a cat with a rabbit in its claws. “Curiosity. Of course, curiosity.” He mused, all silent except occasional whimper from Richards child. “That first sin that sent man into its descent, delivered by a serpents tongue. You are certainly curious, a vestige of early man. It is said that the curious man, in the holy texts, should have his eyes plucked out of his head so that he cannot fall to visual temptation. Should we do that? Would that be a fitting punishment for your actions?”
“I implore you, all I did was for the church! Nothing more!” said the Emperor.
“Or,” continued the Inquisitor, “Perhaps curiosity is not your sin. Perhaps it is greed. It is fitting that a man, sat upon a golden throne, with his finger upon the pulse of an entire empire, would decided that it was not enough for him. Was it greed that drove those men off the edge of the world? Greed that drove your libraries to be filled, in secret, with antithetical information to the Church?”. The Inquisitor knelt down and met the Emperor eye to eye. “Are you greedy? Son of Jonas?” he asked.
“Please, I am loyal as I have said. Everything I did was for the Church. Look at the progress I have made, the inventions which now stir the empire into a new golden age! All of it has been in service of my people.”
“That may be true.” said the Inquisitor. “But you knew what you did was wrong. It was hidden for a reason.”
“Moent knew”, said Richard, “I showed him the findings, we discussed it on many occasions! He did not object to my discoveries, for they were true!”.
“Of course, Saint Moent. He was a fickle man, just and curious like you perhaps. But his age has come and gone, as has yours. The knowledge offered by the heavens is sacred and absolute and much desired by man. And yet man was not made to handle such concentrated information alone. It was Mans first search for knowledge that made him mortal no? His curiosity was what led to the fall of innocence. You need only to look at our neighbors in any direction, at their decrepit state and disavowal of God to see the necessity of guidance. Without Heaven their place is in the mud, as will be your Empire. This activity ceases today.”
“What happens now?” Said Richard.
“The honourable Pope Saint Velles has decreed all reference to these heretical actions be purged. All your ships burned, all your actors silenced, all the texts destroyed. This as you know has been done” Said the Inquisitor. “If it were up to me, you would be slain here and now. But that is not the will of the Church. Velles offers you your life, being that your house bears a certain… reputation. You are to remain Emperor, with your family unharmed and your abilities unhindered though monitored non-invasively. There is a stipulation of course. Your previous actions are to remain silent, and any characters that have eluded our hunt are to be silenced by you, permanently if necessary. No word of these events is ever to surface. Do you understand?”
“Yes, yes of course.” Richard began to stand, and his child ran up to him, wrapping his tiny arms around his leg.
“You have been granted an unprecedented mercy, your highness.” said the Inquisitor turning to leave. For a moment, he stared at the boy and then back to the the father. “Pray you do not waste it, for I pray that you will”.