RE: Monarch
Chapter 263: Kholis VIII

First, there was boarding our horses, and making sure they were taken care of for the duration of our stay. But the unexpected nature of where we were staying allowed for much more flexibility than this sort of excursion typically did. Unlike a room at an inn, the cozy home Lucius gifted us had a kitchen, and a fantastic one at that.

It was a benefit I had every intention of taking advantage of.

Cooking wasn't something I'd done much of my first life. I'd learned it by necessity during my stay in the Enclave in Maya's household under Nethtari's tutelage, where everyone was expected to pitch in and help come meal time. Despite my inexperience, I'd taken to it quickly. There wasn't much difference between cooking and apothecary work. Both required precision, adherence to various processes, and patience, though the end result was typically more forgiving than the latter.

It'd been nearly as long since I'd used those cooking skills, as most meals in the Sanctum tended to be bland. The rare monsters that were edible were generally flavorless once mana—their life-force—was spent, and just as straightforward to cook. Naturally occurring seasoning was practically impossible to come by, so there was little to curb the blandness, and not much point in going to greater lengths than a roast or boil.

I'd quickly gotten it into my head that I wanted to cook for Maya. A brief inspection of the stove gave birth to the idea. Her difficulties acclimating to the downtime mirrored my own, and there was nothing that helped a person relax more quickly than a home cooked meal.

The second half of it, however, was the real stroke of genius.

It took less than twenty minutes to find exactly what I was looking for. The infernal vendor gave a wary eye as I approached basket-in-hand and seemed a little irritated when I stopped to peruse rather than simply window shopping and moving on. "Do you a favor, lad. Most of this won't be to your taste. Some has to be prepared in a certain manner to be edible. There's a nice bakery back the way you came."

I let that pass, crouching down to examine a dark-blue vegetable that whitened at the stalk, examining it for any oddities or marks. "Gathered shortly after midnight, I assume?" I asked in demonic.

The man immediately straightened, the overhead sun illuminating his ruddy skin. His tail, previously motionless, twitched with interest. "As any noctis root should be. Just came in this morning."

That was ideal. Noctis root grew exclusively in the region around the Enclave, and in great numbers. You could find them in practically any shaded area on the surface. Unfortunately, they spoiled just as quickly as they grew, flowering in the early morning and withering within a few days. If they were harvested at the wrong time of day, they withered even faster.

I selected several more, inspecting the leaves as Nethtari had taught me.

The vendor seemingly came to the conclusion that I knew enough to be left to my own devices and turned his attention to a tall blue infernal in a formal cloak, wrapped in a scarlet sash with a white border that marked him as a priest.

Content to be left alone, I carried on, relieved that neither of them had recognized me. Infernals were the most likely to because of the growing legend around my resurrection. I quickly made additional selections, placing what I needed in the basket one after another. Bending down to grab a small tuber, I found myself face to face with the intelligent visage of the priest, who seemed overly interested in the contents of my basket.

"Noctis Root, Solas Tubers, Phoenix of the Forest, and Scholar’s Blade. If I had to guess, the makings of an excellent stew." He had a sedate way of speaking, yet his warm voice was unusually charismatic, as if he was confident the world would slow down for him.

I saw no reason to lie. "That's the plan."

"We often cook such meals for the faithful. Might I suggest a little Rhus Berry and Zingiber. It goes a long way to round out the flavor."

My eyes slid to the side. There was no reason for rudeness, and so far, beyond a mild inattentiveness to personal space, the priest had done nothing wrong.

"Ah," The priest said, zeroing in on my hesitation immediately. "But you have a reason to have chosen what you have."

"Something like that."

He waved dismissively, chuckling at himself. "My apologies. Leave it to the clergy to offer advice where none is required. Carry on young man, and ignore this tired old goat's whimsy." With that he seemed content to return to his shopping. I'd expected him to overstay his welcome with the pushiness typical of the Priests of Elphion, all but forcing a variety of unwanted items into my basket.

Only now that he hadn't, the exchange felt uneven. Like I'd been unnecessarily cagey towards someone just trying to help.

Without fully realizing why, I caught his eye again. Perhaps it was too much to hope for, but the golden flame at his neck looked very similar to others I'd seen in the Enclave. "If I might ask, what deity do you serve, priest?"

"My." His eyes twinkled. "What a dangerous question to ask for a man with plans for the rest of his day." He barked out a laugh, which after a moment, I shared. Once the laughter faded, he answered. "I serve the first flame and guardian of truth."

What are the odds?

My breath caught as the word echoed in my mind. In a way it was fortuitous, though my memory of the goddess was bittersweet. "There's a shrine to Infaris here, within the city limits of Kholis?"

He nodded serenely. "Temples and all manner of places of worship. The baron is quite flexible when it comes to versatility of thought, for which we are most fortunate." The priest's head tilted, one curling horn pointing skyward. "Perhaps this is impolite to say, but you seem more familiar with the goddess than most would expect a human to be. Are your interests purely academic, or…" he trailed off, letting the question fill in itself.

"She's done more for me than any deity ever has. I suppose… I follow her." I swallowed, not feeling particularly worthy with the way things had turned out.

To his utmost credit, the priest nodded, absorbing that with no indication of surprise. "But it's been a while."

"Yes." I sighed. "I've not exactly been consistent in my devotion."

"With all the respect and reverence in the world, she is not an easy goddess to serve." The priest shook his head sympathetically. "The Truth can be difficult to face. Even in the best of times. It is far easier to reach for a convenient lie, and once that becomes a habit, what is true becomes harder and harder to recognize."

A sudden desire overcame me. To make things right, somehow. "I'll be in town for a few days. If at all possible, I'd like to schedule a time to make an offering. If that's too abrupt—"

"What's your name, son?" The question came at me fast, too quickly to prepare a proper lie.

I considered several potential pseudonyms before discarding that idea. If the point was to rectify things with Infaris, lying to her chosen was probably not the best way to manage it.

"Cairn," I answered, careful to keep my face neutral.

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"Ah. A strong name, albeit a somber one." He eyed me, curiously. If he at all recognized the name, there was nothing in his expression that gave it away. "Call me Baal. To answer your previous question, all are welcome to offer a sacrifice to the goddess, wherever they hail from."

"Is there a time that works best?"

"We're both here, surrounded by ingredients one could easily compose a sufficient offering." The corners of his mouth turned upward.

Something about that didn't sound quite right. "Ah. Doesn't… Infaris prefer rare, difficult to source materials in her offerings?"

"No." Baal blinked several times, as if the very notion was ridiculous. "Infaris was a champion of all, from reds to violets. She'd often choose the poor and downtrodden amongst her champions, many of whom did not have the means or resources to offer more than simple scraps. I'd imagine she'd accept something more uncommon, but requiring such a thing? No, absolutely not."

A flood of memories catalogued the many, many potential sources of food and ridiculously expensive components I'd used as offerings, under the impression that the elevated value was somehow important. A conclusion Infaris herself had certainly never bothered to correct.

Damn goddess.

I stilled the part of myself that was tempted to shake a fist skyward and considered his offer. Maya had laid down to rest shortly before I left, and by the time I did she was strewn over a chaise, gently dozing in a golden ray of afternoon sun.

Now was likely as good of a time as any.

/////

There was no delusion in my mind that Infaris would suddenly appear. The direct communication that transpired between us was likely fixed to the Sanctum itself. It was a special place, set apart from the outside world and ridiculously mana dense, filled with flora that could no longer be found anywhere on the surface, and fauna that was exotic as it was dangerous.

Still, as I entered the modest chapel, and strode past several dark-grey pews washed in light filtering through white-violet stained glass of various motifs, I couldn't help but search for her presence. Though generally beyond mortal senses, there was always something perceptible when she was present, like the charged feeling in the air just before a storm.

Now there was nothing. Which, while a little disappointing, was to be expected.

The chapel was well maintained and beautiful in its simplicity. Nonetheless, it was strange to imagine her confined to any building. I'd burned my offerings from the peaks of tall mountains to the cradles of deep valleys, generally selecting the most scenic locations I could find.

The priest—Baal—climbed the short set of stairs leading to a raised platform, a pulpit placed far to the left side. In the center was a statue carved from marble, depicting an ordinary woman clad in flowing garments, forever frozen in time. A burgeoning flame radiated from her fingertip, her hand held skyward in exultation. According to the stories the first flame burned so brightly it was pure white, and with it, Infaris forged the infernals from the blood of demons and flesh of beasts.

I paused there, taking her in. And I must have looked apprehensive, because a supportive hand grasped my shoulder shortly after.

Baal smiled kindly. "It doesn't matter how long it's been. She remembers. Speak from the heart, and your prayers will be heard."

There was an overwhelming desire to flee. Justifications and rationalizations rattled around in my mind, one after another. That Infaris isn't truly here, that she is likely too weak to even hear me this far from her resting place. And of course, the final, more glaring reason beneath. That she wouldn't give a shit about what I had to say, and for good reason.

Suppressing it best I could, I let the ritual take over, muscle merging with memory as I knelt before the small central brazier and flipped open the basket, placing the ingredients I'd selected in a manner that was aesthetically pleasing, arranging and nudging the pieces until they fell perfectly into place. A familiar crackle of flame caught my ears as the priest brought over a small torch, its orange tongue flickering gently from a subtle draft. His visage looked eerie in the dim light, more somber than he'd appeared just moments ago.

"Remember. It is better to be silent than fall prey to deceit."

I took the torch from him without reply and placed it to the offering. As the fire rose, I waited, hoping to feel something, but ultimately being unsurprised when there was nothing but the warmth of the growing flame and the scent of burning food.

I stared into it, letting my mind relax and wander. Then, I spoke.

"At the time, I couldn't imagine why it could possibly be so important. To leave the past in the past. My mind was filled with stories of deities interfering with the affairs of mortals out of their own petty rivalries and ambitions, and despite everything you'd done for me—for us—I believed the worst of you. A rather classic blunder for the faithful, is it not? Accepting guidance until it becomes inconvenient and difficult to apply. Assuming they are the exception, rather than the rule. It was just… easier to believe you refused to reveal the reason because it didn't exist. So, like a foolish child, I touched the fire and found it burned. It nearly broke me. Were it not for the support of my friends and family, it probably would have. You were right to warn me. You were right."

The flame flickered, the once-raw food in the brazier's basin grew charred and black. I stared into the flame, and my surroundings faded away.

"But I have clarity now." Something graveled in my throat, and my voice lowered to a near whisper. "A purity of purpose that simply did not exist within me before I touched the fire. Because of my questions, my doubts. I do not care to hear their answers now, nor unravel mysteries that share no meaning. I will not shun knowledge, for knowledge is a weapon. But I will no longer quibble, or equivocate, or stay my hand because of what could or could not be. If there is an advantage, I will seize it. If a siren calls to me, I will shut my eyes, deafen my ears, and see it slain."

I paused, overly aware of the growing tremble in my voice. After several deep breaths, I felt more steady, and continued.

"Though it was a more circuitous path, I learned the lesson you attempted to teach me. Perhaps this is hubris, but there are grand strides forward to be taken in the coming months. If you'd be willing to watch over us—" I trailed off, the supplication dying in my throat as the flames puttered out.

Awkwardly, I twisted backwards to glance at the priest, a wry smile on my lips. "It seems the goddess has spoken."

Baal shook his head apologetically, and shod a cloth glove with which he lifted the brazier gently out of its stand, moving it behind a partition in the back as he spoke. "Despite the rather obvious sign of refusal—the failing of the flame—it is a breezy day, and this humble temple is hardly airtight. Fire burns faster when there is circulating air to feed it. This too, is truth. And you are not the first affected by it."

The priest was probably right. Seeing the brazier burned out just as I was about to sue for aid was a little disheartening, but as I'd considered shortly before the prayer, there was a possibility Infaris simply couldn't hear me at all.

Deities were unknowable. It came with the territory.

"Thank you for your time, priest." I bowed.

"The pleasure was mine." Baal shook his head. "It's not often I get the chance to facilitate prayers as earnest as yours. Few come here purely to beseech the goddess."

"Oh," I tilted my head, a little puzzled. "Then… what do they come here for?"

"Weddings." It might have been a trick of the light, but it almost looked like the priest rolled his eyes. "Three this month already. The weddings keep the doors open and the coffers full, so of course, I am grateful."

Again, that seemed strange. Because Infaris was the goddess of truth—and her integrity was not forged of pleasantries and self-affirmations. Her truth could be ugly, destructive, painstakingly difficult.

Even excruciating.

When I said as much, Baal chuckled. "Have you ever witnessed those who choose to walk through life together and find themselves in the throes of bitter conflict? Can that not also be ugly, destructive, and difficult?"

"Yes…" I frowned. "But the reason for that ugliness is the underlying flaws. A poor foundation, or an improper fit."

"There's truth to that, yes." His expression grew serious. "But I've lived too long to look at love and see it pure. Powerful, yes. It can motivate men and monsters to greater heights, and darker depths, than they would dare travel uninspired. We are all bound in this life. By birth, tenets, and philosophies often established long before our existence that will pervade long after we are gone. A bond we choose—one we seek, pursue, and ultimately ordain for ourselves—is infinitely more powerful than one that is foisted upon us." He let that sink in, his sedate way of speaking giving the words greater weight.

"And that… really brings in the weddings?"

"Heavens no." Baal laughed again, leaning over a bit and slapping his knee. He glanced to the side, slightly shifty. "It is lesser known, but Infaris was documented to have rather broad tastes. All are welcome to worship and marry. Regardless of who they are, or how they differ. Adults who are ready to take the next step but might have trouble establishing bonds of matrimony in their existing societies are often advised by those further along that once shared their circumstances to travel to Kholis, and search for the chapel of the first flame."

My mind traveled to places it shouldn't, and I did my best to distract myself. "And it doesn't bother you? That many of them… aren't devout?"

The priest shook his head. "If their love is true, then the goddess is pleased. That is all that is required."

We parted then. I dropped a few golden rods in the donation box on my way out, and headed back to the cottage, basket in hand, the priest's words echoing in my mind.