Chapter 2: Discord

Guesthall

The room in which the group sat at a massive stone table in the cenre was brightly coloured. An elaborate system of mirrors and colourful glass allowed the sunlight from the surface to run directly from the artistic ceiling into the room. Paired with numerous fabric decorations and tapestries that swallowed up much of the space in the room, which would have been much more at home in the cool underground vaults, the council chamber almost looked more like the dining room of one of the higher clan families. Violeta and the other “unimportant personalities,” who were allowed to at least listen to the negotiations of the past few days, stood off to the side of the table and the centre of the room, almost disappearing into the fabric walls. Niculaie was excused from the meeting by Bârladeanu, as his sharp, easily irritated by dust, nose would only be a disturbance at the meeting.
The ‘important personalities’ sat at the table and ate. The scents of heavily spiced foods filled the room and made Violeta a bit envious, who in turn had only allowed herself bread with cold cuts. Large clay bowls from the Hwalem Sea, containing meat from the buffaloes of the northern Kahgela savannah and root vegetables from the Waals, lay on the table. A type of schnapps that Bârladeanu had acquired from the port city of Darjira some time ago was also present. Payam, who knew the liquor, described it as an “eastern export product,” which visibly surprised the Dravki and the Magistra, as Meridia was generally seen as the east of the world, and little was known about the countries beyond the Meriian Sea. Obviously positive about the confusion and guessing, Payam left it at that and did not go into further detail about the exotic, but tasty drink.
On the right side of the table sat the Hesha in front of their personally arranged dishes. Irajò and his wife Hedeh sat next to each other. While the muscular ruler downed a glass of northern wine, the always elegantly and provocatively dressed Hedeh ate a pigeon pâté with noble movements. Rarely had Violeta seen a woman with such black and consistently perfect skin. Every now and then her gaze slid down to the ruler’s bosom, under which her nipples were visible through the thin fabric. Each time Violeta turned away, slightly flushing.
On their right sat the ruler of the merchant city of Darjira, Payam. With a sweeping full beard, a strong hooked nose, and an elaborately designed turban, the plump Hesha sat over his plate, which was apparently filled with everything. He was the only one who could completely isolate himself from the worries that hung over the negotiations, and he was also the only one who cared little about table manners. Fortunately, no one took offence at him.
To the left of the rulers of Ahel’Hwalem sat Satha. If Irajò did everything he could to look like a warrior, with his ceremonial attire, decorative sabre at his side, and his open chest, he was nothing but a little boy playing fighters next to Satha. The stately Hesha of the northern oasis city of Inhlu’Kahgela cared little for fine clothing. And even less, it seemed to Violeta, did he care about the negotiations. The generally bad mood radiating from the Hesha was supported by his scarred exterior. Despite his age, he was strong, and it was not for show, as with Irajò. Dressed in dark beige colours and with his guard of warriors as an escort, he seemed quite determined and, above all, angry. He was the only one who touched his food, but seemed to be waiting for the negotiations to continue, after the last few days plagued by more platonic pleasantries and evasive questions from the Governess and Magistra. Violeta had made an effort to serve him a particularly bloody piece of meat from one of the great wild animals from his homeland. His reaction was only a contemptuous reminder of the ritual customs of the northern Meridians, in which one could only eat meat that one had hunted and killed oneself.
“A hunter never makes use of the prey of another,” was his only answer, which probably had to do with the important hunting and fighting culture of the North, which Satha seemed to embody. Now the piece lay cold and untouched before him.
On the other side of the table were three more seats, one of which had remained empty since the beginning of the trial a few days ago. Bârladeanu sat in one, constantly trying to continue the few conversations held by the group, if any. Next to her sat Osmund Cantrell, representing the Church of Divine Right. The already somewhat elderly Magistra preferred wine over food, which earned him a nod of approval from the young Irajò. The wiry figure was cloaked in a narrow, rather unofficial-looking robe, and Violeta came to the conclusion that the man must have been quite attractive once. He had traded in his beige priest’s robe for a slim-cut satin shirt and jacket. The high collar and accentuated shoulders flattered his clean-shaven face, with the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth and eyes particularly visible. Violeta had only had one opportunity to speak with him so far, when she brought him to his quarters. She quickly realized that he came from a good Western family, but did not possess the same superior attitude as Niculaie or other blue-blooded individuals. She found him entertaining, even though there was always a tone of fatigue or under-challenge in his voice. Or both. She was never sure.
Perhaps it’s his age, she thought. Maybe Niculaie will become more bearable with age as well.
The empty seat, which Bârladeanu always set and kept open demonstratively, actually belonged to the representative from the far north, the Frayhilden Republic. The close relatives of the Waalish Dravken, as northern neighbours of Meridia, had also been invited to these meetings. But as so often, the conflict-ridden history of both countries got in the way. As a former part of the Waals Kingdom, Frayhilden is now independent after a long war and declared itself the first democratic republic in the Known World. However, this does not prevent them from still treating the Waals with contempt and caution. A way that works both ways. The fraydish diplomat apologised at the last minute with fleeting excuses and has so far stayed away from the negotiations. Nevertheless, Bârladeanu had his seat set, if only to spite the northern delegate’s behaviour. Let everyone see that Frayhilden stayed away.
An uncomfortable silence hung over the sounds of the small, secluded banquet, which did not fit the situation in which everyone found themselves. For almost a week, the negotiations had been stuck, mainly about asking the West and especially the Church for support. Bârladeanu apologised for the Waals’ decision to postpone to a later date, with the absence of the king, who himself was travelling in the West before there would be some important festivities in the following weeks that would also claim his attention. Bârladeanu hoped that Cantrell could at least satisfy the Hesha somewhat, but the Magistra literally danced around clarity in his answers. He constantly avoided direct questions or pushed everything onto the communication between him and the Grand Magistrate in the western city of Heilberg. Meridia seemed to be alone in the coming conflict, if it even comes to that. While Payam apparently lost more and more interest in the negotiations as he saw no gain in them, and Irajò and Hedeh played the roles of accommodating guests, it was of course Satha who became increasingly impatient.
Cantrell and Bârladeanu were quietly talking to each other when Hesha Ahel’Hwalem spoke up: “Tell me, what wonderful dishes our host has offered us!” Irajò raised his wine glass and nodded thoughtfully to Bârladeanu. Hedeh did the same and Payam joined in a bit late. Only Satha’s mime remained cold.
“If they would put as much effort into actually helping us as they spoil us with delicacies and gifts, you would already be back in your floating gardens, boy,” the grumpy ruler added. The Hesha’s words cut through the air. Irajò slowly put down his fine glass, while his arm muscles tensed. It almost seemed as if he wanted to break the golden bands that lay around it. Bârladeanu raised an eyebrow as she watched the young Hesha’s reaction. Hedeh was a master at concealing her true feelings and accepting courtly offences. But her husband seemed to have a shorter fuse, as Bârladeanu had already suspected from the dossiers. How long could the two of them tolerate derogatory remarks and jabs before the negotiations would fail because of the two narrow-minded alpha males?
Instead of looking at the grinding jaws of an angry Irajò like the others at the table, Satha turned back to Bârladeanu and Cantrell: “Tell me, priest: What about the troops of the faithful? Does your ‘church’ stand by its promises or is it all just hot air?” Cantrell looked almost caught and nervously swirled his wine glass in his hand as he leaned back.
“Well…” he began, but immediately noticed the Hesha’s narrowed eyes. “As I said before, honourable Pasga from the House of Noalani. The whole matter is more complicated than we might like. First of all, I alone cannot make such decisions, but must discuss them with the Grand Magistrate and above all with the Holiness.” Cantrell’s velvety voice sounded more like a teacher or professor giving a lecture on early history to a group of students. “At the end of the day, I am just an intermediary of the Church. I have already sent my recommendations to Heilberg. For now, that’s all within my power.” Satha ground his teeth, but instead of venting his anger, he leaned forward thoughtfully and lowered his gaze for a moment. He leaned his elbows on the stone table and took a deep breath. A tangible tension suddenly filled the room, and Violeta feared that the wine glasses would simply shatter under the sheer pressure.
“Then I ask you as a man and not as a priest.”
“Magistra!” Cantrell corrected the Hesha’s almost antiquated expression. Satha nodded.
“Anyway,” he continued. “What would you do in our place? In the place of your Church and in the place of Meridia? Our country has been infiltrated and taken over from within by false gods. No regard for laws. No understanding of existing orders. No mercy for any boundaries. How long do you think they will satisfy the No’farzand with Meridia?” His gaze now also wandered to Bârladeanu, who had always projected everything onto Cantrell and the Church in recent days. A soft laugh was heard to the left of Satha.
Payam continued eating while everyone looked at him. “To be honest, the divinity of the No’farzand is still up for debate. You’ve seen what they can do. Would you seriously go against the will of the Pantheon?”
Satha grunted disgustedly. “Even if they are the children of No’orma the Young, I would still stand in their way every time. They are thieves who simply make our kingdoms, which we and our mortal ancestors created, their own. If they were interested in the well-being of Meridia and the people, they would have returned much earlier.”
The significance of the events of the past few weeks often missed the mark with people from the west and even the Dravken of the Waals. What for Cantrell and many others only sounded like opportunistic Meridian nobles who used the myths of divine beings from ancient legends to gain prestige and reverence from the local population and fuel a revolution, was in the ears of the Hesha a sacred impossibility. Contrary to the official statements of the church, which referred to the monotheistic deity Levain as the origin of the world and all life, the Ancient Gods in Meridia were by no means just legends or pagan deities that kept people from the ‘true faith.’ For them, the Ancient Gods were real, alive, and even bound to the land, making the mere thought of lesser deities like the No’farzand shocking and redemptive at the same time. Violeta often noticed that the topic of the ‘Divine’ often led to disagreements and friction between the two sides of the Hesha. For some, they were only legends and mythological figures, for others, the unstoppable and immortal children of the gods.
Cantrell cleared his throat. “I don’t think we’re dealing with real ‘gods’ here either. And not just because I’m a servant of Church. No, we know well enough the idealised nature of ‘divine beings’ in the West, to draw a distinction between magically gifted creatures and gods. Take the Feral Gods of more primitive cultures, for example! Immortal animaliatic beings with incredible magical potential! They are paradoxical beings that arose purely by chance. But would we also call them ‘gods’ just because they can speak, some worship them, and they can work magics at times?”
“I don’t think it’s about the definition of a word here, Magistra Cantrell,” said Hedeh with a saccharine voice. “What concerns our esteemed Satha, and honestly me and my spouse as well, is finding a solution to the problem.”
Satha agreed heatedly. “We have to drive them out of Meridia!” Hedeh looked at the warrior with venomous eyes.
“Honorable Noalani, you did not let me finish! Yes, we have to take action, but war would only devastate our beloved land. We have to be cautious and deliberate. Or do we want the last cities of our people to be besieged?” She turned back to Cantrell. “Assuming that our esteemed neighbours could also be threatened: what would the Church of the Divine Right do against ‘false gods’ with an army of fanatics stretching their claws into the West?”
Bârladeanu had to suppress a grin, as she knew exactly what Hedeh was getting at. Cantrell squirmed in his chair and took another sip of his glass. Hedeh and the others looked at Cantrell expectantly, who avoided giving an answer.
The history of the last ages tells exactly what the Church did in the face of foreign threats. When the West was invaded by an Empire from beyond the seas, during the last era in the north of the world, the Church called for a crusade against the invaders. And not the first one. The faithful of the goddess had already gathered three times to fight external threats. Even against the Dravken, such a measure was once proclaimed, many centuries earlier.
But history also tells of the consequences of such Crusades. War, corruption, and in the case of the last Crusade, the secession of an entire group from the church. A bloody fratricidal war broke out between the Church of the Divine Right and the Protestant Renetizists, which still leaves its traces and divides the West today. Since then, the Church has often, involuntarily, withdrawn more and more from the affairs of the political world. Although the churchgoers continued to pay their taxes to the Magistrate, the Church was no longer the all-powerful organ it was in previous ages. Even if a Crusade were to be proclaimed, only the strictly devout part of the Known World would still follow the call, which might not correspond to the image the Hesha had of the crusades of the mighty western Church. Bârladeanu, and surely also Hedeh, already had their suspicion why the Magistra was so evasive. Why the church did not want another crusade. Cantrell’s endless procrastination only confirmed their suspicion.
The Magistra swallowed the wine and spoke: “The Grand Magistrate has had to make some important and serious decisions in recent years. If you ask for my personal opinion, which I also expressed in the letter to Heilberg, then the Church should not make hasty decisions if it should invade a foreign land.” Silence hung in the room as everyone was lost in thought. Even Payam interrupted his meal.
“So there will be no crusade?” asked Hedeh.
Cantrell nodded slowly and added, “Not for now, yes.”
Satha slammed his fist on the table, causing the plates on it to dance and Violeta to jump in surprise. Irajò also quickly rose to his full height and stared angrily at the warrior. The latter paid no attention to the young man but instead pierced Cantrell with his gaze.
But to Bârladeanu’s dismay, his gaze wandered to her. “And the King under the Mountain? Is he hiding too?”
“Well, it’s not that simple-” Bârladeanu tried to say.
“Not that simple?!” With another blow to his plate on the taböe, Satha broke it. Bloody pieces of meat flew in a circle over the table, staining, among other things, Hedeh’s robe. Furious, Irajò drew his sabre and pointed it at Satha.
“You are a miserable son of a dog, Pasga! I challenge you to a fight!”
Satha looked disdainfully at the other Hesha and quickly grabbed his flat sabre. With a jerk, he pulled the blade out of the young man’s hand and threw the weapon carelessly into the corner, in front of Violeta’s feet. Surprised, Irajò took a step back.
“Go play with your doll, boy!” Satha turned back to Cantrell and Bârladeanu. “You’ve already wasted seven days of my time, just to come to me with apathy and cowardice! My people are prisoners in their own country; under the eyes of blasphemous tyrants and false prophets! I’m no longer interested in your excuses, priest! Nor in yours, housekeeper! If no one here wants to stand with me in the fight against the No’farzand, then I will get allies myself. And when I have liberated my cities, as well as yours, from the clutches of false gods, I expect you to return to me on your knees.”
Without waiting for any further answer, Satha Noalani’pasga stomped out of the room. Hedeh stood up and gently pushed her husband, who was frozen in a mix of anger and amazement, back into his seat. Payam stared into space, while Cantrell hurriedly filled his glass to the brim with wine. With a loud sigh, Bârladeanu sank back into her seat and began massaging her forehead with her fingers.
“I hope that we can still come to an agreement even without Noalani,” Hedeh broke the silence, addressing Bârladeanu.
“That I hope for the sake of us all,” said Bârladeanu, who knew that Satha would eventually sabotage the negotiations with his temper. Talking was not the way of war. She had only hoped it wouldn’t happen so early.
“Perhaps tomorrow again?” asked Payam, somewhat embarrassed.
Irajò snorted angrily. “The next time I see him, I will kill him,” said the Hesha grimly. Except for Bârladeanu, no one noticed how Hedeh’s perfect face twisted into a grimace for a moment before returning to the calming wife. Her husband probably wouldn’t survive such a duel.
On the same day, without ceremony or announcement, the Hesha Inhlu’Kahgela left the city together with his entourage. Bârladeanu instructed Violeta and Niculaie to continue entertaining the remaining Hesha, without giving them a time frame. While the other participants of the meeting still had hope of devising a way to deal with the current situation in the country, Violeta already felt everything falling apart too quickly.