To see the ever-diligent Orion neglect his perceived duty to the people was already disquieting enough… but the prince led Argrave further and further away from the camp, heading into the swamps. His only comfort was the knowledge that Orion wouldn’t need seclusion to kill him. Argrave stayed quiet—he felt the need to say something, anything, but he was so off-rhythm that he feared to bring up a topic that might cause an issue.
They came to a great depression in the wetlands. At the center, many similarly shaped stones had been stacked in an orderly heap that marked it as manmade. Argrave recognized this place—it had been made by the swamp folk. It was a graveyard of sorts. Each stones marked the passing of one of theirs. Now, much of it had been grown over by moss or carried away by rains.
Orion stepped ahead of Argrave and stopped. “Argrave. Do you have faith in the gods?”
Argrave digested Orion’s question in an attempt to discern his purpose, yet he wasn’t able to glean why Orion had brought him here with that question alone.
“I know that the gods are real, and that they affect this world,” Argrave said truthfully.
Orion nodded. “Yet do our ninety-six have potential beyond Vasquer, in your eyes? And be honest. Sycophancy earns only my ire.”
Argrave stared at Orion seriously. “Our gods can spread across all of Berendar if the right actions are taken,” he said in all truthfulness.
That was how it was in ‘Heroes of Berendar,’ certainly. If the player sided with Orion in the civil war, that fate was inevitable.
Orion placed both of his hands behind his back and strode towards the stones in the depression ahead. “Indeed, an apt way to put it. ‘If the right actions are taken,’” the prince repeated.
Argrave stepped a little closer after Orion, before the prince stopped and turned towards him. His eyes were closed as he spoke.
“Kreit, Achiel, Irae, Tuur, Pilth, Gael, Razan, Wellwin, Malac, Zellum, Moder…”
Orion carried on and on, listing what Argrave knew to be all of the gods in the Vasquer pantheon. Argrave could probably say what they governed if he had their names, but he certainly couldn’t remember all of those names.
After finishing his list, Orion opened his eyes and clenched his fist before him. “Those I speak to, even though I bless them—heal them—as a proxy for the gods, the people… the people sing my praises.”
Prince Orion started to cry. His tears were molten silver, and when they hit the ground, the wetlands steamed.
“The people are ignorant of the true agent of their welfare… it makes me weep,” he continued, choked up. “I speak to the people… and though they name the common gods, though they pray to Gael for justice… few can name more than five,” he lifted his head up the sky.
“Then, I wonder why I heal them,” Orion said, voice colder than the grave. The tears he’d shed rose from where they fell, reentering his gray eyes as though erasing his sadness. “They place only an idol of Gael in their house and pray for righteous justice to carry them through life. They forget all else yet have the gall to call themselves the faithful of Vasquer. Such thoughts… such impious thoughts…” he shuddered terribly, and then knelt on the ground. “Do you share them?” he looked up at Argrave.
Argrave looked down to Orion where he knelt and suggested, “Can people be blamed when they aren’t taught?”
Orion stood and walked towards Argrave, looming above him. “Precisely so,” Orion agreed. “And this is the issue I brought you here to discuss.”
The prince turned and walked back towards the cairn. Argrave called out after him, “You wanted to talk about educating the people?”
Orion didn’t answer immediately. He stared at the pile of stones before him, kicking one away. He turned back slowly.
“One of my own royal knights called me a monster.”
Argrave raised a brow. “Recently?”
“No,” Orion shook his head. “When the plague first reared its head above the depths from whence it crawled, I expressed to my knights that they embrace the plague. That I would give them my blessing when the time came, and they would be all the stronger for it. Back then… they loathed me. Even the steadfast thought me distant, inhuman.”
Argrave listened patiently.
“I did not understand it,” Orion continued, confounded. “All royal knights swear an oath to live and die for the royal family, to shed blood for our sake, to obey our orders without question… and yet, when I expect they fulfill these vows, they deem me monster.” Orion ground his foot into a large stone beneath, and it crumbled easily beneath his force. “Would they swear an oath they do not intend to follow? Why? Would they speak lies so easily? For what purpose? Though the founder of House Vasquer spoke lies freely, he never broke his vows! He never lied before the gods! So why?!” Orion cried out.
“Ask them,” Argrave suggested.
Orion turned his head. “I have. They merely disavow their old selves, claiming they were fools and idiots to doubt me.” He took a deep breath and exhaled, then shook his head. “It is only my actions that earned me their loyalty. The oath they swore, the promises I gave… they were ineffectual.”
The prince placed his hand to his chest. “I have never told another this, Argrave… but I know men fear me, loathe me. The people that come to this camp, they come with eyes squinted tight in suspicion, bodies braced to run in fear. It is only when I deliver them the blessing imparted to me that they bare their hearts to me, that they accept me well and truly.”
Argrave stepped a little closer. He didn’t feel danger, but he did feel quite uncertain about where this was headed. “The people that do love you love you more than anyone, it seems.”
“They do,” Orion nodded. “No matter how much I tell them they should praise the gods before me. My own knights call me ‘holiness,’ when that is not what I am. I am a prince of Vasquer, blessed by the gods. The gods, their power wells within me… and they whisper truths in my ear. What has come to pass. What will come to pass.”
Orion crouched down, then collapsed like a corpse onto the mud, staining the white robe he wore completely. “I wish to help the people with these blessings. But I do not understand them. Despite my promises, they trust me only after I help. It makes things… difficult.”
“That might change… as things move along,” Argrave said, standing over Orion as he sunk into the mud. “People will spread word of your good nature, your good deeds. That’s what reputation is, you know.”
The prince turned until he was on his side, then lightly bashed the side of his head into the mud, dirtying his long black braid of hair. “That is limited,” he said sadly. He turned to his back, then stared up at Argrave with his gray eyes. “Tell me—what gods do you invoke most often, Argrave?”
Argrave took a deep breath, conjuring his old favorites from ‘Heroes of Berendar.’ “I like Zellum, the god of magic… Tireal, the goddess of wanderers…”
Orion smiled. “Of course. Tireal patronizes elves.”
“And Re. Goddess of blood,” Argrave finished. That name was easiest to remember. It was important for the future.
The prince amidst the mud stared at Argrave with blank expression, and for a few moments he worried he had misremembered something.
“Most I spoke to did not know those,” Orion finally said. He started to cry again, and he wiped his face with muddy hands. Argrave stood around awkwardly as the giant man rolled about in the mud and wept.
Suddenly, Orion leaned up, staring up at Argrave. “You spoke to that crowd yesterday. All the faithful of Vasquer, ostensibly… and yet with your words, you eased their suspicion of that heretical thing… that wetland spirit. I cannot say its name,” Orion waved his hand away in dismissal.
“…it was necessary,” Argrave defended himself quietly.
“When I see something beyond our ninety-six, spite and rage boil within me. The gods, they whisper in frenzy in my ears…” Orion clenched his head as if remembering something. “I am drawn to action as iron to a magnet. But you,” the prince lifted his head slowly. “You do not surrender to those impulses.”
Argrave swallowed, worried.
“I envy you,” Orion finally said, abating some of his nervousness. He rose to his feet again. “You possess that which I lack.”
Impulse control? Argrave questioned internally.
“You understand man, woman… even elves,” Orion prodded Argrave’s chest. “Your words can sway them. Not action. Speech. Promises. Just as the founder of House Vasquer.”
“You have a lot of things I envy,” Argrave said, hoping to change the conversation away from himself.
Orion smiled. “Then it is good to know I am not alone in my feelings.” Orion looked back towards the cairn. “It is clear to me that this kingdom needs reform. Faith in the gods dwindles. Faith in the royal family has sunk even lower,” Orion said, shaking his head in distress. “I will not challenge Induen. By the grace of the gods, he is the divinely anointed heir.” He looked to Argrave. “But it is clear a monarch alone cannot satisfy the needs of the people.”
Argrave felt some goosebumps at Orion’s words despite himself. He took a deep breath, then questioned, “What do you mean?”
It was a pointless question, in part. He knew the answer.
“As you said earlier… the people cannot be blamed if they are not taught. And that is just it,” Orion placed his hand on Argrave’s shoulder and hunched down until their faces were level. He could smell his half-brother’s breath—it was as sweet as a perfume, which only heightened Argrave’s discomfort.
“All we have now are priests of Gael, acting as judges in cities, or mages who pray to Zellum seeking wisdom in magic. A few orders train priests that pray to Craiche, seeking bountiful harvests, yet they are all scattered, disorganized, and few… no more than tiny droplets of coloring trying to change the hue of the ocean.
“There needs to be more. There needs to be structure, order, to our faith,” Orion preached, squeezing Argrave’s shoulder tighter. “The people need to be educated in all aspects of our pantheon, of all the gods. That is what I must build. A hierarchy of the faithful, the devout, to read the scriptures, to preach to the masses!”
Orion stepped away, standing straight once more. He attempted to clean his white robes of mud without much success.
“Our great ancestor, Felipe I, took the house name of ‘Vasquer’ after his great serpent companion,” Orion continued. “He established this kingdom, which now spans so much of the known world. He has built the monarchy. It has prevailed for centuries. Now, I must found the second institution to keep this great faith alive—no, to expand it yet further!”
This was no shocking revelation to Argrave, but he had not expected Orion to ever share this with him. The man was ever impulsive, and it seems Argrave had made a good impression. That, coupled with sharing his blood, probably made the Holy Fool confide in him.
“Felipe I was powerful, true… but his true strength rested in his companion, the great serpent Vasquer,” Orion stepped forth. “I thought myself the second coming of our founder, this entire time… I believe, now, I misinterpreted the whispers of the gods.”
Orion grasped Argrave with both hands. “You must be a part of this with me, Argrave. You must take the role of Felipe I, while I assume the place of Vasquer.”
“What are you talking about?” Argrave said in shock despite himself.
Orion shook him a little. “It is clear to me, and the gods whisper in my ear affirmation. You possess the elements closest to our founder—bravery, an iron will, and the pragmatism unique to humans… and best yet, the gift to bend them to your words alone. I envy that. I lack that. And as you say, you envy my qualities. Yet if we pool them… what are we, if not complete? We may form the foundation for our faith to tower above all others!”
“Isn’t it a bit too fast, to trust me with this big a task?” Argrave said quickly, panicking. “I’ve been here only a few days, now.”
Orion stepped away, biting his gauntleted finger. “Hmm… indeed. Perhaps I am being overeager.” He stepped back to Argrave. “But the changes you’ve displayed… you are so different from the skinny boy I once knew, bitter and angry and impious. And the gods that whisper to me—though I may misunderstand them, they never lie. I believe it has merit.”
“You ought to give something like this time,” Argrave said, trying to remain calm. “And more importantly—we have to tackle this plague.”
Orion smiled, and stepped forth. “That consideration of yours… it gives me hope my judgement in this is not wrong. But it is as you say.” Orion grabbed him and pulled him into an embrace. “I love you, brother.”
Argrave blanked when he heard those words. This was generally the part where you responded with the same phrase. He very slowly raised his arms up and returned the embrace, then said, “Me too, br—buddy,” he finished.
Orion didn’t seem to mind. He pulled away, and said brightly, “Come! We must begin things. First of which… is consorting with the heretical thing, once again,” he said, voice grim.
Argrave watched Prince Orion walk away, feeling like he’d just battled his most powerful opponent yet.
