Chapter 150: 148 Holifel

Diana tapped her heel on the dark granite floor, readjusting her pant leg without having to bend down and make her hair messy. Appearances were an important part of negotiation, even if that negotiation was taking place at seven in the morning. 

"I cannot believe he still wants me to go to class today!" Diana was in the midst of grumbling to herself, indignant that she was going to be 'learning' today as well. "All good? All good."

A final pat down to get the wrinkles out before she made a move on the door, knocking twice before taking a step back. Normally she would have expected not to have to do something like this herself, an aide or secretary would announce her presence if she could control it, but it was evident that the Holifanians did not spare the resources for that sort of thing. There was only one door in their hall, after all. 

"Lady Helmsguard?"

"That is the case." It was a little awkward to say that out loud, but it should be the proper way to respond.

Should be.

"Please, come in." Diana carefully turned the knob, the only one she had seen in her time here, before entering. "Do take a seat by the table, I will fetch us some tea."

She watched the Montaug leave through the door in the back of the room as she entered. His desk, made of a very beautiful wood, was clear of obstructions, as in it was empty. There were no quills, no ornaments, no papers, no lanterns, it was just sitting there, bare as could be. It was enough to make her sad. This desk, which existed to be used for important work, was hardly ever seen by other nations. Still she had been invited to the table, so she would sit at the table. 

The door shut behind the Montaug as he came back through, tray in hand. The ceramic pot was emitting a soothing aroma, the only discernable scent in the room, and it was clear from the look on the Montaug's face that he was contemplating something. This tea was not for her.

"Might I ask what is wrong? You do not seem to be yourself at the moment." The Montaug pursed his lips as he set the tray down, pouring a cup for Diana before taking his seat. "Have we done something to upset you?"

The Montaug put his elbows on the table, hands together as if he was praying. No, he was praying. "In the precious few weeks since I have made your acquaintance, there have been a slew of . . . let's call them developments. You are not to blame for any of them, and we are committed to assisting you in your endeavors, but my presence here has been made contentious by some developments both here and at home."

"Are you referring to Titanyana's heart attack?" Diana had heard a few specifics from Donovan, and if the Arboreal Maiden was mad at Nemo then some of that rage was probably falling on his shoulders as well.

"That child's failings are only a small part of it." The Montaug rubbed his shoulder. Diana couldn't shake the feeling that it was to ease some sort of pain. "I have been made aware that there have been a slew of movements amongst our people as of late, they clamor for action."

"Action?"

"They want a war." Montaug pinched the bridge of his nose. "It isn't a particularly large contingent of the population, not enough to make any significant change politically, but the fact that there isn't anybody particularly opposed to the war means . . ."

He didn't say anything more, the implication being weighty enough. The faction that wanted war was beginning to grow.

"Is there a particular target for their frustrations?" Diana was probing for more.

"No, which is the biggest problem I face. They pine for the glory of their ancestors, the opportunity to make something greater of themselves, but peace does not provide that chance." Montaug took a deep breath, wary of what he was going to have to do say next. "My duty as the Montaug is to handle all foreign affairs. In following this, I have been tasked with finding a suitable outlet for this unrest."

"'Suitable outlet'. . . do you mean you are in charge of determining who you go to war with?" The Montaug solemnly nodded, this evidently not being something he wanted to do. "So then those 'more adventurous' individuals you mentioned-"

"-are the radicals I am concerned about, yes. Unfortunately, their numbers are far larger than I was led to believe." Montaug sighed, breathing in the aroma of the tea. "I apologize for using you to stymie our own domestic issues, but I genuinely saw it as a way to solve both of our problems."

"How could saddling us with the radical elements of your populace do anything but cause trouble for us?"

Montaug closed his eyes. "There is more to what they desire than war, Lady Helmsguard, they desire purpose. 'Sanctity' is a fundamental teaching of our religion, the biggest desire of every Holifanian is to achieve it, and there are precious limited methods through which you can find it. One method is 'Sanctity through Slaughter in Service of Others', where one devotes themselves to endangering their lives to protect others. The warmongers I mentioned desire this, they wish to expand our religion to others to save their souls.

War is not the only way though, the second method is 'Sanctity through Salvation in Service of Self', where people devote their bodies and minds to better the lives of others. Disaster relief, charity, prayer, whatever they deem fit to help those trampled by the universe. Both of these methods 'Sanctify' the soul, something which assures us that our lives have had meaning."

Diana took a second to process that. This was a religious matter, after all, and she had no idea how they could reconcile those two extremes of divinity. "So what you mean to say is . . . your people lack purpose?"

"That's one way to put it."

The Montaug's lack of explanation made her a bit angry, not that she could let that show. "Could you please explain to me how those methods of, um, 'Sanctity'? came to be? I feel it would help me understand your religion more, if only a little." She knew the primary topic hadn't even been mentioned yet, but this was equally important to their future.

"You wish to learn of Holifel and Montaug?"

"Holifel and Montaug?" Diana knew she was looking at him funny, but she couldn't help it. "Pardon my rudeness, but are you not the Montaug?"

"It is only a title, a job, a duty, a responsibility. Perhaps if I told you the story you might understand." Diana nodded, genuinely interested. This 'Holifel' character sounded eerily similar to 'Holifania' as well. "Holifel, namesake of our religion and it's first preacher, is someone we often refer to as 'the First Martyr'. He was born and lived as a scholar and warrior during the time of extreme chaos and endless warring amongst the various peoples of our home planet. Holifel was a wanderer, moving from place to place, city to city, in the search of both strong opponents and deep knowledge." Montaug took yet another deep breath before continuing.

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"In fact for most of his life he was said to be a merciless killer, slaughterer of man and woman alike. He pursued knowledge because he deeply believed it to make him a stronger person. He studied poisons and medicines, both to make himself immune and better kill his foes. He studied the body, the mind, and the soul in order to protect himself and debilitate foes. He was, by his own account, a monster. 

However in the later years of his life, there was a change, a fundamental change, in his mindset. He claims that he lost sight of why he was fighting. He was lost, unhappy, dissatisfied, afraid. He may have been the strongest warrior of his time, but even he had an enemy he could never beat, his own mortality. He would die, eventually, and he would be forgotten.

'Why then' he asked himself atop a mountain of corpses 'have I done all of this? What meaning is their in slaughter? The elimination of the very individuals responsible for carrying on my legacy? I may be the strongest, most powerful, most knowledgeable man alive, but what will that mean when I die? I have no children, no disciples, no legacy!'

And so he sank into deep thought. It is said that for fifty days and fifty nights he sat alone, without movement, withering away as he thought of an answer to the question of the meaning of his life. His answer disappointed him, up to that point there was no purpose to his life, as much as he wished there to be. That did not mean that what remained of his life would have to be that way. That day, he walked to the nearest town, found the widow of the man he had killed in a duel the day prior, and asked her to stone him.

He asked her to stone him, not once, not twice, but until she was content. His body, hardened by scars, scabs, and the light of the sun, was said to be a motley of black and blue by the end of that day. The widow was not happy, not content, but she had moved on. Even in her anger she could not stomach the thought of casting yet another stone, and so Holifel, battered and bruised, continued to the village he had visited the week before. 

Once again, he found the widow of the man he had killed, as well as her children, and asked them to stone him. Once again, it reached the point where none of them could bear to throw another, even providing the emaciated Holifel a slice of bread. It was a pattern that continued, it is said, for five long years. Every town, every village, every city he had ever killed someone in he visited. He would ask them to stone him, and they would do so until their rage subsided. 

Eventually he reached the final stop on his journey, the first town he had ever killed another in. His hometown. There, he found the last descendent of his first victim, the daughter of his very own brother, laying on her death bed. 'Please,' he begged, 'punish me for my wrongs.' But she didn't, she couldn't. She had been poisoned by a creature of the land, and could no longer move."

The Montaug paused to let the first half of Holifel's story sink in.

"Holifel, not content to have his quest ruined at the final stop in his journey, worked to save his niece. He was an accomplished practitioner of medicine and poison alike, and though his body was battered and broken his mind had never once faltered. 'Help me!' he asked the townspeople, 'Help me grind these leaves!' They did not answer, both Holifel and his niece had only been detrimental to their village. He would have to work, his body screaming and breaking, to save the answer to his questions.

Three days of gathering, stumbling aimlessly around the forest. Three days of grinding, painfully reducing the the ingredients to the liquid he needed. On the seventh day he could finally administer the antidote, and the woman recovered. Her body had been paralyzed, unable to provide Holifel the punishment he so needed, but now that she was free she refused his offer.

'You may have taken the life of your brother, my father,' she said, 'but you have saved this wretched life of mine. I no longer have the right to hate you as once I did.'

Then she walked away. It was then, faced not with the pity but the gratitude of his niece that Holifel understood. Sanctity, life eternal, was possible. His life would not be in vain. So long as he devoted his life for the salvation of others, he would be remembered. It was at that moment that Holifel found 'Sanctity through Salvation in Service of Self'. Ultimately, his actions were not born out of love for others, but out of a desire to find purpose.

That changed little, though, and he once more began his quest. From place to place he would travel, using his knowledge, skills, and body to maintain and better the lives of others. His actions, perhaps not the grandest in scale, would often draw the ire of others.

'Such a wretch' they would say, 'gained nothing from such deeds.'

They, firmly and correctly believing that Holifel performed his 'miracles' for his own benefit confronted him over the matter.

'Hideous Holifel, slaughterer of men and defiler of lands, for what foul purpose do you keep our children alive!?'

Holifel did not answer immediately, for he did not know the answer at that time. Certainly he knew it in his heart, but he had yet to attach words to it. 'My soul,' he started, 'aches over the thought that I will one day die. I, a murderer, slaughterer, killer and thief, have left nothing but a path of blood and suffering. In time, such a past will be forgotten, whisked away by the blood and suffering wrought by other such individuals. My hope is that I may find some solace in the fact I left life in my wake as well, no matter how insignificant that life may be.'

It was an honest answer, one which the people had no response for, and so they begrudgingly allowed him to continue."

Diana was silent, thinking about this story as the Montaug carried along. It was so similar to the stories told by many religions of Terra, and yet it was so different.

"As Holifel continued, he began to become something of a celebrity. People would gather to watch his work, some of them asking questions as he went. Adamant in his belief that this could save further people, and henceforth further his own Sanctity, he dutifully taught these people. Doctors, builders, farmers and scribes, all manner of individuals learned his ways, and for the first time in recorded history 'peace' began to seem like an option.

However Holifel was not yet content. His life had meaning now, that much was undeniable, but he felt he had a further responsibility. Our records indicate he was well into his nineties by the time he began to write his thoughts down, as coherent back then as you might imagine a young man writing now. There was no senility or rambling, only clarity.

Guides, he called them, guides for finding Sanctity in life. A series of twenty compendiums, written over the course of his remaining twenty years of life. Each of these compendiums covering different portions of life. The first half were eerily descriptive of the first portion of his life, before his stoning. It described how to fight with swords, the proper use of medicine and poison, and how best to become a warrior. The second half described how best to use this knowledge in service of the pursuit of Sanctity.

These twenty guides are the holy books of Holifania, the Holifanian Theocracy. They inform our every move. Our doctrine, our emotions, our lives are influenced by them, and right now it would appear they are informing us to go to war."

Diana's eyes squinted at that last part. The words of a man who found peace were telling them to go to war? How could that be.

"What part of his message incentivizes that?" Diana could not help but ask. "Why would a warmonger turned doctor urge you to fight?"

"Because he never got to finish his guides. He died after the twentieth, but the Arboreal Maiden assures us there were supposed to be more." The Montaug sighed. This, he felt, was the greatest injustice the universe had ever manifested.

"So words you cannot know are telling you to fight?"

"Just because we do not know the word does not mean we do not know the message. The story of Montaug informed us of this, as the Arboreal Maiden's account of Holifel, the First Martyr's death, enshrines it."