Chapter 24: Ch.0024 – Faith

Ash’s attention whipped towards the far end of the temple where he spied a large alcove indented into the wall. An intricate mural engraved into the stone wall served as its border, and within the alcove itself stood a large man adorned in simple peasant robes. The man himself was unremarkable, but the object of his ire was very much not so. 

It was a statue that depicted a large, seemingly demonic entity carved with obvious care and a level of attention to detail that put Ash to pause for a moment. Magic must’ve been involved in its creation, he determined, for there was no other answer that could satisfy the incredible level of realism in its form. He would have flinched in fright at the sight of what he’d have mistaken for a real monster if the statue had been painted with even half as much care as had gone into its sculpting. 

And it wasn’t alone either. Beneath it, cowering from its terrifying bulk was the similarly master-crafted stone figure of a young child of indeterminate gender. 

The sight left him unsure how to react and Ash wisely chose to quickly take stock of the reactions of those around him. Green eyes glanced over his surroundings to find that no one seemed to care, apparently. 

No one, from the burly monks to the civilian temple-goers seemed bothered in the least by the clamour, which told him that perhaps it wasn’t something to worry over. 

It might’ve even been expected. A ritual, perhaps? Ash straightened himself at that and took a moment to calm himself. He didn’t want to stick out too much and reacting overly sensitively to something the locals may have found normal wouldn’t do him any favours to that end. 

Still, despite that, he couldn’t help but watch the man screaming at the statue out of the corner of his eye with no small amount of interest. The fellow was really putting his heart into it, and Ash wouldn’t be all too surprised if the man woke up tomorrow with a sore throat from all that soulful bellowing. What was it supposed to signify, he idly wondered. 

Whatever it was, it had apparently achieved whatever the man had desired of it and he calmly straightened himself out and strode away from the alcove. Ash watched him go and then studied the alcove itself. 

It was plain save for three areas of interest. The aforementioned statue was one and it stood at the far right of the space. In the middle laid a series of vaguely dumbbell-like metal objects of a purpose he couldn’t quite decipher, and to the left was a small stretch of ground in which the stone floor of the temple had been peeled away, and in its stead laid a path of roughly hewn gravel and stone. 

It was all very odd and stood out like a sore thumb amidst the otherwise orderly and well-composed décor of the building. Ash stared at it for a moment longer, brow furrowed in an attempt to divine its purpose, before he finally gave in and turned away only to find a figure approaching him at a casual stride. It was one of the monks. 

The man was as muscled as the rest of his fellows and boasted of a cleanly-shaven head and a welcoming smile on his tanned face. Ash resisted the urge to glance wearily at the sword that hung in a sheath by the stranger’s side and instead mustered a respectful if not warm look of his own to greet the monk. 

“Hail, friend. New to these parts, are you?” asked the fellow as he stretched out a hand. 

“Is it that obvious?” he asked with an awkward chuckle that hid well his annoyance at having been found out so easily. Damn his untameable curiosity. 

Ash wasn’t sure if the man was going for a handshake or not, but figured it’d be rude to not return the greeting, and so stretched out his own hand to meet that of the man’s. Surprisingly, the monk’s fingers did not wrap around his palm but rather slid past his hand entirely and grasped firmly at the middle of his forearm in a gesture that Ash clumsily reciprocated. 

“The way you startled during the Ritual of Denial made it rather obvious. Most newcomers are often surprised by our local custom.” 

Ash laughed, relieved to hear that it was so, though he maintained a healthy amount of wariness nonetheless. It wouldn’t do to loosen all his guard in such unknown circumstances no matter how friendly the monk seemed. 

“I am brother Krassian of the Milfordian branch of the Order of Justice. May I ask after your name, good fellow?” 

“Jace.” he lied smoothly. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Jace. Have you come here to the halls of his faithful to pay your respects to our Lord and Defender, Justice?” 

He nodded casually and mustered the most reverent look he could as he eyed the building around him. 

“Wonderful! Allow me to explain to you the Ritual of Denial then! It is not something those from outside the town will know of, and it delights us to educate outsiders in our values. Understand though that it is, of course, not mandatory. We may all worship the Defender in our own way, but it would hearten us to see another devout pay his respects at our humble altar.” 

Ash saw no reason to decline, especially if it helped him worm his way into the man’s good graces. “Of course. Please go ahead.” 

The man smiled brightly and nodded before he turned and led Ash closer towards the alcove. 

“The Ritual of Denial stems from the belief held by the founder of this town’s branch of our faith, the most honourable Just, Noel of Wonderwall, and encompasses what he preached are the three great values that all of those who follow the Defender must ascribe to above all else. The first is the Denial of Pain.” The monk gestured then to the pit of stone and gravel. 

“One who pursues justice must not cower from the pain they will have to endure in The Eternal Quest, for all know that evil will not hesitate to use every means it can to bring low all those that stand against it.  Thusly, many of our adherents walk across the stones to show their determination and holy fury in denying the influence of pain.” 

“The second is the Denial of Oppression. The metal objects you see represent the weight of evil and oppression that many amongst the peasantry are forced to endure, and it is an all-too-common reality that much of that ugliness comes at the hands of their fellow humans. This ritual symbolizes the ideals of our faithful to never ignore such evils, no matter whose hands they come from, and in lifting the weights, the choice is taken to endure those burdens in the stead of our common man.” 

“The third and final ritual is the Denial of Silence, which you have already seen, or rather, heard for yourself.” Krassian chuckled at that and Ash smiled as the man gestured to the demonic being looming over them. “A frightening figure, is it not? Even after all these years I still marvel at times at the skill that went to its marking. Truly remarkable. It was donated to us by a master artisan who remains anonymous to this day. There are many theories as to his identity, of course, including Master Orbach of the Unbreaking Hammer in the capital who is himself an adherent of the Defender, but there is little in the way of proof to su -” 

Krassian paused and then it was his turn to sheepishly smile. “Ah, apologies. I’ve gone on a tangent, haven’t I?” 

“Just a little.” Ash admitted with amusement. 

“Forgive me. Now, where was I? The statue, yes. It represents the evil and ugliness of this world in all its forms as should obvious in its malevolent bearing, and the child the weak and defenceless who remain at its mercy. By screaming at the statue, we showcase our determination to never remain quiet in the face of such evil. Only by standing tall and true to our ideals can an adherent of the Defender truly be worthy of their faith.” 

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“A worthy ideal to aspire to.” 

Krassian nodded though Ash noted the unmistakable wariness that momentarily clouded his gaze. “Though one far from easily enforced nowadays.” he said softly before he sighed and his mien was again cheerful. “Do you wish to partake of the rituals, Jace? You are of course not beholden to do so, but it would hearten me to see another pay respects to our founders’ ideals.” 

Ash’s first thought was to decline. The suffering he’d endured during his early life had thoroughly beat out of him any faith he might’ve once hand in any kind of higher power, and for all its vaunted ideals, he had no particular interest in this local religion either, but Krassian’s earnest and open demeanour convinced him to at least give it a shot. It wouldn’t cost him any. 

Well, that he knew of. The thought gave him pause. He was in a world of true magic, and so who was to say that the Gods they worshipped weren’t as real as he was? Would proclaiming faith in that God bind him to it somehow? Would it attract unwanted attention from some kind of being? He wasn’t even of Wesderath. How would they take his existence amongst their faithful? 

The more he thought of it, the less willing he was to go through the seemingly harmless ritual. And perhaps, his expression said as much for Krassian stepped away and smiled sadly. 

“I understand. Perhaps our ideals aren’t for everyone, Jace. Do you follow another of the Great Pantheon?” 

The question was unexpected and though outwardly he was the picture of calm, inwardly, he scrambled for an answer. 

“Er, yes. Prosperity.” he said smoothly, hoping it wouldn’t be a faux pas. 

The man sighed and accepted the answer without much fuss. “I see. Are you a merchant then?” 

He wasn’t sure why the man had drawn that conclusion but grasped at the offered lifeline nonetheless. “Yes.” answered Ash. And it wasn’t even an utter lie. His purpose in the town was indeed mercantile after all. 

“I see. The Lady of the Golden Shroud would indeed be a better patron to one of your profession then. I understand your reluctance to raise any unnecessary ire byt worshipping at the temple of another God. For all that the Great Pantheon stands united in the uplifting of humanity, its adherents can be remarkably less so.” 

Krassian sounded a little defeated as he offered Ash yet another morsel of information regarding the religious make-up of the world, and from the sounds of it, it was about as cohesive as faith was in his old one. 

“Still, I appreciate your presence here, fellow Jace, and hope that your future endeavours find great success.” 

Ash accepted the man’s blessing with earnest gratitude, having been taken by his candour and open warmth. It certainly endeared him to the faith that had moulded such an individual, and even stoked in him the possibility of adhering to it in the distant future, if he could perhaps find some measure of true faith himself. 

But that day was long in the coming, and so Ash parted with the monk under amiable terms and continued his wandering of the city until the sun hung high in the sky and the heat started to grow from bothersome to irritating, and it was then that he decided to return home to the inn. Finding his way back proved challenging, but he knew the inn’s name and its general locality, and a few answers from helpful passers-by were enough to lead him back in good time. 

Ash entered the room and found it empty. Myr must’ve still been busied with whatever her business was. Seeing that, Ash contemplated how to best use his time. His gut reaction was to try and learn a new spell, but he discarded the thought after a moment. He’d just learnt Spider-Climb after all, and more than anything, what he needed was to advance. He’d stagnated at the base of tier two for long enough by his measure. 

The youth nodded to himself and found a comfortable position seated cross-legged on his bed and then lost himself to his inner self. Levelling in the realm of tier two was different to how it was in the first. There was no threading mana into his skin, but instead into the meat of his flesh itself. 

The task proved trickier than threading his skin had been, but he’d expected the challenge and welcomed it. His mana surged forth at his command and slowly started to weave its way into the soft tissues of his being under his careful, cautious hand. The effort demanded no small amount of mana from him owing to the amount and thickness of the flesh, and he realized that levelling up to the cap of level fifteen would take him far longer than the scant time that crossing the first tier had taken. 

But he would cross it nonetheless. Tier two would not be his limit. Of that at least, Ash was certain. 

It was several hours later that he was awoken from his fugue by the sound of the door opening. Ash opened his eyes and found a dark room lit only by the faint candlelight emanating into it from the open doorway. Myr entered and Ash shuffled towards a nearby candle and lit it with a weak application of his Fire Bolt. 

“Hah. I’m beat.” muttered the woman as she staggered towards him and then allowed gravity to draw her towards the mattress. Ash shifted out of the way of her falling form and smirked amusedly as she plopped herself face first onto the covers. 

“Get some rest. You look terrible.” 

“That any way to talk to your lover.” she mumbled. 

“Oho? Is that what we are now?” 

She rose and her blank smile met his twinkling jade gaze, and for a moment there was silence. And then she was on him like a ravenous beast and Ash could do little but allow her to do as she pleased, though the smile on his lips betrayed his eagerness. 

“I thought you were tired.” he said as his shirt was ripped off his torso. “I gue-” 

Her lips found his and whatever words would’ve been said were quickly lost to the rhythm of passion that followed. 

 

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