Passing The Torch

'' "We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own."   - Ben Sweetland ''

Cathedral Nave - 


 * In contrast to the Narthex, there is a hushed and reverent feel to the Nave that inspires silence and awe. The floor is a beautiful marble tile patterned in white and blue checkerboard radiating outward from the 24 karat gold wildcat inlay at the center of the room. This symbol of House Kahar sits directly beneath the massive dome which rises nearly three hundred feet overhead, culminating in a breathtaking stained-glass mosaic of the sun comprised of thousands of pieces of crystal in every imaginable shade of orange and yellow. From this incredible work of art radiate the rays of the sun, laminated in gold and serving to not only complete the overall skyscape overhead but which also support and divide the dome into eight individual murals depicting the great Kahars throughout history, each basking in the glory of the light from above.


 * Those same eight ribs widen and divide as they come down from the dome to frame the white marble archways that lead to the Narthex to the rear of the room and to the Sanctuary bearing the altar to the front. Along the sides they frame six small chapels each holding exquisitely carved statues honoring the ancestral heroes of the realm - the founders of each of the six great houses, each facing inward towards the mighty feline as if paying homage. Curved oaken pews radiate into the back half of the room from the open circle beneath the dome and large gold sconces are set in the wall, each holding half a dozen candles to illuminate the room. To keep the smoke from marring the pristine walls, behind each sconce is a sculpture of beaten metals, gold and bronze and copper, like flames dancing upward towards the sky.

It's one of those rare times, this day, when the Canoness is not to be found in her argentite armor. The cathedral being between services, she's as alone at present as she might ever be, with only a few Ordinators around seeing to the cathedral's care.

Without the bulk of armor lending weight to her bearing, the Templar is revealed for the quite young woman she is. Solemn, grave, the skirts more common to her station absent. In the cloak, tabard, and bookbelt, the young paladin is more a symbol than a person, standing in contemplative vigil before the golden wildcat, her head bowed.

"You're a tricky one to track down sometimes."

Those words, spoken with casual ease upon a voice of nonchalant regality atop a regal purr, stands out amongst the stark serenity of the quiet chapel, though hardly seem out of place within the current atmosphere - for in a sanctuary of reverence and faith, such an imperial voice appeases the very air itself. The owner of those words is as distinct in attire as he is in articulation and appearance: the unique outfit of dark blue leather and articulated iron plates doing as much to mark the man as Serath Kahar as even the ethereal blue of his eyes and the argent of his auricomous hair does. "I'd asked for Cannoness Ailith Kahar, to no avail," he continues while walking down the main aisle of the Nave, the pews flanking either side of him, though his steps seem to echo little. "So, in the end, I decided to use the words "justification", "retribution", "devout", and - when I came across citizens of less than honest repute - "exceptionally scary Ordinator when it comes to people like you", and they soon seemed to know who I meant." Though effectively talking to Ailith's back, this doesn't seem to deter the Prince from his monologue.

Ailith practically spins in place, hand dropping to a sword that is not, at the present moment, *there*. When she sees who she (thankfully) didn't try drawing a blade on...well, such a solemn person doesn't change expression much. But the blush shows clearly on her cheeks. "Your highness," she says. "My apologies. I did adopt the Valoria name. I was away for a time, escorting one who would be an Ordinator to her next site of learning. I hope your Highness was not kept waiting."

"I caught you off guard, it seems," the Prince notes in the wake of Ailith's actions, drawing to a halt a little way away from the startled Canoness, though failing to lose his soft smile in the process. He holds his hands up, palms towards Ailith, as a sign of self-reproach. "I apologize. I should know better than to sneak up on former Scourges, given the stigma that seems to accompany the word. Too much bad blood." He sighs, lowers his hands, and then closes some of the distance. "You need not apologise, though," he notes with a slight shake of his head, "You can't keep someone waiting if you don't know they're coming, and tracking you down was part of the fun."

Ailith laughs quietly. "I fear little in a house of Light," she says, "But habits can be difficult to break, your Highness, and ...for once I am not on duty. Prayer, executed properly, is an absorptive exercise." She bows, and says, "Be that as it may, be welcome to this house of Light. How may I serve your Highness?"

"Actually, it's the other way around," Serath offers with just a hint of a conspiratorial tone to his words, returning the bow with a slight, respectful, incline of his head. "The question being, what have I come here to offer? I'd rather not be so blunt, but with both my brother *and* my father looking on," he gestures to one of the two statues, "I can't help but feel like I need to be prudent, so I'll get to the point:" He pauses for a moment, and then adds: "What do you know of my position within the Imperial Cult?"

Ailith blinks. "You are the Warpriest," she says. "My superior. From you has come all policy of the Imperial Cult." Her shift in stance is almost soldierly, as one might report to a superior, but there's a slightly relaxed edge to it that suggests it's mostly habit rather than something she's quite sure is proper procedure. "It has been my understanding that your highness has been focused on fostering worship of the Light that does not encourage those views which led to the Church's sundering and fall."

The Prince nods a little to that, apparently deciding that it's a fair enough analysis of the position, before looking away from the statues and back upon Ailith directly. "True enough," he agrees, "Though much of what I've accomplished could have been done with no affiliation to the Imperial Cult at all and, in truth, I don't do half as much directly as I perhaps should. Therein rests both the boon and the lament of being a Sovereign Prince: you can accomplish much, but not specifically." "Which I suppose brings me to why I'm here," he continues with a smile. "Ailith Valoria, you are a shining beacon of support and hope within this fledgling guardian of the faith, and I have a proposal for you: how would you like to become the Warpriest of the Imperial Cult in my stead?"

The sincerity of his offer should leave no illusion that this is a spur of the moment decision, but rather one he might have had in mind for a while.

Ailith blinks again, and again, jaw dropping slightly. "...your highness?" she asks, clearly taken aback. "To what do I owe the honor of this offer?"

"As the Sovereign Prince of the Kingdom of Fastheld," Serath states, a soft smile buffering his adopted tone, "It is my right to keep some things secret. Be that as it may, though, I can think of no other person I'd consider for the role. However, I will say that you may want to look into recruiting an Ordinator or two who are not quite as militant in nature as some of the other 'recruits' may be - yourself included." He pauses at that, waiting for some reaction for just a moment before offering, "Which is not to say that your fervant dedication to the Light and your equal unfaltering mistrust of the Shadow and all that it corrupts is not admirable. However, I do fear that in worrying about the Shadow, people often neglect those who merely want to see the Light and the compassion and hope it brings, which retribution and stalwart dedication do not easily allow." "This is not a critique of your character, Ailith," he explains, softly, "Nor that of others who follow a similar line of zeal, but when people remember the Church of True Light, they recall faith by means of fear, not by means of gentle inspiration and compassion - elements I wish to see the Imperial Cult offer to fully exorcize the echoes of the former Church that still haunt us."

Ailith nods. "I am aware of this, your Highness," she says. "And I have endeavored to make it clear to those who approach me seeking the bookbelt and armor. We speak of the Light. Shadow finds its way to make itself known; we do not need to make the people afraid of it. It will always do so on its own."

She frowns briefly. "I ...have been considering offering the Countess Celeste such a position for that reason. While she is mistaken in her apparent belief that only she knows the Light's will, one cannot deny she is merciful and, on the whole, generous to those who pose no threat to her."

"A conflicted idea, I imagine," Serath notes with a knowing glance, folding his arms against his chest as he considers that. "On one hand, Celeste Valoria has more heart than sense. However, on the other hand..."

The Prince trails off and can't help but smile. "On the other hand, Celeste Valoria has more heart than sense. Her own personal faith seems to be a mix of random elements that sometimes almost cross into heretical territory, and her tenure at Night's Edge has been... a headache in general, shall we say? Rough with the smooth, especially when it comes to her and Milora Lomasa - something I apparently made worse by thinking I could make it better. Emotion, however, is often far stronger than reason, no?" He stops to think for a moment or two, and then adds, "However, it might be a worthy experiment. Her attitudes towards the Shadow Touched are at least in line with what the Imperial Cult believes, though perhaps a little more patronizing at times, but not intentionally. Maybe all she needs is a line to follow and something solid to focus on. A channeling of belief, as it were, rather than one that has no definition or purpose, if you follow?"

Ailith nods. "I am reliably informed that I am seen as stern, or harsh, your highness," she says. "I feel she coddles the mages too much, and does not encourage them to leave their magics behind. But as a balancing force within the Cult and a valuable teacher - even if, at times, only in what not to do - I cannot fault her. She will not take direction, but perhaps her more extreme views can be contained."

"She may take direction if one is offered to her," the Prince muses, looking away for a moment to glance upon the stained-glass mosaic at the fore of the Nave. "A stream flows in its own direction until it meets with a river, after all, and the Imperial Cult is still finding its feet. Besides, one of our core doctrines is the allowance for different views on faith. We both a see a cloud, though might see a face within its form while I might see a fish. A strange analogy, I know, but not a bad one for a spur-of-the-moment thing."

Ailith nods. "So I have attempted to teach those who come to me, and I have had them visit places around the Kingdom to see it in action. I feel there is a place for my own views as well." She frowns, then. "...If it is to be my place to guide this Cult, I confess I remain uncertain as to my duty when proclamations such as Oren's are made. On the one hand - one cannot tolerate or encourage the worship of Shadow. On the other - there is the matter of his noble connections, the punishment of the houses, and what may simply be the ravages of age."

At the mention of the name "Oren", Serath promptly looks back upon Ailith. "If Oren had made such a statement two years ago, there would be a corpse in Nillu's Lode right now; a corpse missing a few appendages, no less, on display for all to see."

The Prince then sighs a sound of lamentation that speaks of some degree of vexation at the topic in question. "Light - he'd be dead several times over by now. The Imperial Cult cannot stand by and let this act stand, though. Some stance needs to be taken, lest we erode one of the very same purposes that the Imperial Cult was formed to act as vanguard against." "The crux of the issue now, I imagine," Serath continues, "Is that people will be quick to leap to Oren's defense from nostalgia of who the man used to be, not who he is now, be it intentional or otherwise. Yet if Oren were some nameless Freelander or minor Noble, I do not doubt people would be calling for his head." A pause interjects itself, and then Serath asks, "What would you do, if you could?"

Ailith nods as the Prince speaks. "I called for his arrest, but let it remain a relatively private matter. I would keep him in a holding cell, until the source of these statements could be determined - senility, malice, or conspiracy, whatever the cause might be." She spreads her hands.

"If malice, then execution. If senility, then confinement to a hall of healing where he might receive care until his days' end. If conspiracy unwitting, release to a home of his choosing with proper observation. If conspiracy with awareness, imprisonment or death depending on its extent."

She shakes her head. "I know that every action the Cult takes is weighed against the Church's past. My own history seems to magnify this; I reminded the duchies of what the penalty *has been*, and although I requested their position on what it might be in future, all of them assumed I would demand his death and wished to protect him. I am perhaps too stern for what you wish the Cult to be, your Highness."

That last part is said with some regret. "I cannot renounce my dedication and feel it is right or honorable. But does the Cult itself have time for the people to understand I do not wish the Church's flaws reborn?"

"It will have to make the time," Serath affirms with a slight incline of his head, "Though how the Imperial Cult invests that time is, perhaps, what will ultimately shape the attitudes of the people whom the Imperial Cult wishes to be of benefit to." At that, the Prince takes a moment to consider the rest of what Ailith offered before coming to a conclusion: "I would, in all honesty, take the word "execution" off the proverbial table and reserve it only for extreme situations. Though Zolor likes to believe otherwise, the Kingdom has little taste for blood, and the very word itself has too much of the Church of True Light's shadow looming from it - if you'll excuse the expression." "Though the Scourges of the Church of True Light had little qualms with executing people first and asking questions later, the Imperial Cult has far more options available to it - all of which serve the same end of removing Oren's influence from the people and preventing the harm that his words might have upon impressionable citizens. Exile, confinement, labor camps... though I am loath to suggest it, the "lessening" of the Church may even have a place at times, though rarely. 'Wisdom Guide Thy Hand', as it was said."

Ailith seems surprised. "If his statements were made with full awareness of what he advocated, does that not place him among those we are meant to fight?" she asks curiously. "Where could I keep him, if he is to be spared?"

"You could lock him away in his Keep," Serath surmises, "Or perhaps turn him over to the Royal Guard to press into service, or exile him into the Wildlands to be embraced by the very Shadow he claims to advocate. Throwing him into Fastheld Dungeon may also be an option, though in this case one might consider his age to be a source of compassion from those who are tasked with dealing with him."

"What I'm saying, Ailith," the Prince explains, "Is that the nature of reaction should be equal to the threat faced. One should not use a ballista to hunt a deer, as it were. Oren may have fashioned himself as something of a heretic, true, but all that makes him is a foolish old man spouting radical and dangerous views. He is unlikely to bring anyone great harm directly, though may perhaps influence others to think along the same lines."

Ailith hms, thoughtfully. "I still must catch him and find out what he was doing," she says. "But ...I think I understand."

"Think of Oren as a rabid old bear," Serath offers, encouraging Ailith's thought process along. "The Ordinators are, therefore, foresters tasked with ensuring that the old bear does not harm other wildlife. Do you understand?"

Ailith frowns, and it's several moments before she says, "Yes. I think so. A ...ranger's thinking, it would seem, Highness?"

Serath can't help but smile at that, offering a little nod of affirmation. "There's a lot to be said about pragmatism, all told," he admits, "But answering a threat with just enough force to justify the actions in question seems to be the way to go. Be that as it may..." "Canoness Ailith Valoria?" he asks, his voice adopting a tone of regal authority, "Do you accept my offer? Will you become the Warpriest of the Imperial Cult?"

Ailith raises a closed fist to her heart, and bows. "I will, your Highness," she says. "And endeavor in all ways to serve well."

"Then I name you Warpriest Ailith Valoria," the Prince confirms, mirroring the gesture for the sake of ritual, "And in doing so, grant you authority of the Imperial Cult and all who serve within." Serath allows a few moments to pass for that statement to stand and be set in stone, granting the event some level of respect, before speaking again. "This also makes you a member of the royalty, you know. I have most of the paperwork prepared in advance, so you shouldn't concern yourself with documentation. It's all taken care of."

Ailith stands still a moment, letting it sink in, and then nods. "Thank you," she says quietly. "I will do my best to bring honor to the House and to the Imperial Cult."

"One less title," Serath laments to himself, though there's a hint of amusement upon his words all the same. "I will make one request, though: if you're going to permit Freelanders and Wildlanders to become Ordinators, only Nobles should be permitted to become Canons."

Ailith nods. "It is understood." She blinks. "Ah. This," and she taps the circlet, "is for canoness...what is the mark of the Warpriest to be?"

"Your faith," Serath simply answers with a smile.

Ailith laughs quietly at that - and somewhat shakily; it would seem even the Templar's nerves can be shaken at times. "One among many; that is a better way, yes."

"One less title, and one less thing on my list," the Prince notes, patting Ailith on the shoulder before nodding at some internal thought. "In that case, I think my work here is done. Now it seems I'll need to make haste back to Light's Reach. A convenient location, all told."

Ailith smiles slightly. "It is indeed. I am fond of Lionsgate, and my home is here. I suppose I should look into a manor at Light's Reach as well now." She bows again. "My apologies...it will take a little time to adjust, I think."

"Ailith," the Prince offers as a final element of encouragement, "Considering the collapse of the Church and the place you've attained within the Imperial Cult now, I think you'll manage just fine. Now, as much as I'd like to bask in your pride, I need to take my leave. Light keep you, Warpriest."

Ailith shakes her head. "Pride, your Highness? Shock. Please; I did not mean for my stunned-rabbit silence to delay you. Light guide and keep you, your Highness."

"Shock and pride often go hand in hand, and pride isn't always a bad thing to have - especially when earned," Serath notes in parting, and then turns and, with a wave of his right hand back over his shoulder, moves back the way he entered through the main aisle of the pews of the cathedral's nave... …only to stop a little way along. "Oh, I almost forgot," he amends, turning to grant Ailith a side-long glance, "I shall most likely be formally disbanding the Imperial Tribunal upon reaching Light's Reach, and reforming the Royal Order of the Crown to adopt it's new role. That will most likely include the inauguration of a new Grand Master of the Order, one who will take over the previous functions of the Grand Master, and the new functions inherited from the Justiciar position." "In the flow of things," he continues, "you'll be on par with the new Grand Master on a social and political level, but as the Imperial Cult is wing of the Imperial Tribunal now, it'll also become a wing of the Royal Order, so the Grand Master will be your "ranking" superior in matters of a military and legal nature, but not by much, and not in regards to matters of faith."

Ailith nods. "I will remember, your Highness," she says solemnly.

"Good," Serath confirms, looking ahead before moving in that same direction. "Because I won't be around to settle things if you two don't get along..." Behind those cryptic words, one can almost feel the soft smile that no doubt accompanied them; yet Serath doesn't seem to want to elaborate on that point, and - upon near silent steps - the Sovereign Prince of the Blood makes his quiet exit from the cathedral – a a simple exit that lacks all the heraldry and pomp that often flow in the wake of Princes and Kings alike.

''Return to Season 7 (2008)