[Sedna]

Marignon, Turn 34

Muszinger

How did it come to this?

Father Muszinger gazed over the smoking ruins of the great library at Barra. The words of a hundred generations burned beneath those blackened columns, and the twisted, gruesome corpses of the sages lay all about. One man had died on the steps of the library -- unable to run quickly with his stack of scrolls, a knight's lance had ripped his body asunder, and his blood now stained those scraps of paper he had sought to protect and oozed slowly down the stairs...

---

"The sacrifice of blood is not specifically forbidden, Father -- legend says that during the fall some noble Church fathers advocated an alliance with the infernal devils against the greater peril of death made manifest."

"That is legend, and folly, and heresy, Wic!"

"But Father..."

"Enough, give me peace for a little while. Leave!"

Muszinger sank down in a chair and stared into the depths of the fire. What day was it? Where was he? The Mountains of Madness, yes...

They had marched here in splendor after defeating the Pythium army. Here, where the arch-theurgs of Pythium had murdered Aftial. These mountains were now made sacred by that act, and though all in the Church agreed that death could not hold back the mightiest of the LORD's servants -- not with the end so close -- still some vengeance had to be delivered unto the evil purple empire, and a church would need to be built at the spot where the Goddess of Courage had ascended into heaven.

The first week in the Mountains had been exciting. It had been a long time since the Inquisition's work had been so rewarding. No petty heresies about which side of the bread was the godly one to butter like they had back home -- these people openly worshipped the oracle and openly celebrated the slaughter of God's holy servant. Children played with evil-looking Aftial dolls and gleefully recreated her defeat at the hands of the teleporting band of arch-theurgs (each of whom had a special super-power in the game). Fortunately the toys were all made of wood and served as kindling for their owner's pyres. Yes, the Mountains had been cleansed and made righteous over the wails of the damned and the cries of the heretics. Though hard work, it had been accomplished swiftly. The new church was dedicated, and the land made safe and orderly when the messengers of doom started to arrive.

First came the news that Pythium had qualified for membership in the great alliance. Muszinger had personally bound the fate of Marignon with three other kingdoms in order to defeat the growing southern menace. Now the foolish terms for membership had been met by the one empire the alliance was supposed to last long enough to destroy -- and just as they stood on the edge of destruction!

Next came news that Aftial had returned to Marignon -- welcome news in itself, but she had stayed there with the Three Above and pardoned Pythium for killing her.

And then the crushing blows -- the Archbishop of Marignon published reports that the kingdoms of C'tis and Vanheim were using death magic in their wars against Pythium -- the Archbishop of Elkland had been recommunicated (they had had to invent that word) in exchange for a mighty gift of twenty water gems to the war effort -- the inquisition was to be placed under the personal control of the Archbishop of Avoca -- Muszinger's army was to disband, the monies for their wages being required to pay the army already (already!) fighting the undead in the shadow lands -- Muszinger, Wic and Polgrave were to return to Marignon to face trial for heresy.

Sitting by the fire, Muszinger took up the heresy charge and stared blankly at it. There was a knock, and the Archbishop of Polgrave entered.

"Father..."

"How many of these have I signed in my time?" Muszinger asked, holding up the charge. "Bitter reversal of fortune."

"Father, we must take action."

"Yes. But what? Are you here to offer another deal with the devil like Wic? A chance to sell our souls to the infernal forces to gain strength to conquer our political enemies? No, of course not. Your study is death itself. Surely you are here to argue that we must side with the darkness to counter these charges that our allies are friends of death!" His voice rose a little, on the edge of breaking into hysterical laughter.

"You do me wrong Father, I urge no such thing. The power and danger of death are well known to me, true, but I would never argue that another should take up my burden, be tortured by the same inky blackness which stalks my dreams. No, I am here to discuss practical matters. You must charge Marignon with heresy youself. Have the inquisition -- those who are still loyal to you -- move out in force to quash these vicious rumors. You must take steps to defeat the enemies of our LORD and yourself."

"Must I, Polgrave?"

"Yes. Time is of the essence."

"But... oh God, forgive your humble servant! The rumors must be true. I have spoken myself with spies who saw such a thing. They say the ruler of Vanheim is a foul undead thing, and the dragon Cole? The whole race of C'tis? Who led Ermor into the night, Polgrave? Which treacherous, stinking vermin poisoned the mighty empire, the mighty church, and brought death incarnate into a good and wholesome world? We had thought, I know, deluded ourselves that these animals had put such evil behind them, but a lizard cannot change its scales."

"My dear friend. No-one has been a more zealous defender of the faith than yourself. But even if the charges are true, it is treason for Marignon to usurp control in this fashion, and heresy to not put on formal trial the people who make such claims. But I know why this is so. Their information comes not from our own loyal spies, but from the angel-killing masters of deception in Pythium. Their words are lies because of their source, and Marignon knows this, this is why he hides behind treason. Take the fire of faith and the torch of the inquisition, and shine light into this dark secret, expose its evil roots!"

"I could do as you say, but how can we win? Our army's salary is cut. We must pillage enemy lands or disband our force and be left powerless. With Aftial now preaching forgiveness, how can we lead the troops into battle against Pythium? And yet we cannot stay here."

The door burst open, and for a moment Wic hung there in the shadow, his robes drooping from his outstretched arms like some hideous bat.

"My lords! It is a good day to die!"

"What new devilry is this?"

"None whatsoever." Wic stood aside, and a man moved into the room. A weather-beaten man in dirty brown robes, leaning on his spear and trying to catch his breath. "I present St. Onbec, the angry."

A stunned silence filled the room. Then Polgrave ran over to offer the man a chair.

"Are you for real?"

The man stared in Muszinger's eyes, and his face shone with a holy light. "More real in this world than you, rat."

"Why you!" Muszinger rose to smite the insolent scout, but Wic swiftly interposed himself.

"Hear him out. He brings our salvation."

"What lies!"

"I saw the serpent masters, Pythium, at Boddern Weald, scarce one month ago. Their foul magicks have conjured up some dispossessed spirits to fight against the lizards."

"My God."

"He was not there that day, for the lizards did not hesitate to raise the dead in their own turn."

"And you will swear to this?"

"By my spear and unto the living face of God."

"You see what this means, Father?" said Wic. "For a little while at least we can hold the army together fighting the damned lords of Pythium. Marignon's power cannot reach us while we retain our force, and the men will not complain once they are fighting the shadow of death even here. This is our key to our survival, and the gates of power back home."

Muszinger turned away to look into the fire again. "My friends, all you say is true. But this is not the key to salvation, but the footstep of doom. Vanheim, C'tis, Pythium... these now have all joined the darkness of Ermor. Are we alone to stand against the night? It was always so, but can we survive divided? While Elkland marches on the lizards in the north, and Marignon fights the greater shadow, we fight in vain here in the south against yet another race fallen into necromancy! The end is coming. It is almost upon us, and the LORD's return will not be to a bright clean world, but to a shadowy waste, where foul things hold sway and the living wander like ghosts in the night. We are all doomed."

Wic laughed, "You worry too much, Father. We, loyal servants, will always be protected as long as we do what is right-- and now we know that it is both right and convenient to continue the war against Pythium for as long as we have strength. Perhaps the LORD intends us to die in these Mountains, but I do not think so. I say we march into the heart of Pythium. Strike the library at Barra, and put a stop to the heathen learning that goes on there. Already the knights are agitating to ride there, in the hopes of finding clues about their precious grail. March out. Fight out little part of the greater struggle, and let God determine where we fall."

"Yes," said Muszinger. "Do what you will."

---

And so Muszinger watched the fires erase history. Pythium had used no death magic in the battle, although they had sacrificed many young girls to summon lesser devils from Hell. Onbec (or whoever he really) had disappeared again into the wild, taking Muszinger's sense of direction with him. Why continue this battle? Why fight this fight? For now, he was just reacting. Just trying to hold his army together long enough to see his way back to Marignon, and the Angel, and God.