Re: Level 100 Farmer - Chapter 302

“Hadrien Lightborn is the greatest man to have ever walked this land. A mighty warrior championing the divine armor of the sun itself whose strength was matched only by a faith in the Light that was second to none,” said Mason. He said this more to himself than anyone else.

“And at his deathbed, a foul Beaumont rogue’s dagger in his neck and poison coursing through his vein, Helius himself brought down a pillar of light to carry him to Valhul.”

“Hm,” said Asala, a hint of amus.e.m.e.nt forming into the beginnings of a smile around her black lips. “Indeed, the pillar of light part doth be correct. A pillar of divine judgement as it were, smiting Hadrien’s boundless cruelty from this world and taking back treasures tainted by his ambition.”

With some level of amus.e.m.e.nt as well, Li heard that and wondered how awful this Hadrien Lightborn must have been for Helius, the chronically depressed sun god who seemed to care little about almost anything, to actively smite the human down.

“But the Light-,” said Mason. His fingers clutched around his sun necklace. “It is undeniable that the Light has done good. Where it shines through the south, there is only but peace and prosperity. The famines and wars of the past before the duchess and her new light are gone.

I myself may not be a thorough believer in the light – I do not go to the temple every week nor do I dip my hands in the sunwells to repent of my faults – but I know that all around me, people believe in the Light, and they must do so because of a reason.”

“Thou art far more open minded than much of thy kind,” said Asala. “Thou believes in the Light for the good it hath wrought, and thus, thou hast no conflict with the faith that the Seer espouses, for it too, in thy eyes, has nurtured good.”

“That is right,” said Mason. “I know it is naïve, but I know that if something creates good, then it must be good at its heart.”

“A reasonable assumption, that is,” said Asala. She stopped writing on her tablet, putting it by her side now and fully engaging in the conversation.

Li did not intervene as Asala basically geared up to completely break down Mason’s world views. Views that had been built up for a lifetime. But then again, Mason’s lifetime was what, twenty years? If that? It was better for him to see the truth now rather than later.

“Scholar that I am, I hath read some of the doctrines of the Light and the views that they claim hold true of the north,” said Asala. “Tell me, Mason, what doth the priests of the Light say of the north in terms of faith? How many gods doth the north believe in?”

“Countless,” said Mason. “Spirits and minor gods for the littlest of things. A god of doors, even. That is why the faith is spread so thin across the north, preventing divine magic from manifesting.”

“But…I have god magic,” said Sheela as she c.o.c.ked her head in genuine confusion.

“Heretical magic as it were in the Light’s eyes,” said Asala. “But aye, let us take thy magic into account. Magic that calls upon the Old Panther of the Hunt, aspect of the Nightborn, one of the three great gods.

Then there art the Whitefur Lupi that doth worship the Cold Flame, one of six aspects of the Six Armed bull, another of the great gods.

But let us not exclude the sun. There art the Harpi of the northern skyspires that reach so close to the sun that give service to the Phoenix, aspect of the Great Sun that doth encompass that which is known as the Light.

Beyond even aspects of the three great gods, then there art countless more, tis’ true. Worship of the forest spirits before their fall.

Worship of the river elementals, elementals of all kinds fire, wind, earth, and so on, spirits not merely forests but also mountains and plains and jungles, spirits old that hath gained much power, high dragons, and so on and so forth.”

“What does all of this have to do with the Light?” asked Mason, his brows creased.

“So many faiths across so many peoples, and yet, doth thee not wonder why there art only but the Light in the South? Whenst there were seven whole disparate kingdoms?”

“It is because the Light united man in the era of the First Light and continues to do so now,” said Mason. “If there is one thing that distinguishes us from all others that tread this world, it is that.”

“Doth thee not wonder why even among thy vicinity there art priests of what they say art the ‘old ways’ practicing Druidry?” Asala flitted her tongue out, sensing Mason beginning to think more. She struck to the point.

“Many faiths there were in the South. Mayhaps not as many as there were in the north, but still, far, far more than the Light alone. Devotion to the forests, to elementals, to spirits – all that and more. Whenst didst these faiths fade?

The rise of the Light.

The Order of Paladins doth drew rivers of tears and blood during the times thou calls the Dark Ages, burning the altars of many and slitting their priests’ throats. That doth includeth, of course, the followers that the Seer now gathers once more. Some of mine sisters as well.”

“That makes no sense,” protested Mason. “The Light is good. It shines on all so long as they accept it. And this is embodied with the duchess. She allows the Seer’s faith to thrive.”

“She allows my faith to thrive?” Li scoffed. “No, I allow it to thrive.”

Asala nodded. “It is the Seer’s power that guarantees the life of his faith and its followers. Thus, therein lies the truth of faith. Faith is but a manifestation of power. Just as power may take the form of a blade, waging war and ruin, it may take the form of faith, a healing hand that promises light and warmth.

In either case, the goal of power is to create or enforce order. In the case of the Light, that power hath been used for good in many ways for it cannot be disputed that the humans of Soleil live well. And yet, what did it cost?

How many lives? How much blood? How many wails of suffering? How many other faiths ended, how many races purged?”

“But…what proof is there?” “You say so much, you know so much, and yet, what is there to make me believe you?”

Asala thought about this for a second, bringing her clay stylus to her lips. Her slender, pale shoulders shrugged with a lethargic movement. “Nothing, I do suppose.

Thou wouldst not understand that the words of a scholar of the Sandrivers, though perhaps not perfect, come as close to truth as possible. Now, shouldst the duchess and her orders of paladins have not purged all history and accomplishment which was not human, then thou wouldst have known.”

“It is true. The scholars of the sands are perhaps the fairest and truest source of all that has happened in this complicated and chaotic world,” said Lira. “Such was their value that they alone were granted privilege to traverse nearly all borders to record with a neutrality and sense of duty that all could not help but admire.”

“Aye,” said Old Thane. “It is a tradition among old adventurers that only those among us that have braved enough to reach the Sandrivers to read the histories of this world know truly what it means to be an adventurer, for it is through that we may cast aside the differences of race and politics and upbringing to seek the universal thrill of the unknown beyond.”

Lira sounded amused. “Ah, that tradition still exists? To think my adventure to the Sandrivers would have started a tradition that stood the test of centuries. Though, it seems, much of my name is known not.”

“Only among the old guard of adventurers, aye,” said Old Thane. “And even then, mere snippets. It is truly an honor to stand in your presence, Seeker.”

“Oh please, one such as yourself with greying hairs and all the wisdom that comes with them should not be granting me any honor.” Lira shook her head. “I am still a child at heart, chasing adventure after adventure. From this world to the next.”

“When this Darkening and the conflicts of man and elf end, I shalt make the completed records of thy adventures known once more,” said Asala proudly.

“Nearly alone among mine sisters do I travel the old path of the wandering scribe, but already, I hold within mine tablets enough novel history to convince them that the old ways art worth their merit.”

“Ah, so the scholars of the sands no longer travel the world,” said Lira.

“The world hath become a place much unwelcoming since thou hast left,” said Asala. “And history, once inviolable, hath become a tool of war and control. Mine sisters and I thus hold no safe asylum in any lands for alone doth we champion truth.”

Asala put down her tablet in a rare moment and gazed at Lira with hopeful eyes. “Wouldst thou not consider fighting for this realm once more, to right that which is wrong? I know as one that is supposed to champion neutrality that I should not ask for this, and yet, I cannot help but ask.”