Chương 36: 35. The Temple Doors

A column of black smoke rose up in front of the Temple of Ishtoran. The solid wooden doors of the structure had been partially smashed in, and the remnants burned. The space over the doors was dominated by a stained glass window representing Ishtoran as the ultimate ruler. The man stared out toward the sea, a glowing crown on his head. In his right hand, he held the whole world, wrapped in a hexagonal grid and topped with an obelisk—a kingdom core. In his left hand he held a sword.

The smoke from the burning doors below billowed, staining the window black with soot. Ghouls pushed at the wreckage, trying to make their way in, though they seemed deterred by the flames. Braun would be inside, fighting back. Tavian could hardly believe what he was seeing. Other soldiers lining the wall looked aghast.

"They're blowing up the temple!" a man shouted.

"They're begging for Ishtoran to smite them down," another replied. Tavian watched the fire in stunned silence, as the implications of Lord Anarvia's actions set in. This would not make the other Houses happy. The temple was sacred, and House Tiren, as the keepers of the temple, were neutral, defended and supported by all. They never engaged in the low level bickering of the other houses, but acted as a mediator at times. Lord Anarvia seemed not to care, and that was terrifying.

Either he thought he could defeat the other Houses, even united against him, or… He already felt confident of their support. Tavian felt a sinking suspicion that Anarvia was going for the pentagonal mana well. Uncle Erond was leaning over the wall a short distance away. Tavian took a step toward him, when he was interrupted by Valliroth. Lady Tiren's son staggered up to the wall, breathing heavily. He was still wounded, and Alisa followed him, protesting his exertions.

"You're not mended yet!" The man had recovered remarkably well, likely thanks to the [Fortify II] Tavian had given to him, but it would take more than a day or two to fully recover from the injuries he'd received.

"They desecrate the Temple," Valliroth gasped, his eyes wide.

"I never thought they would dare…" Tavian watched the fighting. The priests could hold the temple. They had Braun there, he would help organize them. Tavian needed to believe that Braun could do it.

"It is a strange time, in Tar Corinath," Tavian said, still dazed by what he saw.

"We are all in danger as long as the fighting continues."

"The relics," Valliroth said.

"We are sworn to preserve and protect. It's the duty of my family, Tavian, I have to go back there." Valliroth grew pale, and leaned against the wall. He pressed a hand to his arrow wounds; splotches of blood showed through the bandages. Alisa turned to Tavian with large eyes, clasping her hands.

"Please stop him," she begged.

"He needs to rest, he's going to hurt himself."

"There's nothing we can do about it now, Val," Tavian said.

"Even if we had sufficient forces and influence to make an excursion, Anarvia is raising the dead to fight alongside him."

"The dead ought not to enter the temple," Valliroth said darkly.

"I am sworn to protect that edifice."

"Anarvia's sins will be on his head." Erond glanced over, clearly having taken an interest in what was going on.

"We can't sit idly by and just watch!" Valliroth protested.

"My family is in there! Your brother is with them! There must be something we can do." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Tavian stared at the burning flames, wanting to agree with Valliroth. The wound in Tavian's side ached. The flames flickered shrinking down into that of a single torch, and he found himself standing in a dark corridor. Water dripped from the ceiling, and vermin ran through the shadows.

"It's here, somewhere," he said, his voice feeling strange in his throat.

"I feel it, somehow." He pushed forward in the darkness, his torch guttering. Footsteps pattered behind him. Not safe. It wasn't safe to be down here. But he needed to find it.

"Tavian?" Valliroth asked.

"Are you even listening?" Tavian blinked, finding himself back atop the wall. His mind was slipping. He gripped a battlement, steadying himself. The ground seemed to shift beneath his feet. The visions had to be something not connected with the miasmic dagger. They'd only started coming to him when he'd let the thing go. He wasn't hearing the voice any longer, and—"Don't ignore me, Tavian," Valliroth snapped.

"I understand your concern, Valliroth," Tavian said. The smell of damp and mildew still filled his nostrils.

"Tavian, we need to do something!" Valliroth renewed his pleas. Alisa grabbed Valliroth's arm.

"You need to sit down. You need to rest." Tavian checked his kingdom status, afraid of the strange vision he'd just had. ⬣ Kingdom Status ⬣ Core Essence Tiles Claimed Influence 364 326 1. 1 ⬣ Kingdom Population: 193 ⬣ They'd lost 4 core core essence since Tavian had awoken this morning, due to the miasmic turbulence. And they had fewer than 200 people—many of them old, women, children, servants—to protect a kilometer of walls. Braun and a dozen of Tavian's fighting men were already in the Temple.

They simply didn't have the capacity to do anything right now, not without risking it all.

"No, Valliroth," Tavian said.

"I can't do anything for them now. Braun is with them. They can hold out. Maybe we can figure out a way to help them, but we can't do anything right now. Our resources are spent."

"When did you become so cold?" Valliroth asked. The question struck Tavian like a spear to the heart. The cold calculations necessary to rule a kingdom would not persuade Valliroth to abandon his family. Valliroth clenched his fists.

"If you will not act, then… Then your sins will be on your head. I am going, alone if I must."

"You'll die, Valliroth," Tavian said.

"Don't go!"

"Stop me!" Valliroth said, pulling away.

"I'll die trying to reach them if I must." Alisa cried out. Valliroth stormed off, not seeming to notice her. Alisa followed him, quietly, a desperate anguish in her face. Tavian took a half step toward Valliroth. The man was going to his death. He was going to die if he ran out there alone.

"You, and you," Tavian said, grabbing two men who were gawking at the temple.

"Bind Valliroth. Do not let him out those gates!"

"Wait," Erond said.

"Hold one moment." The soldiers looked uncomfortable, but they did not move to obey Tavian.

"Tavian," Erond said as they watched Valliroth walk down the steps.

"Are you making this decision for your kingdom, or to punish your brother's recklessness?"

"We simply don't have the manpower," Tavian said.

"It's not me deciding. It's cold, hard mathematical reality. And Valliroth will die if he goes alone. He might not even make it to the temple."

"You are the ruler, Tavian," Erond said.

"You make the choices. You can't blame them on anyone or anything else, not math, not anything. The responsibility lies with you." Tavian pursed his lips, his nose wrinkling. He didn't like what Erond was getting at.

"And, if I may offer some advice?" Erond said.

"Go on." Tavian gave in, reluctantly.

"Some things can't be measured with numbers." He waved a hand, indicating the stunned soldiers on the wall, watching the attack on the temple. Then Erond pointed down to where Valliroth was buckling on a sword, and the men gathered around him, encouraging him. Tavian watched, worried that more of his men might choose to go with Valliroth.

"You speak in riddles, uncle," Tavian said.

"That's not like you."

"You're denser than a hardwood beam," Erond said, reaching out and grabbing Tavian's arm and shaking him.

"Morale, man. Morale! The Temple is burning! A man fighting for a cause is worth ten men fighting to avoid being thrown in prison."

"You're saying I should go out there?" Tavian asked, surprised.

"I'm not telling you what to do," Erond said.

"Remember? You're the ruler. You make the decisions. I'm just trying to make sure you've considered all the consequences." Tavian glanced at the two soldiers waiting to go arrest Valliroth. He looked back toward the burning temple. He understood what Erond was saying. And, though it frustrated him, he could see what his uncle meant. His kingdom had to be the kind of place worth saving. He had to be the kind of king worth fighting for. He also had to be careful.

He was injured, wounded by a miasmic dagger, and only Calli had the ability to help him heal.

"You two, come with me," he said. The two men fell in with him, and together they jogged down the steps, catching up to Valliroth as he headed toward the gate.

"I'll fight you, Tavian," Valliroth snapped, placing his hand on his sword.

"I won't abandon my mother and sister to die alone. You might not care about your own brother, but I can't—""I'm not going to stop you," Tavian said.

"I'm going with you."