by J. A. Day
“Does this passage not say that when Sol comes back in the sky that we will enjoy feasting and drinking? Why then do we deny ourselves the pleasure of those things now? Sol wants us to be happy in that garden, so what’s wrong with having that happiness now?”
“Yes I have read the other passages, especially Priest Robin’s account, and understand how it talks about the dangers of overeating, how it can lead to starvation, and the dangers of drinking too much, how it can lead to fights and babies out of wedlock, but just because there are these dangers doesn’t mean eating and drinking is bad.”
“For you see, when I went to those parties and ate that food I connected to the people within those parties. I became friends with some of them, and through these friendships they began to understand me and I began to understand them. What a powerful way to bring the Mission into people’s lives. For if they begin to understand us, they will begin to understand why we follow the faith of Sol. By doing that we can bring moderation. No more will there be parties every week, feasts that will starve us, and drunken excesses. Instead there will be parties that celebrate something, a chance to get together and learn about one another, a chance to unite the wagon train.
“Our purity drive has alienated others. Sure we can sit on our pedestal basking in the glow of our perfection, but by doing that we are failing in our Mission. Many in our own wagon train hate us, want to get rid of us. These are our neighbors, these are the ones following us on the Mission. If we cannot convince them to join us, then we cannot convince anyone else. Our drive to purity has alienated them, but I also fear it is alienating ourselves.
“I truly felt like I wanted to quit the faith because I wanted that prison of needing to be pure to be gone. I was willing to throw it all away for parties and food, just because I didn’t want to feel that shame again. Maybe it’s just me who felt that, but I don’t think so. I bet there are many young acolytes who feel ashamed about their inner feelings, I bet there are many Priests and Priestesses who on occasions do shadow things. This is not healthy and it will destroy us. I am here to change all that.”
“I am changing both by setting up a harvest festival for the farmers. This will be a chance to get to know our fellows, the ones that have supported us throughout the life of the wagon train. I have felt that even these people have drifted away, not seeing them at prayers or get-togethers anymore. We need to strengthen that bond again, and if we do that then we will know we can do the same for the others. I truly believe in the dream of a united wagon train. I hope you can follow in that dream.”
Sonja finished, feeling hoarse and exhausted from all that speaking. She looked out at the crowd of faithful, wondering what they would think of her speech. Everyone was silent, the men and women in the crowd had furrowed brows and seemed to be thinking. Sonja’s heart pounded more and more. She could have handled angry boos, but silence seemed to be the worst response.
But there was movement on the front pew. Teresa stood up, and clapped. Soon Roose joined in, and so did others behind them. One by one all the faithful were standing up and clapping. Some started to woop and shout out her name. Sonja felt a sense of relief.
The only thing that marred that was the fact that Britta was sitting there with her arms crossed, looking like she wanted to kill Sonja.
IT’S EASY TO GET PEOPLE ON YOUR SIDE: JUST THROW A LOT OF PARTIES, TELL THEM HOW GREAT YOU’LL MAKE THEIR LIVES, AND GIVE THEM A PURPOSE
‘Diary of the King’s Skald’ by Alf Beumers
Sigrun was uncomfortable sleeping in her new comfy bed. It somehow felt wrong not having weird lumps in the mattress, and rigidity at her back. Her spine was being absorbed in the bed, which caused twinging and pain. The Jarl’s wagon was way too hot. What was cozy and pleasant during the day felt stifling underneath the covers. The silk curtains around her bed unnerved her a little as well. The room beyond looked like it swam in a silver mug of beer. She had gotten used to being able to see her own door at all times, knowing that she would be able to spot any intruder coming in.
She sighed, and pushed the curtains away. Everything in the Jarl’s wagon was dim and shadowy. There were only black silhouettes of the armchairs and desk. Nothing stirred, not even a creak. She had gotten too used to the sounds of cows sleeping and the gentle creak of the wood. This wagon was too quiet.
For Sigrun everything felt too new. There was no familiar anchor she could take comfort in, until she saw her mother’s books. She walked over to the shelf and took down ‘How Manang Ate The Sun’. The thought of her mother’s voice would comfort and soothe her. But when she sat down in the armchair and went to read, she found it hard to concentrate. Her mind refused to let the meanings of the words sink in, instead it thought about Sonja.
Sonja had been in her thoughts all day. Whenever she would be walking in the wagon train Sonja’s flame robe would appear in the corner of her eye, whenever she would be speaking to a caravaner Sonja’s sultry stare would be looking back at her. At inappropriate times, when she was talking with a higher up Baldur or Hoademaker, she would think about what Sonja looked like under those faithful robes. She felt heat around her neck and face, which made her excuse herself from the wagon to get some air.
What had Sonja done to her? Was this what people felt in relationships? Was she in love?
She shook her head, pushing herself up from the armchair. She had to see Sonja. Sigrun didn’t care that it was the dead of night and Sonja was sleeping in the middle of the faithful encampment.
In her younger days there were many times she would have to sneak in or out of wagons. This one time she had flirted with a cute redhead at a party, and when the redhead took Sigrun back to her wagon Sigrun found that she had to tiptoe around the redhead's family sleeping on the floor. On the plus side due to circumstances of not wanting to wake up the family the sex with her had been slow and sensual.
Sigrun slipped into her boots, and opened the door. She stepped onto the grass, and quickly ran over to wagons that ringed around the faithful encampment. She peered through the alleyway, seeing if there were any faithful about. Only the grass within the encampment and the dirt on the training ground blew in the wind. Crouching down, she rushed down the alleyway and ran out into the open grass.
At first she thought she was safe, but then a yellow light flashed in the corner of her eye. Her heart beat fast, and she ran back to the alleyway. She put her back onto the side of the wagon, peering around the corner. The light initially blinded her, but soon the silhouette of a person was visible. Sigrun ran back out of the alleyway.
She stopped just outside to catch her breath, seeing the yellow light pass the position she had just stood. She had gotten lucky. If the guard had caught her, she would have had no clue what excuse she would have for going into the faith’s encampment at the dead of night. Her actions would have gotten to Sonja, and Sonja would be disappointed about it and a little wary of her doing it again.
Her actions had been very stupid. She slinked back to the Jarl’s wagon, feeling a little embarrassed.
When she clenched the wagon's silver doorknob and looked through the frosted glass, she didn’t feel like opening the door. The night’s cool air had awakened her, and she felt a little lonely. The only thing in the wagon for her were dark armchairs and an uncomfortable bed. She wondered whether there was a party she could go to instead. At a party she could drink her embarrassment and sorrows away, and dance to forget Sonja for a bit.
At the thought of parties a memory popped into her head. She had been with that group of farmers with a thin man, a woman with thick arms, and the young farmer. The young farmer - was Daniel his name? - had been about to reveal how Hannes was still fighting the faith, but he had been prevented from saying it by the thin man, was his name Thore?.
Hannes had been throwing a lot of parties lately, one every week. Sigrun questioned why he had done that. It didn’t make sense for him to just be doing it for the people to love him, making the stores empty that quickly was too
risky a move for something as small as that. So there had to be something that Hannes was getting out of it. She flashed back to that note in the Jarls wagon, the one that talked about getting rid of the Mission of Sol. Was he organizing something?
She wondered if whatever Hannes was organizing would be on tonight. She didn’t want to go back to her wagon, and she couldn’t see Sonja, so maybe she should try to find out.
Sigrun started exploring the wagon train to see if she could find any tell-tale runes or random bits of furniture, usually these would indicate a party or a get together. Despite parties not being outlawed, people tried to hide them so budding faithful didn’t come around to proselytize. She started on the west side of the wagon train, the Mattsons’ side. She walked down Rod Street, crouching down to see the bottom corner of wagons or their axles. Sigrun didn’t find anything on either side of the street.
She walked into Mattsons’ Square, looking down each street. There was a table and chairs down Fregne Street, but when she looked closer there were just cards and half drunk beer on the table, and the chairs looked like they had just been pushed out of the way so people could get up.
Sigrun walked down the street anyway, just in case, and turned onto Slakter Row. Here the metallic smell of animal blood still permeated the air. The wagons down here were made out of rough metal, which looked sharp and foreboding in the night. All of Sigrun’s cows - though she guessed they weren’t her cows anymore - would eventually be transported into one of these wagons to be slaughtered. She understood it was for the good of the wagon train, and she enjoyed the meat that came from the cows, but she couldn’t help still feel a little shudder down her spine. She shook out of her mind any imaginings of metal floors covered in cows blood.
She exited Slakter Row, and entered Bonde Square. Here she checked the wagons forming the square, and then made her way to the carts full of dirt. There was no sign of any runes that indicated any parties or get-togethers.
The sky lightened to a muddy gray. It was becoming morning time faster than Sigrun had expected. Soon her chance of finding anything except for smoked out bonfires and stamped on grass was becoming more and more unlikely. She stood in the middle of the square, sighing. Hannes had done a good job in hiding his get-togethers, but there must be some way for people to know where it was being held.
She was about ready to give up until tomorrow night, when she heard the distant sound of voices. They were coming from the east, down Baldur Street. She ran towards a wagon at the edge of the street, putting her back towards the wood, and peered down.
Two men and one woman walked down the street. When Sigrun looked closer, she recognized the man in the middle as Thore, which must mean the other was Daniel, and that meant the woman was Aina. They all talked loudly.
“We are going to be late,” Daniel said.
“Well we would have gotten there early if she hadn’t had to have a few drinks beforehand,” Thore said, pointing to Aina. “I was willing to leave her in her stupor on the chair, but you insisted she had to come.”
“It’s always been the three of us,” Daniel said. “Doesn’t seem right not to take her.”
“Well if Hannes gets us to carry everything or put things away, I know who I’m going to blame,” Thore replied.
Sigrun waited until the three farmers walked further down the street, and then she followed them. She hugged the sides of the wagons, crouching and tiptoeing as she went. Anytime the group stopped and looked around, she sidled towards a wagon and froze. Her heart thumped, and she worried that she was going to get caught, but then the group would carry on.
Eventually they turned off the street and walked into a hidden square. Sigrun crouched down to the ground, and crawled underneath one of the wagons that formed it.
Inside the square nearly a hundred men and women stood in formation. Many wore the rough and muddy garb of farmers, but there were some in tailored tunics. The makeup of the formation had some black hair or chubby features, but the main bulk of it was made up of red haired men and women. Everyone held a sword in one hand and a shield in the other. They all looked forward, at poles that had been staked into the grass.
Standing in front of these poles was a tall, thin man, with brushed back blond hair. He had a bony face with a large forehead, and wore leather armor and thick trousers. Sigrun recognized him from the parties she had attended. He had always been in the middle of them, with an entourage of men and women at his side. He must have been Hannes.
The gathered men and women with swords looking like they were ready to enact violence made Sigrun uncomfortable, but what chilled her to the core was the fact that hanging on the poles was the yellow robes of the faithful.
Hannes' hard stare examined the men and women in formation. “Are you strong enough to charge at a group of Priests and Priestesses?”
The group shouted yes. Hannes stepped aside from the poles. “Well I want to see your best effort.”
The men and women at the front of the formation cried out, running towards the poles. Their swords slashed in unison, and then it was the turn for the next line to attack. By the time the last row attacked the robes were in pieces on the floor.
Sigrun stared at the small pieces of cloth, imagining Sonja’s wounded and bloody body in one of them. She gasped.
Hannes glanced towards her wagon. As he walked towards it, she scrambled back out. She pushed herself up and ran down the street, not looking back. Her mind raced.
The parties that Hannes had been throwing had really been a way to recruit people. He had been getting people together to drink and have fun, while he went around to talk to the ones that didn’t like the faith. Hannes would then tell these people to come over to a secret square to teach them how to fight. And Hannes was teaching them how to fight and kill the faithful.
ONE OF THE MOST IMPORTANT ROLES FOR A KEEPER IS TO KEEP THE FAITH UNIFIED. YOU MUST KEEP ALL OF THE FAITHFUL ON ONE PATH
‘Scroll of The Keeper’
Sonja expected the crowd of faithful outside her wagon to have disappeared the day after her speech. Most faithful would have followed Britta’s anger about her proposals. Many would not want the faith to change and would be plotting her downfall. It would take her putting on a good harvest festival to change their minds even a little. This was not the case.
When she stepped down the stairs of the Keeper’s wagon, Sonja found herself within a throng of faithful. They all gathered close, looking at her in awe, putting up their hands towards her, or shouting about how she was wonderful. Sonja had tried to get used to crowds, but this seemed to be an extra level of devotion that she wasn’t prepared for. She felt a little weird, undeserving, and also slightly worried that one of the faithful would try to grab her and pull her in. She would really need to get some bodyguards soon.
Sonja tried to push through as quickly as possible, giving the Sol sign and a prayer, but not stopping. But then she saw the faces of awe anew. These people actually wanted to follow her new path, and thought it was a good thing. She let that sink in for a moment. It made her smile. Maybe changing the faith would be easier than she thought.
She was also struck by the fact that she had a willing body of workers. With their help she could make sure this harvest festival was as big and fun as it could be.
She stood up straight, glancing at the crowd around her. “My faithful, what a joy it is to see you all this morning, paying your respects to me.”
All the men and women in the crowd bowed their heads and murmured their grateful thanks. At one level she still felt she didn’t deserve all this praise, underneath everything there was still the shame of being shadow filled and not being her mother. But a new feeling crowded that out, one of pride and joy. She felt after all the time of feeling horrible about herself and wanting to exit the faith – whether that meant exile or death – that she deserved to be praised as someone of value. If her mother could feel like a royal leader and bask in the glory others gave her, why couldn't she?
&n
bsp; “I said in my speech yesterday that I am hosting this year's harvest festival. That will mean we need to get everything ready. I want people to check how much food we have, how much seating we have, and where we can get some ale. I also want the training grounds moved, and tables, chairs, and a place to cook in its place.” She clapped her hands. “Please go do that for me, my faithful.”
As soon as she said the words the people of the crowd turned and ran to various different places to do the jobs she ordered. At the moment they all did it a little chaotically, some going into the store wagons, others grabbing chairs from wagons, some grabbing hold of the training ground. She made a note to talk to Teresa, Roose, and Sigmund to put some order to things.
She realized she hadn’t placed Britta on that list. She felt a heavy weight around her heart at the thought of Britta being furious at her. She should try to talk to her, to get her on board.
Britta stood on the grass in the distance with a dozen other yellow robed men and women. They looked over to Sonja with stony faces. She sighed. She would have to go over there and hear them out. But before she took one step, she heard a voice behind her.
“Keeper.”
Sonja turned to see a girl looking up to her. She was about twelve years old, wearing white Acolyte robes. The girl had brown curly hair and a bright innocent face. She looked up at Sonja in awe, but there was also a tinge of sadness within.
“Yes, my child,” Sonja said.
“I’d just like to say how important I found the speech you made yesterday,” the girl said, the sadness in her eyes becoming greater.
