"Faith is my Shield"

[Faith Is My Shield]

I have seen how it should be. Wise people sitting in contemplation. Discussing policy, the state of the Well, and how it should be. The wise recognize the wise. Respecting one another, speaking in turn, giving space for one another.

A shame that it shall not last. The Asterabadi Experiment gives; the Asterabadi Experiment takes. These wise minds shall be corrupted. The need to appeal to the masses shall overcome them. More and more compromise will be made to kowtow to one and another and another.

~ * ! * ~

To crusade is to purge the heretic, slay the monster, punish the criminal. The orc is monstrous. Deserving no mercy; deserving only wrath. To crusade is to fight without doubt, without hesitation. And this I did. My hammer never hesitated before striking into the orc. My cries joyous in the face of their barbarism and their death rattles.

But when the last orc fell. When there were no more to slay. Nothing to contend against us. The greatest weapon we have ever wielded was turned upon a tree. Something old, ancient. Existing with a history my mind could not comprehend and my thoughts could not understand.

When all the orcs lay dead around me, I could do nothing but look at our prize and ask: why? What was that tree? What purpose did its destruction serve? What is the horror we have wrought with our own two hands?

I am not a woman of doubts but when I have no foe to focus my wrath upon, it seems my mind becomes empty and dark, filling with whatever tips over the lip of the jar.

Baltra was a sturdy rock that served as a foundation. On our quiet ashsail trip back to the Well, she could sense my mind was not at ease. A gentle prod from her and I voiced my confusion and my concerns. She had no answers but she asked questions.

Questions that I could answer. I may not know the mysteries of the tree. But I know the orc: barbaric, savage, murderous killers, crafting flesh like foul djinn, animating the dead as vile necromancers. I may not comprehend the grand scheme of things but I know the details of why and how when it comes to the orc I meet on the battlefield.

[Faith Is My Shield]

Defeat is not something I am familiar with. I have tasted it bitterness more than once but, thankfully, instances of it recoiling my tongue have been few and far between.

The second raid past the walls of Abulmahhu was not a disaster. It was not a collapse. It was a slow loss of momentum. It was a boulder having fallen down a mountain side come to a stand still as it rolled upon flat terrain for as long as its weight would allow it.

But even in loss does opportunity take the chance to flourish. We had, after all, killed hundreds of orcs. Thousands. And among their corpses, as I marched back towards the war camp, a glint caught my eye. A light pure and revealing.

Atop a high dune was piled an even higher mound of orcan corpses. I made my way up and kicked aside a corpse, watching it roll like a masterless puppet down the dune. Looking to where the corpse had been, I saw a shield atypical from the ones usually used by the orcs.

It was not wooden or stone. It was not angular with sharp corners or vicious spikes. It was not stained with blood and viscera.

It was silver. Mirror-like. Embossed with the most beautiful filigree of water droplets clinging to vines.

I could not resist picking it up. Such a sight amongst a land marred by carnage. I wondered if I had found another sacred relic. The answer to my question revealed itself when I touched my hammer to the shield. The same glint I had seen earlier suddenly engulfed my hammer, glowing with a divine fervour.

We shall return to Abulmahhu soon. The Mother bids me return. The Wheel demands our shortcomings overcome. The taste of defeat shall be washed away with something sweeter.

~ * ! * ~

I am ever thankful that Miss al-Farisyya has taken on the mantle of leading the League of Purple. Her skills and talents overshadows my shortcomings. A mind for tackling the nuances birthed from the Experiment.

A parent should never indulge the short-sighted ridiculousness of children yet that is what the Experiment forces. As righteous as my impatience would be, al-Farisyya is more results oriented and is determined to achieve the right ones.

She will know when to use the carrot. She will know when to use the stick. Were it all up to me, every disorderly child would have sore bottoms and hungry, dinnerless nights.

~ * ! * ~

The plots are exhausting. The schemes exasperating. It is a duty for me to attend meetings with the people involved in governance when asked but rarely does witnessing such lead to more than me cursing the Experiment for what it imposes upon all of us.

Thankfully Ulfgrim and Cort were present so we could hold our own whispered discussion upon matters important: the war; the upcoming raid upon Abulmahhu. There is nothing quite like planning and discussing logistics to help one measure progress.