The Hierophant
Lore of Arcanum
Brindley watches as the heavy gates of the small, secluded kingdom close with finality. All over the realm, stories of people in other kingdoms and far-away lands having some sort of evil power being awakened in them have been spreading and the king has been determined to prevent the same fate from traveling here.
Decree after decree, day after day, the kingdom pulled further and further from society, culminating in the gates being closed for good. The kingdom of Wistreth will no longer participate in trading nor allyships with other kingdoms. Its citizens trapped within the confines of the enormous iron and stone gates.
The king didn’t so much as give anyone the option of leaving before making his last decree. Anyone outside the gates after this moment is no longer citizens of Wistreth, and everyone inside the gates will never leave again. A woman kneels sobbing at the guard’s feet, but they don’t so much as quiver with an inch of sympathy. “My husband and son haven’t returned from their trip to Flagnitch. They’re supposed to arrive today, can you not make an exception?” Her pleas fall on deaf ears. To help her could be seen as an act of treason, and I doubt they would be willing to risk their own family to help hers.
Brindley shakes her head in disgust at what has become of the once happy and prosperous Kingdom of Wistreth. The king’s paranoia casts a shadow over everything. Even the marketplace she currently walks through looks nothing more than shades of gray and despondent faces when it once boasted color and happiness as far as the eye could see. There is no aroma of spiced meat and sweet breads floating on the breeze today. Too many citizens were affected by the king’s late-night decision to close the gates. Whole families being separated without the hope of a reunion in their future too big of a burden for most people to bear and the marketplace is all but empty.
Brindley turns down a side street and continues her stroll until she emerges on the other side and is greeted by a small grove of trees. Just beyond them, the kingdom wall stands almost as tall and marks her destination. She checks behind her a couple times to ensure she isn’t being followed before storing her market basket behind one of the trees.
Since she was a small child, Brindley’s brain has worked in fascinating ways. Able to recognize even the most subtle of patterns with ease. The king’s behavior was no challenge for her. From almost the beginning of his mania surrounding magic and evil, his decrees were easy to predict, and she knew everything he would do before he did it. Including last night’s decree about closing Wistreth down. She hoped she was wrong, but the herald’s trumpet playing loud and clear with the rising sun told her everything she needed to know. Thankfully she began planning for it weeks ago.
The king has made worshipping the gods a crime and works tirelessly to instill fear in his citizen’s hearts about the evils of magic. He claims it’s unnatural and goes against every law of man. He makes daily announcements about magic not being a gift for good deeds, but for acts of evil. But Brindley is sure that can’t be true. The stories are of acts of true bravery and kindness. She sees no evil in the gifts these people were blessed with. Man is the creation of the gods. To turn your back on them would be to turn your back on the realm itself. The king is deranged.
Because Brindley refuses to let a mad man’s fears sway the knowledge, she holds in the heart of her heart, she has been working tirelessly to preserve and save the knowledge of the history of man and the gods. Every book and scroll the king has deemed evil and untruthful now lies in a cave just beyond the wall, and there’s a way over the wall only she knows about. Another sliver of knowledge he would deem dangerous and evil, so she guards it with her very soul. And now that secret path beyond the wall will serve to unite families and be a way out for the villagers who want to be free of a tyrannical monarchy. Once her plan is in place. First, she plans to use that woman crying at the gate as her test run. If her husband and son do return today and she’s able to reunite them without being caught, then she’ll take it as a sign to do it again. She’ll do it as many times as it takes to free the people of Wistreth.
Brindley waits patiently to hear the footsteps of the patrolling guard pass by and turn the corner before swiftly prying four large stones from the wall. She has less than ten minutes before the next patrol passes, so every second counts. Once there’s a large enough hole for her body to fit through, she pushes through to the other side and as quickly as she can replaces the stones before running toward another copse of trees just in time to avoid the next patrol. Her heart pounds against her chest as she waits to find out if they notice anything amiss and when they turn the corner, she releases a long breath.
When it’s safe to move again, Brindley wanders further into the trees, then turns to head toward the only road leading to the Kingdom of Wistreth. She’s fairly certain if she traveled far enough through the trees, she should be able to intercept the woman’s son and husband before they are within seeing range of the front gate guards. The only way this will work is if she can get to them before they try to enter.
As luck would have it, or maybe a sign from the outlawed gods themselves, as soon as Brindley emerged from the trees on the road to Wistreth, she stumbled upon two men, one older and one who looked like he was just entering adulthood. The similarities in their features spoke of familial relations. She ran to intercept them before they could go any further along the road.
It took a little time to convince them to follow her back through the woods instead of continuing on the road to the gate. Mostly because they would have to stow most of what they brought back with them on their trading trip in order to make it through the hole in the wall between patrols.
The process of removing and replacing the stones was a much easier and slightly faster process when more than one person was doing it. Brindley estimated she could smuggle five people at a time if her plan works. And it did.
In no time, the man and his son were inside the kingdom walls headed home and Brindley had her basket back in hand, heading for the marketplace as if she had been there the whole time. And that’s how it began.
Word spread quickly of the girl who reunited families. Before she knew it, that wasn’t all she was asked to do. Her trips through the wall become a daily occurrence, not confined to sneaking people out and bringing them in. She is also tasked with delivering messages and a few small trades here and there for people who are too poor or too old to make the trips themselves. She finds herself spending more and more time outside of the kingdom with the books and artifacts she managed to save from being destroyed. One by one, her eyes devour every word on every page of every book. She uses the knowledge she finds within their pages to improve lives any chance she got. Especially when it comes to the Esotera.
She can’t believe the triple gods were evil. How could they be? Not when they created the beauty of life itself. And so she studies the three gods and the creation of the realm so she can work to pass that knowledge down so it won’t die at the hands of a mad man.
Months later, after a candle lighting ceremony Brindley holds in the name of the three, she’s approached by a man who asks her how she came to be in possession of her knowledge. Outlawing the worship of the Esotera was a command the king made when Brindley was nothing more than a baby. It had been years since anyone was allowed to speak of them within the kingdom.
The curfew bells tolling loudly through the village save Brindley from having to come up with an answer and she rushes away from the stranger lest she be caught out after curfew and fined for it. Money is too scarce to come by anymore. As is food and many other things necessary to survive. Everyday things grow sparser and Brindley fears her daily trips will not be enough to save the people of the kingdom. She had managed to get many families out, but it isn’t as easy of a choice for others. Many choosing to stay because the poverty they’re already accustomed to outweighs the potential for poverty in a new location. Wistreth is the smallest and poorest kingdom in all the realm. In the years since the king was crowned, it has dwindled to almost nothing and boasts just the single village within its domain. They’ve always relied on outside trading for survival and now they don’t even have that.
With that in mind, Brindley decides it’s time to travel farther than she ever has. It would take days to get there, but maybe the Queen of Trevench will hear her plea and send help. Hunger has begun to take root everywhere she turns, and she can’t sit idle while her neighbors suffer.
She waits until the moon is highest in the sky before setting off toward the now well used spot along the wall. Keeping to the shadows and listening intently for any sign of other people, she moves as quickly and as lightly as she can. She’s not worried about villagers spotting her because they all know who she is and what she’s trying to accomplish. It’s the royal guard she should fear. The only people besides the king himself in this gods forsaken village who don’t feel the effects of the closed gates. The king pays them well, and he feeds them well and they’ll do anything asked of them to keep their place in the royal guard.
She heaves a breath of relief when she gets to the wall and manages to avoid passing anyone on her way, but when she tries to pry the first loose brick from the wall, it doesn’t budge. For a second, she thinks she has the wrong spot but quickly throws that idea out. She’s done this so many times, she could find it with her eyes closed. No, something is wrong.
Testing the other stones doesn’t yield a different result, and dread settles in her stomach like hot iron. They found it. Brindley turns from the wall with urgency. She needs to get home before someone notices she’s here, but it’s too late. Standing just behind her is the man she met at her candle lighting ceremony and two guards. One of them places a velvet bag in the man’s hand and the coins inside jingle against each other. He tips his hat and leaves without a word.
“By order of the king, you’re under arrest for acts of treason.” The guard on the right tells me before roughly grabbing her and slapping a pair of shackles on her wrists. “Your sentence will be carried out at first light.”
“My sentence? I’ve already been judged and found guilty without the benefit of a trial?” Brindley demands, doing her best to hold back the wave of hot tears flooding her eyes. They’ll do her no good.
“A trial won’t be needed since you were caught in the act,” the other guard replies and pushes her forward.
In no time, Brindley finds herself thrown into a holding cell for prisoners. It’s little more than a deep hole in the ground. There’s no need to cover the opening since it’s impossible to climb out. The guards offer her no words before they turn away and leave her cold and alone to ponder the fate awaiting her with the rising sun.
Unable to sleep, Brindley paces the small space for hours. Back and forth until she hears the first bird sing and notices the sky is lightening. The sun will be up soon. A soft noise draws her attention upward, but it’s not quite light enough to make out much more than a couple shadows above her.
“Hello?” she calls, only to be shushed just as a rope hits her square in the face.
“Wrap the rope around your middle and we’ll pull you out,” a barely audible whisper reaches her ears. She recognizes the voice but can’t place why and decides to do as she’s told.
The man and son duo who started everything come into view. Brindley smiles her gratitude, but it comes too soon. As soon as climbs over the edge and gets to her feet, several bodies emerge from the shadows. Everyone of them in burgundy and gold announcing them as royal guards.
In a flurry, the guards move to apprehend Brindley and her almost saviors and soon all three of them find themselves in the hole awaiting the rising of the sun. Dread settled deep in their stomachs. It comes too soon. The ladder sliding down the steep wall of the hole, followed by the rough command of a guard to climb.
When she emerges, it isn’t just the faces of the guards she’s met with, but many of the villagers as well. They stand in a circle behind the guards, every one of them holding a single white candle. The same candles Brindley painstakingly created for her worshipping ceremonies to the gods.
Tears form in Brindley’s eyes at the show of support from her fellow townsfolk. With an accusation of treason hanging above her head, Brindley knows it may be the last time she’ll see any of them, so she does her best to adopt a look of bravery and sends them a watery smile.
“Brindley Grestion, for acts of treason and inciting treason against the crown, you’re sentenced to wield the blade.”
Brindley stumbles over her feet at the decree and looks to the guard captain who announced her fate. Wield the blade? What does that mean? She knows she won’t like the answer, so chooses to keep the questions to herself.
“Let this be a warning to anyone who has thoughts of following or defending her. Brindley will not pay the price. You will and it will be dealt from her hands,” the guard continues, answering her unspoken questions. He removes the shackles from Brindley’s wrists and places a dagger in one of her palms, before forcing the man and his son to their knees in front of her.
“You are sentenced to carry out the sentence of death for acts of treason.”
Brindley looks from the dagger in her hand to the men in front of her, heart clasped in the icy hands of defeat.
“No.” The word burst from her lips on a gasp when understanding dawns on her. “I refuse,” she says more firmly. She would rather die herself than be the cause of death for another.
“You will, and for every minute these men stay alive, another will be added to the death toll.”
Gasps of dismay sound from the small crowd still gathered, jerking Brindley’s attention to the villagers. To punctuate his words, the captain reaches for the woman standing nearest him, snatching her forward and causing her candle to fall to the ground and roll to a stop at Brindley’s feet. The woman is forced to kneel next to the men and a low whimper erupts from her throat.
“You cannot demand this of me. I won’t take the life of another person! Gods save us,” she cries out, looking upward for an answer.
“You dare ask for help from the very evil the king has been working tirelessly to save us from?” another guard shouts and another person is made to kneel.
Four. She can’t kill one, let alone four.
“The gods are not evil,” Brindley responds with all the vehemence she can muster. “Look to the castle if you want to see evil. We are ruled by a tyrant who would rather see us starve than offer us any amount of freedom. Whose paranoia has all but killed our kingdom and you call the gods evil? That man is the evil. How can none of you see it?”
“Would you die for your cause?” the captain asks her, a smirk on his face.
A realization falls over Brindley. They think she will cave in the face of her own death. After all, isn’t humanity’s number one prerogative to survive? They’re hoping this show will prove Brindley values her own life above all others. They want to invalidate her teachings.
Brindley smirks back. “You seek to prove the gods are selfish and evil by invalidating everything we know about them. It won’t work because, yes, I would die for my cause. If the gods see fit to bring me to them, then I will go with open arms if it means the safety of everyone else here.”
On those words, Brindley lifts the dagger in her hand and brings it down with a swift jerk, aiming for her own heart. But the dagger does not penetrate her flesh or bone. It can’t seem to so much as cut through the fabric of her dress and Brindley stares at it in confusion, noting the sharpness of the hard steel. Impossible.
“Daughter of knowledge,” a feminine voice rings out over the heavy beating of Brindley’s heart. “You will not die today. Nor will your people.”
A woman in white steps through the crowd of awed villagers and guards. Her waist length hair floats behind her as if carried on a breeze only she can feel. No one says a word as the woman, glowing with an ethereal light of such beauty it brings tears to their eyes reaches forward and touches her middle finger to Brindley’s forehead.
“You have fought a losing battle for a faith you can only feel within your heart. For this alone, you are worthy of our gift,” the woman says softly.
The guard captain takes a step forward as if to apprehend the woman and she whirls on him, eyes glowing brightly with her wrath. The man, unable to withstand her power, sinks to his knees in front of her. “You dare stand before one of the three as an equal?” she snarls at him, and he cowers lower. “You allow greed to rule your heart and for that, it is you and every other man in the same colors who will be punished today.”
Fear has every other guard, as well as the villagers kneeling of their own accord. “You will now be loyal only to the daughter of knowledge and her teachings. You will protect her life with your own or forfeit it,” she tells them before turning back to Brindley.
“I leave you with a sliver of my essence,” the beautiful god tells Brindley. “It will serve you well in your teachings. Seek all knowledge and use it for the betterment of humanity. Guard it, daughter of knowledge, nurture my gift of knowledge so it can be called forth when she needs it.”
The woman is gone between one blink and the next, leaving Brindley and everyone feeling deprived and bereft of her aura.
And so the first of the hierophants is born. People with the ability to absorb knowledge and seek the deepest of truths to share with humanity. They become the historians, teachers, and religious leaders of the realm. Through them, possibilities are endless. 649