The temple of Tulilith had long ago been established as the forefront of divine right and power, by the first followers of the goddess.
According to legends, a great cataclysm befell Iraloné, destroying all life in the world. Plants, animals, people – nothing was spared. In her infinite benevolence and pity upon the world, she brought back many lives that had been lost and made them stronger beings that could survive the evils that infested the world. Tulilith gave the newly reborn people memories of their past, so that the same calamity would never be repeated, proclaiming that the lessons of the past must be passed down.
This was how the history of Iraloné began, as fantastical stories and legends that were carefully recorded and passed down through the generations and spread through the entire world as religion grew and spread.
No place celebrated the benevolent goddess more than the country of Birain.
Reincarnation was a guaranteed thing in Iraloné, though many do not recall who they were or were not born with special blessings. Perhaps 1 in 100000 would be born different than the rest of the world, with strange knowledge and powers beyond reasoning. However, in Birain, whose king selection was based upon the whims of the goddess, seeing one blessed by Tulilith was more likely, with chances in the past being as high as 1 in 1000.
However, the number of people given the divine touch began to decline in more recent history. Rumors spoke of the goddess being displeased as, over time, the corruption in people’s hearts became known with every succession of the Birain throne. Infighting and deception became the norm, but the goddess was ever watching, and so knew the truth and became cross with their country. So those blessed by her appeared more in other countries and less within the kingdom.
The highest seat of the temple of Tulilith was found within the headquarters located in Birain, as that was where her ‘disciples’ would normally be born. Seeing less and less divine ability within their congregation, those in high ranks became desperate to keep their seat of power. So they falsely proclaimed all who were blessed belonged to the goddess and thus, must be a member of the temple, no matter how anyone felt, which people also assumed must have angered the goddess.
There was a great divide within the believers of Tulilith. Those who believed she wanted the people of the world to live good, satisfied lives, whereas there were the zealots who saw many as beneath them and unclean – unworthy of the gifts and those must either beg or surrender them. The temple, while wearing the face of someone benevolent, unfortunately fell into the latter category, though they were good at hiding it from the lower class masses.
Those in higher ranks, such as the nobility, were a lot more careful and had quite the balancing act to perform while tending to their lands. Of course, there were those who joined hands with the temple and never saw any problems with what they did, sol long as they benefited. Others had to work carefully to hold them at bay, yet also welcome them, as their people also determined whether chaos or peace would reign and angering people who religiously followed the word of the temple could be dangerous for everyone involved.
Only one place in Birain lacked a temple dedicated to the goddess and that was the port town of Ceralde. Being so out of the way, no one had ever bothered establishing the church there. And when a certain mage made her home there, they truly had no business visiting the port, as any member of the clergy would be (violently) ejected from town by its resident witch.
However, it was the only place they had not yet checked for any candidates that had possible ties to the goddess. The very last place of hope to know that the love of their goddess had not entirely evaporated.
And the last chance for the heir of the second family of the royal bloodline of Birain to solidify his rightful place as future king. The temple needed him to take the throne.
After receiving the divine message that a reborn child would soon be among them, several members of the clergy were sent to every corner of the kingdom to search for the divine child. Ten long years of searching, turned up nothing. Based on historical records, the children of Tulilith always gravitated to the capital or the surrounding area, so their search had begun there. In the hopes of securing the child and making the coup of the throne, easier and bloodless – if they could raise that child, mold it to what they wanted of them, then the throne would be under the temple’s control once more.
The world was a chaotic place.
In a myriad of colours that represented the individuality of each person that did not deserve it. Before the rebirth of the world, the colours of the world had been uniform, set. Peaceful. However, after receiving their newfound abilities, people squandered them, living sinfully. Everyone had fallen off the righteous path and only the chosen were worthy of the gifts they had been given. As they could not force people to follow the edicts handed down to them by the followers of Tulilith, the best they could do was to control the crown and, therefore, control the laws that had sway over the people.
And to do that they needed their chosen heir to become king.
Of course, being unable to find the fated child who could lift up their chosen candidate to kinghood before or after the divine message, they moved in the shadows. Plotting first to get rid of the first queen, the wife of the current king and then setting him up with a political partner from their faction and quickly having a child. After that they must get rid of the children.
It all went out of order, of course, as the first queen was strong, wily and cunning. Only through schemes did the concubine find her place as such, after forcefully getting herself pregnant with the king’s child while his wife was still alive and well. It had been quite the scandal, unfortunately. Weakening the child’s power and authority, despite his royal blood born of two bloodlines. It was no secret that the concubine had only been given the title to save face, but the king never allowed her near him nor touched him again. The child had not been at fault and he accepted him, yet it was true he would never succeed him; his firstborn son, Ulysses, would be the one to inherit the throne in absence of divine intervention.
The child was not announced as a reincarnation of a king and neither had they been found to be groomed to be their prince’s partner.
So they did what they must. It would be for the greater good.
However, not everyone saw it that way. The death of a beloved monarch and his children would never sit so well. And so, they searched. And searched and searched and searched, in order to have legitimacy.
They had little hope and would only see more turmoil in the future for their treachery. If only they had found that child, then they wouldn’t be going through all of this mess.
And then that one clergy returned to one of their smaller temples, to make contact with headquarters.
He had come from the furthest parts of the kingdom, visiting small towns that had not yet accepted the light of their goddess. His modest mission was to spread the sermons of Tulilith and her temple, perhaps convince the locals to build a shrine for her so she could be openly worshipped. The outer limits were home to non-humans and foreigners alike; barbarians ,in their eyes, who worshipped other deities. However, he had strayed too far from his original route and wound up in Ceralde where he had been unceremoniously ejected by the witch known as Minerva Riverthorn. But before he had been dragged away, he noticed an interesting detail.
“There had been a girl accompanying Mage Riverthorn. Around ten years of age with light blue hair,” the clergyman had explained in a message sent by magic.
The temple had many magical artefacts to their name, collected over the years as relics of former heroes of the world. One such thing allowed messages to appear back and forth in real time, in the form of text between enchanted books. Only the main cathedral had the original and spread copies through their various temples to be used by the higher ranked clergy.
“Are you sure that you saw blue?”
“Yes, very sure. A human child of around ten years of age.”
Now, why were they fixated on the colour of her hair? It was very simple; only those truly blessed by Tulilith would possess such a colour. In this world, there were people born with brown hair, blonde hair, black hair and red hair – all known as natural colours. However, historically, those touched by the divine came back with strange colour choices.
There had once been a boy born with pink hair who went on to be the best gardener in the world. At some point, a child with teal hair who grew up to become a tyrant in a neighbouring country. And, yes, Ionian Laertes Raviseul himself – the legendary first king and hero of Birain – had been a man who possessed pale blue hair and clear blue eyes.
Of course, the last place they would look had to be the one place they swore to never enter. It was only by chance that they had made such a discovery. It only made sense; they had found nothing anywhere else. This was quite the problem, as Minerva Riverthorn was not a woman to be trifled with as seen by how she readily threw out someone from the temple the moment she saw them.
It was to be expected, since they were the ones responsible for the death of her beloved sister and the coup against the royal family, whose deaths included her little nephew and niece. Not that she could prove they had a hand in the former, but since the coup, it might as well have confirmed everyone’s silent suspicions. Truly, their impatience had made things quite the mess.
But now that they had a lead, they would ask for forgiveness later.
They needed to confirm the presence of the divine child.
And so, plans were made to send envoys to Ceralde as soon as possible.
The newest commissions were finished in record time, much to Penelope’s pride and chagrin. The Garuda performers had been some of the best models she had ever worked with (the only ones, honestly) and she had a great time transcribing their form and personalities into drawings. Alternating between seeing them stand still on a platform for her to watch and sketch directly and then watching them act, she gained a good understanding of everyone in the Mousai Troupe.
On the day she was meant to deliver the finished pictures, Calliopus came to pick them up instead. Minerva asked for the finished artwork, as she would be making copies on behalf of the troupe as part of the commission. Apparently, they wanted some copies made before leaving Ceralde to continue their tour of the kingdom.
Penelope got to watch as Minerva drew two separate magic circles on the main shop floor where there was ample room to do so. One circle had a bunch of blank paper and the other would soon have one of her drawings placed within. Once it was set, Minerva activated the circles with a simple chant, “From one to the other, a myriad of copies – Trace!”
A light shone from each of the circles, back and forth from one to the other. First the circle that held her drawing would flash with a white light, and then the second circle would false in turn, a cheerful green. This repeated several times in front of them until Minerva ended the spell, when she was satisfied with it. Looking over at the stack of parchment, Penelope was surprised to see exact duplicates of her artwork.
Wow, so these two magic circles act like a photocopier? But without the stress of changing toners or getting paper jams. Where was this in my old life?
The process was repeated for each piece of art until there was at least 30 copies per drawing. Minerva was paid for her services as a witch by Calliopus with a quick touch of bank cards. Penelope would be picking her pay up at the Guild with Cynthia.
“I offer my magic services in shop, but I rarely ever actually have someone make a request,” she explained to the awestruck Penelope who was interested in such a spell. After all, the mage had previously explained this spell could copy other objects as well. She could only imagine how it would work in conjunction with her ability to make anything become real.
Seeing the curious spark in the girl’s eyes, the older woman had to hide an amused smile.
“Do you want to learn how to use this spell?”
“Yes, please!”
“I’ll make it part of lessons later today.”
“Yay~!”
Honestly, her days have been so full of things to do lately. It felt good to keep busy. Learning about the world, working for her own money through her favourite hobby, and being surrounded by good people…she felt so happy, she was worried this might be all some dream. That maybe she hadn’t died that fateful night and was just in some deep coma, trapped within her subconscious, trying to relive her childhood years in some made-up fantastical world.
“You look like you’re in a good mood,” Yule asked as he came in from running errands at the market. The restrictions on children going out alone had been lifted and the older boy made use of this fact to go out as much as possible. What he did, she had no clue, but she looked forward to greeting him whenever he returned.
The girl smiled though, looking proud of herself. “Welcome home, and yes! I am! I worked hard today.”
“Is that right?” He looked at her gently and with a hint of amusement. After a moment, he pulled out something wrapped and smelled absolutely divine. Penelope knew this scent anywhere! “Well, Miss Hard Worker, I got you something from the pub you like so much.”
It was meat skewers. Since the festival was over, the stall that had made her favourite snack had closed down. However, Yule managed to find the restaurant responsible for the stall and sometimes stopped by to grab her a skewer or two, as a treat. Penelope looked at him as if he were an angel coming down with a divine missive just for her.
“Let me help you put the rest of the things away and we can have lunch together!”
“Ah, about that, I have to go back out, but I’ll be back for dinner and lessons,” Yule said, scratching at his cheek awkwardly.
“Oh, is that so?” She was disappointed to hear her friend would not be having lunch with her, but understood he may have things he wanted to do now that he was free to do so. Yule even joined the Adventurer’s Guild, being old enough to do so under Birain labor laws. Adventure called towards young boys this age, so she understood. Though now the skewers may not be as tasty; he only bribed her like this whenever he would be away, she noticed.
“I will be back,” he insisted, seeing her starting to be sulky.
“I know that,” she replied, her voice holding more than a hint of a pout. “Just be safe, all right?”
Yule nodded. “I will,” he promised.
Patting the girl’s head, he said his farewell and left the shop again.
“My, but he’s gotten busy,” Minerva said out of the blue, startling Penelope. The girl had forgotten that the older woman was still in the room. Minerva chuckled and apologized for startling the girl. “Well, today’s a slow day, so why don’t you go out, too? No reason to stay in all day.”
That…might not be a bad idea. Even though the restrictions had been lifted for a few days now, Penelope never took the opportunity to leave and explore more of town on her own. Did this mean she was more of a homebody or was it old habits making her stick to a safe routine?
“Hmm…why not? I haven’t been outside in a while.” Maybe some window shopping would be fun. Her ventures outside had always been through a set route, so her knowledge of the layout of town was actually quite limited.
“Yes, your childhood is the best time to explore the world around you,” Minerva encouraged. The older woman ushered her out, telling the girl she could handle putting away the things Yule had brought in. “Come back home before dark.”
Sunny was the best way to describe the day as Penelope stepped outside, adjusting her satchel so it fell more comfortably on her shoulder. She could practically taste the warmth of the sun shining down on her; it made her feel a little more energized. It was comfortable walking outside. The streets were still rather busy this time of day, though the amount of people definitely lessened as many had left town now that the Spring Festival was over. Penelope didn’t need to be as mindful about avoiding strangers as she meandered around.
Now where to go? She knew the market street very well and knew the way to the forest where Cynthia did most of her work, as well as the way to the Adventurer’s Guild. There were plenty of places to explore, so she could just pick a direction and walk until she spotted something interesting.
Closing her eyes, she spun herself around, counting to ten before stopping abruptly (and almost falling over, since she made herself dizzy). Opening her eyes, she looked to a path she would be taking and could feel a breeze brushing through her hair, carrying with it the scent of the sea. So, was this towards the docks or the shores? Keeping an eye on which direction she had come from, Penelope went ahead and started walking.
Her path brought her through the same square where all of the entertainment for the festival had been set up. Not long ago, colourful tents and a stage stood tall here, where avian-like actors told the story of a king coming home from war. Today had been the last point of contact she’d have with the troupe when Calliopus came to pick up his order; they’d most likely packed everything up that morning and had been waiting for the commission to be finished before leaving. The experience she had in the moment had been terrifying, but looking back on it, she was glad to have been able to participate with Yule. She hoped she could meet them again in the future.
Taking a moment to really look around, it seemed like a normal square. All quiet now that there was no one there to fill it with music, dance and play. The buildings around had no signs dangling from above doors, so she wasn’t sure if they were shops or something else. Seeing it so empty let her appreciate exactly how huge the area was and how well paved the ground had been, most likely to make dancing and hosting a stage more stable and flat. Penelope assumed dancing on uneven ground or acting on a rickety stage was probably not the best way to go about things.
Crouching down, she touched the smooth masonry work, admiring it all. Like a large stone canvas. Penelope had the urge to draw on it, but held back, because she was sure the town would not appreciate her drawing graffiti on it.
“What are you doing there?!” a voice called out angrily, bringing Penelope out of her reverie.
She had yelped, startled into standing up straight, hands flat at her side and face set into a blank expression. The last time someone shouted at her like that, she would narrowly escape having a beer can (or bottle) thrown at her head. It may just be her own method to cope with the possibility of incoming violence, but she always subscribed to staying very still – danger came for those who moved, as if she were facing a predator who reacted to sudden movements.
Alone in the square, away from the more bustling market street where most traveled through, Penelope had to make sure she didn’t get into trouble.
A man, tall and broad shouldered, came hunkering towards her, every heavy step followed by the clanking of metal. On his back was a large blade, something easily as big as Penelope’s own body and on a quick glance, she could see he had another weapon sitting at his hip. Wearing dark, rough armor, the stranger was a hulk of a man with an intimidating air. As far as she could tell, this was not a guardsman, as none of them ever wore heavy armor like this nor looked so rugged.
This was a warrior.
And he was coming straight to her. Penelope was trembling, because she had no idea why he seemed so cross with her. She hadn’t done anything, so why…?
“Answer me girl, what are you doing all alone here?” he asked, standing right in front of her. Penelope said nothing and he barked again, “Look me in the eye and tell me your purpose here.”
He was so tall, Penelope needed to crane her neck back to meet his gaze. His eyes, like dark glass orbs, seemed to be thundering as he looked down his nose at her. Honestly, the urge to run was amplified just looking directly at his humourless face.
What the Hell? I didn’t do anything wrong. Why is this big oaf picking on me?! Came the indignant thoughts. The guy looked like he could break a person in two just from breathing on them and she did not want him to suddenly attack her, but she also felt she was in the right to feel mad about being unjustly accused.
So, she had two choices, stay here and deal with him directly, or leave. Walk off. Like a boss. Because if he had an issue it should not be on her to have to try and deal with it. Yes, that’s right. This guy had no reason to be accusing her of anything, so who cares if she just walked away from him?
Meaning to turn around and swan away, unbothered. However, she couldn’t help the self preservation scurry when he shouted at her once more with a sharp “HEY!”. Penelope ran off with him calling after her, hurrying along and not looking back.
Especially as she heard the telltale clunk-clunk-clunk behind her.
Seriously?
Really picking up her feet, Penelope booked it as fast as her legs could carry her, balking when the heavy steps of this strange warrior continued to dog her relentlessly.
“I’m talking to you!” he bellowed behind her.
“I don’t want to talk to you!” Stranger danger! No normal man just chases after little girls like this! What if he really was some kind of predator after all? Then she was in trouble! He was fast.
Keeping the bare minimum on where he was behind her, Penelope ran through the streets, vaguely reminded of how she ran through the town in her pursuit of Velma’s picture phantom. The illusory form of her being taken quickly through a variety of back alleys, in order to confuse any possible pursuers. Again, as it had happened last time, she could feel her lungs start to burn and her sides ache as she kept up this punishing pace. That man would catch up to her, if she didn’t do something.
Penelope wracked her mind. Anything would do, even if the idea was completely stupid–
And just like that, she had a flash of inspiration.
Sometimes the solutions were really just so simple.
And, perhaps, just a little stupid.
She just needed to last a little longer.
Using her smaller size, she bobbed and weaved through smaller areas where someone of such a hulking form would have trouble getting through without needing to bulldoze through everything. Her hands were working their way through her ever present satchel, grabbing what she needed as she ran.
A turn. Another turn. And yet another again. Winding through as many times as she could until her pursuer couldn’t not be spotted and thus, could not see what trickery she was up to in order to evade him.
When he would turn the corner to come upon the runaway artist, he would find himself face to face with a dead end.
