Zahir was returning from the small market the quarter had; the goods there were second-rate, but that was the best they could get. They had a tight-knit community here, where people relied heavily on each other for support. The reason they were here was due to their faith; they were the last of the decreasing number of people in the city who still believed in the Great Shepherd. With most of the inhabitants turning to the new god and his ways, they were cast aside and mistreated. The only way back into their good graces was to accept the new god and cast aside the Great Shepherd.
It was not always this way. When they first arrived, they found the city in the same state as their villages; the new faith was spreading fast, but they faced no discrimination. Zahir found work in the forges, and others too started their new lives in the city. Things were going well, but then the crisis happened: a lack of water in the city, caused by mismanagement from the city officials. Fearing their loss of power and the anger from the people, they quickly looked for people to blame, and so, a few months after his arrival, Zahir's new life began to sour.
When he worked at the forge, he heard whispers and rumors among the city folk. They spoke of how the crisis was caused by the Liberator's anger at them, due to the followers of the Great Shepherd that called the city home. Zahir, like many others who clung to their old faith, found themselves increasingly ostracized. Many began to convert to avoid ruining their lives here.
He lost his job at the forge, and he and many others found themselves in a neglected part of the city.The residents of the city began viewing them with disdain as the crisis worsened, and there were many incidents of violence as well.
Seeking relief, Zahir and some of his compatriots turned to the priestesses of the new god, hoping for compassion or assistance. However, the help offered came with a heavy price: renounce the Great Shepherd and embrace the new deity. Faced with this ultimatum, many of Zahir's companions yielded, driven by desperation to abandon their ancestral faith for the promise of a better life.
But Zahir stood firm. Despite the mounting pressures and the growing allure of conversion as a means to escape their plight, he saw these trials as a testament to his faith's strength. To him, the hardship was a divine test, a measure of his devotion and resilience. In the face of this great adversity, Zahir's faith in the Great Shepherd remained unshaken.
He arrived at his small home, where in the corner there was a makeshift forge. He had become a leader of sorts in the quarter. There were even talks of moving to Lhazosh, but many feared they would be treated the same there, and some even believed they would be treated worse. His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of a small group, their faces etched with concern. The eldest among them, a wiry man named Eben, spoke up, his voice carrying a tremble of urgency.
"Zahir, have you heard the news? They say the Grand Vizier is coming to Hesh soon," Eben said.
Zahir stopped, his heart sinking. He had heard of this Grand Vizier, the right hand of the new god, his most trusted, if the priestesses were to be believed. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"It's not just rumors," a woman named Mira interjected. "My cousin works at the city gates. She told me they're preparing for his arrival. There's talk of a grand welcome for the Grand Vizier."
Zahir's hands clenched involuntarily. Eben shook his head, his eyes reflecting the fear that gripped them all. "I fear our days here might be numbered, Zahir. With Hesh formally joining their realm, who knows what they'll demand of us?"
Mira added, her voice barely above a whisper, "They might drive us out of the city or worse…"
"We must remain calm," Zahir said, trying to infuse his voice with confidence he barely felt.
"This is indeed concerning. Eben tell everyone to gather in the market in the evening. We should all take part in this discussion." Zahir said to the group. He walked out of his home; he needed to clear his head. He hid his talisman around his neck and walked outside the quarter. The city seemed to be in high spirits again; they had forgotten the crisis they faced.
He saw a priestess preaching to a large crowd. "...blessed be his name, offers mercy to all who seek his light," the priestess proclaimed. "...his compassion knows no bounds…"
As he stood there, hearing the priestess's sermon, a plan began to form in his mind. Perhaps, he thought, there was a way to use this visit to their advantage, to negotiate a better future for his people. If the Liberator was so compassionate, perhaps he would hear their pleas.
He returned as the sun was setting. The entirety of the Shepherd's Quarter had assembled in the small marketplace.
"Friends," Zahir began, addressing the anxious crowd, "I know we are all worried about what the Grand Vizier's arrival might mean for us. But I believe this is our chance to make our voices heard."
"We can't continue living in the shadows, ignored and forgotten," Zahir continued. "I heard a sermon today, speaking of the Liberator's mercy and forgiveness. It's time we sought that mercy for ourselves."
"Are you asking us to convert, Zahir? You, of all people…" someone said from the back.
"No," he said firmly. "I would like to request the Grand Vizier to allow us to continue practicing our faith in peace, to ask him for protection."
Murmurs of disbelief and fear rippled through the crowd. An elderly woman spoke up, her voice tinged with skepticism. "And why would the Grand Vizier listen to us, Zahir?"
"Because we are part of this city, part of his realm. If this new god is as merciful as they claim, then surely his right hand will hear our plea."
Many were not convinced, but they knew it was their only chance to return to a normal life. Zahir and four other community leaders decided they would go and seek an audience with the Grand Vizier.
Garth stood by the window of his spacious room in Hesh, gazing out at the bustling streets below. The residence, once owned by a wealthy merchant, had been provided to him during his stay.
His arrival in Hesh was marked by an extraordinary display of pageantry and celebration. The streets were lined with throngs of people, their faces alight with curiosity and awe, eager to see the Grand Vizier as he rode through the city.
As the day turned to evening, Garth found himself amidst the city's elites at a lavish gathering organized in his honor. The event proved to be a tedious affair for him. He navigated through a sea of merchants, local dignitaries, and sycophants, all vying for his attention and favor. The conversations, heavy with flattery, left him yearning to go back home to Haven.
Amid the dullness of the gathering, Garth's attention was piqued by discussions of Hesh's water crisis. He remembered the conversation he had with some city officials.
"Grand Vizier, we are so relieved you're here," one official said.
"We are in crisis, my lord. The city's water collection system has been damaged; we are at our wits' end," he added.
Garth, his curiosity piqued, inquired, "What exactly led to this failure? Was it not maintained properly?"
Another official chimed in, avoiding direct eye contact. "Well, you see, the system is quite old, and we've had some... administrative oversights."
A third official quickly added, "We've done everything in our power, but it's a complicated issue. We're hopeful that with your presence, and perhaps the Great One's blessing, we can find a resolution."
The officials gave a thousand excuses, but to Garth, it was clear that their mismanagement had ruined the city, and now he had to step in and fix it. It wouldn't be solved by just infrastructural fixes; he needed to overhaul the entire administrative structure of the city.
His observations in Hesh confirmed his suspicions. Persecution was happening here; it was clear as day. There was a part of the city disdainfully referred to as the Shepherd Quarter. The water crisis and the officials were linked with this growing persecution, as Zara, the head of the temple here, had admitted that she was unable to maintain control of the growing religious fervor .
The officials blamed the crisis on the existence of the followers of the Great Shepherd, calling it a divine punishment. She even shamefully admitted to taking advantage of it to get more converts.
Garth's thoughts darkened. There was a lot of work to be done here, and who knows what was going on in Lhazosh.
The officials must be brought to justice, but he did not believe that would heal the divide between the two religions. Maybe in a few years, with the right propaganda, but for now, it seemed impossible.
He heard a knock at the door. "Who is it?" he called out.
"It's Darius, My Lord," came the answer from the other side.
"Come in," he responded.
Darius entered the room with a sense of urgency.
"My lord, we've made contact with some followers of the Great Shepherd in the city. They wish to have an audience with you," Darius reported, his voice low.
Garth's interest was piqued. "Bring them here. I want to speak with them personally," he instructed, his mind already considering the implications of their request for a meeting, no doubt to tell him of their plight.
Soon, a small group of people, led by Darius, entered the room. Garth noted their humble attire and the weariness etched on their faces; they looked like they hadn't had a good meal in weeks. One of them stepped forward.
"I am Zahir, and these are my companions, fellow followers of the Great Shepherd," he introduced.
Garth nodded.
"I know why you have come, and I have a solution for you," he began, cracking a small smile, seeing their shocked faces.
"Can you help us, then? We wish to live as equals to the followers of your god," Zahir said, hope lacing his voice.
"First, tell me, is there any truth in the officials blaming the water crisis on your people? Was this where it all began?"
"Yes, we were blamed for the crisis because of our supposed defiance of the Liberator," Zahir said, his anger rising.
"I will be bringing these officials to justice tomorrow, and I will have them publicly confess," Garth said, to the relief of the group.
"But I doubt there will be an immediate change," Garth added.
"But the people will see the truth," Zahir protested.
"Let me finish. I have a proposition for you," Garth continued.
"First, you stay and take a chance that things will change. I will try my best to make your lives easier, but it may take a lot of time for the people to accept."
"Second, you move to Kosrak. There are already a large population of the old faith there, living peacefully."
"Third, in a few months, we will conquer and annex the lands in the north. They are fertile and sparsely populated. I am planning to send settlers there, and you and your people can go there when it's safe to do so."
The man seemed to be contemplating the three options given to him. After a while, he spoke.
"You wish for us to leave the land of Lhazar?" Zahir asked.
"Those lands were part of Lhazar a long time ago. This is a chance to reclaim it," Garth said, further sweetening the deal.
"And we will be protected, offered equal status?" he asked, seeming desperate.
"Yes, I promise you," Garth assured.
A smile appeared on the man's face. "I knew this was the right choice. Thank you, Grand Vizier. We will inform you of our decision after talking with the others."
"Take all the time you need," Garth said before they were escorted out of the room. "Darius, have the Immortals gotten a confession yet?"
"Yes, my lord," he answered.
"Good. Tell Priestess Zara to organize a public trial. The entire city is welcome to attend." with the final command Darius left.
Garth was tired; he laid on the soft bed, his mind racing with the tasks ahead. Cregan was right, Hesh was a tangled web of corruption, prejudice and strife. The public trial of the officials would be a step in the right direction, but it was just the beginning of what he needed to address. It seems he will be here for longer than he expected.
Day 2 of Jason's Seclusion.
Jason had been having a tough time. He had remained secluded in his room ever since he had that dream two days ago, brooding over what it meant. The immortals stood guard outside; he had asked them not to disturb him, except for delivering meals.
He paced around the room restlessly, haunted by the vivid images and whispers from his dream. It had felt so real; he could still feel his flesh burning, even the smell, in vivid detail. For the first time since that encounter with the bandit in the desert—his first kill—he felt vulnerable. The notion that someone, or something, could infiltrate his mind and challenge him was deeply disturbing. He couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched or targeted by an unseen adversary.
"Think, Jason, think," he muttered to the empty room. "It's the fire god of Melisandre; it has to be him," he said as he wobbled around the room. He had started hearing voices in the room, something he attributed to not sleeping for the last two days. His body, as if moving automatically, moved to the bed. He could not take it anymore; he had to sleep. He closed his eyes, hoping the dreams wouldn't happen again.
He opened his eyes to see he was standing in a serene countryside. 'Not again, not again,' he thought as he looked around in panic. His gaze shifted toward the horizon to see a city surrounded by fourteen volcanoes.
The architecture of the city was unlike anything he had seen before. There were buildings that looked like skyscrapers back home, but what truly amazed him was the dragons that soared gracefully above the city, their scales glinting in the sunlight.
'This isn't that bad,' he thought as he walked towards the city, wanting to see it firsthand. As he walked closer, it started happening again. Whispers began to fill the air, indistinct at first, then growing clearer, as if converging on him from the city. His eyes darted around, searching for the source, but there was nothing—just the wind carrying what now was a chorus of menacing laughter.
"No, not again," Jason whispered, his voice laced with fear and frustration. "What do you want from me?" he shouted.
He saw birds flying away from the city, dragons began roaring loudly, and for a moment, the voices stopped. He could only hear the sounds of birds and dragons.
BOOM.
He clutched his ears, staggering as the world around him shook violently. He looked toward the city again, and to his horror, he saw that the volcanoes were erupting one by one. His ears were ringing, and he felt intense pain as blood poured out of them. He saw the volcanoes spewing ash and lava, realizing the danger he was in, he ran in the opposite direction. He looked back to see the infernal wave of ash and smoke racing towards him. Dragons fell from the sky, screeching in agony; one fell near him, causing him to stumble to the ground.
He could not hear it clearly but the ominous laughter had returned and echoed around him, growing louder and more derisive, as if mocking his plight. He could see the ash cloud getting closer. He tried to get up again, but his legs would not move. The gray cloud flowed closer, Jason's breath became ragged, his heart pounding in his chest.
"No, please!" he pleaded.
He screamed as the heat became unbearable. He gasped as the hot air seared his throat and lungs.
"Wake up Wake up," he said as the ash cloud engulfed him. He could feel the sulfur burning through his flesh and bone.
"Aaaargh!" he screamed, only silenced when his throat melted away. Then, just as suddenly, the torment ceased he awoke with a start, his body drenched in sweat. He laid there, trembling, with echoes of his screams still ringing in his ears.
Pathetic and weak.