Chapter 38: The Dark Night of the Soul
"Never in all my years did I think a gold Dragon could be a herald of woe." King Thrommel of Furyondy grumbled quietly as he and Elidar walked slowly through the cold stone corridors of the fortress-like palace of Chendl, the King's steel grey doublet, black pants, and dark shoes a sharp contrast to the light white tabard and calf brown pants with matching tall boots Elidar wore.
Elidar looked at the man with a hint of amusement. "Should I have come dressed as the Hater of All Life perhaps?"
The man snorted behind his neatly-trimmed salt and pepper beard in grim amusement. "I daresay not. But what you seek to accomplish…" The man shook his head with a sigh. "It has not been so long since Iuz sent his armies against us and now war is upon us again. It will be more difficult to obtain the troops we will need."
Elidar looked at him skeptically. "Surely the people…"
"The people?" The King asked archly, raising a slim black eyebrow. "The people have no say in anything. The city rulers are the ones who will decide things."
"Surely as King…" Elidar began only to be cut off by the man's harsh bark of a laugh.
"Revealing your true form convinced me of your identity but that last statement confirmed you know nothing about modern politics. The bulk of the army is under the control of the southern cities as well as the material goods and money needed to finance them. It is the lords of those cities we must convince."
"Some form of balance against a possibly mad or unfit king?" Elidar asked mildly.
Thrommel looked at him strangely. "You Dragons certainly have odd ideas."
Elidar smiled slightly as the solidly built man turning away from him and leaned against a nearby windowsill, his long black hair mixing with the grey and black ermine of his black velvet over-robe.
"Nothing as noble as you suggest." The King sighed. "The Lords of the southern cities were always a thorn in my father's side when he was King and nothing has changed since then. Even before Iuz began incursions into our realm there was a great deal of power held in the southern part of the kingdom because of the vast tracts of land and mines of ore there. There are more settlements and large cities there than in the north, though we did have almost as many considering Chendl's location. Unfortunately Iuz changed all that even before his recent wars. The constant raids and banditry on the border towns made some nervous that one day Iuz would become more bold. I rather think the southern Lords had a hand in the slow trickle of migration to their cities that occurred over the years but perhaps I am being foolish. Before Iuz attacked we had many years of peace and prosperity to ensure we could weather such storms. Now…our armies are partially replenished and we are not starving certainly but this time it will be harder to convince them to fight."
"My Emperor suggested you are a great man and King." Elidar stated softly, watching the man lean against the wall in frustration. "Will they not listen to you?"
"A great King I may be but that does not prevent men from being ego-centric, greedy fools." He grumbled as he pushed off the wall in barely-concealed frustration, continuing their walk with his hands clasped behind his back.
"Do not mistake me; many were relieved when I ascended to the throne, including the southern Lords. But the fact that we were in the middle of a war and I was well known as a steady and wise General helped ensure their cooperation. After all, the others could hardly hold back anything at such a time and not be considered traitors to the realm; but now that the war has been over for several years that cooperation has withered somewhat. The southern Lords have begun to focus their attention inward, looking to the prosperity of their own cities and spheres of influence instead of the realm as a whole. Chendl is far away from their little fiefdoms; more and more my decrees are given lip service only unless it is of obvious benefit to them. Sadly the Knights of the Hart I command are too few to march on those cities and bring them to heel. I fear the rally you seek will be ignored unless you can provide iron-clad proof that this army will be marching against them."
"If they are as greedy and self-serving as you claim then surely they will want to preserve what they have." Elidar argued gently. "This invasion will not be limited to the northern cities."
"No doubt, but they will choose to believe otherwise." Thrommel stated, his dark eyes glittering as he frowned. "Iuz's wars never touched them personally; the only reason they sent their armies north is because Chendl was under siege and had it fallen their next target would have been those very cities. I am certain they will believe the same is true now. And even if they do not, they will want to keep their armies close by and dig in rather than send them out to fight for others."
Elidar frowned in consideration. "I shall need to speak with the Lords of Willip, Littleberg, and Libernen then and try to convince them of what needs to be done. In the meantime…"
"In the meantime I will do what I can here." Thrommel stated firmly as he turned to the Dragon. "There are many who are still loyal to me and the cities nearby will need to be notified and prepared. I cannot say what will become of us should things go badly but let it never be said I did not do my utmost to preserve my kingdom."
Elidar smiled warmly at the King's steely resolve. "Then with your permission, your Highness, I shall see if I can knock some sense into the heads of your recalcitrant Lords."
The King chuckled quietly at the Dragon's suggestion. "Stay a moment and I will have a writ of authority written for you. Hopefully it will help remind them that they are my servants and I am their King."
The palace of Utopia, that night…
Beowulf sat up in bed with a gasp, his eyes wild with fear as he panted heavily. His hand instinctively felt along his ribs and torso to ensure the battering had only been in his mind, his disjoined thoughts running in circles. Looking about him swiftly he noted Alisha sleeping soundly beside him before he let out a sigh of relief. Rubbing his eyes tiredly he eased out of the bed and padded softly to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him so as not to disturb his mate. Moving to the simple sink he supported himself against the porcelain before turning on the tap and rubbing his face with the cool wet water before looking at the square mirror above it.
A mangled and tortured creature stared back at him, one eyeball hanging by its nerve, the other wild and maddened with its jaw wired open in a silent, frantic scream.
Letting out a cry of shock Beowulf stumbled back, raising his arms defensively. His back smacked against the wall with his arms raised in front of his eyes, blocking out the horrible sight.
When he lowered them a moment later his own, normal reflection stared back at him.
Slowly walking forward, he stared at himself. The indifferent mirror showed the stark reality; a trembling Gnoll with wide, terror-filled eyes and wilted ears panting quietly in fear.
Helpless puppy! The thought came unbidden to his mind, harsh with his own voice. You are worthless!
His eyes began to water in frustration before he brushed the forming tears away angrily with a hand, clenching his teeth and staring back at the reflection balefully.
"You are the Emperor's Shadow Guard!" He hissed quietly to the snarling figure in the glass. "Act like it dammit!"
Glaring at the reflection in disgust once more he left the room. Unable to sleep, he slowly dressed before making his way out of the room.
The same dream, over and over again…
How many times had he had that particular dream? Twelve? Twenty? It didn't matter. It was always the same dream, or variations of it.
Failure.
Oath-breaker.
Forsaken by the gods.
Penance for his disgrace.
He rubbed his dull eyes as he leaned against the wall. If only he had fought harder against his captors, resisted Tamara more…
Arianasa, Alisha, and Prometheus tried to help of course. They kept insisting that they did not blame him and that he had nothing to feel guilty about but their assurances rang false to his ears. He recalled vividly the pleasure that he had felt as Tamara had done her work. He recalled with equal clarity the blissful numbness he had experienced after the Illithids had tortured him past the point of sanity. He had sat uncaring in his cell, eyes unseeing as nonsense scenes had tumbled from his lips. He did not have to worry about who he was, what he was; there were no responsibilities or fear, just the mindless recitation of what he saw.
It had been simple. It had been easy. It had been painless and pleasantly numb.
He had enjoyed it and deep down a part of him wanted to return to that peaceful, unthinking mode of existence.
Instead he was forced to remain here in this constant state of stressful sanity and it was not only the dreams that plagued him, the unexpected flash backs were a nightmare to relive; he would suddenly find himself once again bound to the operating table on which they had performed their torture only to return to reality a few moments later curled on the floor, shivering in fear. Thankfully Alisha had not attempted to be intimate with him since the night he had howled with his Alpha in the room deep inside the palace; he had no desire to suddenly see Tamara's face grinning at him between his legs as Alisha pleasured him and the very idea of being touched in that way, which had once made him instantly aroused, now made him shudder in revulsion as he recalled the horrific ways those parts of him had been mutilated. In his mind he knew none of the things he had experienced were real but the deep, visceral horror of it all still clung to him as his mind had been unable to separate reality from fantasy, making his body react instinctively to the perceived threat. The accumulation of the stress and anxiety had changed him, he knew. The once boundless energy and enthusiasm he had enjoyed was all but gone now. He spent a great deal of his time sitting listlessly or sleeping and when he did try to engage in activities with Prometheus or Alisha he found himself apathetic to it all. Even worse, his connection to St. Cuthbert seemed dulled or distant and the god had not attempted to contact him during or after his capture, reinforcing the self-recrimination he felt in his dreams though he knew via his aural sight that he was still in the god's favor.
It was a small consolation to know that Alisha still loved him deeply and she comforted him whenever the painful memories rose to the surface, but it was clear to him that the stress was beginning to wear on her as well. Her eyes were slowly becoming duller and more resigned, her face less cheerful. She still teased him occasionally but she was clearly afraid of doing so for fear of triggering another flash back because of an unthinking comment or sensual touch.
He was beginning to despondently wonder whether it would be better if he were to simply disappear to keep her and everyone from worrying. Prometheus had so many responsibilities as Emperor and Alisha did as well in her role as his adviser and yet they were putting their lives nearly on hold to help him. He appreciated their devotion and their attempts to help him; he clung to the fact that he had such a wonderful family and yet at the same time he felt as if he were a stone around their necks, dragging them down when they could be doing so much more.
Why should he continue to be a burden to them? After all, what use was he to them now? Weakness was something Prometheus could ill afford to be distracted by, preparing as he was for the coming war and Alisha would surely understand in time.
Pushing off the wall he made his way through the hallways of the palace, wonderingly aimlessly. His eyes slowly roamed over the frescos and murals, taking them in as he ran his hand along the smooth stone wall, his ears wilted in misery.
I am useless as a warrior now. My every move, my every thought is…hesitant, unsure. I feel like if I think or move wrong I will fly apart at the seams. Will I ever stop feeling so…fragile? Can I afford to be fragile? My Alpha surely cannot afford it and St. Cuthbert disdains such weakness. Alisha grows tired and Davis ignores me.
"Am I just a liability to them now?" He whispered softly to himself.
"That question has been on my mind as well." A quiet but firm voice said from behind him.
Beowulf jumped slightly, turning to see who had spoken to him even as he mentally berated himself for being unaware of his surroundings. Aurelius stood there with a considering frown, his arms loose at his sides and for once devoid of his plate armor, dressed instead in a light blue shirt and dark blue pants.
He examined Beowulf with a critical eye for a moment. "You seem to be healing from your experiences well enough."
"Thanks to Arianasa and my Alpha." Beowulf replied quietly. "He has done so much for me over the years. My soul may belong to St. Cuthbert but my heart belongs to my Emperor."
Aurelius nodded. "You mentioned Cuthbert before as I recall. What reason could a Gnoll have for wanting to worship him?"
Mistaking the Dragon's question, Beowulf began to explain. "It was during the final days of the first war with Iuz. We had led an attack on the necromancer's temporary base. My Alpha and I fought him and I managed to deal him what I thought was a mortal blow but he managed to burn my face with a fire bolt."
Beowulf shuddered as the memory resurfaced. "The heat…the pain…he took my eyes from me, blinded me. I was…hurt badly. Then my Alpha came and healed me, using his power like he had never used it before. And when he did, I beheld St. Cuthbert standing next to my Alpha's lord, Pelor, shoulder to shoulder. The Saint did not speak to me but I instinctively knew what he stood for: Justice, Zeal, Discipline, Order. I had been considering becoming a servant of the Saint before then but at that moment I knew, there was a god I could follow and serve proudly. A short time later I was inducted into the Billets and so I have remained."
Aurelius appeared mildly intrigued as Beowulf talked, though his tone still held a hint of derision in it. "Surprising that one such as Cuthbert would allow one such as you to be a member of his order."
Beowulf glared at him tiredly, unwilling to joust with the Dragon in his current mood. "St. Cuthbert deemed me worthy. It is enough for me. But now his presence is…diminished. I do not know what this means but I fear he is…displeased with me."
Beowulf sighed before he leaned against the wall and slowly sat down on the floor, the dregs of his energy seemingly spent.
Aurelius took a few steps closer before he finally stood over the Gnoll, looking down upon him.
"You are in pain." Aurelius noted quietly as he focused on the weary figure before him. "No matter how well Arianasa healed you, the scars in your mind are still fresh and the pain still lingers."
"Yes." Beowulf muttered softly, resting his head in his hands.
"I have fought Gnolls before, back when the first human empire began to grow." He murmured quietly. "Savages, every one. Creatures of boundless frenzied energy fueled by blind hatred and insane bloodlust. I and my kin killed many of them in our day."
"Nothing has changed." Beowulf replied ruefully, his voice still tired. "They are still just as evil now as they were then."
"You are not like them." Aurelius murmured.
"No." Beowulf confirmed just as quietly. "And for the sin of daring to do what was right I was hunted and scorned by my pack. In time they would have killed me if not for my Alpha finding me and taking me under his wing. I owe him my life."
"He calls you brother." Aurelius said in a quiet thoughtful voice. "How this could be I did not understand when we first met but I have seen many things since I arrived here. The Emperor has taught me so much in such a short time. His lessons may be harsh at times but they were exactly what I needed."
"We have fought, wept, and laughed together." Beowulf muttered. "He is my Alpha, my family. I have stood as his sentinel and guardian all that time. How could I do anything else? But now…"
"Now you are wounded." Aurelius stated. "You feel you are broken, incomplete, and unable to serve as you once did, and so you feel worthless and unworthy of them."
Beowulf nodded silently.
"You are a fool." Aurelius stated with quiet firmness.
Beowulf glared up at him. "What?" He growled quietly.
"You heard me." Aurelius insisted with a stern look. "You. Are. A. Fool."
"How dare you!" Beowulf whispered angrily. "You know nothing of what I have been through!"
"Your words and actions told me enough to make me pause that day on the tower." Aurelius replied firmly. "But that does not change what I have said in the slightest."
Beowulf began to tremble in anger, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Take back what you have said this instant!" He ordered, his voice rough with emotion.
"Or what?" The Dragon asked disparagingly as he crossed his arms. "Will you beat your fists against me and whine like the whipped dog you seem to be?"
Beowulf nearly recoiled at the words that tormented him but held his ground. "When my Alpha hears of this—" Beowulf swore, only to be cut off by the arrogant Dragon.
"Does the hardened warrior hide behind his master's skirts like a child?" He asked disdainfully. "If you are reduced to such a state as that then it is well that I am here, for I think your Emperor will soon be in need of a new sentinel. And I for one will be happy to take your place!"
"After all," Aurelius continued, looking down his nose at the shivering figure before him, "what Emperor would want a pitiful, broken excuse for a Gnoll like you?"
Beowulf surged to his feet with a yell that was both anguished and hateful, his blade in his hand in an instant as he swept it at the Dragon's head. The Dragon swiftly stepped in close, grabbing Beowulf's sword arm and immobilizing it while his other hand quickly grabbing Beowulf's other wrist, the Gnoll's fist an inch from the Dragon's nose as the angry and hurting canine panted furiously, his eyes blazing.
Aurelius stared into the Gnoll's eyes for a moment before he smiled. "Good. There is some fight in you yet." He stated. "Now heed me guardian and heed me well. I have fought countless wars for more years than you have been alive. I, myself am nearly a century old, though I have been sleeping for far longer than that. Yet, my skills are as sharp as ever. I could very easily replace you as the Emperor's guard." The Dragon suggested sharply.
Beowulf wrenched his fist from the Dragon's grasp, his fangs bared in anger as he panted quietly, his fingers gripping his sword tightly. "I will not let you usurp my place Dragon! I care not if you are his kin! No one but I am worthy of such an honor!" He finished with a furious shout.
"Then prove it!" Aurelius retorted. "You have shown me you still have the will to fight but that will not be enough. I have been wounded many times in battle but I always returned, stronger than ever because of it. Let us see if you can do the same." He suggested with an anticipatory look. "You have two choices before you now. Either hide yourself away and wallow in your pain or master it and become greater than you were! Which will you choose?" He demanded, staring intently into Beowulf's eyes.
A moment later he turned and walked away, leaving Beowulf to glare at him heatedly.
I was indeed wrong about the Gnoll. Aurelius mused, feeling Beowulf's glare from behind him as he smiled confidently. He has a warrior's spirit and a noble soul. What the Illithids did shook him badly but I saw that spark of fire in him still. The Emperor and his mate have coddled him too much, allowing him to remain in his doubt. I will take that spark and return it to the blazing inferno it once was. Thus shall I rise in my Emperor's esteem! And there is no rule that says an Emperor can have only one guardian…
Wintershiven, The Theocracy of the Pale
"Identity and purpose of visit." The gate guard ordered him gruffly, giving him a suspicious look.
Prometheus gazed at the man blandly, wondering if he was just having an off day before responding. "My name is Asher Sunflare, cleric of Pelor. I have business with the Theocrat and his council."
The guard snorted inelegantly at this. "You'd have better luck trying to squeeze blood from a stone. Get on in then but I warn you now, don't go spreading Pelor's word about; Pholtus doesn't take kindly to false teaching and neither do the Inquisition." He stated firmly with a hard look from under his helm.
Prometheus nodded. "I shall remember that."
Gesturing him on through the gate slammed shut and Prometheus found himself in the heart of the Theocracy, the great city of Wintershiven. Wrapping his robes around him to ward off the chill in the air he began walking up the wide street. The buildings were coldly white with gray stone, the people seemingly dour and humorless with most wearing intently grim faces under heavy cloaks and furred hats.
"You find more cheer in a graveyard." Prometheus murmured to himself, looking around before moving up the street.
Small teams of armored guards in chainmail and white vestments marched in formation here and there as cold white light spilled forth from various lanterns on the street corners and over shops. Occasionally men in stark white robes would call out on street corners, extoling the virtues of Pholtus, the Lord of Blinding Light.
"Why do I feel as if I am seeing a darkly mirrored image of my own kingdom where Davis rules?" He muttered sarcastically. Up ahead he could see the massive cathedral-like structure that housed the Theocrat and his government. A massive stone wall had been built around it with the interconnected buildings constructed of hard angular stone. Stepping up to the heavy iron gateway built into the wall he peered through the bars at the humorless guards standing on the other side.
"I am an official envoy to the Dragon Emperor of Utopia." Prometheus stated firmly. "I have news regarding the safety of the Pale that the Theocrat and his council must be made aware of."
One of the guards sauntered over to the gate and sneered at him. "You have papers to prove any of that nonsense you just said, Pelorian?"
Gazing at the man mildly, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a small folded heft of papers, handing them to the man through the bars. The man frowned in annoyance before rifling through them, noting the imperial seal of the dragon sunburst. With a grunt he thrust the papers back at Prometheus before waving to the other man. The two moved behind different sides of the wall and a moment later the gate swung open with a loud clank.
Nodding to the men courteously Prometheus stepped through, the solid barrier slamming shut behind him. The wide courtyard and area surrounding the buildings were devoid of any decoration or color, the pavement consisting purely of grey stone slabs with torches lining the wall. Above him many stories in height stood the white stone central cathedral of Pholtus, the god of Blinding Light and resolute, inflexible Law. Arched flying buttresses lined the sides of the massive building, seemingly holding it in place, the stylized and intricate architecture reminding Prometheus of the gothic cathedrals of medieval Europe. Striding up to the massive reinforced wooden doors he pushed them open slightly before entering the structure, shutting the doors behind him.
"I trust you have a reason for being here?" A cool baritone voice asked from nearby.
Prometheus turned to see a large, muscular man in a white and silver over robe standing nearby. His face was like that of a bulldog, weathered and unsmiling, and beneath the robe he wore a breastplate decorated with icons of the sun and moon.
"I have come to speak with the Theocrat on a matter regarding the safety of your Theocracy." Prometheus said neutrally. "I am Asher Sunflare, envoy to the Dragon Emperor of Utopia."
The man snorted inelegantly. "You dare much to declare so, cleric. That heathen creature that dares to bow to a platinum Dragon and call it a god has no business meddling in our affairs!"
Prometheus frowned at the remark. "He is also a worshiper and devout follower of Pelor, as am I."
The man's face became even more annoyed. "Was that intended to be some form of appeasement? Pelor is but a distorted image of Pholtus, barely better than a mockery of the One God's true and pure form! Only a fool or a heretic would believe otherwise!"
Prometheus clenched his teeth in frustration at the man's overbearing arrogance before speaking in a clipped tone. "I did not come here to create conflict between us, good sir. Whatever you believe about me and my Emperor he is no fool and the news I bear is dire. The Theocrat must be informed or the Theocracy may very well face its end in the coming days. I say that not as a threat but as a warning."
The man scoffed at this. "Are you some sort of deranged doomsday prophet to speak such nonsense? Our Theocracy is in the hand of Pholtus the Mighty and he has decided we shall persevere!"
Prometheus gazed at him flatly. "Do you speak for Pholtus then; something which the Theocrat only does with great care? Why then, have I never heard of one such as you, sir? Surely you must be more prominent than the Theocrat himself. I wonder how he would take such news, that there is one greater than him strutting about in his own palace."
The man's eyes narrowed in anger.
"However," Prometheus continued in the same cool tone, "if you were to point me in the direction of the Theocrat and persuade him to see me I might be inclined to forget you're earlier, no doubt hasty, remarks."
The man's jaw worked, his teeth clenched behind his lips and his eyes glittering with cold anger before he spat his response.
"Follow me."
"Thank you kind sir." Prometheus replied, allowing the ghost of a satisfied smile to cross his lips.
Hands clenched, the man strode forcefully through the high cramped stone corridors towards the rear of the structure. Walking up several flights of stairs pass various guard patrols and liveried servants they came to a series of rooms covered in rich carpeting and bright white stone. Tapestries of bright white, blood red, and royal purple covered the walls, the ceiling covered with clear panes of glass, allowing in the bright noonday sun. Coming to a pair of massive doors covered with ornate carvings and the heraldry of the Pale, the twin guards quickly opened them at the pair approached.
The room they entered was massive and nearly put Prometheus's own audience chamber to shame.
The room was at least two stories tall and easily fifty feet wide with intricate marble designs covered the floor. Around the room a multitude of statuary carved in impeccable detail covered the stone walls. Heroes, saints, Inquisitors, and all manner of noble men set in stone stood in silent judgment, staring down at the pair as they made their way across the expanse. Near the top of the room sat a series of windows, allowing in the bright sunlight from above, making the entire room glow with cool light. At the opposite end of the room stood an enormous gold and silver statue of Pholtus, a tall, slender man with pale skin, flowing white hair, and bright blue eyes burning with the fires of devotion. The icon was apparently dressed in white gown and with a gold and silver-trimmed cassock, embroidered with suns and moons. Beneath the statue sat a large and expensive ornate desk covered with documents behind which sat the Theocrat of the Pale. The man was middle-aged and dressed in a silk robe of the purest white with gold and silver embroidery on the sleeves and hem. His hair was a dark brown and greying at the temples, his slightly angular face severe-looking and pinched with a thin mouth and sharp nose. As the pair approached he looked up at them, his blue eyes sharp.
"Why have you interrupted my work Templar?" The man asked in a displeased tone, his tenor voice like the crack of a whip.
"Hail Theocrat Theoman Baslett, greatest servant of Pholtus the Shining Lord!" Prometheus intoned loudly, inclining his head in respect. "Long may you rule with justice and wisdom!"
The Theocrat turned to face Prometheus in confusion. "And who are you?"
"An envoy bearing news of great import, your Eminence." Prometheus replied. "If I may?"
"You wear the robes of Pelor, the false image of Pholtus." The Theocrat replied coldly. "You dare much to stand before me and display your heretical allegiance so openly."
"I am the highest servant of law and goodness, Honored Theocrat." Prometheus replied with a bit of humility. "And I consider it my sacred duty to stamp out the threats of chaos and evil just as Pholtus commands."
The man tapped his finger against his desk in consideration, gazing at Prometheus silently for a moment before looking to the Templar. "Leave us. I would speak with this one alone."
The man bowed deeply. "As you command, my Lord."
Turning on his heel the soldier departed, leaving the two men alone.
"State your message then," the Theocrat stated in blunt distaste, "before my disgust at your heresy overwhelms my mercy and good sense."
Prometheus bristled slightly at the man rudeness before he spoke in a cool, flat tone. "My patron has informed me of a terrible threat looming on the horizon. You are no doubt aware of the wars Iuz instigated several years ago?"
The man's glare was all he received in response.
"The fiendish powers that backed Iuz and his undead forces are once again at work." Prometheus continued. "This time they seek to draw the supernatural and evil forces of the Nine Hells into our world and destroy all that Pholtus has created, leaving the world in darkness and despair. Veluna, Nyrond, and Furyondy have already been informed and the other nations soon shall be as well. We must all fight together if we are-"
"Enough!" The Theocrat cried, slapping his hand against the desk loudly with a crack as he stood. "How dare you come here and pronounce such blasphemy!"
Prometheus blinked at the sudden explosion from the Theocrat. "I assure you I speak no falsehood, your Eminence!" He stated firmly.
"If such a threat dared to make itself known, Pholtus would have notified me immediately!" The man argued.
"Did he do so when Iuz threatened the land?" Prometheus asked intently, spearing the man with his gaze.
The man blinked at the surprise question. "He…of course he didn't! That ragtag band of undead was no match for Pholtus's power!" The man stammered. "They dared not attack us because they knew our Shining Lord would strike them down the moment they dared think of such an action!"
"And the rest of the people who died by their hands? The destruction they caused?" Prometheus asked with sharpness in his voice. "The Theocracy has sent no aid to its neighbors nor did it even attempt to halt the advance of that army."
The man leaned forward, bracing his hands on his desk. "Impure heathens and infidels who were not worthy to live, reveling in the darkness beyond Pholtus's glorious light!" The man declared heatedly. "We, the pure and the righteous, remain untouched by the evils of this world by being true to His teachings and so we shall remain! No dark power shall ever enter this realm and those beyond it deserve their fate!"
Suddenly Prometheus felt divine power swirl angrily around him. Unlike the warm confidence he felt when using Pelor's divine energies, this power was colder with a feeling of unyielding will in the face of any obstacle. A question was asked and Prometheus acquiesced, allowing the power to fill him. Immediately Prometheus's body began to glow with harsh light as bright as the sun, banishing all of the shadows in the room with a sound like thunder, making the Theocrat shield his eyes lest he become flash-blinded by the intensity.
"THE DRAGON EMPEROR OF UTOPIA SPEAKS THE TRUTH, THEOMAN!" A powerful voice stated sternly from within the light. "AND YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN MY COMMANDS! ALL WHO SERVE ME ARE EXPECTED TO FIGHT AGAINST THE FORCES OF CHAOS AND DARKNESS WHEREVER THEY RESIDE SO THAT MY GLORY MIGHT SHINE FORTH ALL THE MORE! I SPARED YOU AND THE PALE BECAUSE IT WAS MY GOOD PLEASURE BUT THE ENEMIES TO COME WILL BE UNLIKE ANY YOU HAVE SEEN! BECAUSE YOU HAVE CLOSED YOUR MIND TO MY WILL IN RECENT YEARS I HAVE USED THIS VESSEL TO SPEAK TO YOU INSTEAD! DO NOT DARE TO IGNORE MY DIVINE WILL AGAIN; YOU SERVE AS THEOCRAT ONLY BY MY GRACE!"
"This!...This must be some trick!" The man cried in fear. "You dare to—"
A sonic boom shook the room, causing dust to fly through the air, sending the man stumbling back.
"YOU DARE QUESTION YOUR GOD?!" The voice thundered. "YOU HAVE DECLARED THAT ONLY MY VOICE CAN MOVE YOU AND YET YOU QUESTION WHEN YOU HEAR IT! HYPOCRITICAL FOOL! MY PATIENCE WITH YOU IS NEARLY GONE! DO WHAT MUST BE DONE TO ENSURE THE SAFETY OF THIS REALM AND THIS WORLD OR I SHALL WITHDRAW THE PROTECTION YOU HAVE ENJOYED FOR SO LONG AND ALLOW THE DEMONS THAT FOLLOW AFTER TO HAVE THEIR WAY WITH YOU FOR DISOBEYING MY COMMANDS! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
"Y-yes Lord!" The man stammered fearfully. "I shall do as you command!"
The light vanished in a flash and Prometheus gasped, stumbling as the god's presence suddenly departed. Standing slowly, Prometheus gazed intently at the shaken Theocrat, the man's face bloodless and strained.
"The Dragon Emperor will be contacting you again soon." Prometheus stated quietly. "I suggest you heed him when he speaks."
The man swallowed quietly before nodding, Prometheus taking his leave a moment later.