Signs
Neale leads him through barracks and tents spread all around the Tower Kian left only a few minutes ago. Soldiers they pass steal glances at him, a few exchange hushed words. He does not bother with it, some rumors of his arrival will inevitably spread, it cannot be helped. They stop in front of a tent, a very large one. There are guards posted at its entrance. Even standing outside he feels something inside radiating heat and light, his skin prickles. Neale stops nervously in front of the entrance. "This is where the pulley used to stand back then", he explains, "please, don't touch it or go too close". he doesn't explain what it is, instead he lifts the flap and ducks in, Kian in tow.
They both stop right at the edge, since Neale's request not to touch it or go too close cannot be abided if they so much as take a single step. The round tent serves as a dome for a circular symbol burning at their feet, etched into the ground. Its glow is unnatural, at times swirling up like a whirlpool made of pale light, next second dancing frantically like flames and then receding to a calm, regular burn. It's magic, Kian doesn't need to be told that. What he cannot understand is what it does and why it is allowed to keep existing, especially here.
"It's the symbol of the Balance in the local heretic beliefs", Neale explains, "and it has been here since the disaster. We could not get rid of it no matter what we did".
"What exactly have you attempted to do about it?"
"We tried digging it out, but couldn't go deep enough. Then we tried burying it, but the symbol kept resurfacing. We tried to pour water on it once, more out of curiosity than actually hoping it would have any effect… Not the best idea we have ever had. In the end we just covered it with this tent and now we merely pray to the Goddess that it will go away someday. It has been years though, it's not waning yet."
"It seems an insult that this should be etched upon the grounds where the most magnificent tribute to our faith stands", Kian notes calmly, his voice so low it sounds like a growl.
"Indeed, it does" Neale nods earnestly, "and the rebel sympathizers are using it to convince a more civilized population that its existence proves the might of their accursed Balance."
"What is this Balance supposed to be in their heresy?" Kian wonders.
"I'm not sure I'm the best person to ask, Apostle, but to my understanding they think it's some kind of a divine force that governs the universe. A demonic force, more like." It's a better answer than he could've hoped for. His people are not very good at answering such questions, since they rarely take interest in such heathendom, even for scholarly reasons.
"And none of the culprits were ever found?"
"Just one man, but he was dead. There were several more, but they all got away and we never found them. I…" Neale hesitates and his voice goes low, "I talked to one of the soldiers who were here that day. He claims he saw a dark shadowy figure, simply standing on top of the burning pulley, still as a statue, just overlooking the commotion. Most people believe that was the Scorpion."
"But nobody knows for sure, nor could they see his face?" He does not need to guess, he already knows it is so.
"No, he was obscured, obviously, by flames and smoke. But more people have claimed he was there. Then he disappeared, not a trace."
"I see." Kian turns to leave. Every story of alleged sightings of the Scorpion ends the same - no trace, not a sign that the man was there. No witness with an ounce of value, they have nothing but tall tales for bedtime storytelling. It is irritating.
Inspection of the evidentiary spoken of earlier does not add much to their meager knowledge either. One kitchen knife found on a dead rebel, of such common making that its likes can be found anywhere in Marcuria and beyond it, any household, any inn, anywhere a cook has a business. A half molten simple iron ring of no distinct shape or craftsmanship that must have been painted in golden paint while the wearer still owned it judging by surviving bits of it. A few incriminating objects of magical nature, found in ownership of the people who have never been proven to be involved with the rebels.
He wonders if the local officials truly have made their best effort against this notorious rebel leader and his rebellion. Clearly the matter is of great enough importance. Then again, Vamon commands here. He remembers the blindness in which the man's arrogance could lead him. In fact, till this day Kian is still using it as a cautionary tale to keep his own humility. It wouldn't surprise him if the commander refused to admit the severity of the situation and reserved his attention for something else. Kian will not allow himself such a mistake. That night, when he prays, he begs the Goddess to light his path in this dark part of the world, to lead himself to the Scorpion and his blade to a victorious strike. And to forgive him the ounce of arrogance he let slip into his heart when he realized how much depended on him.