In future decades, the year of Solaris' Ascent would be studied and discussed and dissected in depth, every announcement analyzed for why it had been worded that way, why it had been announced on that day in particular. Change was viewed as a continuous, rolling wave, transforming Karse smoothly from pre- to post-Solaris.
To any who had lived through any sort of government upheavel and revolution, the very idea of things being so simple would send them into gales of laughter. To those living through the reforms in the very moment, there was no time for laughter, hardly time to fear what these changes meant – it was all they could do to keep up.
Senior Lieutenant Devek Koshiro found himself counseling his Captain, offering advice to the other men in his unit, because at least he had an idea of what was coming, between his continued correspondence with Jakyr Kalesh and his now two-way correspondence with Father Kir.
"Arm the populace?" one of the officers asked, brow furrowed as he read the latest dispatches from Sunhame. "Why in the hells would she do that?"
"Reassures them that should anyone try and reinstate the old ways they can take up arms," Devek suggested, brow furrowed as he tried to remember what they'd discussed on the way to Almondale. "With the restructuring of the guard there won't be as many Sunsguard to go around for at least a year or two, they need to be able to offer some sort of defense."
"Against what, your Hardornen horror stories?" one of the newer officers scoffed; the corpsman and Captain alike just shook their heads, having either seen the bishra's affects or heard all the details. Devek just gave the man a tight-lipped smile and didn't bother trying to convince the idiot again. They'd find out soon enough of the wretches to their northeast.
"Well arms are being sent out," the captain shrugged, "Nothing else for it. We might as well make sure they know what they're doing and don't just stab themselves the first time they pick up a blade."
Kiara Dinesh listened for stories of the one that might be her brother, but didn't hear even the old stories as much anymore. People had better, more exciting things to talk about than rumors of a Firestarter that wasn't a madman bent on burning the world. No, instead, she heard talk of mercenaries being contracted to substitute for the Sunsguard so a restructuring could happen without letting brigands run wild.
She heard talk of women gaining more legal rights, her first mate and she exchanging sardonic looks because it was all well and good to say women could own property, could be leaders of a business, and another matter entirely to make it happen as she and her mother and her grandmother had with the help of loopholes and skill.
She heard talk of children no longer being taken for the priesthood unwillingly, no longer burned, and was unsurprised to find her mother and grandmother knocking back prodka and bitterly grieving that it had come too late, always too late.
She heard talk of all sorts of things, but none the thing she was truly interested in, was almost hopefully waiting for. Because if the Firestarter-not-mad was real, he would fit in well with this new regime. If the Firestarter-not-mad was her brother, she might one day be able to meet him.
The Comb was still buried in winter snow, but the forests had started to shed their coats and Trevyr Nachtaben had started calling foresters to the tower again in preparation for the coming fire season. He stared out over the rolling carpet of evergreens, let his eyes trace the familiar charred zone he had lost half his foresters to those years ago, and felt himself smile nonetheless.
News was slow to come out here, but this news had come faster than most – news of revolution, of change in Sunhame of true miracles – that wasn't something to delay. He wondered if that Firestarter chaplain were in the thick of it, was performing some of those miracles the rumors were running so wild over.
Fury summonings were anathema now, the burning of children and witches was forbidden, witches not even witches at all. He no longer had to look the other way when two of his men took longer than average patrols together, went out of their way to avoid town-runs when the other was left behind, because what they had between them was no longer anathema.
Remembering what else they had seen, when the Firestarter and his Enforcer came riding through – Trevyr looked towards the barren ground of White Foal pass and couldn't help but wonder. If witches were no longer witches, had never truly been witches, if Furies were truly demons, were wretches now banned – what were those the old regime had called demons? Had called evil incarnate?
He had a long patrol scheduled once someone got to the tower to relieve him. He'd pack some extra prodka for his trip north. He owed that white-rider ghost thanks.
The clack of wooden chimes in the breeze were soothing as nothing else, Anika ignoring them entirely in favor of lunging forward with her blunted spear, laughing as Jakyr barely avoided getting his feet knocked out from under him, the Lieutenant in the Sunsguard just grinning and coming in for another flurry of strikes with his dull practice sword. This was his third visit since they'd met over the smoking ruins of her oasis' innocence, and she knew very well that while his first visit may well have been to ensure things were working out all right with the new priest Her Eminence had sent, to pass on a missive from His Holiness Dinesh, it wasn't duty that brought him back.
She was busy reveling in the changes that had come to her country though. Busy building up this town again, learning all that Father Loshern had to teach her about finding evil and destroying it, on turning her sight into a tool to heal and hunt in her God's name – far too busy for anything so low on her list of priorities as romance.
But Jakyr was kind, found nothing odd or disturbing in a woman learning to fight, in standing on her own feet, and she could see herself growing to truly care for him given time. If he was still interested when things calmed a bit, when she had settled in her own skin, then she might see where they could go.
For now though, she'd just take advantage of his arms lessons.
The Lord Marshal had finally finished analyzing and examining and stewing over the dispatches from Herald Bellamy and could tell that something was missing, that Naomi and the Herald both were leaving something out. But he knew Naomi personally, and he knew better than to doubt a Herald's loyalty to Valdemar, so he would let it lie, ridiculous rumors aside.
But he would put the word out that he was interested in the truth, that he wanted confirmation on some of the wild stories coming out of Karse, and if he didn't get word in the next moons – he would speak to Herald Eldan.
