Sister Gritel Schnett blessed Hilan sat, alone, in her room. Why is it that one learns knowledge separated from themselves, while understanding only comes when one puts themselves into that worldview? She pondered this as she stared at the book before her. It is as though the Cold Fist wants those with one to lack the other. But is that so they are forced to work together, or so they cannot survive apart? Questions are the way of learning the Truth. That is what she’d been taught since she joined the House of the Bold Flame as a child. But the teachers, the other blessed of the Houses of the Fist, never taught her what was to be done when those questions conflicted with the teaching itself. And so, she often contemplated what exactly such questions meant in the world at large.
The soft bell rang, echoing through the lithic halls and reaching her bedroom. It would soon be time for her to begin her mission, but she was still uncertain of how she was to do that. The questions lingered. Always there, always in the back of her mind. She stood and walked out of her small quarters into the hallway. Her mentor, Brother Allain Bertall blessed Rikart, stood beside her door, awaiting her exit. “Hilan,” he greeted her.
Gritel smiled. “Rikart,” she replied, “What brings you to these halls?” She did continue walking towards the meal hall as she talked. For being late for a meal meant forgoing said meal.
Allain was her mentor in the House of the Bold Flame’s Darian Order. They’d known one another since before she was blessed Hilan, and once she was given to the Darian Order, he was assigned as her mentor. “We must discuss your mission before you depart to it.”
“Must we?” Gritel asked, “Are our missions not our own?”
Allain nodded his head. “Of course they are,” he acknowledged, “But to know one’s mission and to know the purpose of a mission are two different things.”
“Neither of which can be taught,” Gritel stated.
Allain smiled. “But both must be,” he countered.
“And how do you plan to teach me something that cannot be taught?” Gritel asked as they entered the meal hall.
Allain shrugged. “I do not. I simply shall.”
Gritel cocked her head. “Rikart, that is a meaningless statement. And you know it to be such.”
Allain chuckled. “True,” he conceded, “But just because it is meaningless does not mean it holds no meaning.”
Gritel sighed as she served herself from the mealpot and walked to a table. Allain followed her with his own meal. “So, what is your mission?” he asked.
Gritel looked silently at him. Then, when it became clear he was not going to continue until she spoke, she cleared her throat. “What was yours?” she asked.
He smiled. “Hilan, that is not the point.”
“Yes it is, Rikart. My mission, whatever it be or not be, is mine own. To tell you would be a betrayal of it, as you well know.”
“I only wish to help,” he pressed.
She stared blankly at him. “But any help I accept from you would only serve to hinder. The point of our Order’s missions is to see the world from outside the House and derive a meaningful connection to the Fist from it. If anyone accepts help from within their house, is that connection not weakened?”
Allain shook his head at the frustrating young Sister of his Order. “You are well aware that has not been the way of our missions since the Church founded the Pious Nation.”
“Are you saying that because the Tripartite throne holds power in the physical world as well as the spiritual one, an independent connection to the Fist is less important?”
The elder brother held his tongue, for he knew that the truth and reality held different views of that question, and to answer it in earnest would betray one of the key pillars of the Bold Flame. For to respond with some form of yes would be to betray the pillar of questioning, the belief that adherence to the Fist is of more import than adherence to any aspect of the Church. But to say no would be to betray the pillar of honesty, that, no matter the content of the answer, questions which are answered must be answered with the truth. Gritel could tell he wished to speak on it, though. She’d asked a question without a possible answer, as she often did. Especially when she wished her superiors to leave her be. Allain stood up and walked off, leaving Gritel alone to finish her meal.
After finishing her food, she walked through the halls of the place once again, this time to her truest home in the abbey. The library. While the Darian order was a marshal one, in her free time, Gritel enjoyed study. It was here that she came upon the most unanswerable of questions, a question she knew so little about she risked not even asking her superiors. What be a god? The question that has tome after tome written on possibilities, all in abstract for it was impossible to know whether it be truth or fiction. Most interestingly she had found herself fascinated by comparisons of godly magics and spiritly ones. For they seemed more similar than different, and yet where they differed, the differences can be enormous. Hence the question. On the one hand, that question would make a fascinating mission. But the question was unanswerable, so her mission would be unending, would it not? And she wanted to return at some point. Perhaps a more focused mission was in store. Or not. She knew not her mission’s goal. She did not need to know that. Not yet. She needed to know her mission’s direction. Where the journey would take her. An impossible question without knowing a destination for the journey, but one she had to answer by the following dawn in any case.
So, she collected the charts of the Known World. The collection of archipelagos that made up the remains of old Vyrroltea. The charts might well be the best charts in the area, but they’re incomplete. The nature of the world forced it to be so. Too many nations that have not wished for outsiders to influence their hearts. Her choices were threefold. She could travel north-easterly, into the Imperium. North-westerly, into the Successor Kingdom. Or towards the land known by most as the Betrayer State. All three were hostile to citizens of the Pious Nation which made the decision difficult. Though only the Successor Kingdom was openly hostile. To go there on a Pious ship risked being attacked on sight. And Gritel already had any knowledge she could find in the Imperium. Which meant she was heading to the Betrayer State. Still did not know where in the Betrayer State she was to go, but she knew that was the only option she truly had.
Travelling into the Betrayer State was not without risk itself. It is the worst kept secret of the west that “pirates” roaming the Betrayer’s seas were likely privateers targeting only foreign vessels. Pious ships were generally safe, mostly due to them not transporting anything of value, but not always. But was risk and danger not an important aspect of the world? And if one’s mission is to connect with the world outside the House, would one not have to experience said risk and danger? For preparation’s sake, Gritel decided she needed to gather supplies of war, as well as study. She knew both would likely be necessary.
First, given her location, she was to gather what would be necessary for study. It’s not as though books were ever permitted to leave the library. However, there were no strictures against the blessed copying any significant portions of the works into their own journals. She’d done it before, when she’d wanted things to read after curfew. First, she found the section on the Betrayer Kingdom’s organization and culture. She was uncertain what would be important for her mission, but that at the very least would be useful for survival. Pulling her journal out, she began to copy, and commentate on, passages on the northern Isles that was, after all, where she would likely have to go first. While they were, on the surface, less xenophobic than their neighbor whom they broke away from, the Betrayer Kingdom’s leaders still did not appreciate too much foreign interference. She would need to know all about their etiquette before leaving, and where she would and would not be able to experience the world.
With those notes added to her journal for the trip, Gritel headed out of the library. She’d need to gather from the abbey’s armory armor and armament for her journey. The armory was a ways away from most important places to Gritel in the abbey, nestled deep in its heart. Walking through the cold halls of her home, she mused on the future. She was doing a mission of old, a contemplation of existence in relation to both the Fist and to the world beyond the Fist’s power. In modern days, that style of mission was becoming increasingly rare. Most now partook in political missions of types varying from conversion of foreigners to diplomatic envoys. Such was likely one of the most troubling things to come from the Tripartite Throne becoming an independent entity in the world. That, and the legitimacy question related to Churches of the Fist under other governments, especially those churches who reject the Throne because of the Pious Nation’s existence.
Such questions still lingered in Gritel’s mind as she made it to the armory. With a smile, she approached the clerk. “Hilan,” Sister Irine Hoffer blessed Natal said with a smile back towards Gritel, “I take it you know your mission?”
“No, Natal. But I shall do it nonetheless,” Gritel replied amicably. “I do know it will take me to the Betrayer Kingdoms.”
Irine nodded back, and started writing in her book. “So, will you just be taking the standard fare, or are you planning something special?”
“Standard fare will mostly be fine, though I need not the missile weapons. I’ve never been much good with them, in any case.”
Irine frowned. “Are you certain?” she asked.
“Perhaps replace my shield with a larger one,” Gritel admitted, “But if that be too much, I shall be fine.”
Irine finished writing in the book and stood up. “It will be done,” she stated. She walked over to a shelf of pages, shuffling through them until she found one in particular. Then, taking it, she disappeared into the backroom.
Gritel stood alone in the front room of the armory. She’d come in here before, for trainings and for mandatory guard-shifts which all those blessed had to do, but it felt smaller, now. As though, with all the world open to her, her home had started to compress, surrounded by existence’s enormity. After several minutes, Irine returned, dragging along with her a skid piled upon with gear. Heavy, plated armor. A massive shield. A flail. And a filled backpack with a coiled rope at its side. “That should be everything,” Irine said, gesturing towards the pallet.
“Thank you,” Gritel replied as she slung the pack over her shoulder and began to gather the armor and flail onto the shield.
“Aren’t you going to try it on? Check and make sure everything is there?” Irine asked.
Gritel smiled at her. “No. I trust you, Natal. And I trust the files to be correct.”
Irene smiled back and nodded. “And I am thankful for your trust,” she said as she walked over and returned my sheet of information to the shelf of files, exactly where she’d taken it out minutes earlier. “Good luck on finding your mission.”
Picking up the shield, Gritel replied, “Luck isn’t necessary. It will happen when it must, and never before.” With that, she headed out of the armory and back to her room. She was going to leave in the morn. She had much preparation to do beforehand.
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