Iskander's eyes widen to saucers, scarcely believing what he's seeing. Her, of all people?

Belatedly he raised his hands in a gesture of adoration. His mouth works like a fish, opening and closing multiple times - he can't find any words that feel right to say in this moment. At least this should get the attention they wanted.

Shiva's joy in Khonsu's acceptance is mingled with equal amounts of shocked relief. Her earnest prayer had been answered. She bared the entirety of her pain, perseverance, and her wish to help others and was chosen. Khonsu would remain at her side and within her soul, empowering her as she faces down whatever the world now wishes to confront her with. Slowly, she stands and turns, bowing deeply to the acolytes with a soft smile.

The elation rapidly begins to cool into serenity as she takes in slow, deep breaths. The warmth of the divinity in her veins feels as though it had always been present, reinforcing her resolve and further soothing the harm caused by her demon's presence. The clarity she now feels is unlike anything she has experienced before, and she thinks on the aspect of renewal that is part of her new god's domain. 

Returning to the group, she stifles a chuckle at Iskander's flabbergasted expression. "You seem very surprised, humble guide. I think it's time that I tell you of my life and what brought me here. Maybe over a drink in a friendly, comfortable place. Do you know any nice places for us to stay?"

Almost absent-mindedly, she turns to Caio with a smile brimming with more happiness than the shadar-kai has seen in some time. "I believe it's your turn, mon vieux." 

"You have given yourself fully to a Netjer who you have only just begun to learn of. You do understand that? How are you so calm about this?"
He looks around expecting to see his feelings echoed on the faces of his companions.

Caio watches with awe as Shiva surrenders herself body and soul to this new god. For all the tiefling’s impetuousness and lack of forethought, surely her ability to throw herself wholeheartedly into any situation is an admirable trait. The woman is unafraid to withhold nothing. Caio gulps. Is this truly what he wants?

His memory reaches back over a century to days spent in isolated meditation deep within hallowed crypts. Days spent whispering hymns to rune scrawled skulls, days spent submerged in pools of consecrated blood, cold as death. Those days hadn’t felt empty then, but at the time that was all he had known. His mother and father were clergy, hells, everyone around him had been clergy. He was fuinequendi, the Matron’s chosen. There had been no other path to walk but in her shadow.

And then she’d found him, that damned enchantress. She pulled his corpse from the frigid ground he’d been buried beneath his entire life. That was true devotion he’d felt then. She could have asked him to betray everything he’d ever lived for… instead it was she who had betrayed him.

When he’d sworn his oaths as an inquisitor, those too had been hollow, in a way. He wasn’t lying when he swore to seek out the Matron’s enemies and bring them to justice, but his motives truly had nothing to do with his queen and everything to do with his broken heart. Truly it was the only way that he could have gone on this quest without deserting. But would it have even mattered? The Matron didn’t even have an inquisitorial order, the idea had come to him from horror stories of witch hunters shared with him by the 99 Hundred. To Caio, the enigmatic goddess hardly seemed concerned with what her chosen people did. The fuinequendi’s existence was as stagnant as the frozen corpses they tended.

“I’ve known a goddess for one hundred and twelve years.” he says to Iskander, though his gaze is fixed ahead of him. “I’ve served her, yes, but never have I given myself fully. Time is irrelevant to devotion. All that matters is alignment.” He walks forward, placing a hand on Shiva’s shoulder with a nod of respect as he passes her. He approaches the silver clad acolyte near the basin and kneels, head bowed.

“I would swear myself as an inquisitor in Khonsu’s service. I would be as the moon’s rays piercing through the thickest night, seeking out corruption wherever it may hide. I would silence those treacherous voices who work even now to poison this great city. Though I am but a traveler myself, here in this place, I have seen that the black roots of tyranny are tangled across all of Arden. I would rip them out and see them burned in the silver light of His justice.”

Quote from Jellyfersh >>

"You have given yourself fully to a Netjer who you have only just begun to learn of. You do understand that? How are you so calm about this?"
He looks around expecting to see his feelings echoed on the faces of his companions.

In a gentle undertone, Alaris replies, "Oh, my friend. We have for so long been facing such destinies and forces and powers... been twisted this way and that by their agendas, that we have developed a keen sense for justice. You might even say a hunger for it. I urge you not to mistake commitment for calm or decisiveness for ignorance. We have counted the cost, and here we stand together."

Finally off the streets out of the curious eyes of the citizens of Beschadik, Astrid is able to breath a sigh of relief. The cleric wanders the grounds respectfully as the bells ring through the grounds of the temple of Khonsu. There is something about this place feels comforting for the devotee of The Scribe. Perhaps it's the phases of the moon commonly displayed reminding her of the passage of time. 

Seeing their friend in line to receive the blessing of this foreign god, Astrid moves to stand next to Alaris in watching the baptism. 

A vampire. A demonic stallion. The Warden. And now a Saramenian god... She seems to always be searching for something bigger than herself. I suppose I can’t fault her for that.

She holds an arm up to block the light that fills the chamber. As Shiva approaches them, Astrid smiles and slowly nods, not being surprised at her taking on another new devotion. "Shiva, dear, it seems your choice of patrons seems to grow in power with each one you collect. I just hope you don't end up serving too many masters... Because eventually you may be at odds with what each wants from you. "

Shiva merely listens with that same smile on her face as her friends imply just how she came to find herself in the moonlight of Khonsu's blessing.

Looking on with quiet reverence as Caio begins his vow, she can feel the stirrings of air around him that were far too faint for her to have noticed even an hour ago. Had she truly lived this much of her life without proper sense? As though all sight, sound and sensation had to pass through wool to make its way to her? The thought of feeling more deeply makes her long for Mistress, only for Astrid to interrupt her revelry. 

Shiva quirks an eye at her dwarven friend, though her smile remains. "I take lovers, I forge bonds, I swear oaths, and I broker partnerships. I have no masters." She indicates lazily with her pointer finger towards the two statues with broken crowns. "That's part of the whole freedom and justice thing. What Khonsu and I now share is a partnership. I'm starting to see that partnership lies in everything we do, in one way or another. Especially religion. Speaking of partnership..." 

Taking a step closer to Iskander, she does her best to whisper as to avoid interrupting Caio's ceremony. "Can you tell me of the brothels in the city, the lavish ones in particular? I'm expecting a letter."

When Caio kneels, the sanctum falls into a deep stillness. The basin’s surface, which a moment earlier had roiled and poured its light into Shiva, calms into a pallid sheen. Moonlight gathers at the edges and, then, with the same deliberate inevitability, threads itself towards the shadow elf like a thin blade of silvered frost. It floods him with a cold clarity, like the keen purity of midnight air after rain. Where the light touches the inquisitor's skin it drinks into him, drawing shadow into ordered patterns, rather than banishing it. Fine, interlocking sigils, as silver as starlight and as black as the void between, map themselves along Caio's jaw and down the hollow of his throat, humming faintly against his pulse.

Be the beam that finds rot, the blade that severs the guilty, charges an intimate voice that slips along the edge of reason in response. The sensation is settling, sharpening and steadies old grief and vows into something serviceable.

Acolytes' reactions ripple through the sanctum after witnessing Khonsu's direct reply to such oaths twice in quick succession. Some of the faithful gasp at the unexpected marriage of moonblessing and shadow-blood. One among them inclines her head slowly, eyes damp with a pious wonder, while another mutters a prayer of thanks under her breath. Others stiffen. Shiva’s blessing draws open astonishment and a hush of devotion, but Caio’s consecration invokes respect leavened with a sober approval. 

“Thank you.” he whispers, audible only to the deity which he now serves. Caio rises, and there is a lightness in him noticeable to his friends. Where once he was monolithic gloom, now there is definition and clarity. The soft light of the temple glints off of him as it would a polished shard of obsidian. 

“I, Caio Cypherien, swear to uphold and deliver Khonsu’s justice. My,” he glances at Shivala and pauses. The hint of a smile plays at the corners of his lips before he continues, “My sister and I may be newly blessed by His silver light, but our quest to uproot corruption is far from new. We have traveled here from afar to hunt a serpent, known to us but hiding here in your fair city. Even now her coils wrap around your empire like a noose.  I would ask that my companions and I be granted an audience with Halime.” His voice is strong, stoic as ever but there is a softness and serenity to it now. No longer a frigid wind, now a refreshing breeze.

A subtle, but undeniable tremor passes through the sanctum when Caio speaks Halime’s name. The moonlight that falls softly across the surface of the pool flickers, drawn towards an archway at the rear of the chamber, where silver curtains hang like rippling mercury. The acolytes exchange glances, murmuring short prayers in Sarameian. They have seen blessings and oaths, but this is something else. Supplicants that were answered, now calling upon the high priestess by name.

"The name that you speak carries great weight in this house, moon-sworn," declares the silver-clad woman who guided Shiva and watched Caio’s vow with wordless awe. She takes a step forwards towards the pair. "Halime the Silver Hand is Khonsu’s Mouth and the Arbiter of His Scales," she adds bowing her head in deference and tracing a crescent over her chest with her fingers. "That she should be summoned by one newly anointed by the Traveller... this is no small thing."

Silken curtains part as though stirred by an unseen wind. Beyond them, a faint gleam of cool, pure and unwavering light spills into the sanctum. One by one, the acolytes fall to their knees and the air thickens with the scent of incense and myrrh.

"Let them enter," a calm voice calls from within in a rich, level tone. The priestess's summons rings out like a bell and the acolytes move aside. Their gazes linger on the two new servants of Khonsu, not merely as foreigners, but now as chosen.

Shiva is distracted from her question by Caio's anointment, the blessing made manifest in the vestments of silver and shadow that now line his neck and jaw. She takes a few steps forward as her friend addresses her as sister, suppressing happy laughter by smiling so hard that her cheeks burn for a brief moment. 

Then the pathway to Halime is opened by the woman herself, their first step on a path to ridding this city of Clarissa's venomous influence. Of performing their first great act in Khonsu's name. Yet it is a strange sensation to have the eyes of so many acolytes on her, nearly reminiscent of her recent victory in the pit. She has spent so much of what now constitutes two lifetimes building up armor against the disdain, disgust, and vitriol that targets her in the wrong settings. Reverence carries a weight she is still unsure of how to bear.

Nodding to Caio, she turns quickly back to Iskander. "Looks like it'll have to wait till later." Then, more quietly. "I'm going to do a lot more listening than talking, but I'll be putting my cards on the table when the moment comes. She's Khonsu's Mouth, so that goes a good way towards trusting her already."

Striding side by side with her bound-in-faith brother, she enters the chamber of the Arbiter of His Scales.

Together, Shiva and Caio step through the parted curtain. The chamber beyond is a half-circle of white marble inlaid with veins of lapis and gold, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow. The soft lamplight catches the faint silver along Caio's throat and the steady gleam in Shiva’s eyes. Every sound seems muted here, as though swallowed by the sanctity of the air.

At the far end, before an immense relief depicting Khonsu in judgment with his scales balanced between moon and blade, stands Halime, the Arbiter of His Scales. She is barefoot and dressed in ceremonial robes that cascade like liquid night, adorned with a thousand mirrored fragments that glitter faintly as she moves. Her hood is drawn back, revealing a calm, intelligent face. Her eyes are dark and her gaze searching, like the sea under starlight.

Two other figures flank the priestess, one masked in silver and the other veiled in red. However, neither speaks. It is clear that they are attendants and not equals. Halime raises one hand with the palm facing outwards and the temple murmurs fade to silence beyond the curtain.

"Shivala Minuit," she intones in a soft voice that fills the chamber all the same. "Caio Cypherien. The scales of Khonsu weigh your intentions. You come as wielders of His light and His night alike. Speak, then. What work do you seek in His name?"

Quote from ZeeOfIstus >>

 

Shiva quirks an eye at her dwarven friend, though her smile remains. "I take lovers, I forge bonds, I swear oaths, and I broker partnerships. I have no masters." She indicates lazily with her pointer finger towards the two statues with broken crowns. "That's part of the whole freedom and justice thing. What Khonsu and I now share is a partnership. I'm starting to see that partnership lies in everything we do, in one way or another. Especially religion. Speaking of partnership..."

Alaris makes meaningful eye contact with Astrid as Shiva defines the nature of her relationship to Khonsu. How do we hold her together when her partners begin to pull her apart?  

Away from the sanctum of the priestess of Khonsu, in the quiet alcove where they wait for their companions to return, the aasimar servant of the Lady of Light drops into a meditative posture, their silver eyes catching the silvery light of the moonshrine. After several moments of quiet breathing, Alaris begins to whisper,

Lady, as your light blesses and dwells in this place,
Though it is dedicated to another;
Help me dwell amidst contradiction without judgment,
And to see - not decide - what Your light reveals.
I am Alaris Lightsworn - make my love as
Warm and Unchanging as Your light.
Uncover the beauty of truth for us
As we sear away corruption so Beauty may flourish again.

Halime's chamber is even more striking than the one they'd just left, its sacred resonance filling the air with a heavy calm. It instills the depiction of Khonsu on the chamber's wall with a quiet power that draws Shiva's eye first to the moon, then the blade.

Her own breathing feels as though it is the very aether of the night sky in this space; equanimity and lethality in equal measure. The power that now runs through her body, Khonsu's power, harmonizes with this room.

"Good evening, Silver Hand, Arbiter of His Scales. Thank you for accepting our request, as our work aligns with yours. We seek justice. For ourselves, for those we care for, and for the city of Beschadik as we all find ourselves set upon by the gnashing teeth of a predator. One who uses her authority and her violating magics to cause great harm and steer this country to the precipice of ruin." 

She takes a step forward, pressing her right palm to her chest." We will do all we can to see that the madness ends and this predator answers for what she's done. It will be our first great act in Khonsu's name." 

Halime nods slowly as Shiva finishes, the mirrored fragments on her robes catching the moonlight and scattering it into a thousand patient sparks. At first, she says nothing and only the faint rustle of her garments can be heard in the silence of the chamber.

"You speak plainly and truly," the priestess finally responds. "Khonsu hears vows spoken in the light and shadows alike. He blesses righteous action, but not rashness."

She steps forwards, palms open, fixing the pair with a measured stare.

"This city is a web of favours and fear. Corruption wears fine silks and better titles, hiding beneath pious phrases and gilded orders. To unmask such a thing requires blades in the dark and evidence in the light. I cannot, in good conscience, throw the temple’s authority about like a banner without cause. However, I will also not turn away when the scales tip towards ruin."

Halime glances towards Caio and, then, continues with her hands steepled.

"If you seek this temple’s aid, then I will offer you three things: shelter within our guest sanctum while you gather proof, the counsel of one of my eldest acolytes, who knows the courts and the courtiers and hears what the city will not speak aloud and, if your proofs were sound, a sealed petition to the Imperial Registry that will grant you audience in restricted precincts that you could not otherwise enter. You have claimed Khonsu’s name," she adds, her eyes lingering on Shiva, "and I will hold you to His code, so do not let zeal unbalance your scales. Justice that consumes the innocent is still injustice."

"Be mindful," the priestess cautions, "powerful folk in Beschcadik might mistake a God’s silence for weakness. Move with cunning and bring me their names, dates and witnesses. I will listen and will act where I must. Now,” she continues, folding her hands with a nod. “Tell me plainly what you know and what you will do next.”

Caio bows deeply in appreciation. ”Thank you, Arbiter. We could not have hoped to find better support for this most dangerous quest.”

Rising, he fixes the priestess’ measured stare with his own. “The serpent which we hunt is known as Clarissa Morgenstern.” He lets her name sit on the air, his expression that of someone who’s just tasted something unpleasantly bitter. “We first encountered her and her father, Valentine Morgenstern, in Piotgrad while hunting a pack of beasts mutated with unholy magic. These beasts were but one of the Morgensterns’ ‘projects’. The scheme which Clarissa currently acts on involves infiltrating the Imperial court with the aim of stealing the emperor’s amulet, which is a powerful and ancient artifact. We know she has been working here in Beschcadik alongside a cabal of dark mages known as the 99 Hundred, who I can say from personal experience are incredibly dangerous and violent. It should also be noted that Valentine is essentially a lich, though he’s achieved this through corrupting the sacred Eldrani magic which is used to create their baelnorns as opposed to the typical necromantic rites. In order to end him we must first destroy an object of his, like a phylactery, which sits within a magical realm of Valentine’s creation. Clarissa’s blood is the key to that realm, so it is imperative that we make our moves here in Beschcadik before she sees us coming and flees. I believe that the ultimate reason the Morgensterns wish to obtain the emperor’s runestone is to bind Valentine’s soul to that most powerful artifact thus making him that much harder to kill. Bending the Sarameian empire to their will is simply one piece of their grand plans.”

Halime listens without interrupting. Only when Caio finishes does she exhale with a sharp, quiet sound akin to a blade leaving its sheath.

"Clarissa Morgenstern," she repeats, tasting the name with narrowed eyes. "The Emperor’s court breeds many serpents, but few with fangs this venomous."

The priestess turns away, her reflection fragmenting in the mirrors set along the far wall, before she faces the pair once more.

"That she would reach for the Imperial amulet is no small claim," Halime adds, stepping closer. Her eyes search Caio's face. "That relic is said to predate the Empire itself. If your account is true, then this Morgenstern threatens not only the throne, but the veil between mortal and divine power. Beschcadik sits on the edge of catastrophe, and the Emperor’s vanity may doom us all. Your claim would sound like madness, if not for the conviction with which you bear it and the god who's blessing marks you."

Halime moves to a low table by the wall, where incense curls in moonlit smoke. With a deliberate motion, she scatters a handful of silvery sand over the brazier and its sparks rise like tiny constellations.

"The 99 Hundred are known to us," the priestess grimly continues. "A fractious cult of magi exiled from the Imperial Academy. They use old names and bargain with things darker than even the gods remember. If Clarissa has bound herself to them, she is already lost to human virtue. You will have our aid, but not publicly. Beschcadik’s court is a nest of listening tongues and treacherous favours. The Emperor's viziers are all but blinded by their own ambition. You must move as unseen hands of the moon."

She lifts one hand and a soft tremor of moonlight gathers around her fingers.

"I will send word through channels known only to Khonsu's faithful. The temple's agents will listen whispers of the serpent's movements, but understand this, Caio Cypherien. If you face her directly, you must not do so within the Emperor's sight. Should the Imperial Watch catch wind of this, they will call you traitors, not saviours. Khonsu guides those who walk the narrow road between retribution and ruin. You will need allies within the court, the guard and the temples. I can arrange a meeting with one who still serves justice before politics. Lord Vizier Thamur Ozan. He will not yet know who you are, or what you serve. Convince him. If he believes you, he can grant you the access that you need to reach the court’s inner chambers and perhaps Morgenstern herself."

Halime's eyes flicker towards Shiva and then back to Caio. She steps back with her arms folded.

"Your purpose is just, but justice must walk unseen until the hour strikes. Find proof. Find the serpent's den. Khonsu guides those who act without fear, but not without thought, and you must both beware. If Clarissa is what you claim, then she will have eyes and ears even here in the shadows of the temple. The moment that you move against her, she will strike back."

Shiva listened intently, particularly as Caio recounts the events that brought them to stand before the Arbiter of Khonsu's Justice. When Halime warns them of the necessity for obfuscation and careful decisions, a plan blooms outward, accented by a memory of Ki-Tanra's.

A job in Bolivia, forced to balance both the attention and malicious intent of several groups. The warlock was able to terminate her target while framing the cartel, reducing the harm to civilians caused by some of the most prominent drug lords. A deed she'd never told anyone about, an angelic act that she coveted and cherished solely within herself. 

"Arbiter, if we must move within the shadows and keep our enemies unaware-" She turns to look at Caio with a gleam in her eyes. "Then I have an idea. If Clarissa will act the moment she hears so much as a whisper of us, then we will keep her too busy to focus on anything. We will wield the greed and malice of our targets against one another." 

She shifts her weight from one foot to another, clearly energized as she continues. "The 99 Hundred have a history with her, so let's convince them that she's a threat to them that will run them out of business or make them expendable in the eyes of their dark gods." 

She pauses, trying to discern Caio's reaction to the idea. "Then we aim for the viziers. We find out who their servants are, where they step into shadows in order to indulge vulgar interests or fantasies. Which ones of them are dabbling in treason. Then we start airing out their secrets, make them scramble to save face and pull away from Clarissa. At the same time, we start getting to know the guard, discerning who is well respected among their ranks. Who others would listen to if it came down to it. Then we use those connections to try to get evidence of Clarissa's true plan. Or at the very least evidence of her dark dealings." 

Shiva's pacing the chamber now, looking from the blade to the moon on Khonsu's scales. "We can use this evidence to discredit her to the public, dispelling Nemea's notions of Clarissa being 'chosen by destiny' or whatever her slogan is. We will need to move all these pieces into place before we drop the axe. Ah! And we will need to identify any potential escape routes she could take; teleportation circles in the house of the emperor, secret passageways and the like." 

She stops, looking from Caio to Halime. "That all sound feasible?"

Alaris finishes their prayer and pauses before rising, finding Iskander's eyes on them. They smile at the new companion and raise their eyebrows in silent curiosity.

"Are you about to get blessed by Khonsu too?" The former soldier's words are usually measured and confident, even in a crisis, but now they come out petulant and bitter, in a way Alaris would not have heard from him before.

"Oh no, not me." Color rises to Alaris' pale cheeks and they give a slow shake of their head. "The Lady embraced me when I was running the streets of Tanemburg as a child. Her care is sufficient for me." They pause to consider, then continue, "I'm guessing this doesn't happen every day?" gesturing towards where the others went.

"I've been here every time I have returned to the city. I've paid my respects so many times and, no, I have only heard of it happen a couple of times, which I wasn't even there to witness," Iskander scowls. "Not to someone who knows nothing about Khonsu either."

Alaris nods. "I have never witnessed another be accepted by the Lady of Light as I was. But if it helps, I can testify that their hearts are dedicated to righting wrongs and freeing the oppressed." The aasimar winces and sighs, realizing that that probably wasn't particularly helpful. "I don't pretend to understand the ways of the gods. Perhaps Khonsu is watching over you to bring us all together?"

"And I'm not?" Iskander questioned. "Justice is the only thing I live for now. I lost everything else at-" he tailed off, mindful that this was a public place, "I lost everyone. I only have this last thing left."

"If that is so, then we will walk with you to the clearing at the end of the path," Alaris promises. "If not, then I will be here to help you find your way after you've found what your heart seeks."

Iskander scoffs, "There's no clearing for me, and I wouldn't deserve one if there were. So many better men died because I never questioned my orders." He closes his eyes for just a moment, taking a deep breath out, the uncertainty leaving with it. He speaks with calm acceptance when he addresses Alaris again. "I see now; your comrades were picked because I'm irredeemable."

Alaris extends a hand for a lift up from their meditative seated position. After they pull themselves up, the knight maintains the strong grip and looks Iskander in the eye with a fierce silvery stare. Not fierce with anger or aggression, but a compassion that stands against the bitterness that has so touched the warrior's heart. "I do not believe that. You are not damned. I won't allow that."

"You are not the one who will place my heart on the scales." Iskander's mouth turned up in a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I thought I had made my peace with this long ago but I see now that I must have been held back be a thread of hope. Thanks for helping me to move on. Maybe Khonsu is watching over me, as you say. Maybe this is his way of showing that, while he cannot take my stained soul, I am on the right path."

"Which is more important to you, my friend? That the gods take our stained souls, or that we live in harmony with their accords whether they recognize it or not?" Alaris shrugs. "I know not whether the Lady will accept me when I arrive at the clearing... It is my love for who I think She is that drives me forward."

Iskander looks back at the silk curtains, rippling in a gentle draught, lost in contemplation. "I think that's the difference," he says after a long pause, "you don't know. You hope you will be accepted still. I know I won't be. All I can do is spend my remaining time making this world a better place so that others do not follow my path."

"I think your companions are coming back out," he says tersely, cutting off whatever Alaris tried to say after that.

Caio looks thoroughly impressed at Shiva’s burgeoning plan. Certainly this enhanced strategic thinking is Shivala Ki-Tanra’s influence on the freshly fused Shiva. 

“It sounds quite feasible actually. I imagine the 99 already have an exit strategy in their dealings with Clarissa, it’s quite possible the cabal intends to make off with the runestone for themselves. Turning them against her should be an easy sell. And by circling around to dig up dirt on her allies rather than investigating her directly, we avoid catching her suspicion. Very well thought out.” he praises.

”Arbiter,” he says, turning to Hailme, “thank you for your time and counsel. With your support I have the utmost confidence that this hunt of ours will end in righteousnes victory.”