"One page after another . . ."
Ymiden 21, 718
Temple to Chamadarst
Temple to Chamadarst
It baffled Silv to find that the Immortal of Neutrality was so revered in a city of mercenaries who were anything but. Oh, sure, the argument could be offered that mercenary work is in and of itself neutral, never blunted by blind loyalty to any one religion, city, or person. Perhaps if she stopped and posed the question to one of the many numerous priests that wandered through the miniature city, they'd offer the same reasoning and even more on top of that to appease her confusion. Just sit beneath this lectern that eerily resembles a balanced scale and learn about Chamadarst's cold, golden logic. Did the Eidisi's cynicism stem from her own view of morality and how, without question one had to fall on side or another?
Or was she simply envious at the wealth amassed by those within when she could barely rub two nels together?
It didn't help that her back ached. The wound across it was only half-healed and groaned in pain whenever she tried to straighten it completely. The muscle wished to curl about itself, force her to walk with a stoop through the gate into the Temple, but she denied it as best she could. Silv was sure she made quite the sight as she crossed the threshold, teeth gritted and fists clenched as she forced herself to walk and not shuffling across the marble beneath her feet. But this was Yaralon; everyone in the blasted city thought often about their backbones and how it bent to no man, woman, or monster. In a way, Silv thought, her own physical discomfort was symbolic of Yari pride: willpower straining against harsh reality.
It wasn't long before an acolyte drew up beside the Eidisi, who had paused to study a frieze while she rubbed knuckles against her tender back flesh. "Can I help you?" the woman asked, glancing at the same stonework. Silv wondered what the local eye saw in the artwork compared to her foreign reaction. She herself saw a man exchanging a single coin for another man's painted urn, a transaction that could be witnessed in every village across Idalos. Any significance beyond that was lost to her pain-muddled mind.
"Yes, I was wondering if I could be shown to the contract archives here in the Temple. I had heard they were open to the public.
The acolyte nodded, looking back at Silv. "They are. For what purpose, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Research," Silv responded, recognizing the vagueness behind her response as soon as she said it. "I'm a scholar, primarily focused on military history and biography. I've only recently arrived in the city and I was hoping to start learning more about the great figures and companies of Yari past. Its why I came." Most of what she said was true, save for that last bit. Honestly, she didn't know what had brought her halfway across the world to this new city. Hopefully, once she was amidst old tomes and scrolls again, she would find that familiar footing beneath her that had been lost for a long, long time now.
"Very well, then," the acolyte replied, gesturing for Silv to follow her. She paused after a step and glanced back at the Eidisi stretching her back out. "Am I going to have to assist you to the archives?" the woman asked bluntly, no sign of sympathy behind her words. When Silv shook her head, the woman continued down the hallway, adding while she walked, "the first thing you ought to know, scholar, is that we Yari do not bend. Just something for you to write down."
Already ahead of you there, Silv thought stubbornly to herself as she turned to follow the acolyte deeper into the temple.