Cultist of Cerebon - Chapter 42

After successfully blackmailing Kassan, Zareth realized that he had a rare few days ahead where his schedule wasn’t completely packed.

His initial plan had been to spend the time studying the Tome of Meldorath, but a few tantalizing references to unique fleshcrafting techniques had quickly diverted his attention, drawing him into his laboratory instead. But then he had remembered that he still had a Skill Point to spend and a new Skill Evolution to test out, which seemed to take precedence at that time. Zareth had hemmed and hawed over it for a day or so, but had ultimately settled on [Pedagogic Leadership].

It was actually a very close call between that and [Pious Leadership]—the final choice of [Strategic Leadership] simply didn’t offer much in his day to day life—but it seemed like the most logical decision. [Pious Leadership] could have led to rarer religious-based Classes such as [Paladin], but neither he nor Cerebon were all that concerned with the fervor of the cult’s members. 

In contrast, [Pedagogic Leadership] had the benefit of helping Zareth’s followers acquire Classes and Skills that corresponded with their own desires and talents. Sure, Zareth’s plans for a bunch of flesh armor wearing [Paladins] guarding the spire were probably pushed back quite a while, but the potential gains from [Pedagogic Leadership] were far more versatile and immediate.

Therefore, Zareth had spent his Skill Point and decided to get the best of both worlds by teaching his [Cultists] while also experimenting with his new ideas. That’d been all he’d been doing while he waited for the date of the upcoming meeting with the Oversight Commission to occur, and there had been some… interesting results.

Zareth stood at the edge of the raised stone platform in his lab, his gaze locked onto the creature before him—a patchwork monstrosity that defied any conventional understanding of fleshcrafting. He had expected something extraordinary from his students, but what stood in front of him was beyond even his wildest conjectures.

A low, unnatural growl emanated from the creature’s throat. It had the base form of a large hound, but there were segments of muscle grafted onto it that pulsed unnervingly with etheric energy. Its legs were longer, more sinewy than any natural predators, and where its eyes should have been, there was instead a series of pulsating, bioluminescent membranes.

“Nog… I thought you told me that you wanted to become an [Aesthetic Beastshaper],” Zareth said slowly to the excited ogre boy showing him his work. “There is quite literally nothing aesthetic about this.”

“But, sir. It’s adorable!” Nog said as he gesticulated energetically toward the nightmare dog. “Look at her eyes. They’re vibrant, pulse with life, and are really good at tracking people.” he said as he enthusiastically pointed at the literally pulsing membranes in the thing’s eye sockets. “And the way it moves is so captivating! Perfect for jumping out at [Thugs] in the slums. Oh! And it’s nose is real good too!” 

Zareth stared, dumbfounded, as the abomination staggered in fits of movements as jerky as they were unnervingly quick. The thing certainly was captivating, in the same horrifying way that person would stare at a bus full of orphans going straight off a cliff. 

I wonder if the System is going to create a Class exclusively for Nog, Zareth mused. Surely nobody has ever become an [Un-Aesthetic Beastshaper]. But then again, I doubt he’s the first person who’s enjoyed making monstrosities in a spooky tower.

“Well done, Nog. I’m proud of you,” Zareth said after a moment of silence, deciding that the kid’s sense of aesthetics was probably already doomed. “Maybe you could help Vidhatri and Safiyah create the cult’s new flesh golems when you have the chance.”

[Pedagogic Leadership] also dissuaded him against smothering the boy’s talents in this field and allowed Zareth to instinctively know that Nog would level a bit quicker if allowed to pursue his passions.

It probably says something about me that I actually have use for someone making unholy abominations… Oh, well. The nightmare dog isn’t all that bad. The olfactory system is pretty advanced and I think it might be able to see Ether… maybe?

Much like the biological impossibility that was Glurp—Tal’Qamar’s friendliest meat blob—Zareth wasn’t fully certain how Nog managed to create these abominations without completely destabilizing them, but it was probably fine. He just hoped that Nog’s future Class wasn’t too over the top, though his newfound pedagogic instincts told him that his hopes were likely in vain.

“Really? Thanks Apostle Zareth!” Nog beamed, his grin stretching so widely across his face that Zareth almost wondered if the kid’s face had been subtly modified. “I’ll go talk to Safiyah right away. She has an idea for a giant maggot thing that she wants to present to Vidhatri, and I think she could use some help.”

Zareth watched with a combination of bewilderment and amusement as the teenager scampered out of the laboratory. He’d never been more sure that the System did certain things to a person’s mind than he was right now. 

Too many of his followers were starting to become… peculiar. 

Zareth swept his gaze across the training room, where [Cultists] were all hard at work with their personal projects.

One of his recent changes to the cult was the formalization of Zareth’s Clergy, which basically consisted of everyone who worked directly for the cult rather than those who simply worshiped casually for [Cerebon’s Boon]. Much to his relief, all those who had earned the [Cultist] Class had agreed to become members of his Clergy. Because even though Zareth was now paying them a weekly stipend, one larger than most craftsmen earned, he could now treat them as proper employees and work them to the bone without a trace of guilt.

That's why Zareth had promptly assigned each of his [Cultists] their own projects, focusing on innovative products that could be vital for the city he planned to build in the middle of the desert. After all, with the Seed of Creation providing an abundant supply of cheap biomass, Zareth could rely more on his cult to craft items from flesh, reducing the need to spend resources on [Masons] and [Carpenters].

“Now’s not the time for rest, Tamir. If you align the muscle strands too loosely like that, the tensile strength of those pillars drops by at least twenty percent. You’ll have support columns buckling under the slightest bit of pressure. Fix it by grafting them with tighter weave patterns—like you’ve seen in tendons, not loose muscle tissue!”

“Hmm, not bad, Elira. The cushioning effect from the dermal layer makes this chair surprisingly comfortable, and the skeletal frame is flexible enough to accommodate different postures without compromising its structure. I see you’ve even managed to keep the vascular system active without causing too much heat buildup. Well done. Just be mindful of any stray growths—too much stimulation could lead to unintended hypertrophy”

“Orlan! This membrane is too inconsistent in opacity. Windows are supposed to entirely clear, not look like someone smeared grease over them! What is your current Control Stat? If you can’t be steady while using [Permanent Flesh Manipulation], then find someone else to handle the finer details. Corneal tissue isn’t so complicated that it should give you this much trouble.”

Several months of learning with Vidhatri and the [Instructor of Scholars] as well as countless dissections meant that his [Cultists] were reasonably educated on the basics of biology. At least as much as a bunch of medieval street rats turned flesh crafters could be expected to be, even with supernatural teaching aids.

Zareth spent several minutes examining each of their projects, occasionally offering advice or criticism where it was needed. [Pedagogic Leadership] really showed its strength during these moments—Zareth could feel the subtle improvement in his [Cultists] as they reflected on his suggestions and applied his guidance. Many of them reported themselves quickly approaching their next level.

He hadn’t had the Skill long enough to actually know how significant the effects were on his subordinates’ leveling speed, but the initial results were extremely promising.

Zareth could practically feel the greed in his heart swell as he imagined what he could do once he finally had a full-blown Ruler Class. But that goal was still a ways away before he could grasp it fully. For now, he had to be patient and guide his cult to greater heights.

“Why is this so difficult Vidhatri? I was really certain this would work,” Zareth said as he studied a web being woven in the corner of his laboratory. “Is it because I didn’t choose [Aesthetic Beastshaper]? The silk produced by the Qahtani Swarming Silkspider still can’t compete with what’s coming out of Great Mu or Eldamar even after I spent so much effort modifying the damned thing.”

“You should learn to lower your expectations. If we could surpass countless generations of [Beast Tamers] selectively breeding their creatures in a mere few weeks, the Chosen of Cerebon would have already seized this world,” said Vidhatri. Her tone was a bit absentminded as she used all four of her arms to shape a clump of flesh into a tall obelisk-like structure. “Besides, what you’ve managed to create is already sufficient for lands as poor as these and can be used to make 4th Grade robes. Onara is certainly pleased.”

Magical equipment was often categorized in grades depending on the level of the Craftsmen needed to make them with 4th Grade robes requiring a level 40 or higher [Seamstress]. Such equipment could theoretically withstand the blow of an average [Warrior] or [Mage] of similar level, but the complexities of real combat made it implausible to easily quantify these sorts of things.

Even if the System often made Zareth feel like this world was somewhat like a video game, there was a limit to how much it could be gamified.

But when it came to the silk’s value, Zareth had to admit that Vidhatri had a point. For some time now, he’d been looking to establish a source of long-term income for his cult that didn’t directly require his [Cultists] to spend all day creating pets or making rich people prettier. While his veterinary experience meant that he was far more familiar with mammals, Zareth actually knew quite a bit about arachnids and insects due to personal interest and thought to create more effective silk-weaving creatures to turn a profit. 

He had even spent quite a bit of effort experimenting with different applications of Meldorath’s Heart, Sigils, and his own personal understanding of biology to develop unique strains of silk. But even so, he couldn’t truly compete with the highest-end competition found on Valandor.

It’s fine. At least I’ll be able to equip my Clergy with relatively high-quality robes, Zareth thought, comforting himself. I might even soon have enough political influence to enforce a partial monopoly in Tal’Qamar, if things later today go well. 

Not wanting to get ahead of himself, Zareth set those thoughts aside and shifted his focus to Vidhatri’s project, which was far more intricate and crucial than the tasks assigned to the less experienced [Cultists].

“How is it coming? Have you made any progress on the moisture collecting method that you intend to use? I can tell that the transpiration mechanism seems fairly advanced,” Zareth asked, his tone laced with genuine curiosity. He approached the towering pillar of flesh Vidhatri had been shaping, its surface mottled with layers of waxy skin and interwoven organic fibers that reminded him of desert plant structures.

Its exterior was a spiraling webbing of ligaments that expanded at the base and tightened as they spiraled upward, creating a natural funnel for air to flow through. The structure was designed not only for stability but also to maximize the surface area that would come into contact with the surrounding air. 

And now that he drew closer, Zareth could even spot a wisps of fog emanating from the entire structure and feel a slightly damp condensation on his skin. Opening his third-eye, he was pleasantly surprised to see that Vidhatri had integrated one of his newer Sigils into the project.

“I have. Our experiments have shown that it’s most efficient to simply use as many different techniques as possible,” Vidhatri replied, her expression focused as she continued working on the pillar. “The ligaments take inspiration from that ‘Fog Harp’ method that you described to me and are made of a thin-layer of chitin, inspired by the Jalasi Oasis Beetle’s hydrophilic carapace. It’s been infused with the Sigil of an Arbaseli Fogweaver Toad and, the base of the structure has tendrils that can be quickly made into pseudo-capillary roots if any underground water sources are discovered nearby. I’m also considering the possibility of adding amphibian-inspired water permeable tissue to the inner layers.”

While much of the water for Zareth’s new city would come from ‘fruits’ provided by the Seed of Creation, he was well aware that not everyone would be enthused about exclusively consuming flesh-crafted water sources. That being the case, Zareth considered it a priority to develop an alternative source of clean, naturally collected water that could help sustain the city’s population.

It was no small endeavor and would likely require a significant source of sustainable biomass to even be slightly viable in the long-term, but the potential benefits would be worth the effort. There was no resource more valuable to the City-States of the Qahtani Desert than water. Creating a stable source of it would not only increase the power of his cult exponentially, but it could potentially even allow the City-States in the desert to grow more crops, increase their populations, and one day compete with Eldamir and Great Mu.

“I see. The team sent to scout the Shifting Expanse have found a suitable location for the city,” said Zareth, nodding in approval. “It won’t be long now before all our preparations are put into action, so we’ll have to test your work as soon as possible. I have a feeling that things are going to become a bit hectic after today’s big event.”

“That is likely. I usually care nothing for the petty politics of godless heathens, but I’m looking forward to it,” Vidhatri said with a sadistic gleam in her four eyes. “The treacherous snake priest is quite impressive. He revealed oh so many secrets and refined your plan beautifully after he was properly subjugated.”

Zareth forced down a sliver of discomfort at the mention of Kassan. Blackmailing the bastard was necessary for what Zareth had planned, but he had a feeling that it was something that would eventually come back to bite him in the ass. He’d seen and recognized the desire for revenge in the naga’s eyes before Kassan quickly got control over himself and agreed to cooperate.

Zareth had no doubt that he’d only really been able to get the drop on Kassan because the naga had underestimated him. As far as Kassan knew, Zareth was just an uneducated former street rat who got ahead due to luck, opportunity, and a little bit of cleverness.

He didn’t know that Zareth’s mind was more than twice the age of his body, or that he had the full cooperation of a secret organization to gather information for him and help make arrangements. It was honestly implausible that Zareth would have been able to organize the silent kidnapping and brainwashing of a powerful assassin whose name and significance he shouldn’t even have known, otherwise.

But now, Zareth sincerely doubted that Kassan would ever underestimate him again. And that was very dangerous.

“I really wish that guy wasn’t so useful or as well connected as he is,” Zareth said with an aggravated sigh. “I don’t enjoy killing people, but I learned a long time ago how dangerous loose ends can be, and under all his arrogance, Kassan is patient and clever enough to bury a knife in my neck at the worst moment.”

“You need not worry. The Weaver of Sinews has great plans for us,” Vidhatri said without a sliver of doubt in her voice. “The infidel’s paltry schemes will fail beneath our destiny. Should he prove treacherous, I will ensure that his corpse serves as little more than material for the Sacred City which we have been charged to build!”

It probably wasn’t a good sign that Vidhatri’s murderous zealotry felt more comforting than disturbing. Still, it probably wasn’t good to let her get too caught up in her homicidal fantasies

“I hadn’t realized that I was building a ‘Sacred City’,” said Zareth, raising a questioning eyebrow at Vidhatri as he tried to change the subject. “You are aware that we haven’t even settled on a name for the place, and that there are going to be several other ‘infidel’ faiths living there, right?”

“Yes. But while it is… unfortunate that we must share this new Holy Land with our ‘allies’,” Vidhatri began, her tone practically dripping with reluctance and disdain. “That is but a small blemish on the grand feat which we will accomplish; building an entire city from Cerebon’s own divine flesh! The Flesh Father and the rest of the Dekhshetra Temple’s leadership have already declared your work to be the living embodiment of Cerebon’s will!”

Her derision was quickly replaced by near rapturous enthusiasm, even ceasing her work in her sheer excitement.  

“Well... I’m glad they approve,” Zareth said with a touch of indulgence, feeling a bit embarrassed, as several startled looks were cast their way after Vidhatri’s near-shouted proclamation. “Although, that’s the first I’m hearing of it. Did you only just get word back from Zumair?”

Trans-continental communication wasn’t easy or quick without extraordinary means. Cerebon could shorten that time drastically, but expecting a deity—even one as relatively relaxed as the God of Flesh—to act as a glorified telephone was obviously a non-starter.

That Vidhatri managed to receive a response from Zumair only a month after learning of Zareth’s plans was actually quite impressive.

“Indeed. Our temple’s high-level contracted [Messenger] delivered the temple’s response mentally during my dawn prayers,” Vidhatri confirmed, her voice still tinged with awe. “The temple intends to send several [Fleshweavers] to aid in the city’s construction, and even the Flesh Father himself seems increasingly interested in your work on this continent. He’s expressed a desire to meet with you when circumstances allow.”

Zareth couldn’t help but have mixed feelings about… pretty much all of that. 

Having more experienced [Fleshweavers] to help would be a—potentially literally—godsend, but he could see a lot of issues arising from that. Zareth had gotten lucky with Vidhatri, as her religious zeal had fallen on the side of revering Cerebon so much that she was willing to overlook any cultural differences so long as Zareth obviously had the god’s favor. 

But there was no real guarantee that the rest of Cerebon’s more violent sect’s members would be so willing to play nice.

“They’re welcome, so long as it’s been made clear that my cult answers only to me and Cerebon,” Zareth said firmly, intent on ensuring that there was no ambiguity about who was in charge. “I’ll be trusting you to personally handle any problems that might come up.”

Vidhatri might be blinded on certain matters by her zeal, but she was smart enough to understand the subtext of his words. The shivarath seemed conflicted for several moments, but her expression eventually hardened with resolve.

“I understand, Zareth. Our work here is too important to excuse any mistakes,” Vidhatri said decisively. “Cerebon’s favor is with you, and I won’t allow anyone to profane his will.”

 Zareth smiled at the deadly intent in her voice, certain that at least one problem had been dealt with before it became an issue.

With that, Zareth engaged in a few more minutes of small talk with Vidhatri before leaving her in charge of the class and exiting the room. The establishment of his Clergy and the creation of a formal hierarchy within his cult was a recent development that required him to personally oversee much of the work being done.

Making his way through the spire, Zareth checked each of the newly created divisions of his cult, ensuring that everything was running smoothly.

His cult was still young and small—with less than a hundred people in the Clergy, so Zareth had decided to keep the bureaucracy relatively simple. Vidhatri had been placed in charge of the Fleshcrafting Division, which would include anyone who acquired the [Cultist] Class or anyone of its Evolutions. He would probably need to expand things a bit once his cult gained people with more esoteric Classes—such as [Occult Ritualist], but that was a problem to be dealt with when it genuinely became necessary.

Rizok seemed relatively pleased with his appointment as the de-facto head of the cult’s new Security Division, though that was just an informal position for now as his status as an active member of the Tal’Qamari military complicated things a little. 

General Nasrith should be in a good enough mood after today to permanently transfer Rizok over to me, Zareth mused as he approached the cult’s training area. Nasrith should have already guessed by now that Rizok and I are too close for him to be a useful spy, so it wouldn’t be that much of a sacrifice to let him go.

Once he arrived, Zareth was quickly greeted by the sound of clashing steel and the sight of Rizok smacking around several trainees with the blunt side of his sword. 

The Security Division pretty much consisted of Rizok and a dozen members of the cult who happened to possess some manner of combat Class. Most were former military veterans who had retired for various reasons or Adventurers who had chosen to settle in the city, seeking a safer and more stable life. That was fine, given that they’d pretty much just be acting as glorified [Guards] for the cult’s few key assets and facilities. 

Zareth didn’t genuinely need a full blown army—for now, at least. 

But seeing the Order of the Serene Path gain an actual level 40 [Poison-Master Assassin] through brainwashing convinced Zareth the cult could use one or two combatants who could engage in… unorthodox methods of problem resolution. 

Zareth’s gaze fell on a grim-faced dwarf with rippling muscles who was swinging an oversized club at Rizok with surprising finesse. The dwarf, Berik, was one of the people who joined the cult on the recommendation of Gurza and had once been a former member of the Red Scar Gang. According to her and verified by Zareth’s old contacts, Berik had been a mid-tier [Enforcer] who had been responsible for handling a variety of miscellaneous issues for the gang’s leadership.

Although Zareth’s position meant that he couldn’t go around having people’s kneecaps broken as liberally as the Red Scar Gang, having someone with Berik’s experience would be useful. [Enforcer] was a Class with a broad enough skill set to handle a surprisingly diverse variety of tasks.

Zareth had a feeling that he would be putting Berik to work as soon as Rizok decided that he was satisfied with the dwarf’s training. It was a shame that Berik had only joined the cult for protection from his old gang rather than any real devotion to Cerebon. 

A four-foot-tall, heavily muscled [Paladin of Flesh] would be pretty badass.

Zareth watched the fight for several more minutes before he was satisfied that Rizok had the matter handled and turned to leave. Aside from the Fleshcrafting Division and the Security Division, the rest of the Clergy had been perfunctorily organized under the Administrative Division—which was obviously headed by Zareth. 

The members of the Administrative Division were responsible for a variety of tasks, such as Onara being assigned to recruitment or Gurza handling the cult’s philanthropic and medical activities. He would eventually have to work on creating branch organizations of the cult in the various cities within the Tal’Qamar controlled region, but that was a matter for a later date. At this point, there simply wasn’t a big need for anything more complicated than these basic divisions. 

But as he completed his inspection and returned to his office—planning to spend his final hours before the meeting that would decide the future of Tal’Qamar, he had a strong sense that the quiet moment wouldn’t last for long.

=================

Settled in front of the mirror in his personal chambers, Nasrith carried out a final inspection of his armor and ensured that not a single blemish or speck marred its surface.

He wasn’t typically one for vanity, but he was savvy enough in the art of politics to recognize the importance of appearances. Many of those he would meet today dismissed him as a simple-minded butcher—a skilled executor of carnage, but one who lacked the finer nuances of political maneuvering. Many, of course, also knew better, understanding that anyone who had remained the leader of Tal’Qamar’s military for as long as he had without succumbing to his numerous enemies was not just a brute with a sword.

But whether they underestimated him or not, there was one prevailing impression that everyone in Tal’Qamar held of Nasrith.

Respect—often accompanied by fear.

It was an inevitable consequence for anyone responsible for countless deaths or someone who had reached the upper echelons in terms of levels. For some reason, any high level individual developed a… palpable weight to their presence that anyone could sense the moment they entered the room. Nasrith was not only highly leveled but also responsible for the deaths of countless people, both directly and indirectly.

It was, in fact, rather tiresome to be unable to travel Tal’Qamar’s streets anonymously or be in the presence of a child without provoking tears. Nasrith had certain artifacts that could alleviate the issue, but had absolutely no intention of wearing any of them today. 

No, he wanted the Great House’s arrogant representatives to be fully and constantly aware that they were in the presence of someone who could end their lives with a flick of his tail. That's why he opted for his oldest and imposing battle-worn armor, instead of the polished ceremonial set that he tended to use for political occasions.

Dark plating, the scars of nearly a hundred battles, and the faintest scent of blood that not even magical cleansing seemed capable of removing clung to the armor like a second skin. Nasrith looked every bit the intimidating [General] that he was reputed to be.

Well… Nasrith actually thought that he looked like some manner of [Dark Lord] from a cliché Eldamari epic. But he felt like his achievements allowed him to live up to such an image and knew that it would be useful.

“Sir. Your scheduled meeting is about to begin.”

The voice of Lieutenant Colonel Anaya came through the otherside of the door, clear and professional as always. Nasrith briefly considered the benefits of arriving late, but almost immediately decided against it. It was best to leave today’s theatrics to Apostle Zareth—especially given the effort the human had poured into orchestrating his admittedly clever scheme.

Nasrith still had a role to play, of course—but if all went well, then he would mostly just be watching the outcome unfold.

After a final glance toward his reflection, Nasrith made his way out of his personal chambers and toward the meeting hall on the other side of the headquarters. One of the benefits of being the de jure Ruler of the city was that he could freely arrange for the Oversight Commision to gather in his seat of power, making it easier to manage the proceedings.

And intimidate his political rivals by forcing them to through rather stringent security checks.

Nasrith shook the thought from his mind as he reached the grand double doors of the meeting hall. The guards snapped to attention, offering a crisp salute before pulling open the heavy doors. As Nasrith entered the room, his gaze swept over the gathered leaders of the Great Houses who had already arrived. He was just in time to catch the subtle, satisfying moment when their staff tensed at his arrival before outwardly relaxing.

The meeting hall was vast and imposing, with a clear sense of hierarchy built into its design. At the center stood a large, circular stone table, solid and unadorned, surrounded by high-backed chairs for the members of the Oversight Commission.

Their elevated position marked them as the decision-makers of Tal’Qamar. Surrounding this central area, an elevated gallery wrapped around the room, offering space for recognized onlookers—trusted advisors, guild leaders, and other notable figures. The seating arrangements ensured that the Commission held the central focus, while observers could watch but not interfere directly. The walls were lined with dark banners of the Great Houses, casting long shadows under the dim, practical lighting, giving the room a stark and formal atmosphere.

Nasrith quickly spotted that Archmage Agnazir had not arrived in person and had instead sent a lifelike naga made completely of marble to represent him—Sevek the Inexorable. Nasrith couldn’t help but pause as his gaze settled on golem. While it was registered as one of Tal’Qamar’s Critical Assets, High Command had never been able to gather any intelligence on the creature that House Khysar didn’t share themselves.

Nasrith’s only clue that the golem was more than just another lifelike, mindless construct typical of most [Golemancers] came from sparse historical records suggesting it had been created by Idraxan the Mad. Anything made by that lunatic was not to be underestimated, and House Khrysar had implied as much even as they refused to explain how they acquired it after Idraxan’s defeat. 

Even the golem’s grandiose title, ‘the Inexorable’, had been given by House Khrysar rather than earned through some great feat. It hinted at the creature’s abilities, revealing little of substance.

The fact that House Khrysar was permitted to keep such secrets, despite their potential implications for Tal’Qamar’s national security, only further demonstrated the need to bring the Great Houses under tighter control. Regardless, the golem was infamous enough that its presence showed that Archmage Aganzir was treating this meeting with due reverence, even if he hadn’t attended in person. Intelligence reports from officers stationed in Jabal-Alma revealed that the Archmage remained deeply engrossed in his research of recently unearthed Nephalan Empire ruins, as well as an artifact left behind by the Cult of the Unfettered One.

Nasrith’s highest-leveled [Intelligence Officer] had even seen signs that the Archmage had stumbled onto something potentially of great significance, so he wouldn’t malign Aganzir’s absence. Aside from the golem, the only other mild surprise was that House Seradis had finally settled their internal disputes and chosen a successor for Merchant Lord Raqasor.

Nasrith—and likely many others—had expected Raqasor’s son and heir to win the Great House’s power struggle, but the man and most of his most loyal backers had suddenly fallen ill and died a week prior to this meeting. Given the unlikeliness that a group of wealthy naga with access to the highest-leveled [Healers] their gold could buy would die so suddenly, it was an entirely unsubtle move to seize power by Selkhan Seradis—Raqasor’s surprisingly younger and little known nephew.

Looking at him now, Nasrith could admit that the boy did a good job of playing the pompous and spoiled young merchant. His garb was opulent, a long silk robe adorned with gold embroidery, and his head was held high as he smirked arrogantly, but it would be foolish to assume the boy was exactly as he seemed on the surface. Nasrith would be paying Selkhan close attention during the meeting, both to get the boy’s measure and because this was House Seradis’ first real return to the political stage after the death of Raqasor.

The rest of the meeting room’s occupants were no real surprise, with Lady Marilith, Matriarch Sylthana, and Lord Valthor all present to represent the rest of the Great Houses. In addition the leaders of the Merchant’s Guild and the Blacksmithing Guild were both in attendance, while the members of the Hierophant’s Council were seated in the galleries up above—alongside the various other key advisors and dignitaries who had gathered to witness the proceedings. 

The observer galleries were usually quite empty, so their current fullness was a testament to the significance of this meeting. 

However, Nasrith found his eyes being drawn to the human who would soon become the center of attention for everyone in this room. Apostle Zareth had arrived with Master Sergeant Rizok and that foreign shivarath at his side, an air of confidence surrounding him.

Tal'Qamari politics in recent years shifted as quickly as the Qahtani Desert’s dunes, and the human did a better job of exploiting this than he rightly should have. The Cult of Cerebon had been the most successful faction in seizing the void of power left behind by the Conclave. This could be attributed to their relatively lax religious doctrines, their willingness to accept nearly anyone as members, and the general competence of their leadership.

In fact, the Hierophant’s Council in general had proven their value over the past year. The Boons provided by their gods were just as good as those from the Conclave, the Sunrise Slums were improving by the day due the Cult of Cerebon, and several troublesome criminals had mysteriously decided to repent their sins.

Even unrest from Tal’Qamar’s more religiously inclined population was lower than initially projected, due to successful conversions. Though the thousands of Conclave loyalists who had been purged in the initial days after Raqasor’s death likely helped.

Indeed, anyone could see that the Hierophant’s Council had been a remarkably positive force in stabilizing Tal’Qamar. But their growing influence also came at a risk that Nasrith found increasingly dangerous. He would be damned before he allowed another, newer version of the Conclave to rise up and control the city.

No, Nasrith’s ambition would not allow him to become a puppet like Raqasor. Not to the Great Houses or anyone else. He’d already resolved himself to deal with the Cult of Cerebon decisively and permanently if they ever bared their fangs in his direction.

But for now, he and Apostle Zareth were aligned in purpose. And the human would soon be too distracted by the monumental task of establishing his own city to make problems for Nasrith in Tal’Qamar.

Perhaps this is why foreign [Kings] love expanding their lands so much. To rid themselves of troublesome vassals, Nasrith mused with some amusement.

Concluding that he’d lost himself in thought for long enough, Nasrith made his way to the central table, taking his seat with a measured calm. Nobody of any significance was absent from the meeting, so Nasrith didn’t see any reason to delay further.

“Greetings, Lords and Ladies of Tal’Qamar. As well as our honored guests from abroad, to our monthly meeting of the Territorial Governance Division’s Oversight Commission,” Nasrith said as he nodded to the Eldamari ambassador in the viewing gallery. He disliked that foreigners were allowed to watch these proceedings, but he had no doubt that Tal’Qamar’s inner workings were an open book to foreign powers regardless. “This month’s meeting is uniquely significant, as we will be deciding whether or not to ratify the Strategic Wartime Authorities Provision, which will allow High Command to more efficiently conduct its war against Tal’Qamar’s enemies.”

Many in the chamber had accused Nasrith of using the war as a pretext to seize power, claiming he would be unwilling to relinquish his expanded authority once the conflict ended.

They were correct, obviously, but the pretext of good faith was important enough that Nasrith needed to pretend otherwise.

“Specifically, these new authorities will allow the Ruler of Tal’Qamar the sole arbiter of many foreign policy decisions during times of war,” Nasrith continued, expertly hiding his disdain that this wasn’t already the case. “This includes control over the export and import of any material deemed strategically significant, expanded powers over recruitment and conscription, and the ability to designate zones of martial law when deemed necessary for the security of our nation.”

While these authorities might sound eminently reasonable, Nasrith had to fight fang and claw to secure support for even this. Seemingly eager to emphasize this point, Lord Valthor was unable to refrain from interrupting Nasrith before he even finished his opening statement.

“Hmph. ‘Expanded powers over recruitment and conscription’,” Valthor said with a scoff. “A rather diplomatic way of saying that you wish to send our sons and daughters off to die.”

Nasrith held back a disgusted sneer and was glad when Lady Marilith responded on his behalf. 

“High Command already has the authority to conscript Tal’Qamar’s citizens,” Lady Marilith said calmly. “This would simply expand that authority to naga as well, Lord Valthor.”

“Yes. As I said. Our sons and daughters,” Lord Valthor said shamelessly, entirely unconcerned with how his words might be perceived.

House Zarqet had always been the most supportive of naga-superiority as a concept, while most other Great Houses only biased themselves towards naga as a matter of personal interest.

“We’ve already discussed this matter thoroughly. Lord Valthor. The exemptions for anyone engaged in services critical to Tal’Qamar are already in place,” Lady Marilith said with an air of subtle condensation that Nasrith could never hope to replicate. “Unless you fear that your House’s members are… unfit to qualify for these exemptions, I fail to see the problem here.”

Lord Valthor was smart enough not to fall for such obvious bait, but his bared fangs and soft hiss showed that the barb had landed.

“And how are we to trust that these exemptions will be decided impartially?” said Matriarch Sylthana, never quite able to stop herself from responding when Lady Marilith was involved in the conversation. “Not only that, but the restrictions on exports and imports should be handled by our Great Houses, not some ignorant [Bureaucrat]. We are the lifeblood of Tal’Qamar’s economy, and know best how to manage our city's resources.”

“House Seradis agrees,” Selkhan said with a lazy wave of his hand, his voice dripping with feigned indifference. “Everyone knows that the work of a [Merchant] is best left to themselves. That’s why we have Guilds.”

The boy’s response was predictably met by quick agreement from the Guildmaster of the Merchants Guild.

“House Khrysar agrees with the General’s proposal,” said Sevek the Inexorable, its voice strange, hollow resonance, like the echo of metal striking stone in an empty chamber.

Everyone waited a moment for the golem to elaborate in some way, but it seemed comfortable leaving the matter there. With everyone having stated their positions, it wasn’t long before the chamber broke out into a cacophony of debate.

Nasrith mostly ignored their chatter, as he had already heard their arguments before and knew that words alone would not sway any faction from their current position, regardless of their cogency. It quickly became clear that the proposal to expand Nasrith’s power lacked sufficient support to pass, though only just barely.

Two Great Houses and the Blacksmith’s Guild were in support, while the remaining Great Houses and the Merchants Guild were in opposition. Nasrith could have used High Command’s vote to make the matter a tie and then decided in his own favor as the Ruler of Tal’Qamar, but he’d been forced to recuse himself due to the obvious conflict of interest.

Nasrith watched the arguments unfold for a while before turning an expectant gaze to the observing balconies locking eyes with today’s key figure. Apostle Zareth rewarded him with a subtle nod to signal his readiness. 

“Aside from the Strategic Wartime Authorities Provision, there is one more proposal that High Command wishes to put before this commission,” Nasrith said, his voice easily cutting through the clamor of arguments and thinly veiled insults. Few seemed surprised at this ‘unexpected’ development, but many still turned curious eyes toward him, uncertain of what came next. “One that would see this commission expanded to accommodate an additional seat that would be given to the Hierophant’s Council.”

There was a moment of shocked silence from those who’s informants hadn’t already discovered what Nasrith had been planning before the gathered assembly quickly burst into a mix of outrage, shock, and carefully controlled whispers.

“Are you so eager for power that you’ve lost your wits, Nasrith?!” Lord Valthor snapped, his forked tongue flicking in agitation. “We just barely rid ourselves of the Conclave, yet you wish to drag us back into a religious stranglehold?”

A clamor of agreement rose up in response to Valthor’s response.

“I trust the Hierophant’s Council completely, Lord Valthor,” Nasrith calmly lied as he met the blustering man’s gaze. “The Conclave was an oppressive institution, built on control and manipulation. The Hierophant’s Council is nothing of the sort. They are a collection of faiths working together for the common good of Tal’Qamar, and it is in our best interest to ensure they are properly represented in this chamber.”

As the uproar in the chamber continued to escalate, Selkhan Seradis leaned back, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “A seat for the Hierophant’s Council? Wouldn't that imply they’re as important and influential as the Great Houses? They are nothing more than religious advisors. Granting them a seat here would only encourage even the lesser houses to demand their own place at the table. And I’m sure we can all agree that’s not something we want. No insult intended, of course.”

Selkhan’s words were crude and needlessly antagonistic, but accurately reflected the impressions of the other Great Houses. 

“Perhaps, boy, you underestimate the Council’s influence,” Lady Marilith said coolly, her voice carrying a hint of challenge. “The Hierophant’s Council has been instrumental in stabilizing Tal’Qamar. Their aid has garnered them considerable favor among the people. You may think them insignificant, but their achievements speak otherwise. Ignoring that would be a grave mistake and hypocritical given that you clearly bought those pretty little scales around your eyes from the Cult of Cerebon.”

The chamber murmured in response, several voices warming to Marilith’s words. While Tal’Qamar’s elite might be too arrogant for their own good, they weren’t foolish enough to completely dismiss the opinions of the city’s common folk either.

Selkhan’s smirk wavered as Marilith drew attention to the cosmetic enhancements around his eyes—an increasingly fashionable trend among the city’s affluent young naga. But before he could muster a response, Matriarch Sylthana cut in with a sharp tone.

“And yet, the so-called ‘Hierophant’s Council’ isn’t even a unified body,” Sylthana with a hint of mockery in her eyes. “From what I’ve heard, the Circle of Ghisara is quite resistant to cooperating with the rest of their little council. Are we to accept that they should be given a say in Tal’Qamar’s laws when the oldest and most prestigious members doesn’t even support this proposal?”

Well. I suppose that’s as good of an opportunity to begin as we could have hoped to receive.

Nasrith watched with amused relish as Sylthana gestured smugly to the leader of the Circle of Ghisara, even as Apostle Zareth looked pointedly at Kassan with even greater self-satisfaction. The Circle of Ghisara might not be particularly well-known among Tal’Qamar’s general population, but the degree of influence they held among the city’s naga elites was not to be underestimated. That was hardly surprising, considering the Circle had been established since their people's displacement from Arzuma and had been using their auguries to strategically amass blackmail and favors over the years.

As far as Nasrith could tell, it was only because the Circle’s goddess had some manner of goal other than secular political dominance that the Conclave had managed to seize control over Tal’Qamar. It wasn't an exaggeration to say that the Circle’s support or opposition to Nasrith’s proposal had the potential to drastically affect the ultimate outcome of the proceedings.

Both Sylthana and Zareth had good reason to believe that the Circle of Ghisara would fall on their side, but only one of them was correct. Kassan’s expression was unreadable for several moments before he spoke. 

“Matriarch Sylthana is mistaken. The Circle of Ghisara stands fully with the Hierophant’s Council and supports General Nasrith’s proposal.”

The shocked silence that followed Kassan’s pronouncement filled Nasrith with a glee that he hadn’t felt since the War of the Northern Marches. That sensation of self-satisfied victory only grew as he watched Sylthana’s expression grow increasingly worse as she processed the implications of this betrayal. 

As the Matriarch turned to lock her gaze with Nasrith, he could vividly see the exact thought running through the woman’s mind. What did he tell you? What do you know about what I’ve done?

Nasrith offered her a rare smile, one he knew was wide enough to show his fangs and convey his response. Everything.

========

Author's Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger, but it felt like the best place to end the chapter without it getting too long.

Had some people asking about the cult's internal structure, so decided to spend a bit of time fleshing that out in the beginning.