V01M01 Chosen Missionist

Synopsis

Being Chosen does not mean one was chosen for something one will like. - Fi-Lan

Bra-Non is Chosen. Or so says the newly crowned Leader of the Valderians. Interpreting his Divine Vision as approval to go ahead with his bold plans, To-Rin changes the missionists’ tasks. As Bra-Non is sent on missions, Fi-Lan joins the order, pressured by his father, but in the end, he runs away. Years later the Kuran tribes start to gather together, seemingly to invade the Valderian lands. Bra-Non is sent to find out who is leading them and, on the way, meets Fi-Lan, now on his way back home. Fi-Lan decides to join him, and they speak with two wizards, Zha-Kro and Arikana, who know who leads the Kuras, the Demon Evriadon, The Warbringer. They also have a plan to defeat him using a powerful staff, which will need to be reassembled. But Fi-Lan does not fully trust them, as much as he might like Arikana. For the staff itself, they need to perform a task for a spirit. So, they travel to the islands of the water-serpent-like beings, the Sillnaks, where they will also be able to find the first of the three gems they will need. As it turns out, it is in the depths of the ocean, in the possession of a powerful and immortal sorceress. After that, they head deep into the Dwar’Doga Mountains for the second gem, only to learn that it has been stolen by the Froonts, the beings the Dwar’Das use for slave labour. Their leader believes himself to be a prophet and now leads an uprising. So, they will have to venture into the mines if they wish to retrieve it. Meanwhile, despite the Valderian army’s best efforts, the Kuran armies are at the gates of the Valderian capital. But the last gem should be easy, simply steal it from an Alavaran noble’s home. But things are never easy. As a Demon once told Bra-Non, When playing in the province of the Divine, only those Chosen can conquer and achieve Victory. And he is not convinced he is Chosen.

Valderia

V01M01

Chosen Missionist

by

A. C. Karzun

Valderia

V01M01 Chosen Missionist

by A. C. Karzun

Copyright 2015–2019 ACKarzun

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Overture

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Coda

Books in the Valderia Series

Overture

To-Rin:

A blue-skinned Valderian in red missionist robes slowly walks towards me with purpose in his gait. In his left hand, he is holding some sort of golden staff and in his right hand, there is a large red gem. His hair is hidden under his hood and his face is partially obscured by shadows, but I feel that I know him.

There are flames all around him, which fade and are replaced by water. The missionist bows before me and offers me both the staff and the gem. He seems angry and now I fear him.

He fades into darkness and a beautiful woman appears. She has deep red skin and long golden hair. Fires burn in Her eyes. I recognise Her as our Mother: Anasin, Goddess of Conflict. She speaks to me, but I cannot hear what She is saying. I strain to hear Her but fail to do so. I know what She is saying must be important, how can it not be? But all I hear is crackling fire.

He wakes up with a start and takes a deep sudden breath. Panicked he looks around the room, sweat covering him. A dream. A vision. He whispers. A sign.

The woman beside him stirs but does not wake. He watches her cyan coloured hand as it slides over his slick yellow skin and he tries to understand what he has seen. Today he faces the Council for the first time as Leader and this is clearly something he must tell them about.

If only he understood it. Then he realises something. For years he has been considering something new and bold for the missionists. Might this have been what the vision meant? That he has Her blessing to implement it? He recalls the fire and the water, the elements of his karzun’s Parents. He bobs to himself. Surely, that is it. And perhaps he can even find this blue-skinned Servant of Anasin.

Chapter One

From the balcony of his office in Orzhadat Castle, Head Scribe Zhwo-Rosti from Clan Vortin of the House of Brakken is looking down at the gallows stage below. Specifically, he is looking at Pazh-Zhub from Clan Rinnik: the fat man hanging from a strengthened rope, his stomach cut open and his viscera a messy pile beneath his body.

What to make of it all? He wonders. And more importantly, how to write it all down? How to record this for future generations? How does one explain a king who is not a king? He has been wondering about that for a few days now, ever since Queen Voks-Kek died and her nephew To-Rin was appointed king. And what was the young man’s first act? To denounce the title but not the power! The last three days have consisted of a day for the funeral, a day for the Ceremony of Leadership and a day of retribution. But the people killed were not those who are usually killed after what would normally be a coronation, namely those who opposed the selection of the new monarch. It would seem King, or now Leader, To-Rin, is of a very different ilk than his predecessors. Except maybe for his decision to rename the city and the land Valderia. To-Rin from Clan Valderia of the House of Valderia, and it was Zhwo-Rosti who taught him about the history of his people. There was always something special about the boy. He always seemed to have an interesting way of looking at the world, hopeful and idealistic, but with a definite belief that force is required to make things happen. Those traits are most likely why so many of the Council members wanted him to be the next monarch rather than Voks-Kek’s son.

I wish I had a clue. Imperator Kup-Zhav says to Chief Kuzh-Opde, who is sitting beside her, looking her friend straight in the eye. But I doubt any of it will make any sense anyway.

You do not care much for his ideas, do you? He replies.

What manner of fool would both relinquish his power and try to change everything? Orzhadat… Valderia has functioned perfectly well without all these changes he wishes to implement.

Then you have information I do not. All the changes I have so far heard of have been mere rumours, which is why we are having this meeting in the first place.

As a military person I would be the first to ask for confirmation on anything I hear, but let us be honest here, some of those rumours are bound to be true and some changes are going to be both unnecessary and something I will oppose.

People! To-Rin says loudly as he walks into the Council’s chamber, his voice echoing off the walls just as it is meant to do from where he is standing, beside his throne placed on the elevated part of the chamber. He gets down from what he feels bears far too much resemblance to a stage and stands in front of the large crescent-shaped table. He turns to Ma-Lok, a new servant with yellow skin, green hair and red eyes. Bring me a chair, I wish to sit down here, at the same level as my councillors. He looks at the dozen Council members. Soon I will have a round, or at least oval, table brought here for us to sit at. Your function is no longer to make my bidding work but instead I wish for you to join in ruling Valderia.

The Council members stare at each other, unable to hide their surprise.

Please, sit. To-Rin’s words are enough to jolt them out of their surprise and into their seats. He peacefully waits for all of them to sit and then faces Sizey-Susk, Bishop of Anasin. Before we go over anything else, there is something which needs to be discussed. This morning I received a vision which I believe was sent to me by Anasin.

The woman’s eyes open wide. Sire?

I would rather not be called that, I think ‘Ser’ would be more appropriate. I saw a woman with deep red skin, gold hair and fire in her eyes.

The Bishop bobs her bald head from side to side. That is Anasin. But how do you know it was a vision and not merely a dream?

He describes the rest of the vision to her.

She bobs thoughtfully. A missionist in red robes would indicate he was a missionist of Hers. What the staff and the gem represent, or the fire and water for that matter, I cannot say. How do you interpret the vision?

To-Rin smiles. That the role of the missionists is to be expanded upon, that their tasks are to become greater. I see them not just converting other karzuns but also performing tasks for the state. Those tasks that cannot readily be performed by the military, the custodia or the defenders. His gaze drifts towards Kup-Zhav and Kuzh-Opde. I recall once hearing you complain about not being able to send custodians outside the city walls to capture criminals who have fled the city.

Kuzh-Opde bobs in acknowledgement.

That would be a task for the new Valderian missionists. They are already being trained in both defensive fighting techniques as well as magic. It would not be difficult to teach them more.

I must object. High Priest Neyhey-Zhunsi says as he rises to his feet. The missionists we train at the Academy are trained primarily for conversion. It would be ridiculous to use them for matters of justice rather than faith.

Not just for justice, To-Rin answers calmly, any matter that may come up, espionage for instance. Or scouting. We have been expanding on their duties for dozenia. We already train missionists to work together with scribes, for them to investigate rumours or myths. And we send missionists with every diplomatic mission we have. To me it makes sense to take it to journey’s end. To turn missionists into support units for all state organisations. You have to admit that they are unique and that their training allows for a great many things.

Neyhey-Zhunsi sits back down, bobbing his head but visibly still not entirely convinced.

Blue skin, you said? Sizey-Susk asks.

Yes, do you know who he might be?

We have a missionist with blue skin who will graduate tomorrow, and he is a missionist of Anasin.

And he might be the missionist from my vision?

Well, I am not entirely sure yet. But the coincidence is great, and he is already bound to you.

How so? To-Rin asks surprised, he does not recall meeting a blue-skinned missionist in training.

You had his father executed yesterday. He is the son of Pazh-Zhub from Clan Rinnik.

To-Rin’s jaw drops in surprise.

And you plan on going through with this? Zhuvz-Har asks her son Bra-Non.

Yes mother. Bra-Non replies, already tired of the conversation.

Even with what happened to your father?

He deserved it. Bra-Non responds coldly.

How can you say that? He was your father!

And he was an arsehole. He treated people like karp. He got what he deserved.

Zhuvz-Har looks at him with tears welling up in her eyes. No one deserves to be hung and gutted.

All those cheering seemed to disagree.

She turns and starts to walk away, unable to hold in her tears.

Wait, mum. Bra-Non says as he reaches out for her shoulder. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.

Zhuvz-Har turns back to face him and he takes her in his arms. Is that what they taught you? She asks angrily. To be so callous?

They teach us to accept the world as it is. Bra-Non replies. So we may change it.

And what am I to do when you become a full missionist?

Don’t worry. He says calmly. I’ve made sure you’ll be taken care of.

Uniforms? To-Rin asks Imperator Kup-Zhav.

She bobs her head vigorously. Like the Alavaran cities have. It is very impressive to see grosses of soldiers all looking exactly the same. Shows the enemy how organised and disciplined we are.

To-Rin thinks about it for a moment or two. We could go further than that. He starts, the gears of his mind obviously grinding. We could give uniforms to everyone: custodians, guards and so forth. The monks and missionists already wear uniforms, of a sort. The wizards and mages could do the same, as could anyone working for the State. That would make it clear to everyone what everybody is.

The Council members bob and murmur as they discuss it with each other. Kup-Zhav and Kuzh-Opde both have big smiles on their faces.

And you disliked him denouncing his powers. Kuzh-Opde says with a glint in his eyes.

To-Rin is sitting in the Council chamber, in his new chair at the head of the new table, which is a long oval shape. Where he is sitting, the table has been cut to create a straight edge, making it the clear head of the table.

One of the two large chamber doors opens and his cyan coloured steward comes in. Bra-Non from Clan Rinnik is here. She says.

Let him in.

She leaves and a moment later a tall, broad shouldered, square-jawed missionist enters. He is wearing red missionist robes and is carrying a long, red, ornately decorated stick, his ka. Ser. He says as he stands at the other end of the table with the door being closed behind him.

I will try to not make this any harder than it must be for you. To-Rin starts. I had a dream a few nights ago. A vision sent to me by Anasin.

Bra-Non’s jaw clenches but other than that, he shows no reaction.

In it a missionist dressed in red robes, as you are now, entered this chamber just as you now have. He was carrying a golden staff much as you carry your ka. He had blue skin, just like you. The particulars of the dream are not important, what is important is its meaning. I believe Anasin wishes me to expand on the role of the missionists. And I believe it is you who will show us the way. Furthermore, I believe the dream meant that you were Chosen. That you have a special task to perform. He gets up and takes out a dagger. But first I wish to do something. He slides the dagger across the table, and it stops at the other end. Take it.

Hesitantly Bra-Non picks up the dagger.

I wish to give you the chance to kill me.

Ser?

I had your father hanged and gutted. You may try to kill me if you wish. I will, of course, fight back. But you are a missionist, I have no doubt you would win.

Bra-Non looks at the dagger and then at the Leader. Three things. Firstly Without warning he throws the dagger at To-Rin’s head, who just about manages to get out of the way before the dagger plants itself in the back of the chair. If I wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead already and it would’ve been by my ka. Secondly, my father was an arsehole and deserved everything he got. And thirdly, abandon all hope that I will ever forgive you.

To-Rin closes his eyes and quietly bobs his head. Fair enough. He squeezes the bridge of his nose between his eyes. Take six months leave, we will speak again then. It was wrong of me to summon you so soon.

No, it wasn’t. Bra-Non replies with a cold voice. Then he spins on his heel and leaves the chamber.

A missionist? Fi-Lan asks.

Yes, his father replies evenly, a missionist.

Me?

Yes.

Why?

What else are you going to do with your life?

Fi-Lan decides that ‘drink and fok’ might not be the best answer. Follow in your footsteps. He tries, hoping that will soften his old man.

Really?

Yes. Fi-Lan answers, realising that this conversation might lead to his father suggesting he gets a job in one of the warehouses and starting to regret the answer.

I think missionist might suit you better.

Really? Running around the countryside trying to not be killed by smelly Kuras while trying to convert said Kuras to worshipping Anasin? That sounds like me? There must be an angle.

His father smiles, happy to have raised such a smart son. To-Rin has decided to change what missionists do. They will no longer perform scribing and religious tasks and instead will go on adventures.

That does actually sound like him, Fi-Lan decides.

And as it is a new idea by our new Monarch, or Leader, the profession will come with prestige.

Ah, and there is the angle.

This could be good for us.

Our clan? You think this will help raise our clan?

It cannot hurt. Who knows? Clan Arsun might rise to become a House on the back of this.

But… He finds he has no real arguments.

"So, you are going to have to stop spending my