Colin Tabor - The Fall of Ossard

Mothers held their children close as I passed, fathers averted their eyes, and some recited Santana’s prayers. I noticed on more than one occasion that their mumbled, whispered, or wailed verses were offered up to more than Saint Santana. The name of another saint, Saint Malsano, also came into their good graces.

Those who’d accepted the new saints didn’t trust the Inquisition. They remembered the city’s long history, the conflicts, the rigid dogma, and the upheaval of The Burnings. They wanted safety for their families, not the hatreds of firebrands from a distant and almost foreign Black Fleet. Benefice Vassini might question the legitimacy of the new saints, but none of those who offered them prayers seemed to have suffered at the hands of the kidnappers. They’d won protection. In contrast, everyone knew that the one person who’d openly denounced them, me, had lost her family.

A circle of space followed my progress down the avenue, it eight paces wide. I think it had been there through Newbank, across the Cassaro and St Marco’s, but now it was unmistakable amidst the thickening crowds. Still, with more and more of the city’s ugly truths revealed, I was glad to be outcast from it.

I finally reached the square to find it almost full. Well over ten thousand stood across its cobbled expanse, a sea of people extending all the way to the Lord’s Residence. More joined the mass every moment, all come to hear the city’s fate. A subdued murmur sounded out from the crowd to build over a tense and deepening air.

The Lord’s Residence stood festooned with both the long white and yellow and gold-starred ensigns of the Church, and the dour black and navy, with gold star and sword of the Inquisition. Anton and the Benefice were making a point; now they were the lords of the city.

I went forward, wanting to be close enough to hear.

A few Flet guildsmen stood out amongst the masses, recognisable by their guild jackets and caps. They’d be here to listen to the proclamation, the Guild no doubt worried that our people were going to be blamed for the woes of our beleaguered city.

I came to a stop at the centre of the square where my circle of space remained, but even that had shrunk under the crush. I hoped it was small enough to keep me hidden: I wanted to hear the proclamation, not become a distraction from it.

Looking about, I could see many in the crowd holding on to objects of faith; holy symbols, charms, and countless sprigs of oleander. The square was a focus, a divine focus, a focus of yearning and belief.

I glimpsed skyward and let my perception drift into the celestial. The eye remained above, huge and wide, watching and waiting…

But waiting for what?

I feared I knew the answer; the next ritual, the ritual that would see Pedro and Maria slaughtered along with the rest of the Liberigo bloodline. The thought made me shiver, sending my perception back to the real world.

Just in time…

The noise of the crowd began to fade, and at noon the previously empty balcony of the Lord’s Residence became full. At the centre stood the Benefice and the Inquisitor, the two flanked by priests, monks, and even some of the Inquisition’s feared knights; the Sankto Glavos.

Inquisitor Anton raised his hand in greeting to the crowd, but wasted no time. “Welcome Ossard, welcome to your judgment!”

Ossard had been judged once before…

“For twenty years you have been without your shepherd, the Inquisition. Left untended, you, our most northern flock, surprisingly did quite well, even going on to recapture some of your past glory and wealth. Together you earned it, through your hard work and continued faith, but alas it could not last.

“Amongst you were some who wanted more, those who were jealous of their neighbours, yet too slothful to apply themselves. Instead of working harder, you just watched for an easier way.

“Inevitably, and without your shepherd to watch over you, the wolves that the Inquisition guard against found you, even here in the cool north. The ragged beasts slunk in during the long night that you were without us, them looking to feed and build a dark fort. Before long they met with those from amongst you who were of like minds and desperate for power, and together they struck a deal.

“Your betrayers gained favour by not only selling their own souls, but by agreeing to supply the souls of others – souls not theirs to sell. In return they gained wealth and power, and into their dark conspiracy they recruited others. Soon the city of Merchant Princes became a place of secret cults conducting child-theft and murderous rituals.

“Ossard, the wolves are amongst you! The Council of Merchant Princes has unwittingly let them in, delivering you into unclean fields – fields of heresy littered with the butchered ruins of your own children!

“Why? Because of sloth and greed, and a lust for power! They have cursed this once-great city and endangered your eternal selves!

“Ossard, you were once strong and united, but are now weak and divided as you tremble in fear. Because of the Merchant Princes’ failure they have been damned, and if you do nothing to save yourselves, so to will you be!”

I could feel the crowd and its factions. Some listened with hope to the Inquisitor while others listened with deepening contempt.

Those who’d embraced Santana and Malsano seemed to grow only more hostile to the Inquisitor’s words, closing their minds and whispering to their like-minded friends. They began shifting towards the back of the square, repulsed by his message.

Others who still clung to the traditional teachings of the Church and accepted the authority of the Benefice and Inquisition stepped forward, drawn towards the promise of salvation. Their minds overflowed with doubt and fear, but here they found hope and a rising sense of elation. It grew stronger with each step they took, encouraging them always on. Some of them began to call out, crying praise and glory, and even taking to singing the Church’s holy songs.

My vision slipped into the celestial to witness sparks of light raining down from above. They struck and enriched the souls of the advancing faithful, a glowing rain of blessings from Krienta himself.

Looking about, I could see a similar display of power at the back of the square. Violet blessings raced about like fireflies, weaving through the crowds, striking those already taken by the new saints. That swarm of blessings came from a twisting column of swirling light, a pillar that turned quickly and reached up into the sky.

The two magics were the same, both divine, but of rival sources. Two gods battled here, and I could feel the tension as the real world strained.

What would happen if more gods were attracted to a city of so many lost souls?

And so the crowd split.

The followers of the new saints were drawn away, lured by the swarming blessings visible only in the celestial but felt by those open to them. Their pursuit took them from the square, and the Inquisitor, but they didn’t care.

Behind them they left the crowding followers of Krienta, all trying to get closer to the Inquisitor because of their own god’s unseen gifts. People cried out in prayer, sang hymns, or just wailed in pious ecstasy.

Ossard would never be the same again.

Inquisitor Anton called out, “The city needs to be reborn! It needs your devotion and your vigilance! It needs to leave behind all those things that have brought it to this terrible point, and be rid of them forever!”

Like parched drunkards they greedily drank of it.

“Today we divest the city of the institutions that have failed her. There is no more Lord of Ossard, no more Council of Merchant Princes,” and he sniggered, “as if merchants could be princes! And all that is just the start!”