In the land of the Aerden, a person's blood constitutes their rights.
Individuals can, however, be born different from the rest of their kin. Whether they hail from remote regions of the empire or its most advanced societies. The elites of the imperium are considered such specimens. Hosting blood superior to the peasantry, particularly within the empire's borders.
The ruling classes comprising these elites of the empire were called "The Gentile" class. Formed out of three groups: the Royal Nobilitua, the Bourgeoisie, and the Ecclesiarchy of the Faiths. Each of the ruling classes would dictate the rules for the rest of the imperium through the right of birth.
They also work to keep each other in check, preventing instability whenever one side grows too large and prideful. Nobles and royalty, the Faith's ecclesiarchy, and the merchants and bankers of the bourgeoisie. All of these groups had gained access to resources unavailable to the common man, cementing their control over the country.
This often led to greed, blinding them, to the point that their wolven mind thought of all lesser men as sheep. The creation of capitals arose due to this, with only the highest powers in the empire consolidating there.
While the elites remained hidden from the masses by excluding themselves in their capitals and manors. The peasants subsisted on the scraps sent to these large Utopias. Gentile breeding was also done differently compared to the peasants. A childer as they called their children in the empire –was both an investment as much as a family,
So when a new family member was to be conceived, no expenses were spared. Diets, training, medicine, spiritual aid as well as mystic and divine were all welcomed. All in hopes of producing a progeny who could inherit, only the biggest success out of the investment would inherit. Any other sibling within a family would become a free-range asset of the inheriting family member, so long as they contributed to the family. If this outcome was not desired, the individual would lose access to wealth and resources by being disinherited.
Few ever took freedom, their greed and sloth blocking other options, calming any inner turmoil they might have. Those who did would suffer, but they could manage better than the peasantry. On some occasions, they would shift over to the circles of the bourgeoisie who would sponsor their endeavors.
The merchants and bankers were not of the best stock of blood. As they allowed anyone with a large enough coin purse into their ranks. Rumors, however, were emerging; of them churning out, promising new blood within their youths. It was causing a sudden rise in their status.
Although there are outliers of peasants who manage to break through societal barriers, they are few and far between. Even a worthy peasant gifted beyond measure can be held back by the simple utterance of their birth.
In short, the concept of blood reigns supreme in the Aquila, perpetuating a system of inequality seeming impossible to displace. This was the empire's way of doing things since its inception, exactly how their governing judiciaries handled their proceedings. They were the only men that Godrick truly feared, superior to him in every way and holding control over his life, just by breathing.
Any member of the elite could completely uproot and change the lives of thousands of peasants. But only judiciaries could do so without question. He had always felt it unfair of reality, but to know that his very life now lay in the hands of the cream of the crop of the elite was a gut-wrenching ordeal.
One judiciary entered the halls where Godrick awaited his trial, the atmosphere of the room shifting upon his arrival. All eyes turned to him, whose rank was recognized as a Tribunal's sun-eyed eagle. The three stripes on its plumage signified his age. His commanding presence and confident stride were captivating to behold.
His elegance and poise, declaring his dominance.
As the individual passed by Godrick and entered the chamber, a strong force seemed to leave him. He could not help but feel a sense of awe and admiration at the power exuding from the "man's" aura.
He had to restrain himself from prostrating and worshiping the tall and noble figure who had just passed by him. The realization that such a high-ranking Tribunal handling his trial, left Godrick trembling with anxious anticipation.
After a brief glance at his judge and executioner, he settled into his seat trying to relax before his judgment. His recent misgivings about the Faiths and sudden thoughts about its controversies kept appearing in his mind. It was unusual for him to have doubted the church; he had been disillusioned before, but had always remained steadfast. He closed his eyes searching deep into his spiritual palace, a technique that nouveau clerics learned to strengthen themselves to become Full clerics.
A spiritual palace was a mental paradise created to represent one's faith. The stronger one's faith, the more elaborate and beautiful it would become. The weaker one's faith, the more dilapidated and empty it would seem.
This was an activity he had neglected for quite a while even before his revelations. Having a spiritual palace allowed the clergy to remain unshaken in their duties. Passively revitalizing their divine power by reciting their Scriptures within it.
Once, Godricks spiritual palace had been a neat and orderly library with over 30 stacks of bookcases. It was a clean and organized palace, filled with systemized and structured rows of books. Now, it remained as a destitute and unorganized mess. His once tidy books lay in piles of diminished quantities, barely comparable to their past. The bookcases were broken and dust-filled, a true representation of ruin.
His palace lay in shambles his faith fully broken. Exiting from his trance, Godrick looked around himself and saw everything in a much dimmer light; he was tired and broken.
Priests, priestesses, bishops, Monks, Nuns, and the Wizened of the other faiths had gathered to watch the downfall of the star pupil of "The Shadow in His Light's". He had incurred too much controversy, and just like hyenas, they hounded around him until he was within arms reach. The closest he recognized was the Wizened Andrews from the sect of En'Wuin. A sniveling rat, and the quickest assurance to a knife in your back for these participants of intrigue.
The Wizened pulled some iron cuffs and gestured for Godrick's hands "Your trial begins now, put these on." he said, dangling the cuffs in front of his eyes.
"My dear, dear cheotsi, oh how one's ambitions can be cut short so quickly, eh, cheotsi?". The wizened stated with a venomous spite.
Godrick eyed the cuffs unamused,
"According to the proper etiquette of trials. A defendant that has pleaded guilty and volunteered for trial shall not be cuffed upon trial. Furthermore, if the infraction is a breaking of oaths, not of the governed people's laws, the trial is not counted as a crime and therefore not accountable to enchainment at trial." Godrick defended himself wisely through the laws of said courts.
"Yes, that is all very true cheotsi." The wizened replied sardonically.
"But to be completely sure you will not deviate in such a short time frame, we have accounted for your capabilities my young prodigy. As such the council voted on having you chained only during the entry of the trial and afterward unchain you once you have reached your position. Truly out of my hands, eh, cheotsi?" Said the En'Wuin priest as he grinned treacherously, hands at his hips as two bigger and gruffer priests pulled up menacingly between him and Godrick.
He eyed them for a moment and then back at the Wizened.
He had no say in the matter.
"If this is the will of the council then so be it." He pulled his arms up gesturing for the cuffs. More threads frayed, shredding from his body, ever deteriorating both his faith and palace.
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"The accused may now enter the temple tribunal office," the high-ranking Tribunal announced he had been granted the authority of religion by the government in charge.
The atmosphere was tense as all eyes were fixed on the guilty, waiting for the trial to begin. Falling silent as they escorted him through the doors and past the hall. Leading him to his position where they finally uncuffed him in brutish manner.
The officials called Tribunal's were the embodiment of the law in the empire. They held the backing of the Faiths and the military, making them one step above ordinary judiciaries.
With their great lineages, political power, and ruthless warrior training, they were not to be trifled with. If found guilty, they had the authority to execute almost anyone in the empire no questions asked.
Godrick had been brought in wearing cuffs to add to the dramatic effect of the trial. As he looked around the room, he felt remorseful that the ecclesiarchy had reached such levels of corruption. If only the institutions had remained untainted by sins their good would have been so everlasting.
The political struggles and manipulations happening within the church's shadows made it feel like an entertainment venue for the high classes. Bishops and archbishops played sides against each other, while the royalty participated deceptively behind another veil. All of this affected the priests and those below them, creating a situation of utter chaos.
'It was horrible,' Godrick thought to himself, 'everything was messy behind closed doors, yet we had to pretend that it was all fine.' More of the mysterious, fibrous strings snapped, his palace crumbling.
The officials forced him to kneel as he gave his testimony, which was the same as what had already been written. The court ridiculed him, united in their efforts to find prey in the heretical speaker before them. They jeered and heckled at him, turning the temple into a circus.
A juror had become maddened enough to jump out of the stands. Venomous righteousness flowing through him as he approached Godrick with harmful thoughts.
"I think it is safe to say that my hands will give you proper penance as I squeeze the life from your overstepping. Goodbye; cheotsi." Stated the glassy-eyed yet notable face of the aggressing priest.
Godrick's eyes darted about as he saw the insanity that was occurring. His eyes remained on his aggressor shifting towards the smiling Andrews. He had sent Bor on purpose. A follower of the light and one of his close associates.
There was an unknown shimmer through his being that Godrick barely caught, a faraway look remained within his eyes. Bor was a scholar like himself, not a hint of hatred was known to him. 'What had gotten a hold of him, what was going on?' This was a question that Godrick asked himself. Bor's clammy hands wrapping around him the guards to his sides doing nothing. The crowd cheered him as he tried to execute the heretic with his own hands.
The Tribunal temper was overcome with frustrations. He let out a boom of divine energy that radiated out of him, hitting everyone in the room hard enough to stun them.
The maddened jury fell silent as he shouted, "ENOUGH!!!!!" The temple shook, and everyone turned to see the full acacia hardwood desk used by the judiciary to hold court. The desk had been swung across the temple, pinning Bor underneath it, as he lay unconscious.
The span of the desk could hold three men, and its weight of several hundred pounds would have made it impossible for a man to lift it. Yet, the noble Tribunal had easily flicked it across the room with nothing but a flick of his wrist.
"To dare attempt a crime in my own temple of office is heresy. This is a sacred and hallowed ground of law. Conduct yourselves as proper, not the beasts you portray, understood?" The tribunal glared with menaced daring for reproach, none dared.
"Good. Now, everyone, bow and then sit," his words were followed to the letter. No one stepping out of line again; not when they were reminded of the differences between themselves and the true elite.
The message was clear: the nobility expected civility, and the faiths demanded morality, all of which had been lacking before.
"Now, the accused, do you wish to add anything else to defend yourself, or take this as an admission of guilt?" The tribunal had a stone-dead stare, and nothing could be gleaned from his ancient eyes.
The aura he radiated was physical in all senses of the word. This was a man who had bathed long enough in the power of the gods. That he had already swum for more than a century or two in the ponds of time.
He was more than a mere Tribunal, he was a Rememberer. Men and women who understood the significance of words, systems, and order. Rememberers of the Old Ways, original followers of the gods when they were still creatures of Flesh.
"I admit to the evidence presented by my testimony and accept any form of punishment that will come." No one had expected anything different.
"I am no longer Father Godrick, only Godrick. As I have had my faith shaken and my oath broken." Once more he admitted it.
"To journey out and seek knowledge is my purpose, in hopes of finding penance with the prosperity of wisdom." He did not need to see anything on the faces of men on the cusp of breaking mortality. He knew the scriptures as well as them.
He may not have Gentile blood within him but he was certain of his knowledge. Paths for redemption such as pilgrimages taken under the oath of gathering knowledge. Whether spiritual, natural, or occult, were exceptions made for the Undivining to lessen the punishment of the ritual.
His mind and cunning would see him out as they always had.
"And what is it you would seek on this pilgrimage you wish to undertake? More of the Fouler magics of the alien?" The walking demi-god asked Godrick right to his face, his aura almost suffocating him.
The promise of violence was palpable should the answer not be to his liking.
"The truth," Godrick said flatly.
"What is this truth you seek?" the tribunal asked.
Once asked, Godrick contemplated for all of a second.
"I know barely of it. The air, the earth, space, cosmos. It is the foundation of all life." the scribe recorded every word he said, the Tribunal was waiting for more.
"Magic is taught to be evil, I believe the contrary." Gasps and shock ran through the court.
The Tribunal eyed him for a moment as uproar shook the court room. Snapping his fingers the desk miraculously appeared in its original position along with him. No one could understand how, nor how he had moved as such.
He knocked a gabble once upon his desk and an unseen wave of sound frequency calmed the room once more.
"This is irrelevant to the case, but explain. How does thee intend to prove the contrary." He countered Godrick.
"Magic changes the very order of nature, magic bends reality to the will of a mortal who as stated in the scriptures should possess no such power unless bequeathed to him by a superior. The Gods are humanities superiors, The emperor is humanities superior, the Gentiles, the Faiths are the superiors of humanity." A wholly embodied epitome of the empire directed all the meaning of these words toward Godrick.
It was like a power of control was used on him, Godrick had never felt so unlike himself. Even the powers of the Fruit which had elevated his knowledge, while cursing him with a constant lethargy. Only disrupted himself with his own thinking.
Whatever the Tribunal had forced upon him acted by infecting his mind with a piercing glare. It almost felt unnatural if not for the presence of divinity accompanied it into his mind.
"What I say is not of the Dogmas of the Empire, my lord." Still kneeling he stood up, lifting his face to meet the Tribunal.
The Guards around him moved to force him to kneel, stopping short as the Tribunal lifted an arm at them to remain at ease.
"I can no longer remain, with the knowledge I am uncovering. If I may produce an example my lord." he gestured with a raised bow, lowering his head and placing his hands in a prayer stance above his head.
The Tribunal lifted a brow "You would use magic in our lord's temple, mine own office." He unveiled his perfectly white teeth which despite being symmetrical and pristine, looked as if a beast baring its fangs.
"Only by permittance, though I would prefer not to share this with the untrustworthy," Godrick said as he maintained his bow.
A cube of light flashed into existence, Divine energies sparking into being as they solidified and isolated the space from the outside completely. Nothing but light could pass through, and no sound could escape; only the scribe who lay terrified remained. Diligently scribing everything that happened within the chamber.
"Demonstrate it then Heretic, show me these musings of yours." The Tribunals violence was now physical, suffocating once more. It seeped through Godrick's pores and replaced the worship he wished upon the "Man" with fear. The scribe was near to fainting at this.
Noticing the lesser men struggling to survive his power, he collected himself.
"Now If you would Exorcist." He insisted yet again.
There was no need to hold back and so Godrick worked. He showed everything he had managed to create, most likely if he hid anything the Tribunal would notice somehow and strike him down.
Bolts of arcane flew around, brilliant lights of blue, and an inferior shield made of mana came to life. He grabbed the quill off of the scribe's hand with his mind and wrote for him the happenings of these events.
The Tribunal's eyes were now neutral looking almost bored. Godrick noticed this and halted.
"Is that all there is now?" He asked Godrick, with disappointment in his tone.
"My lord?" Confusion hit him, he had shown all that he was capable of as a Mage at the moment. A mere third of what he could do with the powers of a priest.
"You are another one I see, brought to deal with an apostate; how tedious." Apathy became the Tribunal and Godrick panicked. If he was classified within the trial as an Apostate he could die during the Undivining.
"Yes I would be an apostate, my lord, but allow me to slow down." As a last effort he held nothing back, he should have known. The petty tricks that he had created would merely have him looked at as a charlatan magician at best.
The Divine powers that the Tribunal had casually tossed out seemed more mystical and unnatural than his own meagerness. What he showed next, however, made the Tribunal stop his line of thinking.
When miracles were cast there was something similar to the spell constructs that Godrick had created. The constructs contained all the mathematical calculations, formulae, and concepts necessary to affect reality. In spell form, the spell constructs created a physical construct based on realities interpretation of the temporary magic. This meant that the hexagram-mic circles that were changed to Magical circles were visible in their blue light. Compared to the golden and brilliant light of the Divine there were almost no differences.
As a Tribunal, and a rememberer, he recognized what Godrick had done. Almost immediately, he forced it to cancel with his will and eyed the scribe. Who looked at him pleadingly with quill and parchment protectively covering his fearful face.
In an instant, he appeared before Godrick once more.
"So," He directed himself at Godrick, "you know of it do you not?"
"If I may be so uncouth my lord, what do you refer to?"
"Those circles, the formulas, the math, the Primect. You know of it, because they are in your facsimiles of spells are they not?" He asked once more, losing his temper.
Godrick thought hard about his words and realized he could only mean one thing. It was the one thing that gave away the knowledge of his power source, not present in the miracles taught to clerics.
"Ma- mana?" He asked-stated at the same time, fear causing him to shake.
"Yes. You have come upon one of the mysteries that even the Gods do not hand out." Solemnly the Tribunal stated.
"My lord," The priest bowed to him once more.
"I merely wish to show that the origins of our belief have been tainted. We must temper it with verified wisdom and knowledge. Magic is not evil but a part of us, as much as the Gods are." Hope had been renewed within him, seeming to have found a man of understanding.
"Redact that last statement and this one as well; Scribe." The Tribunal ordered turning towards the scribe and then back towards the priest.
"Your words will not be welcomed here priest. And the knowledge you seek is not one that the Faiths or the Gods will provide, so tread lightly." Turning away from the priest and sitting on the chair of his desk, he snapped his fingers once more breaking away the miracle he had cast.
The three of them had once again become visible to all in attendance. All of the jury awaited the Tribunal's next words, he sat arms crossed and eyes closed contemplating upon a verdict. Whispers and speculation ran amok within the jury.
Opening his eyes he stood up and cleared his throat. Projecting his voice into everyone's ears as he spoke so they could hear his perfectly calm voice.
"I have decided upon a judgment that the emperor will find fruitful. As of today, Father Godrick will be called Pilgrim Godrick the Excomunicado." A predetermined factor everyone expected.
"Furthermore, as a pilgrim even though he is excommunicado he will not be persecuted in our lands." Upon hearing this statement the crowd almost uproared before they were silenced with the Tribunal's glare. Godrick felt overjoyed, he would not need to sever all ties like he originally thought.
"However, he will not expect charity or hospitality from the churches. Until he realizes the futilite of his goal. Once you've written down that last word, redact that specific word from all recorded mentions." The scribe acquiesced immediately. Giving Godrick an an idea as to how the Faiths were manipulating the actions of the realm. Assertions of public records and propaganda like this were common in the Faiths.
"Pilgrim Godrick will undergo a special undivining to store his divine power inside of a vessel. This will be for if he ever manages to complete his pilgrimage. Those are my words, and they shall be the words of the Emperor towards your ears." At the final utterance of the Judiciary Tribunal, Godrick was carried behind the arms to be placed in the ritual site for his Undivining.
He felt the cold making his skin bump and forced himself to step forward willingly.