Chapter 90: A Danmor Sermon
Isis followed Seth into the large tower she had seen from a distance, a place simply known as the Tower Market. Stepping in, it was an overwhelming assault on the senses as criers called out, trying to sell goods, whilst customers raced around, trying to be the first to offer a good deal. "At the top, you have the auction house. One must be rich, well-known, or hold a good title to gain access. Even then, you can still be denied." Looking up, she couldn’t see past the first-floor ceiling and wondered how high it must have gone, how many floors existed for trade alone.
"Why is it so exclusive?" Isis asked, getting a chuckle in reply.
"Because it only sells the best of the best, which only the listed categories could afford. You name it, from exotic pets, rare ores, gems, ancient texts and even..." His smile fell, "Exotic slaves."
"Is there something that seperates a normal slave from an exotic?" Isis said, almost scared of the answer.
"Unusual deformities that can be praded, people with brilliant martial ability, knowledge, a master at a trade, as well as special races and people that are hard to enslave." Although he tried to hide it, Isis saw his fist clench, "The Lunarians are one of those, as are many more."
"It’s sick."
"It’s Danmor. If it can be made into a product to sell, then it will be sold." Seth shook his head, "Anyway, let’s go buy materials. I know you want a weapon, and I’m in the mood to make soemthing. Any preferences?"
"Something with range. I am not good enough at melee combat to use a sword or the like." Seth nodded and led them around, peeking into different stores, picking up items, and carefully analysing them before either buying or putting them down. Occasionally, he would scoff, looking at soemthing or widen his eyes and instantly buy it.
Isis left him be, knowing it wasn’t her place to give input and instead chose to look around as they climbed the floors. As they got higher, whether it was from tiredness or a simple lack of desire, the floors were sparsely populated, with only a few shops, but each item was much more expensive.
Those who did walk the upper levels made sure to show they were wealthy, having a large entourage lavished in jewels and metals, wearing the best silks they could afford. Behind a few of these groups, numerous slaves walked behind carrying their goods as their masters happily spoke to one another, window-shopping.
Seth made it clear to avoid those groups, taking longer detours than necessary, knowing they would stop him if given the chance to exchange pleasantries and idle conversation. Although part of her wished to talk to them, both the masters and slaves, she knew better and quietly followed behind as Seth continued to drop things into his limitless bag, finally finishing after an hour.
"Come. If they are still alive, I know someone we can stay with whilst we are here." Isis raised an eyebrow as he led them down and out.
"You have friends here? I thought you would have made it your mission to never have a single thing related to you in this city."
"My beliefs and the reality of the situation are different. Having contacts makes life easier, although it’s been about five years since I last saw them. Hopefully, she is still alive; if not, then we will have to pay." Seth casually said as they walked through the city, towards the large pantheon. Streams of people flooded in and out of it and the surrounding manors, and Isis couldn’t help but stop looking at the pantheon, throwing pleading glances in Seth’s direction to see inside.
Reluctantly, he agreed to join her, and with his nod, she dashed forward, staring at the building. It was unclear before, but closer to it, she saw the towering pillars that held the building up, forming a large ring around it; atop the roof stood figures holding chains that bound the titan’s feet, minuscule in comparison.
With a brush of cold air, she stepped in and went agape, seeing inside. Each wall was carved out, and inside those gaps were figures of people. Some were shrouded in shadow, some muscular, some seductive, some nothing more than bones, others carved to be dressed in lavish outfits or armour. Yet at the back of the building stood the greatest of them all, a large man looking out at the people, in one hand a bundle of wheat, the other a branding iron.
Isis stepped forward, and just as she went to speak, Seth placed a finger on his lips and pointed towards the person just below the statue. Dressed in a blue and white outfit that clung to his body, he had a golden circle on his chest, inside it a bundle of wheat. Not shying away from showing his wealth, the rest of him was covered in jewels, gold, and silver in colour, each one more pronounced than the last.
Even his wide smile showed hints of jewellery, all his teeth sparkling as gems were embedded into them. He was a handsome man with silver-dyed hair flowing down his back and black, pearl-like eyes. Though handsome, it was a beuty only possible to enjoy if they ignored the overwhelming air of privilege and superiority with which he carried himself. Isis stepped forward as he took a deep breath, bringing his arms up to his chest in an exaggerated manner, closing his eyes.
"Can you feel it?" His voice boomed out with a friendliness as he took another deep breath, "Can you feel the holy energy in your body?" Isis turned to the people around, who latched onto his words despite having hardly said anything. "I can feel it." He said, "I can feel it in my bones, in my heart, in my soul. A feeling like I am touched by the lord himself." Every word was said to entertain, a form of religion Isis had never seen, unlike the preaching of Vesotn, which was meant to show humility and service.
"The Holy Lord said, not all men are equal. Kings reign over subjects." He paced around, looking at random people, pointing at those who fit what he was saying, "Teacher over students, husbands over their wives, masters over the lessers." Taking another deep breath, his body shook, "We praise this wisdom, for without it, we would have anarchy. Deviancy. Murder. Barbarity. We would be without guide, without comfort, without safety." He paused and held his arms out, "We would be lost."
Basking in the cheers of people who cried out in cheers, he raised his hand to silence them once again, "The Holy Lord’s wisdom didn’t end there. For no man can be above another without purpose." Getting nods from the crowd, Isis stared in disbelief, unable to believe what was being preached and how it was done, "For one must prove why they are above others. A teacher must have soemthing to teach. A king must rule in the name of his subjects. A husband provides for his wife. A master houses the lesser."
Pausing, he let his words hang in the air like a seasoned orator, knowing exactly when to strike, "Are we to deny this truth?" The crowd cried "no" back as the priest paced around, his words getting more intense as he carried on, "Are we to assume we know better than the Lord. Are we to assume we know better than divine wisdom? Who are mere men to judge god, for they are above us. Who are mere men to question our teacher, our king, our master? Who are mere men to question the creator of the just and unjust, the creator of you, me, our fathers, our mothers, our protectors, our brothers and sisters in cloth? Who are we to say he is wrong, and we are right?"
His words were quick, but always left enough time for the worshippers to reply. Taking a deep breath, he came to a stop. "We praise him, for we don’t know better. We praise him because he is right. We praise him because falsehood does not lie with him. We praise him becuase his teaching has been proven right." Placing a hand on his chest, Isis almost laughed in disbelief, seeing a tear roll from the man’s face, wondering if it was also a performance or if he had somehow touched himself with his own words.
"I love the Lord. I love the lord more than myself. I love the Lord more than the world itself. I love his message for the world." Stopping again, he held his hand out to another clergyman walking over, placing a book in his hand, "Let us read. Let us read the words I love so dear. Let us read what you love so dear."
Isis chuckled and turned around. Looking back at the priest, she saw him reading with the same fervour he had previously spoken with, unable to hear him any longer. "What did I just see?"
Seth looked at her and laughed, "That is prayer here. Unlike Veston, it is treated as a show more than a prayer. After all, it sticks in the mind more than a normal sermon." Seth stared at the silver-haired man, "And he is rather good at it. Whether he is performing or not, I don’t know."
