Private Pacts and Prayers

[Azlat Ushus]

“Upon You, my faith shall never falter,
for I know no fear nor doubt on my path.” ​

Through the wafting smoke of burning incense, the visage of the gilded dragon was in downward gaze. Two scintillating ruby eyes sat in their gilded sockets set upon an intricate draconic facade, sitting upon a gleaming monument eight feet in height. An uncountable number of gleaming golden scales forged from gold-infused bronze. adorned the body of the great Dragon-God, catching the flickering light from torches that adorned the shrine.

“When it is You who has set me upon it.
For Your glory, do I devote my life.” ​

Kneeling beneath it was Azlat, solemn and still aside from the silent motion her lips made in prayer, speaking so softly as to be barely audible at all. Between her clasped hands burned a stick of incense, smoke wafting up in front of her to be kicked by the soft breath of her whispered orison.

“In Your name, may I accomplish great feats.
Though Your might, may I destroy obstruction.” ​

The wafting smoke straightened in its upward path as Azlat paused her prayer. All remained quiet as she kept still for a moment more. Eventually she stirred, laying the still-burning stick onto the base of the shrine in a deliberate and slow extension of her arm. When she returned to her position of prayer, her hands remained unclasped.

“Great Dragon, I beseech you my request.
Make me a weapon of Your divine will.” ​

Between her knees and the shrine lay a bejewelled dagger, with a thin hilt of silver and gold that held a sharp bronze blade. Azlat reached for it, grasping it one hand to press the blade against the palm of her other.

“Grant me the might to strike down enemies,
and guidance in what violence must be done.” ​

As she continued, Azlat dragged the blade down her palm to slice open skin. Blood began to flow in a slow tickle at first, clinging to the blade before falling from it in drops that increased in frequency steadily.

“Let my arrows fly true and strike deep,
That death be delivered swift where it must.
For Your glory, may I be a weapon,
forged to restore Your rightful divine place.” ​

Azlat drove the dagger deeper in one sharp motion that brought metal against bone. Blood now poured from her palm, though the priestess remained unflinching in the act.

“Let me slay those who dare obstruct,
and deny us open worship of You.
Grant me victory in battles to come,
And grant me glory to restore Your place!” ​

Though her prayer had concluded, Azlat did not move from her position. To do so would have been profane sacrilege. This was not a typical prayer, it did not conclude at her bidding.

It concluded at Her bidding.

Azlat would not make a motion until the stick of incense ceased wafting smoke signalled the end of her communion. A solemn bow followed, held for moments before she slowly rose from her position. Blood dripped from her hand as she held it open, until the flow was stemmed by dressing the wound with a looping length of cotton cloth.

With prayer concluded, Azlat snuffed the flame from the torches before she made her egress from the sacred chamber into the Palace hall.

@Esme (Esmerelda)

 

[Esme (Esmerelda)]

The past few months had truly tested Routés long standing oath to be a safe haven to all those whom no longer had a home, who had found themselves in unfairly displaced, widows, orphans, victims of power hungry warlords.

"We cannot, no, we shall not take on this burdan any longer. You must close our borders!"
A wrinkled fist belonging to a council men, a known nationalist, slammed on the rough edged table in the centre of the council room.

"
We shall not your majesty,"
Esmerelda corrected plainly - as id this subject had not been plaguing her monday afternoons for weeks on end.

The young ruler took in a deep breath,
"I remind you councilman that if we were to turn our backs on centuries of tradition - which I know you so adore;"
A subtle stab toward the known dissaprovement of the councilman in regards to Esme still remaining unwed.
"On an oath,"
her words hardened now
,"All of our forefather tooks,"
eyes scanning across the eight councilmen and women sitting around the table. "
Not only would our honour as warriors be seen as discarded, our alligences would fall - many of which were built when our neighbours found themselves in hardships."

Mermers began.
"If you wish for me to call through all of the delegates in our kingdom then I will honour your request. But beware, many of the luxuries you have become so accustomed to councilmen, have been brought to us by the same refugees you seek to exile and close our borders to."
A satisfying look crossed Esmereldas face as some members subconsciously touched the items they knew she reffered to before hardening once more, a piercing gaze as she looked him straight in the eyes.

" But if you bring this move to us Councilmen because,"
she looked to each of them again now, to the warriors stationed in each corner of the room before finally landing on a man who never had much to say in these meetings, her warchief Orion.

"
Well because you think our people cowardess,"
Shouting erupted from the room. It was a matter never to be questioned, the bravery of a Routian - whos warrior culture factored into every part of their traditions.
"Then that is another matter to discuss entirely.
"

The shouting continued, councilmen loudly bickering between each other. The meeting had definitely come to an end.

Esmereldas stood from her chair, a servant placing her dark chocolate fur coat over her shoulder before she exited the chamber, guards in tow.

"
That was the only way to get this matter settled."
She stated as the doors closed behind her.

Orion let out a grunt in agreement.

@Azlat Ushus

 

[Azlat Ushus]

Azlat strode down the hall towards the throne room. With prayers concluded, seeking an audience with Esme was the next task on her list. And so she crossed through the courtyard at a pace that was neither hurried nor relaxed. There was no particular urgency to it, merely determination. The assistance afforded by Routé had provided immeasurable benefits in times otherwise bereft of them.

As she tread onward, the sound of a familiar raspy voice caused the priestess to pause in her place.

"Lady Ushus!"

Spoke High Priestess Mazira from her seat upon a bench of stone. Wispy, frawed locks of wavy white hair dangled out from her black cowl, which itself framed a creased and heavily aged face, with striking slitted eyes of golden-brown that bore witness to the world for twice as many years as Azlat herself had. Those eyes had seen visions of the divine, entrusted to view prophecies communed from the Holy Dragon, herself. She was from among a select few high priests, of which Azlat had never known to number more than five. Presently, they were down to three. At most.

One had a prisoner. One was Mazira. Azlat had not seen the third since the event's unfurling.
For all Azlat knew, Mazira could be the only one left.

"When did you arrive? I hadn't any idea you were here."
Mazira continued in her warm, warbling voice.

"Oh, Priestess Mazira! got her earlier today. I was just at the shrine. I'm on my way to see the queen, if she's in." Spoke Azlat.
"She should be, Lady Ushus. I saw her earlier today. I won't keep you, but you'll be back before you leave?"
Mazira asked, the wrinkled lines on her face framing a warm smile.
"Of course, Priestess Mazira! Matters shouldn't take me long today. I've brought some spices with me too, back from home."
Azlat added, reaching into her bag to procute a few small ceramic jars. Even sealed and waxed shut, the aroma was pungent. It was the comfort of home, captured in a smell.

"Oh, you did remember!" Mazira wheezed in delight.

"I'll pass them to the cook and get us a nice Nayran meal today. And I swear I'll be by to share it with you."

"Oh, my gratitude. Blessings to you, Lazy Ushus."

"And to you as well, Priestess Mazira." Azlat gave a small, informal bow with her words. Upon tucking the jars back into her bag, the priestess was on her way again.

@Esme (Esmerelda)