A Matter of Faith

Liking the story? Want to get a week ahead? Head over to my Patreon https://www.patreon.com/twilitdesires, where you can get access to that and other goodies including other stories and a Discord!

The talks continued for several hours, and Ahsch was both relieved and amazed that they somehow avoided devolving into petty bickering or arguments. For sure, there were some disagreements - any gathering of people was bound to have those eventually - but all seven leaders of their respective religions were able to compromise and negotiate to mutual satisfaction. By the end of the meeting, they had a fairly solid plan for everyone to contribute in some way to the refugee relief effort, and had agreed to reconvene in a month’s time.

As they were all leaving, Mother Ilre approached Ahsch, her expression neutral. “Prophet, might I have a word with you?”

He nodded. “Of course, Mother Ilre,” he replied, turning to face her.

The elf’s eyes slipped past him to look at Ariin, then returned to him. “Alone?”

Ahsch hesitated only a moment before turning to look at his sister and giving her a reassuring nod. She held his gaze for a moment before nodding in return, and then she and the four Orrorist aides slipped out of the meeting room, the door closing softly behind them.

Ahsch and Ilre stood facing each other for several long moments. Even able to read her emotions, Ahsch wasn’t sure what she wanted - there was confusion and concern there, with a small dose of doubt and suspicion. “You confound me,” she said suddenly.

Ahsch blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and then replied, “Pardon?”

“You are clearly aware of the gnosticism of divinity - your use of Enochiel’s angels as you founded his religion made that obvious - so I will be direct: you share the ‘type’ of gnosticism demonstrated by Avatar Kiilira, or The Shepherd, of a being or object directly touched and empowered by the divine. However…” she frowned, almost glaring at him. “You _lack _the gnosticism of a true believer and keeper of the faith. You know of Enochiel, you obviously commune with him - or he with you - and yet you don’t believe in him as the rest of us do.”

Ahsch’s mouth hung open for a second as he began to reply, and only then considered what he would say. “...I was not aware that there were different types of gnosticism,” he admitted.

Ilre arched one narrow eyebrow. “I suppose that explains why you don’t attempt to hide yourself away and operate through converts,” she muttered. “However, it does naturally raise… concerns. And it is why the Order of Orror opposed you from the outset.”

Both of Ahsch’s eyebrows rose. “I’m sorry?”

“Felia is skilled in detecting and analyzing gnosticism,” Ilre explained, and Ahsch struggled for a moment before he recalled that the name belonged to the Orror Priestess who had been present at the First Service of Enochiel. “She was able to tell that, while you were touched by a divinity - enough to produce your own gnosticism - you did not believe in that deity.”

“Ah,” Ahsch said in understanding. “You thought I had somehow stolen the power somehow, or was channeling a divine artifact, something of that nature.”

Mother Ilre nodded. “And while I am… not convinced of that anymore, I still maintain my doubts, Prophet.”

He nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then took a deep breath. “There is an explanation, but I am… cautious about giving it to anyone. Having it known would place those I care about in danger.”

The elf arched her eyebrow again. “But not you?”

Ahsch cracked a lopsided smile. “I already died once, and unpleasant as it was, I will say that I’m not exactly afraid of dying again.” He became serious again. “But my loved ones are not so blessed, and there are certain things that, should my enemies learn, would place them in danger.”

Ilre nodded slowly, her gaze piercing as she searched for… something. Then resolve settled across her emotions. “Are you capable of binding oaths?”

Ahsch blinked. “I… probably? Enochiel’s domain of bonds is certainly the one I am most developed in, but I’m not necessarily a master yet.”

“Then shall we try?” she asked, before intoning, “I hereby swear to keep safe the secrets of Lord Ahsch Odestag, Prophet of Enochiel, unless the revelation of those selfsame secrets be necessary for the greater good.”

Ahsch’s bond sense perked up, and on instinct, he reached out and began to work, weaving and strengthening the bond that existed between Mother Ilre’s oath and… it was a difficult concept, making ‘unbreakable vows,’ as there were numerous different things to bind to, and ways to go about achieving the result one wanted from such a bond. However, with the nudging of his divine intuition, Ahsch managed to do it. He spent almost a full two minutes frowning into the middle distance as he examined the bond, then nodded to himself. “It is done,” he said. Then, with another deep, heaved sigh, he began. “Understand that this is not all of my secrets on the matter - I don’t know if I will ever reveal them all to you. But the short of it is that I know Enochiel personally - and not because he communes to me in vague ways or some such. I know him because I am Enochiel.” Ilre’s eyes widened, but he continued. “The dissonance you detect is likely because, despite having that power that… potential, I’m not…” he sighed, then laughed mirthlessly. “Being a god is a rather big responsibility. And I _could _just ignore the opportunity, and carry on with my otherwise blessed life, but…” He gazed at the now empty table. “Given the ability to do what we’ve done here today, to make the lives of others better… how can I discard that power?

“But at the same time, I also know myself. I’m just… me. I’m not infallible, or even particularly knowledgeable or wise… I’m just a person, going through life. I know I’ll fuck up, and I don’t… I don’t want to let down those who follow me.” He finally met Ilre’s eyes. “Those who worship Enochiel.”

“You don’t see yourself as a god yet, do you?” she murmured. “You’ve chosen a name, domains, a direction… but for some ‘other.’ Not for yourself.”

“Enochiel is far more than I can be.”

Ilre pursed her lips thoughtfully, gazing to the side. “I am… old,” she said after a minute. “As an elf, I am immortal. And while I am hardly the eldest elf, not even within the Capital, I have seen much that life and the world has to offer.” She refocused on Ahsch. “And yet, I can still be quite the fool sometimes.” Ahsch knew his surprise must have shown on his face, because she laughed softly. “I was prejudiced against you without bothering to do any true investigation into you. Felia reported back about your teachings and your lack of faith, and I assumed the worst. I persisted in that belief even as you demonstrated tact, restraint, and care beyond what a debauched, narcissistic charlatan would have. And even today, after everything you’ve shown of your good heart, compassion, and kindness, I still doubted you.” Slowly, tenderly, she reached out and cupped his cheek with one hand, looking at him with something akin to… fondness? “I believe you’d be surprised at how successful of a god you will be… and how deserving of the name ‘Enochiel’ you already are.”

Ahsch gaped at her. “I…”

“Ah!” she interrupted, raising a finger to shush him even as she smiled. “Only a few hours earlier, weren’t you putting all of us in our place, reminding us of our duty to the people? Did you not share an important lesson about indulgence and moderation? Were you not the one who, less than a week ago, agreed to give up much of your time and resources to help strangers from a far-off land, to whom you owe nothing? And even though I know - I know - that you have ulterior motives for helping - whether it be to gain more worshipers, or develop a settlement for your Temple, or power or authority or what have you - you still have focused so much on the actual act of helping, and not on how to best utilize their inevitable gratefulness.” She gave him a meaningful look. “Do you think any of the rest of us would have? A’uro, maybe, but she doesn’t have the power on her own. Archcleric Bennoch might have, with enough pressure, but despite his charitable heart, he still exercises restraint, for even he was not immune to the allure of the petty squabbling we all engaged in. Certainly the High Hierophant would not have done so - not without much to gain. The Shepherd is a recluse, Bishop Valiera has enough within her own house to deal with, Avatar Kiilira was opposed to inviting them in the first place, and I…” She smiled sadly. “Do you really think I would have been any better?”

Ahsch’s silence spoke volumes.

Ilre nodded. “I suggest, if you’d accept the advice of an old woman, that you have a little more faith in yourself… Enochiel.”