Three to the east, seeking new beginnings.

Minyalya sought distant knowledge for the Ancient Scholar

Heshenyunya sought dessert wealth for the Divine Broker

And Felursya sought lost valor for the True Champion

-The Book of the Abandonment 2; 6 - 9

By the time Gardinal left in the morning, Her Radiance had yet to wake. That left Gardinal anxious. From as far as he could tell, she had never healed that much in a single day before. Part of that was his fault. If he had been more careful, had avoided getting hurt as badly as he did, then she wouldn’t have had to push herself so. A part of him knew he had no choice though. He had a duty to Ethinia, to save those people in the tavern. But that didn’t leave him any less concerned for the Prophetess.

Nervously, Gardinal fidgeted with a small gold statue on the side table next to him. How long had it been since he was home? A year maybe? His father would have been furious if he knew how seldom he visited his brother. But his father was off in Kol’dirgav, not here.

“Master Gardinal, your brother should be finishing up soon. He was just in a small business meeting.” The butler informed him. The Fershya butler was a handsome man, slender and well built with only slight greying, but Gardinal always got the sense he resented working for Khazimi. Gardinal thanked the man, and he went on to his own work.

As he waited, reclining on the plushest velvet sofa Gardinal had ever sat upon, he tried to make sense of the past week’s events. This X figure disturbed him, and the Summoner mentioned yesterday didn't help that any. By the nature of what they worshipped, Chaos cults tended to be small, disorganized, and easily dispersed.

From what he had read when he was training to become a Golden Hammer, there were two arguments on the existence of such cults. The first was the more widely accepted one, though Gardinal had a hard time believing in it. Popularized by a long since deceased Bishop of Kings, it spoke of how the morally bankrupt were easily persuaded by the whispers of Chaos. That those who dipped their toes into sin would eventually be swallowed whole by its all-consuming maw.

But Gardinal's own experience with the criminals of Southshore spoke towards something different, that which aligned with the second argument. That the culmination of Chaos cults often developed during times of great turmoil for the common people. Those times when the nobles of the land, those who are supposed to represent the Pantheons virtues, failed. In such turmoil, the desperate commonfolk will search for power and protection from elsewhere. Too often they turn to the Chaos. With the war leaving so many destitute, and the king seemingly unwilling to help, Gardinal could almost understand what would tempt them into such sin.

But these times were not outstanding in the annals of history. And rarely did someone appear who could connect to the Chaos enough to channel its dark energies. Yet this Cult of X seemed large, organized, and full of conviction. They had at least one person who could channel Chaos energies well enough to cause real destruction. Gardinal rubbed at his arm remembering yesterday's burns. This Cult was a problem, a big one, and if it got any larger, he may have to report to the Golden Hammers for assistance. Perhaps even to the Council of the Pantheon, the supreme leaders of the Golden Hammers. They were usually the ones who dealt with high heresy.

“Master Gardinal, the Master Belnur is ready for you.” The butler said, pulling Gardinal from his thoughts. He followed the man through the entry hall and up the grand staircase. From the new gilding on near every surface, it seemed his brother Origdall had done some redecorating. The man always did have a gaudy sense of taste, what was wrong with the carved stone of their forefathers?

As he followed the butler down the corridor to his brother’s study, they walked past an oddly dressed Jöln. At first Gardinal pegged them as a man, from the tight black breeches, knee high leather boots, and thick leather doublet it seemed obvious. But when Gardinal got a closer look, passing the Jöln in the process, Gardinal saw it to be a woman. What was his brother doing having business with such odd character? Gardinal shook his head. If what he had to talk to his brother about was true, then odd Jöln women were the least of Gardinal’s troubles. Reaching the end of the hall, the butler held open the door.

“Brother Gardinal, of the Ethinian Order master.” The butler announced him in a suffering tone. Gardinal ducked in.

“Little brother!” The booming voice of Origdall Belnur could fill any room. Gardinal looked across the well decorated room, towering bookshelves full of ledgers and finance treatises covered nearly every wall. At the center of it was a large polished-stone desk, finely carved with various tales of Zethor. Behind the desk sat his brother, Origdall Belnur, in all his rotund glory. He was a portly Khazimi, with a nose so bulbous and red it looked like he was stung by a bee every morning. “Come give me a hug!” Origdall clambered around the desk, nearly knocking his chair over in the process, and hobbled over to wrap Gardinal in a bear of a hug. Gardinal reluctantly patted his brother’s back. Pulling away, Origdall looked up at him and clasped Gardinal’s cheek in one meaty hand. “How you been? Safe? Warm? Hungry? I can have some food brought up. Some a’nice goat stew would do your bones good it would.”

Gardinal sighed, his brother was making up excuses to eat again. As usual. Waving him off Gardinal took a seat on the near side of the desk.

“I am unfortunately not here for a family visit, brother.” Gardinal began.

“Of course you're not.” Origdall shook his head, and sat back down in his seat. He rang for his butler to grab them both some goat stew. There was no saying no to this man. With the butler gone, Origdall turned to him. “So then, if not for old time's sake, what did bring ya here?”

Gardinal breathed heavily before answering. Accusing your brother of supporting a cult was not an easy thing to do. But there was nothing else for it. Gardinal pulled out the scrap of paper and slid it over to his brother.

Origdall grabbed the paper, looked at it, nodded, then left it on the table.

“Congratulations little brother, you burned an old shipping manifest.” Origdall shook his head. “Some of my old ledgers got stolen when I was moving them into storage a few weeks back. What’s this got to do with you though? I have some men looking into it already.”

Gardinal breathed a sigh of relief. His brother wasn’t complicit in a cult, thank the First Mother.

“Did you hear about the attack in the Southshore Market last week?” Gardinal asked.

“Yes, but seeing as no priests came to tell me of your passing I figured you were fine.”

“I was fine, yes, but we still don’t know much of the assailants. Some heretics that have been flourishing among the poor of Southshore.” Gardinal sighed before carrying on. “I tracked one of them down yesterday, a recruiter. He exploded beneath me.” Gardinal reached out and tapped the paper as Origdall’s eyes narrowed. It seemed explosions did grab his attention. “He had this on him. So please tell me Origdall, why would a cult recruiter have an old shipping document from our Kin?” Gardinal eyed his brother, and saw the man’s face grimace and hands clench. Gardinal was not the best at reading people, but his brother he could read like the Book of the Dawn.

“Alright, alright. I can see how this looks. Zethor’s hammer, how did they find out about it?” Origdall seemed to murmur to himself.

“Find out about what?” Gardinal asked, annoyed at being forced to do so. Ethinia give him patience, he prayed, even if it wasn't her virtue. Origdall looked up at him in surprise, as though he had forgotten Gardinal was there.

“I… uh… I have a shipment coming into the Mudport tonight.” Origdall explained. Or didn’t explain enough as far as Gardinal was concerned.

“The Mudport? What in the Chaos are you doing there? Nothing good comes in through the Mudport.” That damnable place was becoming a thorn in his side.

“I know, I know.” Origdall waved him off. “But I had this opportunity little brother. A big one, one that could really change things for us.” Origdall tried to explain, but Gardinal shook his head.

His brother had always dreamed of being a nobleman of the realm. Despite everything else, despite being richer than most lords, the Belnur Kin held no title in Terminia. And they never would, as a Khazimi could not carry a title in this land. Only Fereni, Fershya, and Sherya could. As it had been for nearly a thousand years since the first founding.

“Oh Origdall, don’t go on about this again.” Gardinal began, but Origdall scoffed.

“Little brother, have some faith in me!” Origdall’s big hand rested on Gardinal's. “I only wish to strengthen the Belnur’s that is all.”

“And if you get caught? What if the king turns his eye on you? You know how many nobleman already resent our Kin.” There had been much debate over the years as to why the Kin Belnur was allowed to grow so wealthy, when they didn’t even own land. Every king eventually saw the right of it, when the Kin Belnur would threaten to pull all their investments from Silvermarket.

“He won't. And I won't.” Origdall assured him. “But I could use the help of a skilled Khazimi soldier such as yourself.” Origdall began, but Gardinal cut him off.

“No. You aren’t dragging me into one of your schemes Origdall. Not again.” His older brother and he had a long-storied history of getting wrapped up in those little schemes. Granted, those schemes had gotten the kin even more wealthy in the twenty years Origdall had led them, but Gardinal had a hard time separating his business schemes from those of their childhood.

As Gardinal protested, the door behind him opened, and two young Fereni maids swept into the room. They quickly placed two steaming bowls of goat stew and moved to depart. Origdall moved to pick up his spoon, but Gardinal lifted a finger.

“You are not taking a single bite of that goat, big brother, until you tell me what the hell is going on.” Origdall sighed.

“Maid.” He called out, stopping one of the women. “Could you grab me a big ol stein of krag?” He shook his head. “I feel it’s going to be a long day.”

The girl gave a small curtsy before responding. “The mistress made us swear to the True Father. We can’t bring you any krag before noon Master Belnur.” She responded. Origdall grunted.

“Bloody woman wants me dead I swear. Alright girls be gone then.” He waved them off. Origdall returned his attention to Gardinal. “Alright then, we'll talk seriously. Since you're always so damned serious that is.” He shook his head and took a mouthful of goat. “Ah, damn good that.” He remarked.

“So, the problem I’m having.” Origdall continued. “Is that with what you’ve shown me here and told me, I think that shipment I have coming into Mudport is being eyed by this cult of yours. Makes sense it does, but it's still a problem. I figure we can forge two hammers with one ore if you get what I’m saying.”

Gardinal shook his head. He understood, but he didn’t like it. “What do you want Origdall?”

“I need some extra muscle, some enforcement if you will, to ensure my newest shipment gets in safely.”

“No.” Gardinal cut in.

“Now don’t be hasty little brother.” Origdall took another bite of stew. “I told you there was something in this for you now, didn’t I?” He grinned that toothy grin of his, and Gardinal groaned.

“Go on.” Once his brother got a deal in his mind, it was near impossible to win out. Somehow Origdall Belnur always got the better end of any deal.

“It sounds like this cult of yours has some pretty extensive resources. If you go to the Mudport and keep any unwanted hands off my merchandise, I will write some letters, meet some connections, and see where they’re getting their money from.” He took another bite of goat and smiled. “Deal?”

Gardinal looked at him with a cold look. “I hate it when you negotiate with me.” Gods abandoned, he cursed, the man had been doing it for decades.

“Then come here once in a while just to visit.” Origdall rose from his seat, rounded the table, and slapped Gardinal on the back. “You know your nephew idolizes you right? Gorindon has a shrine to Ethinia in his room, prays to her every night to look after you he does.” He shook his head. “Who ever heard of two Khazimi in a Kin devoted to the First Mother? What ever happened to worshipping Zethor or Sent like a proper Khazimi?” Origdall complained.

Gardinal shook his head and got up now as well. He gave his brother a light pat on his own back.

“Next time, I promise next time I’ll stay for dinner but for now I must…”

“You must get going. As always little brother. Go well in the Pantheon's light, have my butler provide you with the details for tonight, he should know where to find it. Give my best to the Prophetess by the way.”

“She’s not in town, you should know that.” Gardinal responded a tad too hastily.

“Sure she’s not.” Origdall smiled, and Gardinal departed. He felt an itching in his mind, he needed to get back to Her Radiance as soon as possible.