Gallen

Bishop Gallen paced in his study. Cardinal Ollen had arrived the night prior, a full month before the Cardinal Four were meant to come. The cardinal was no doubt here to review Gallen’s candidacy for archbishop, a position Gallen had fought long and hard for his entire life. He had hoped to have the whole catastrophe with the outlaws taken care of long before his review, with time to attend the Festival of the Azure Moon in Boukua afterward. Now all he could do was wait while Cardinal Ollen arrived to pass judgment.

He began to doubt his parishes. Every issue that crossed his desk flashed through his mind on repeat as he questioned if he ever addressed their concerns or if he had forgotten them entirely. Typically all four cardinals would review an archbishop candidate together. He pondered if Ollen was merely passing through Riverhill, and this visit was only a friendly one.

Cardinal Ollen arrived at his door with his servants guiding his every step and his heavily armed guards watching his flanks and rear. He was an old fat human. His belly protruded as if he were pregnant, and his face drooped like it was melting off his face. He was bald on the crown of his head with long braided gray hair dangling from the sides under his cardinal crown.

“Your Eminence.” Gallen knelt to the ground and bowed. His wings lay flat and spread wide.

“Bishop Gallenra Mbembok. It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years.”

“Has it truly been years?” Gallen asked.

“It’s hard to say. When you get as old as I am, the mind begins to fade.”

“I’m sure you are as sharp as ever, Your Eminence.”

“You flatter me too much, Gallen.” Cardinal Ollen dismissed his entourage. “Leave us be. There are holy matters of which only the bishop here may discuss.”

His servants and guards bowed out, leaving the two holy men to chat.

“Now that we are alone, allow me to cut straight to the reason I am here.”

Gallen gulped and hoped that the cardinal didn’t notice.

Cardinal Ollen panned over the room to a large map of the continent hanging across the wall. He ran his finger from one end of the empire’s territory to the other, stopping in the south.

“You are originally from Galatea, are you not?”

“Yes, Your Eminence. Me and Knight Commander Khadar grew up at a monastery there when our parents died of the sap plague. The church provided us with a home when no one else would. If it weren’t for the grace of the Gods, I would have died as a fledgling and Khadar a calf.”

“Foreign orphans that rose to such high positions of power. The blessings the Holy Trinity bestowed upon you both are beyond counting.”

“I thank the Gods every day for them. The Holy Trinity are good to those who have faith.”

“And vengeful to those who doubt,” Ollen sneered. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Of course,” Gallen replied. He was trying to deduce what precisely the cardinal was trying to find out.

“Tell me, Gallen, how do you think your old home is faring?”

“It’s hard to say. I seldom visit Galatea. My last visit was eight years ago during the last Festival of the Azure Moon. The political and cultural climate there shifts with the slightest breeze, so I never can tell what state the kingdom will be in when I arrive.”

“Why do you think that is?” Ollen asked as if he already knew the answer.

“There are many things that contribute to the fragility of the nation, but I would say the greatest issue they have is a series of warrior kings rather than politician kings. They seek conflict rather than compromise.”

Ollen nodded and pursed his lips. “That is a fine answer, but that is more of a symptom of the true issue that plagues Galatea.”

“What issue would that be?”

“A lack of faith,” the cardinal hissed as his long fingernails slowly scratched Galatea on the map.

Gallen did not fully understand but dared not appear ignorant. He only nodded in response.

“How informed are you of how our great empire was first established?”

“It is a famous story that I doubt anyone on the continent of Enuin could forget. But I shall indulge His Eminence.”

Ollen smiled. “When Draygonix the Conqueror rose to power during the Era of Conquest hundreds of years ago, he did not do so through strength of arms alone. Anytime he conquered a land, he would win over the hearts and minds of its people by including their gods within the pantheon of the Holy Trinity. After all, the Holy Trinity started with Xobris alone and added Oxris and Qitos when Evintia and Solemn were annexed into the empire. Draygonix was able to keep every land he conquered with little need of forced occupation because he controlled the most powerful force in existence. Faith.”

Gallen nodded but was still unsure where Ollen was going with his story.

“So long as the people accepted that their gods were beneath the Holy Trinity, they were allowed to go about their lives as normal and could enjoy the benefits of being a part of the most advanced empire of its time. Prosperity and excess rained down upon those who held faith in the Holy Trinity, and discourse would ravage the lands that dared defy their superior divinity.”

“The Gods are good to those with faith and vengeful to those without,” Gallen recited.

“Precisely. Galatea has long been a stubborn territory. It resides on the southernmost tip of the Travenhall Empire, and its capital, Boukua, is the furthest city still attached to the Golden Road. This has made it difficult to assert any form of religious authority over the local flock no matter how many shepherds we send on missions.”

“One of the main reasons I immigrated to the central empire was to escape the paganism that flooded the streets of my home. Much of my preaching there fell on deaf ears.”

“Sadly, we live within the Era of Freedom, and Travenhall’s borders have been locked in place for over four hundred years. The Sovereign will never do anything to save the souls of the people of Galatea, so it is up to the church to see this through.”

“I cannot agree more.” Bishop Gallen nodded.

“Last I checked, you were up for review to take Archbishop Theodric’s place. Yes?”

Gallen’s eyes widened. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

Cardinal Ollen leaned in close to Gallen. “Listen closely, Bishop. What if I were to tell you that you have already been chosen?”

Gallen felt week in his knees. “Chosen . . .? So soon?”

Ollen nodded. “Indeed. The Cardinal Four have already chosen you as their top pick for the position.”

“I am beyond honored, Your Eminence.” Gallen fell to his knees and lifted his arms overhead. “I thank the Gods with all of my being.”

“Let us not be hasty now, Gallen. You are not the archbishop just yet. I have no doubts that you are the perfect bishop for the position, but the other three cardinals need a bit more convincing.”

“Anything you ask of me, I will do,” Gallen gasped.

Ollen smiled. “The task we have before you will not be easy. It is a task that will require faith beyond measure and the conviction to do whatever it takes to save your people.”

Gallen stood tall. “There is no task too great when the Gods are on my side.”

“You are quite promising, indeed. I have high hopes for you.” Ollen took a seat behind Gallen’s desk. “Now tell me, what do you know about the Tree of Bouk?”

“It is a mountainous tree that stands in the center of the city of Boukua said to be the burial place of the Galatean God-King, Bouk. The ancient shamans of Bouk made the tree into an immense palace where the king of Galatea resides.”

“It also serves as a place of paganistic rituals performed by the religious leaders of the other pagan gods of the region,” Ollen interjected. “The Galateans place these pagan gods along with this Bouk above the Holy Trinity and often discount the divinity of the Trinity entirely. So long as this continues, more and more souls will be lost to the Seven Hells. Your task is to correct this problem.”

“You wish for me… to convert an entire nation of stubborn warriors?” Gallen faltered. “I do not wish to sound incompetent, but such a task would far exceed the years I have left in this world.”

“Do not worry, my son. We understand that conversion is not a quick process. That is why we have set forth a plan that will show the entire kingdom of Galatea, no, the entire southern continent, the true might of the Holy Trinity in one brilliant display of power.”

“You’ve piqued my curiosity. What display could possibly accomplish that?”

“We intend for you to annihilate the Tree of Bouk,” Ollen commanded.

Bishop Gallen’s beak dropped open, and his eyes widened. A deadly silence lingered through the room.

“That . . . that’s impossible, Your Eminence. When the sap that dripped from the tree caused the sap plague that killed my parents and tens of thousands of other Galateans, many enraged beastmen tried setting the great tree ablaze, but its bark did not even singe. When axes were taken to its roots, they would regenerate faster than the people could cut. The people now believe the sap plague is some kind of divine punishment from Bouk himself and dare not anger him further. They’ve made any violent action toward the tree punishable by death. The ancient shamans were the only ones to ever lay a permanent mark upon the tree, but they have been dead and buried for centuries.”

“I understand fully how indestructible the tree is. However, Trinity Church scholars unearthed ancient monoliths long hidden by the sands of time. They inspected these massive monoliths and found that these pillars stood as spell components for an immensely powerful ritual designed to destroy the Tree of Bouk.”

“Who could possibly have designed such an epic spell?”

“We have no idea who built them or who wished to destroy the tree. All our scholars could deduce was that they predate the Great Happening. Perhaps they were placed there by the Holy Trinity themselves for us to use to do their bidding.”

“That is the only explanation I can imagine. Regardless of how the monoliths came to be there, if we destroy the Tree of Bouk, we would risk starting a crusade that would burn Galatea to the ground. The people believe the only way to stop the sap plague is to earn Bouk’s favor.”

“This is where your faith will be tested, Gallen. A terrible conflict may erupt in response to this, but it will be up to you to inform them that the miracle that freed them from the tyranny of Bouk’s sap plague was, in fact, from the Holy Trinity. They will be sheep without a shepherd. It will be your task to rear them into our pastures.”

Gallen fell into a chair. His loose feathers fluttered through the air. “Is there any indication of the damage that will be caused by the tree’s destruction?”

“We have been assured that only the tree itself will be destroyed. The surrounding areas should be left relatively untouched.”

Gallen nodded, putting a hand to his chin. This information was a lot to take in. Ollen stood and hovered over Gallen’s shoulder. He placed his hands on them and gripped them as tight as his feeble old fingers could.

“I understand we are asking a great deal of you, Gallen. If you do not believe you are up to the task, no one will call you a coward. We can always ask another—”

“I will do it,” Gallen interrupted. “I will destroy the Tree of Bouk.”