0 comments/ 6884 views/ 3 favorites In The Temple of Kaos By: Namazu Rumor had it, and if there was anything Eris followed it was rumors, for there was always some truth in them, that the Citadel of the Cult never slept. And there was some truth to the rumor, but the city, like all cities, did sleep. For most people. There were always guards around, yes, always trainees and newly appointed eager studiers of the old laws and practices awake, there were always late night sessions of various practices, but overall, when the final bells after the main dinner sounded, most of the Citadel slept. Or did other activities in their rooms. Of course, as the High Priestess, in technicality second only to the High Priest, and above just slightly the Council, such rules did not apply to her. But with Kronos the High Priest away on some form of spiritual journey that could not, for whatever reason, happen within the safe halls and walls of the maze-like Citadel, and some of the Council with him, it was, for now, simpler to remain in her part of the massive quarters. Not that she and Kronos did not share a master bedroom and most of the elaborate apartment, but she had her personal rooms as he did his. And for now, the last somber bells of the night service summoning certain lower priests to their duties, she remained on the dark marbled balcony overlooking the main Citadel plaza. To be sure every guard in the plaza knew she was there. To be sure the guards posted outside the main doors knew she was inside. And she was not a prisoner. In fact, as she reclined and watched those below, she was waiting for such news from the private Inquisitors. She had received notice only a night ago, that some trespassers had been captured near the high gates, but until any of them were awake, there was no point in venturing to the dungeons. As soon as most of them were functioning, she would, of course, take her place below for some interrogations. For now, she could afford to rest, idlely inspecting the black tattoos that covered every inch of her hands, and indeed body overall. A good part of her wondered what idiots would dare trespass so close to a largely hidden city. In fact whoever had dared would have had to land any form of ship miles away, travel over harsh terrain, and know the city was here in the first damn place... A sudden and rather loud knock echoed sharply in the room, and slowly she turned to the source, eyes narrowed. For the briefest moment her gold eyes flashed green, and the word "Enter" died on her lips, instead reaching into the daring knocker's mind, and planting itself there. The door opened almost instantly, a white uniformed guard quickly saluting with his closed fist over his heart. "High Priestess," he said quickly, eyes downcast, the smart lad might live to see another day, despite his foolish knocking, "the Head Inquisitor has requested your presence, post haste. Three of the four prisoners are awake." A bare glance at this guard, and she rose carefully, barely nodding at him as she stalked from the balcony through the rather opulent room, dousing a few of the large candles in the process. No need to leave indications of her presence. "Good. Return to your post." The luckless boy (she could not think of him as a man really, so young this one! A fresh recruit no doubt, and she wondered if time would heal the wounds of the newly initiated, or it was simple blind faith that would.) saluted again, careful to keep his eyes off her, and stepped back into the stark white hallway. Much of the Citadel and the palace was dark white, almost blinding white, as her skin was. As a young one herself she had often had thoughts of being able to stand pressed to a wall, and blending in perfectly. That was, of course, long before her appointment as the High Priestess, and the tattoos that came with it. There was no need to ask for this guard's name, and in fact she would no doubt forget his face within minutes, which was a trait many guards hoped to keep for long-term employment. Council aside, if the High Priest or Priestess grew weary of a guard, disposal was simple. It was not as if there weren't dozens of eager young recruits vying for a spot closer to those in control. The 'post haste' comment she filed away for later memory. The boy, physically an adult as he was, might need a little reminder of his status. But later. Still there was some protocol to be followed, and she wordlessly took down her long crimson cloak, a stark contrast to her white form, clasping it around her with its ornate bronze clasps, and sliding the hood up as she stepped out, the door sealing silent behind her. Her private quarters of course had a dozen guards at each end of the hallway, but she did not, this time, require an escort, a sharp nod to the armored men stepping forward her forcing them back, and to their posts. If anyone near this level in the Citadel saw her in such regalia, small as it was for a small ceremony, they would have shied quickly from her gold-eyed vision. She was on a patrol, on some high duty here; this particular cloak was worn for special ceremonies, for initiations of certain castes, and, on a more personal note, when she wanted to be noticed with her status, as if the tattoos were not enough, but not enough notice with her full cloak and crown. As she passed down to the lower levels to Rhamadan's keep in the dungeons, simple enough to ignore, or barely nod to the guards on heavier watch duty here, all bowing, eyes downcast. Kronos was well known to select nightly entertainment from the guards, from indeed most any caste, and few would ever think to deny him, but it was quite another for a priestess to summon for such reasons outside of certain dates or ceremonies. Not that any would balk if they wanted their lives spared. The two large guards on duty right outside the main cell hold quickly opened the doors for her, the horns of Kaos deeply detailed indeed on nearly every door down here. It gave the place a rather oppressive air, but that was a point for a prison. And she looked first to the cells rather than Rhamadan, knowing he had the prisoners secured and would likely start detailing his findings as she viewed the new arrivals. Eris had long since made it personal victory never to show emotion save for a few, rage being one of them, to any member of the lower castes. Rhamadan was only a few steps below the Council, as Head Inquisitor, but despite her cool face, he could see from body language alone she was rather surprised. Four prisoners, all wearing their ceremonial garb still, though with some clear bloody marks that indicated they had not gone down easily from patrolling guards. Four members of the Covenant, their ancient enemy. Three men, she noted, and one woman, the latter and one of the former still unconscious. The oldest member of the quartet was awake, as was the youngest man, perhaps just slightly younger than the guard who had summoned her. But unlike the guard, or indeed any guard in the Citadel, this young man stared at her, his gaze brimming with a dark fury and hatred she had not witnessed in a long time, and a simple smile played over her black lips. But the smile she turned to Rhamadan was, at least in part, true. It was a predator's smile to be sure; even he was not safe from her wrath if she chose to dole it on him, but so far he had done as ordered, even beyond the scope of her demands. He was quite good at getting information from wayward poor recruits of the Cult, in weeding out spies. "You know, Inquisitor....Kronos is never going to believe what guests we have now. Nor the Council. Almost a shame they will be smelted down by the time the High Priest returns, isn't it." But her optics were locked onto the youngest Covenant prisoner (or whatever level he was. lower in training? His garb was muddied and bloodied and she could not fully see any ornaments on him, save for the standard tattoo above his eyes)'s as she spoke in that soft voice of hers. It was not like the High Priestess to raise her voice. Not that she needed to. "If I may, High Priestess, they may yet be alive," stated the Inquisitor lightly, not turning his back to her, to be sure, he would never dare such a slight, but half turning from the cuffed and chained prisoners to inspect a long tray of his well-used instruments. Knives were the very least of what he kept on easy hand. "It depends if they want to divulge their information the easy way or the hard way. Well, you as well as I know the hardheaded nature and foolhardy valiance of the Covenant..." A sudden but low creak of chain received a low look from them both; the youngest priest's glare was still open, still full of venom, and he would have no doubt spit on both had he been close enough. "San!" hissed the other awake priest, his eyes and face more lined with fear, outright terror, than righteous fury. "San, cease!" For a good moment the youth kept his gaze on his hateful targets, then dropped it silently; Eris could see how tight the cuffs dug and cut into his wrists and legs, leaving slight indents and the smell of blood. A very large one, this, and she reminded herself to have the guards retest all restraints here. But for now. To be sure she saw that, that flicker of defiance despite an order from an elder. And casually she pulled her staff from subspace, the aid taller than she was, a dark black with harsh gold etchings. Runes likely even the Covenant priests before her never knew existed. Old magic. Powerful magic. And she trusted enough just drawing out a beacon of her power would make at least the older awake prisoner shudder. "You should listen to your elders, San," she said with that damnable smile. And she stepped not toward him, but to the other priest, fingers lightly coiled around the icy staff, letting it touch the bars before this older priest; it was instinct by now, to mentally feel for the terror in a mind, and if she concentrated enough, in the soul direct. If any of these fools had doubt to her identity, the staff, one of only two in existence like so, would quell those. "And I am not so sure, Inquisitor. Four prisoners, that is a good deal of mouths to feed. Easier to dispose of three and keep one for information. .....of course I would not deny you disposal rights or the time it would take to fully end them. I do enjoy bonfires this time of year. And I see a priestess as well. I am sure the guards who brought these in could use a reward as Covenant woman." Not that, she knew, any of the prisoners would know how rape was frowned upon, unless it was, in essence, permitted by the High Ones. Any guard who dared to touch a prisoner without permission would suffer a worse fate than the prisoner themselves. Insubordination would never be tolerated. Not that the Covenant would ever believe that. "In fact, I think the priestess here would be quite good for a few hours restrained in the main courtyard." All bluster, for now. In fact she was testing the youngest priest....how defiant he was, and if he would dare try insubordination against his own elder, who likely, even if he would call her bluster, would never think for a second she was not serious. And she could turn that way far too easily. "You are far too kind, High Priestess," came the soft reply from Rhamadan. "But I am certain many would exchange their indulgences for a viewing of her." Another creak, and this time she turned her full attention to the young priest, his blazing blue eyes back on her, his large body straining in the sharp restraints. A creak, no more, no less. Still time for the guards to remake the bonds. "San, hold!" whispered the Covenant priest desperately. "Please, for the love of all that is holy, be still!" A low growl from San, and Eris noted privately how he shuddered, shaking really, his hands locked into tight fists against the cold stone of the cell wall. And his voice was tight, as if being forced out under extreme duress, as if the torture had already begun. "You expect me to keep silent?" "I rather do." Eris stepped from the older priest's cell, back to inspect the lot of them. "As for you, were you one of my priests I would be highly dishonored if we were captive and you showed such disrespect to an elder. Especially one who so outranks you. If nothing else I do respect the status climb. ".....in short, speak out of turn again and I will turn over your priestess to anyone who wants them tonight. Perhaps in this very room to see if you can hold your tongue or if my Inquisitor will keep it as a trophy. Now, as a final warning, any attempt to escape your bonds from here out will result in your comrades being presented to my lower castes for full torture of every nature. My Inquisitors will use them as specimens and training guides. And when I have grown tired of hearing them beg to die, I will cut their throats myself and shatter their souls to atoms. In the future, assuming you have one, remember these words, if only for their lives." Only then did her gaze pass back to the older priest. "I do apologize for interfering with your discipline but unfortunately your trainee should learn respect when speaking to a member of my rank. "I am the High Priestess of the Cult of Kaos. You will oblige me by stating your names and how you came to my Citadel, and if there is any deceit I will be more than happy to rip the information from your mind. Those of you who have read even a slight gossip of me know I can do so half asleep. So don't, please, try your luck since San here already has." In The Temple of Kaos Ch. 02 The older priest nodded and, voice low, identified himself as Ronin, and the unconscious priestess as Virtue, the other priest as Seraphim, and the youngest as Sanctuary. Wisely, he didn't meet her eyes, out of fear or respect, something Eris privately noted. "We were sent here to meet a spy - one on the inside. "We don't know their name or their rank... or even what they look like. We were informed that they would meet us at a designated area. That is where we were found." San, for his part, remained silent, and a scorching glare from Ronin kept his eyes downcast as well. "I see," said Eris calmly. At this she nodded, glancing just once at Rhamandan, her eyes guarded. What precisely they were guarding was anyone's guess. But she smiled again. "Ah yes. Sometimes vermin do make it up within the ranks. But I find it a good way to insure competitive guards, among others." She lightly turned the staff in her hands before releasing it, the staff remaining upright as she eyed over the prisoners. "Of course you could have already met this traitor, I imagine, in any of the guards who brought you in, or the lower caste who saw you escorted here. Or perhaps even in this room." Perhaps that explained the glance to Rhamandan; even he was not above suspicion. Not that he could blame her. "I do suppose I should offer a private interrogation since you four so rudely interrupted my nightly habits. So should I ask who among you five would prefer an interrogation away from your comrades? .....which of you will simper and beg and pray the least, I wonder." "Don't touch them." The words, this time, were quiet. San looked at her again, but this time it was not nearly with the heat and hatred as before. This gaze teetered at the edge of pleading. Begging, noted the High Priestess. Weakness. He wanted to spare his comrades pain, and even as now Ronin said nothing, didnt even look at the youth. "Dont...touch them. If it's a victim you want, then take me. Spare them," he repeated, voice soft. "I offer myself." At this she did glance to the youngest priest; part of her noted the clear change in tone, the quiet fear in his voice. Very well. Perhaps just once she would stay her staff, though the icy air around it was no doubt felt by those chained in the cells. "I was going to take Ronin since he seems to be able to follow directions so far, very admirable in a priest, but perhaps I can reconsider." She nodded to Rhamandan. "Sanctuary, my earlier words still stand and with considerable weight. Be aware of that because anything you do to displease or anger me from here out will be dealt with not in your flesh, but in your comrades'. I offer that as a forewarning." And there was no mercy in those eyes, no sense of humanity as she stepped to the youngest priest, a guard opening the cell with barely a look from her; the priest was still well secured, and if he had any hopes of escape, the staff floating slightly behind her, then resting nearly at his side, not quite touching him, likely dashed that. Freezing air there as the priestess herself stepped into the cell, unafraid, her eyes on the emblem on his chest, and likely little training could prepare him for the touch of her fingertips there, then over his mind itself as she reached out mentally. A pre-interrogation, as it seemed! And that voice was cool inside him. No pain, yet. ~So young and with so much to live for, and you offer yourself as a sacrifice. Tell me, priest, what would you offer to see your comrades survive this? ~ Sanctuary's eyes closed, his jaw clenched, but he remained silent. Perfectly silent. His fists were clenched, the last sign of defiance he gave, more out of fear than actually trying to escape. Even though there was no pain, he tensed sharply, his heart and chest tight and taut beneath her fingers, trembling very slightly, fully expecting pain at any second. ~Anything... I will do anything to spare them. I offer myself as full tribute to you. Any part of my flesh or soul to spare them.~ A part of flesh. Very Covenant of him. Still, had he proclaimed he would give his entire life, his faith, anything to save them, still, even with soul-reading, she would have doubted his faith in any measure. But this. So be it. ~Perhaps we can strike a deal. I am not an unreasonable woman despite what you have heard. Do as I say and their deaths will be painless. Do as I demand and their lives will be spared and they will be released from here with only memory tampering of the Citadel's location. Thus far, unless you displease me, their deaths will be painless. Cross me and I will change my mind. But I think we can work out a deal in which their lives can be exchanged for your own.~ Hardly unreasonable if she would take his life in place of theirs...hardly a tactical advantage though. ~However I would like to see evidence of this. Though you are very young and I am very skilled, some are still able to lie their way through a soul-reading. If you are released from your bonds and show respect, I will consider your offer fully rather than as a joke or desperate plea for your own life. And we can progress from there.~ And skilled as the priests he had trained under were, very few could send images to the mind, as mirage or otherwise, but this she did, a vague sense of the guards undoing his bonds and he....was to bow before her. Not attack. Not pray. Show respect in such a cruel way as only part of a salvation for his friends. And she waited for his answer, that cruel smile taunting. His arms lowered as he was released, and at once, his body dipped sharply at the waist, then further to one knee. He bowed to her, lowered himself before her, exposed his back and neck to her, made himself vulnerable, weak, a full target. For Angel and Virtue finally and muzzily awake, it was not a welcome sight to see. For a good minute the priestess barely noticed the quivering youth at her feet, instead nodding at the quickly-thinking guard who released him so fast. A small promotion was in this one's future. And only when the guard had resumed his post did she turn her attention to the priest. His size was interesting to her; likely he was in training to be a paladin or a high guard. Strange if he was fully a standard priest. She had her doubts. A nd her staff floated back to her side, and for several minutes she let him bow, glancing to each of the three imprisoned before nodding. "Your faith serves you well, Sanctuary. Now on your feet." She turned a glance to the guards. "Let us see how much he wishes to see his companions survive this in any measure. Take him to my personal interrogation room. Bind him first. Rhamandan, until you have my word, these three are to remain here and untouched. If Sanctuary's word is weak, you will be granted all three within minutes of his oath being broken." She did not need to remind Rhamandan his fate if he crossed her; she had personally removed his own trainer and the past torture staff without qualms. "Seal them into lockdown and sedate them. You will then have the rest of the night off, but they are to be untouched for now." Rhamadan hid his private disappointment well, and simply bowed in respect as Eris took her leave. Sanctuary obediently held out his arms for binding, the guards moving swiftly, and then followed the guards out and away; he did not, could not meet Ronin's horrified gaze, or the stares of his other companions. The dungeon door closed sharply behind him, and he forced himself to remain calm, to keep cool and at peace in his prayers as he was led up and through the Citadel. For Sanctuary, the escorted journey could not have been called easy by any means, but in a cold way, the Citadel was rather beautiful. The walls, once out of the prison hold, were smooth white marble, gold and black runes and etchings deeply carved into them. Images of the horns of Kaos were everywhere, but there were other art pieces as well, paintings and sculptures of Point Omega, of vanquished Covenant priests, of past High Priests and more. The guards were silent as they led him up, and then down several long hallways and cold stairs, until he was blindfolded (so strange! as if he would live to tell anyone of where he was or what he had witnessed) and marched further on. This blind journey, one guard keeping a grip on his bonded wrists behind his back, seemed eternal, but it was within ten minutes that he felt himself being shackled into place, and then the blindfold was removed, the guards saying nothing as they left, securing the door behind them. So this was her interrogation room. A place he had likely never heard of, but like the rest of the Citadel, done in stark whites and blacks, with thick red columns, several scrolls hung on the walls. And because this was a torture room and no amount of art on the walls could state otherwise, a long table lined with sharp instruments lay to his right, out of his reach to be sure. More alarming were the hooks that hung suspended from the ceiling, supported by those red columns, and the grate under his feet to let blood drain out. And then she stepped in, the damnable woman he had bowed to, the one his comrades so feared, and so rightly so, but perhaps that made it worse with her power, how he was taller and likely stronger than she was, at least physically. Her damnable staff floated behind her, finally coming to a rest some feet from him as she casually set her crimson cloak down on one large table that held no torture instruments, but did have thick cuffs set into it. And for a few minutes she ignored him, pulling some incense from a drawer and setting it to burn, releasing an almost exotic smell before turning her gaze to him. If there had been any chance for escape, it was not in here; his bonds here were far thicker than they had been in the barred cells, heavy metal around his ankles and a thick bar over his stomach, thicker ones around his shoulders, and his wrists clamped heavily to the wall. The restraints were almost not needed, really, he knew enough she could have his comrades murdered within seconds of any displeasure, and the terror of their deaths kept him stiller than any blade against his flesh. She approached him, so heavily held to the wall, and one cool hand barely brushed against his chest, over his pounding heart. If he didn't know better, and likely with never experiencing a female like her before, he might well miss the slight smirk in her eyes; up close he was rather intense. Almost overbrimming with that life force. Almost, in some way, handsome. "My name is Eris, and you may call me High Priestess for now. I do not need to remind you that any delay, deceit, or hesitation on your part will result in your comrades' deaths being long and painful. My Inquisitors are skilled at keeping prisoners alive for months, and I don't mean on a healthy diet with good exercise. So, priest, we will begin this by you telling me about yourself. Your status. How you came to be a priest. How you came to find your way into my city. Family back home. Beloveds back home, children. Consider it filling out a very important application for travel or employment." He inhaled sharply, the smell of incense oddly familiar, and after a moment found his voice. "Before being inducted into the priesthood, my birth name was Vessel," he spoke softly, eyes still down. "The Covenant grants a new name to all those who complete training to enter the priesthood. I was orphaned in the war and raised in an orphanage run by the Covenant - many of my peers became priests or paladins. To serve the God we were taught of, to spread His light and love, became an ambition for many of us. "The High Priest, Argus Maximus, asked for volunteers to be dropped off as close to the Citadel as we dared, to meet and gather information from a spy we had within the workings of the Citadel. We were not told his name, his codename, or his appearance, protection for him or her in case we were captured. We were told to identify them by a secret code - ask them how far the Red City was. They were to answer simply with, you've gone far too south. Once identified the spy was to turn over holy scrolls they had stolen from the inner sanctum. The spy...the spy never showed up. We were captured by your guards as we tried to move closer to the Citadel to find what had befallen him. "I have... no family, except for my betrothed. She. Her name is Eilla. Young and healthy members of the Covenant are often paired in arranged marriages, if both are agreeable. And we are to be...we were to be married in two months' time, under the Dual Equinox." Eris listened, and nodded slightly. There was fear in his body to be sure, but had she felt none she would have believed every word from him a lie. Somehow she was not surprised how similar practices were between the two eternal factions, for lack of a better word; it merely proved the gods had a good sense of humor. "Very good so far." And so far he was. She might not need to fully threaten him moreso. Yet. "Though four is a rather large size party for spywork, not that this information does you well now. But if you have a future in this, you might want to leave the number to one or two. As well, I do believe the Red City is further west." Not that any of those words indicated anything of treason....but there might have been hints, if fear didn't block them entirely. "Now tell me about your companions. All volunteers as well? What information were you to get about my city? Defenses, guard rosters, locations of myself or Kronos for assassination?" "Yes... All volunteers. The network of spies in the Covenant and in several other organizations involved in diplomacy, military, council, and other smaller cults, are all headed by a very small group of people. Not even Ronin knows very much about them. They keep it extremely quiet, for the protection of the people on the inside. "Angel is married. Virtue has not yet been partnered. We all volunteered. The Covenant thought it best to send four for the sake of safety. As to the type of information we were to obtain, that was top secret - Ronin doesn't even know. They never said exactly, only to take whatever scrolls were offered." It made sense, really. She had not survived the Cult itself so long by revealing much information herself. And she rested that cool hand directly over his heart with slightly more pressure, not reading, but the threat was clearly present. "As some of my less elite guards would say, priest, for you are a priest, aren't you, even if not a high one or even beyond level one, let us get down to brass tacks. You have no hope of survival when my husband the High Priest returns. To a degree he holds more power than I do in the running of the City, so if you want your companions spared it must be decided quickly. I do admit that three in exchange for one seems rather poorly in my favor, but I think we can reach a decision. Offer me what you can and I will make my decision." The open face that met her steel gaze was steadily growing more desperate. "I offer," he breathed shakily, "anything and everything I have. Memory and accounts of rituals, weapon forging, training of any of our arts, servitude. I will do anything, anything you want... My mind, my soul, my body, they are yours if you spare my comrades..." For a long moment Eris remained silent, and slowly, barely nodded. He was good. Too often she had dealt with prisoners who begged and wept at the first sign of a threat. Even in this one's youth, he seemed smart enough to avoid the usual pitfalls. And for a long moment she looked over his face...and the smile grew. "I will have their memories of this encounter erased. Up to a week prior to your landing here. In return for their lives, you will follow my every order, my every command. You will tell me everything I wish to know, and....I am not foolish enough to think once they have been released you will not attempt to go back on your word. So I want an unbreakable oath, priest, Sanctuary. Swear on your soul, fully, entirely, that in exchange for their lives, you will be a slave to whatever I see fit, for the rest of your life." "Agreed," he said quickly, meeting her gaze finally. "Agreed. I swear upon my soul upon the faith of my Covenant, I swear upon everything I believe and have ever believed. "If you spare my comrades, I swear full and unconditional servitude to you." Beneath her very fingertips, the signet of his faith flashed a soft blue glow. A recognition of the validity of the oath by his very spirit. After a pause she removed her fingers, nodding once. "Your word is your bond and life, and those are now mine. Your comrades owe you a great deal. It is a pity they won't remember leaving you here." With that she touched her staff, the black pole glowing darkly as a mirage formed, a visual portal revealing the dungeon, and only Rhamandan was in view. "Inquisitor, the prisoners are to have the last week of memories stripped from them, no more, no less. Have a guarded escort take them to Port Exidus and leave them there. Insure their sedation will not wear off until they are safely at that neutral port. As for the last prisoner, when I am through with him, he is yours." And she looked to the youth priest, half expecting to see tears now, a weeping mess of regret. She was almost disappointed to find his face calm, stoic even. His eyes closed again, and he was silent, not even praying for deliverance. She privately noted this as a good beacon. And she stepped from the chained and locked priest. "A deal is a deal, San. They will be safe." He finally opened his eyes, those dark blue eyes, warily watching the priestess, and his hands formed into quiet fists. The torture was coming now, he knew that, but had and held no regrets. His friends were safe, and his life was a cheap price for it. But he could not stop himself from following the priestess with his eyes, her long robes pooling on the floor as she stepped toward the table lined with blades. And instead of picking up one of the curved blades on the torture table, she...opened a side cabinet, removing a rather large bottle of dark purple wine, and she eyed him almost critically. "Your comrades will be out of here soon, priest. And if I discover anyone has touched them without my permission, those disobedient fools will suffer far worse than you. I don't suppose you Covenant priests are allowed the vice of wine?" In The Temple of Kaos Ch. 03 For a good moment the priest was silent, certain that the torture had already begun, that this was a mere trick of the mind. In fact the priestess Eris in her damning black robes had time to set down two chalices and fill one by the time he found his voice. "Ah... not... not recreationally, no," he answered. "Wine is part of a few rituals, namely communion, but other than that, no... it isn't allowed. Like any vice, it can cloud the mind and impair judgment." She only smiled in that odd way, the predatory way, but there was some hint of amusement there on those dark lips set into that marked and tattooed face. "I know it is not quite...off limits here in my city, but you are correct in that vices do need limits. I do not permit free wine or liquor here unless it is a certain ceremony but those are rare and certainly very enjoyed. I am sure if the Covenant held a...celebration like the one I think of, recruitment would go far up." "I know your vow, priest. Know that I am still armed, but for now, until I snuff it out under my staff, your soul is mine. So vices are allowed." She did not even have to touch her staff, merely nodded at it, and the binds around him suddenly, as one, released. And she nodded once to his full wine goblet, taking a seat on one of the chairs near the torture instrument table, and then another larger chair close to him, if he dared to sit. His hesitation was not from fear, but from utter confusion. Why was she trying to get him to lower his guard? He had already sworn his life to her and she had obviously accepted... What was this strange game she was playing with him, and why? Still, any 'invitation' she gave was immediately interpreted as an order that was not to be disobeyed. His comrades were still in the Citadel and he had made an unbreakable vow. Confused and cautious, he moved to the chair, rubbing his wrists before he sat down very tentatively. He looked down at the goblet for a long few seconds, his mind racing as to what kinds of poisons or toxins she had lined the goblet with it, what kind of internal organ dissolving venom was she about to force him to drink? A careful glance to her paleness drinking the wine without issue did not reassure him; the High Priestess no doubt had antidotes to any and every known toxin. He dared not delay, and picked up the heavy crystal chalice, weighing it for a second before quickly taking a deep and rather rude gulp; the burning he expected, the aches and ashes did not come, and he risked a glance at Eris, still lightly drinking hers down. If she noted his fear at poison, she did not show it. In fact, if not for her staff still floating near the table of torture tools, or the cuffs on the other tables....or the Cult icons all over the room, it would almost be pleasant. The incense was soft, and she herself sipped the wine, a rather sweet, almost sugary drink! In fact she kept drinking from her own goblet; whatever toxins there were in his, she was taking them down too, and after some minutes she turned her gaze back to him. "My husband will not be back for several days, Sanctuary, and I am certain aside from your own life and soul in my hands and wondering how painful your death will be, you have questions. So if you have any, about me, the Citadel, whatever issues of faith against ours, go ahead and ask." That smile again, almost mocking. If not for her tattoos and the predatory look to her, she would almost be beautiful. In some dark and dangerous way. "It is not in my nature to lie to those who so belong to me. If you have no questions then just enjoy your drink. If you do, ask." "Yes... I do... have questions...High Priestess. " he said quietly. He was not one to lie, not even to her, and amidst his fear, curiosity was surging within him, about the Cult, the Citadel, her and the high priest. The information would die with him, but at least he would die knowing a truth his friends never had. "What... what drives someone, prompts someone, to join the Cult?" He couldn't wrap his mind around it at all. The why. The whys of someone wanting to join such a place, with such a steep price as one's eternal soul? Was it wealth? Power? Control over others very lives? It couldn't be so simple. The Covenant was easy - save lives, cleanse spirits and heal mental wounds, give aid to those in need, spread the word of their creator... but the Cult? A group dedicated to casting chaos and suffering throughout the very world. It had to be a sick person to willingly join such a place. She finished her wine, setting the goblet down. "I largely imagine the same reason recruits join yours. Power, wealth in the higher levels, connections with political favors. Unfortunately the latter two do not apply within the Cult and the former is limited to a scant few. I am one of them. Kronos another. But I fear the rumors about the Citadel are overstated. We don't sacrifice infants and children every week or even every year. Adults to the same degree. We don't have orgies every Saturday or allow recruits or even those in higher levels to roam amok with power. Yes Kronos might keep his sex toys and no they cannot really say no, but that form of power is reserved for himself and myself. The Council to a degree. "Yet I constantly hear of recruits who join so eagerly hearing of untold bloodshed, the rights to females or males for whatever they wish, of power to decimate buildings or rip out souls from the enemy and gorge their pale idiotic faces with them. Stories. Rumors. A bit of truth to every one, but please. Some of them read far too much into the rumors and believe more and more that joining the Cult will grant them godlike powers. They can show their personal enemies who has it. The real answer is not them. We certainly welcome sociopaths but there are rules here for a reason, and it is not to try to contain chaos, any more, I suspect, than your Covenant has rules to do the same. "You spoke of ceremonial wine, and for the most part that is true here for the lower and new recruits: no contact with liquor and any form of sex is dealt with harshly. At their status they are here to learn and be damn grateful about it. Higher levels, yes, to be sure, but again moderation is key. Anyone found with private orgies or large amount of alcohol is disciplined, and most wouldn't dare. Anyone abusing lower level recruits or priests or prisoners is dealt with in the same way. There is power here, yes, but it comes with a steep price and you do not get it upon joining, despite what many think and hope." She shook her head as if at the idiocy, that joining such a place would result in immediate powers to do such things. Blasting enemies to atoms with your hands. Raising the dead. And worse. "As for myself I was born into it and born in this very Citadel. As far as the records have shown it has been a very very long while that a high priest and priestess were not picked from direct ties and births in this place. Does that answer your question?" "Yes, very clearly," Sanctuary answered with a nod, almost catching himself saying 'thank you' out of sheer habit. He never noticed before, how often he thanked people for information. He didn't want her to think he was mocking her. He had been honestly very curious. But to say 'thank you' would likely come off as snide, considering their circumstances. He was already walking on eggshells, to say the least. "There is a lot of power in rumors and whispers." He thought for a few moments, his prayers running through his head, a small source of comfort. "I imagine there are quite a few who wish to leave the Cult after they find out exactly how little stock there is in the fabulous rumors they have overheard. It might similar in the Covenant . Not as many as you would think make it through the frankly rigorous training to ascend beyond a simple acolyte. In our case, they are free to leave whenever they choose. I cannot imagine it's like that for the Cult though." If Sanctuary wasn't so worried or nervous, he would likely find the whole situation hilarious. Here he was, having wine and conversation inside the Citadel of the Cult of Kaos, with the bloody Cult High Priestess herself. This was like the start of a bad joke or a silly fairy tale. To be sure Ronin would not be doing half as well, nor any of his left behind companions, free at the price of Sanctuary's own life. It might have been easier, really, if she did get down to brass tacks, as she had put it, and simply started with the torture. This was almost worse. No doubt he could have handled that head Inquisitor easier, this femme was actually polite, so far, as if this was a business transaction, as if she didn't hold his soul in her hands to crush whenever she saw fit. "I assume so. We do try to recruit only those who we feel will be assets, not liabilities. Even to reach the Citadel is tasking in terms of initiations. And those born here, well, that is no guarantee either. Just ask any of the other candidates for the High Priest or Priestess spots when Kronos and I were selected." She shook her head, that quiet smile still at the clear joke. "At least those ones died quickly, if I remember right. I've read it wasn't nearly as easy in the past, but things change." A small pause, and that smile again as she reached for the wine bottle, pouring her goblet full...and passing him the bottle to fill his own up. "I do remember one particular recruit who somehow passed all the screenings, only to get to the Citadel, and he wanted to know where the Covenant priests trained here. He was apparently under the assumption we, for some insane reason, trained both, like....like some form of sports teams. He was rather disappointed to find that no, we did not, and no, there would be no fantastic telekinetic lessons that would allow him to leap several mountains high to roundhouse-kick someone's head off. ......I swear, if the fables and rumors didn't make up so much, I imagine both your Covenant and my Citadel would deal with far less fools. "....and then there was a time when some enterprising knowledge seeker managed to get here, pretending quite well to be a new recruit, and he was....hoping for an interview with myself or the Council or Kronos, to...how did he put it. Show the world how the Cult operated and that we were not as bad as the Covenant fanatics insisted. His words, priest, not mine. If I remember right Kronos kept him alive for some time, but I do imagine by then his opinion of the Cult had changed radically." The idea of either of those situation was particularly mind-bending in their levels of stupidity. What, did people think this was some sort of game and NOT a holy war that had raged for eons? His surprise and incredulity showed in his face, before he shook his head. It would be funny if it wasn't so tragic. Or stupid. "I have to say, to my knowledge, nothing like that has happened before at the Covenant," he said. "That of course doesn't mean it hadn't. But then again, the Covenant is a lot more open about their procedures, for obvious reasons." Almost subconsciously, numbly, he took the bottle with a slight nod and filled his goblet. It was strange how he didn't find the conversation, despite its grisly topic and frankly frightening proponent, unpleasant. On the contrary, it was very pleasant indeed. Slowly, very slowly, his body was beginning to relax and calm. He no longer teetered at the edge of his seat and he no longer fumbled with his goblet, letting it rest on the table after he took a sip of the refill. "If it is destined, ordained, why are the other possible candidates killed after High Priest and Priestess are selected?" he asked. "Surely they are still loyal followers... they wouldn't go against what is read in the stars." "Likely not, but you can always expect extremists here, or anywhere, really. I believe in the farther past some who were passed over decided to, aha, take fate into their own hands. The Council decided it was best to remove such issues for the future. .....and as I understand to some it is a heavy blow to their faith and pride, so better a quick death than a slow pitiful one. As well there were issues chronicled in our historical texts of rejected bots seeking to murder one of the High Ones to take their place." She kept sipping her own wine. "I realize this is probably not quite what you are expecting, Sanctuary, but in honesty I have not spoken with a Covenant priest while he was still sane enough to speak in some time. If you prefer a quicker death we can get down to it." "'Not what I was expecting' has to be the understatement of the eon," said Sanctuary frankly, eyeing his goblet. "Prefer a quick death? No, I am not afraid of death. Nor am I afraid of pain. A quick death upon request would cheat us both, I think. Even if it is perhaps an inevitability, you will not hear me ask for death." There was a small pause, and then a smile, definitely a smile, came to his face, as small as it was. "Unless, of course, you demanded I ask for death. But that's something different entirely." She only smiled again, finishing off her wine. "No, no, I much prefer this for now. I imagine with numbered days and hours, even an hour of life is still life, and you are rather decent with conversation. Especially considering our identities, ages, and the whole needing to kill each other in cosmic warfare." And it was perhaps the wine, he would think, but really this priest was a good toy, so far. He had not mentioned her burning in the Pit, or really any begging or sermonizing. Quite interesting. "I am rather pleased you did volunteer for this. I doubt I would have had any entertainment with your comrades like so. I dare imagine most of them would have started sobbing by now or done something stupid." ....was that a compliment? "Most priests of the Covenant in the past have. I usually let Kronos take care of them himself." "Well I can always start sobbing if you like, but I'm a rather pitiful actor. And it would be a bit of a damper on the conversation." He risked a small smile, hoping not to offend again. The sheer idea of the High Priest getting down to brass tacks was not a pleasant one, and he quickly finished his wine, refilling the chalice quietly. She made no move to take the wine back, in fact relaxed more in her plush chair. So strange to see real furniture in a room like this, but perhaps after some hours of beating and cutting prisoners, you needed to relax. "I admit I am still surprised Ronin did not offer himself up first, truth be told. While the Cult is indeed cut-throat in status levels, it would be seen as poor form to let a noviate or young priest be taken prisoner rather than an older one. At the very least older and higher level priests here are trained in strict pain management. "And no, I prefer no tears for now. Though it would be rather barbaric of me not to ask if there are any last requests you have before the end. I do get some odd ones." "In contrast, we are taught that the higher ranks of priests are more important to survive situations such as this. They are the teachers. We are fresh, and expendable," he said simply. The truth of course was very simple: there was no way Ronin would have lasted so far with a wine bottle in hand here and now. "Last requests?" He was obviously not expecting that. He stroked his cheek softly, thoughtfully, tipping the goblet back and forth slightly in his other hand as he considered her words. "I can't really think of anything. Except of course to not die, but that's a bit preposterous. I suppose the only think I would request is at least one good meal before my time is up. I'm a chef, by hobby only of course, you see. I might not indulge in many vices, but I do love making, and eating, good food." She nodded. "I imagine that can be arranged." So far, so good. He hadn't even squirmed once, nor begged, nor fallen to his knees to pray for salvation. Very good for one so young. "But rather tame still, I must say. Other final requests from Covenant priests have ranged from elaborate meals to reading forbidden Cult scrolls to witnessing a Cult orgy. ....there was even one rather foul-tempered captive who demanded a blowjob. I had to decline that request since he did specify me as the recipient." A dark smile again played over her face as she studied his. "For you I would likely make an exception to that though." He stared into her eyes for a long shocked moment, and a hot flush that had nothing to do with the wine crossed his cheeks as he put down the goblet very quickly before he dropped it. "Ah... no, that... that won't be necessary," he said quickly, biting his bottom lip. The poor young priest was embarrassed! Well, he was young and unmarried, and by his own admission, orphaned into the monastery where he had trained. He was likely the biggest virgin ever, and the bright blush on his face only deepened her smile. She HAD chosen well with this one! "It makes me a little sad that some of my fellow priests would lower themselves to debauchery in their final moments, but as much as I, er, appreciate the offer, it is not necessary." He could not even look in her direction now, so startled and embarrassed he was. She could not help but a small laugh, but it was not, for once, mocking. "Sanctuary, if someone were to tell me that tonight was my last night alive, pleasure is what I would seek, in whatever form I could take it. Cooking might well be yours, but....I imagine the Covenant keeps a tight lid on vices. Especially pleasures of the flesh, as my Cult does too. But I am the High Priestess and you are a prisoner slated to die soon." And, she thought privately, despite his size and clear mature age, the simple word had caused such a blush, a quick drop of the gaze, so embarrassed at a mere word. Repressed. This youth was the definition of: that, and innocence. And if there was one thing that could not stand before chaos, it was the order and calmness of innocence unbroken. Now her smile seemed to have more teeth in it, more force to the words. "Now, priest, here is a bit of a request. Don't forget your word. And don't look away from me." To be her servant, to obey....and to be frank, as she rose to her feet, it was that look on his face that iced it. That horrible innocence. Perhaps the first torture would be a little less hooks into flesh and more viewings. And without another word she removed her dark robe, revealing stark white skin, covered with the deep black tattoos nearly identical to her robe's markings and the etchings on the room's towers. Under it she wore a simple black gown, and her eyes staring into his shocked, almost terrified ones, her white fingers grasped the drawstrings, and she let the silk item open and fall into a pool at her feet. The High Priestess stood before him, her skin snow white, cold white with gray nipples, her long white hair barely covering her bare breasts, and frozen, Sanctuary could not even glance down the long stretch of her body, the stark white covered by runes, vines, and a myriad of Cult marking tattoos. Not an inch of flesh was bare without them. And for several minutes their gazes were half locked. It felt as if the world had frozen. He stared at Eris, his face and indeed entire body hot with shock and embarrassment. He swallowed roughly, clenching his fist which seemed to be trembling, and he so badly wanted to look away from this, but he didn't dare when she had forbidden him to. There was no denying her physical attraction; even as nervous and resigned to his fate as he was, she was a shining example of a female, and even though he'd never seen one before, he knew it. His teeth were clenched tight to keep them from chattering, and to keep any sound from escaping his throat, which he didn't trust himself not to do. He tried his best to keep his eyes on her face but despite the prayers stammering in his mind, he could not cease a glance down partially, seeing the runes over her breasts, and then forced his eyes back to hers. In The Temple of Kaos Ch. 03 The look on his face told her how perfect this torture was. Sometimes, though useful, blades and pliers and acidic baths were not enough. This priest was young, admittedly raised by essential monks, and the innocence in those blue eyes was priceless. Beyond priceless. Step one then, to tarnish and crush that innocence before she physically did more. Kronos, she knew, would have likely had the priest cuffed on all fours by now, but she was far more patient. And for several moments she simply let his shuddering gaze try to find a safe place to look on her, and she stepped over, fingers barely brushing his as she took his wine glass away, setting it on a table. "Spill this and I'll have to summon the cleaning maids, and I would prefer us uninterrupted for now." So close, she was so close to him, and the smile was back. "You may close your eyes now, Sanctuary. Unless, of course, you prefer to see me up close." It was like an electrical shock when she touched his fingers with her own, an audible gasp wracking his throat as his eyes swept over her, so very close to him. He was acutely aware of the hot flush on his face, and a new pain, a sharp pain behind his robes and pants now tight. He was grateful she had taken the glass, not wanting to pick bits of broken crystal out of his hand, but now he had no idea what to do with them. He fidgeted a few seconds before finally dropping his hands to his sides and gripping the edges of the chair tightly. He almost flinched when she spoke his name with that damnable sweet smiling mouth, and there was a pause as his eyes continued to fix on her. He knew that he didn't want to look away. He wanted to stare, wanted to look not at the Cult tattoos, but at her body, the nude flesh, the never before seen other gender. He wanted to see more.... but he didn't want her to know that. A sharp exhale and he closed his eyes, the internal mantra of prayers dammed. For a moment she hesitated with a dark smile he might have trembled to see, a true smirk, the smile of an Inquisitor when the breaking point was reached. The priest wasn't quite there, but this was....a good deal better than hooks or pliers, than cuffing him down and slicing through skin. Some bots renounced their faith if you pushed hard enough, but then their faith was weak to start. She doubted it would be the same for this young one. "Look at you," she said softly. "Such a strong paladin in training, such a brave priest, to sacrifice yourself for your companions. And you will get a last request, yes, one last meal, but I think we can commence with the torture, just a taste of it, first." And before he react her mouth, dark and sweet, was on his, tongue parting his lips as her hands held his shoulders, though if he meant to pull back, with his size, he easily could! And she pressed her hot lips to his shaking ones, swallowing his shocked gasp as her tongue stroked his.