Solo Faith and Shield

[Shouta]

The Seventh day of Fall, 513 A.V.
Past nightfall.

Such easy worship had never, in waking memory, been Shouta’s blessing. He had fought through jungles of doubt for every conclusion he came to. And unlike the citizens of Nyka, he had known the true favor of a god. Though he remembered nothing of Leth and his grace.

The god had cast him out, thrown from the stars like a falling comet. And he had been born of salt, water, and grime on the cold shores of the Suvan. And since then, the doubt had set in. It had gnawed away at his resolve time and time again. Was there a point to his life? Could he achieve happiness in this backwash of his mortality? Was hope worth the risk of naive faith? Questions haunted his ever wakeful mind. Cursed without the sleep of normal souls, he was left to his mind at all hours. And it was a chaos he could barely stand.

But then he had heard about Nyka, and the Celestials who resided there. It had become his goal. How could he wander, dejected and lost, through Mizahar when he knew where gods were! He knew he could find a direction in Nyka.

So he walked north, to the city of gods.

He had come far physically from those days of depressed loneliness. But mentally, and spiritually, he still struggled with his faith. He lacked the conviction of faith for Uphis, yet only found peace in the practice of his faith. So as of yet, his dedication for Uphis was more for convenience and the hope of faith, rather than the solidity of hope that other monks may experience. But Shouta would never tell anyone these deep doubts, save perhaps the old farmer.

He dipped the wooden brush into the bucket and raised it in a practiced move. Painting the the faded lines of the protection charm bright once more, Shouta envied the Nykans their born faith. He thought of how easy it was to know which god was yours. To know where to find the grace of purpose. He glanced up at the moon, something he was not prone to doing.

Leth’s light danced along his fine ivory horns. “These charms really protect the city from the Aperture’s monsters?” He inquired lightly of the Acolyte he was paired with.

The man had his brown, dirty hood wrapped around his neck to combat the cold. He barely paused in his work across the street to look disdainfully back at Shouta. “Your lack of faith is disturbing, Shouta. Perhaps you should walk the walls after we are done. Meditate on your convictions.” He had not deemed the question worthy of answer.

Meditation. The art of clearing one’s mind by mantra and oblivion. It was an especially difficult task for Shouta, as his mind was cluttered with half memories and emotions without roots. He much preferred the physical vigor of the practice ring to clear his mind. And the Acolyte was far from the pious character he played tonight! Shouta had seen the man beat a monk of Skerr half to death for not giving him an extra bag of wheat. Shouta would have to tread lightly around his city. But he had known that for a long time.

[Shouta]

The Acolyte was pleased with this particular street and he motioned for Shouta to follow him as he stalked through an ally and onto another lane of the Northern Quarter. Here the taverns were the main fare. It was important that they were diligent, for foreigners may be ignorant of the dangers of Nyka at night. More than once Shouta had found a bloody body, or worse.

The city was beautiful at night. Most did not see it as much as Shouta and the other monks slotted with nighttime shifts. The vivid reds and oranges paled to greys and ivories, and the hot earth became a cool darkness that was easier to walk upon. And the sun was replaced in the sky by bright stars dancing in the ever sparkling heavens. And of course the moon was ever present, watching. Shouta avoided looking at that particular aspect of the night.

“You seem distracted, Shouta.” The senior monk spoke, his words accusing. The duties of a monk were more often than not taken lightly. But even some of the most thuggish of his compatriots took their duty seriously. Perhaps the Acolyte felt Shouta was not.

“I’m just thinking about things, brother.” His response was lacking in conviction and vague. He realized it would upset his partner shortly after issuing it. But Shouta did not really care about what this monk thought. His tie to him ended with their mutual love of Uphis. Trust! Trust was not a thing to give politely. It was a thing to bestow grudgingly. That is what Mizahar had taught him.

“Thinking about things?! Oh that explains a lot.” The acolyte spat at him. This man really did not like him for some reason. Shouta dropped the brush into the beaten wooden bucket and turned to face the other monk.

“Don’t worry about my faith. It is stronger than some in the Sharp Blades…” Shouta said pointedly. Standing tall and looking down on the human with distain. The arrogant look was easy for the Ethaefal in his nighttime form, with his peerless visage and gleaming horns. He struck an imposing figure on any mortal. And for a moment, the Acolyte forgot he was the senior monk. But only a moment.

“Oh fine then. I’ll be sure to give you extra patrol duties this week since your faith is so strong!” He began to march down the street, spear hefted over one shoulder. “And you will go to the wall from here and patrol until the sun rises! Wouldn’t want anyone, least of all Uphis, to have any reason to doubt your diligence.” He turned and threw back at Shouta in a heavy, mocking tone.

“As you say, brother.” Shouta nodded. Truth be told he was happy to be rid of the monk. And with his trouble sleeping, he did not much care he would have to wait another day without rest. He was only worried that the week of extra duty would cut into his own training time. “My life for Uphis!” He yelled after the monk. A slow shake of the head was the only response.

[Shouta]

It was nice being alone here on the wall. A chilling breeze blew into the city from outside, and made Shouta’s hair grab at his face. He did not mind, who was he to protest the wind it’s whim? He walked in silence for a while. This particular portion of the wall was empty save for himself, and straight. He walked it much more certainly than his toils within himself.

He felt like the rope being pulled in two directions. And at both end, fear and possible regret. But how was he to know which direction to go? Uphis was his god now. Uphis had provided a home, a purpose. Perhaps most importantly, but hard to admit, Uphis had provided an escape. Shouta had felt at peace for the first time in years while in Nyka. Was that enough of a reason to stay and set his lot with the Sharp Blades? Was it enough to forget Leth.

Leth. He had long ago cast aside any love of the god. It had been soon after he began to understand what the deity had done to him. He had already cast him out, and Shouta was too proud to beg for salvation from him. He stopped walking.

He could hear himself breathing. Gripping the chain around his neck with both hands Shouta looked up at the moon. It was bright and proud in the fall night. Flanked all around by stars, the orb shone down upon Mizahar. Shouta studied the darker smudges across it’s surface, as if seeing it for the first time. Usually he avoided noticing the moon, and had never really admitted it to himself until now.

“Beautiful…” He breathed. He felt a burning in his eyes as he gazed up at his former master. It was a long moment before he realized the burning in his eyes were tears. He sighed and hurried to clean his face with his sleeve. He felt ashamed. Not only of his weakness in the face of Leth, but he felt like he had betrayed Uphis in that moment.

He turned his gaze once more up at the moon, and spat. He was a devout of Uphis. Uphis who valued strength, honor, and the ability to face your future. No matter how grim. Leth may have protected him from dangers, but with Uphis he would cut them down and walk over top of them!

[Shouta]

It was a good night. In the moonlit city of faithfuls, Shouta had began the regain his footing. He saw the wall he walked upon as clearly as his faith at this moment. Behind was Leth and his past sorrows, dusty footprints all but forgotten. Ahead, was Uphis and the mystery of a new purpose. Ahead was the hope he needed in this immortal life. He was cursed with such a long time to wait for the climax of his existence.

But with Uphis that existence would be filled with the sort of divine direction a person already touched by a god needs. Shouta did not understand his yearning for divine favor, but he felt it none the less. Was he mad, arrogant beyond his place? To think a mere man could seek the favor of gods. Was he too hopeful, did he reach too high? Rush doubts ran through him like wildfire through a forest. And in their wake they left him with only the memories of his first sight of Nyka. The faint hope that appeared inside him like a candlelight in a dark cavern. It guided him to the city, it guided him through his trial…through the Aperture. And it guided him to the kurasigama.

He looked down at the weapon now. It was not only a passion, it was a complex and beautiful ritual of meditation for him. It was his escape, for when he toiled in the Warfields, he was at peace. Peace from the thoughts in his head and the doubts in his heart. And there was his reason, why he worshipped Uphis. The god was real, and as real at the peace he brought Shouta. When he looked back on Leth, all Shouta saw was bitterness and the lonely confusion of his fall to Mizahar.

As the moon shone down on the blessed city, one monk walked the walls alone. But he did not feel alone. His faith, and his god, was strong. Shouta heard a faint fluttering. Glancing about him, he readied himself for the attack. But instead, like a shadow, the thin black skin of a bat’s wing crossed the moon as it hunted in the night. He breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed.

There was a beast who lived on faith. Blind as could be, but still able to fly. The bat’s entire life depended on the faith it held in it’s own ability. Was sight so important in faith, and in life, that it should trouble him so? Did he have reason to fear, or was he merely weak? Shouta’s mouth slipped into something that might have, for a flicker of a moment, be something akin to a smile. He was weak, and for the first time admitting it was easy. He was weak, but he had faith, and the ambition to become strong. He needed to be more like the bat.