Chapter 2

Darkly lit night

The Disciplinarium's large audience hall was exquisitely decorated with fine tapestries, hung from the columns and walls with golden ropes and aggrandized with silk laces, freshly picked fragrant flowers and all manners of decorations that go hand in hand with highly luxurious pomp and ceremony.

Though night had already fallen, giant ornate silver and brass chandeliers hung from the high ceilings illuminating the grand hall with the light from thousands of candles. Their beams of light were enhanced and mirrored by all the brass, gold and silver decorations strewn around almost every object in the hall, making them glitter and shine, magnifying their splendor tenfold.

Delicately detailed lifelike oil paintings adorned each wall: previous Castigators and Arch-ministers, Procrastinator Militants and Patriarchs, noble supporter families of the Castigator. Every important person that was notably recorded in the zealously well-maintained history books was to be found here in the form of awe inspiring portraits, paintings and sculptures from the most talented artists of each generation from around the lands.

The mass of people was still flowing slowly but steadily into the hall, and for a time it would seem like the small swarm of men was going to swell to inelegant numbers. But the Castigator's people in charge of the eventful night, had meticulously planned who was to be given the praise of summons. They also decided on the time of each person's appearance as well as whether or not he should be given the privilege of being able to dine at the same table as the Castigator. Albeit always at an innocuous distance a table seating on the Castigator's table implied an immense elevation in status and almost unrivaled political power.

As the time for the opening ceremonies for the grand festive night grew closer, all the needed preparations were being doubly checked and the gathering of guests efficiently monitored. Everything seemed to be in place, refreshments and drinks served in silver plated cups; sweetmeats, fruit, and fine pastries circulating among the crowd in golden platters by busy servants dressed in fine cloth wearing the green livery of the Castigator's office: a white eagle bearing a book and a key, a snake held in its beak.

People were chatting in low voices, politely exchanging greetings and news of the lands, though some of the more brazen guests that either lacked the knowledge of etiquette or were in a position to ignore it as a whole or in part, were already laughing heartily at jokes or anecdotes between friends and close acquaintances.

Everyone attending had been careful to dress as stylishly as possible, and according to wealth and status there were examples of extravagant overdressing, with some people closely resembling moving heaps of gold and silver, like treasure-laden mules.

Others preferred to overstate their presence with exotic cloths and tailorings, usually uncommon and outlandish, suggesting time and money had been spent just for this one occasion. Indeed everyone was wearing the best and brightest they could afford, and maybe some had even took on a loan to have something special tailor-made in order to try and stand out in the crowd, in a certainly desperate bid to improve their fame and fortune.

The atmosphere in the hall was generally convivial though mildly restrained because of the premises and significance of the night. The festivities were taking place in order to commemorate the Castigator's 25th Term in Office, which coincided with the anniversary of the Pacification of Zaelin, the last of the Territories to be enlightened and brought under the Law of the Pantheon.

Rumors circulated among the nobles' elite as well as people in the army and the Ministry that the Castigator would be announcing a decision of major importance that would stir up the relatively still and quiet recent affairs of the Territories, perhaps ushering a new era of glory to the Gods, and perhaps for the people as well.

In any case it promised to be an eventful night, with dancing troupes of wondrous abilities, unsurpassed technique and airy grace performing for the duration. Bards of worldly renown and enchanting voices had prepared to sing the Mythos in praise of the Castigator and the Pantheon, a telling re-enactment of the Pacification of Zaelin and the striking down of the last Heathen; Parnoth Larthiel, the Last Ignorant.

The re-enactment would also offer a kind of prize to one of the guests who would be lucky enough for his name to be drawn amongst hundreds: he would have the chance to play as the Castigator in the final duel with Parnoth, the unclaimed role filled in by a lawbreaker due for execution. The honored guest in killing the lawbreaker-Parnoth would be spilling heretic blood in the service of the Ministry, the Castigator and the Law. It was quite possibly the highest service to the Pantheon possible, save sacrificing one's self while enforcing or upholding the Law.

A huge oblong platinum chime resounded by the stroke of an ornamental ram swung by two Protectors, the Castigator's personally hand-picked guard, and judging by their imposing physical builds apparently chosen chiefly for their brawn. The sound of the chime drowned out the chatter of the milling guests; it reverberated with a majestic effect in the audience hall, and signaled the official commencement of the festivities. Acoustics was one of many things not left to chance when the grandiose chamber was built in the time of the Founding.

The crowd of guests went by in silence, ushered inside by dutiful servants and thick-set expressionless Protectors gathered on two opposing sides of the hall, leaving a wide stretch of room where the Castigator was meant to walk through when he would be announced. Indeed, the voice of the Chief Functionary boomed like a cannon in the night:

"All kneel or be chastised for now enters this hall his Holy Piousness, Olorius Menamon the IV th, Deliverer of Aconia, Pacifier of Zaelin, Proxy of the Gods, Procurer of the One True Law, and Castigator of the Outer Territories. Kneel or be chastised!"

The last words were uttered with the gravity of a holy commandment, the obvious threat to be carried out with ruthless deliberation if the need ever arose.

At once and in concert, the whole of the crowd including the servants, Protectors, Ministers, as well as the whole of the Disciplinarium's staff, any and all figures of authority, military or religious including the Chief Functionary, knelt on both legs and bowed their heads deeply and solemnly, as if in wholehearted prayer.

The workings of some kind of a large mechanism probably involving gears and other mechanical contraptions rang through the audience hall. The massive copper tinted Gates of Leor opened slowly but steadily, revealing the radiant form of the Castigator breathtakingly dressed in the formal robes of his Office: a deep crimson color dyed in the blood of heathens and heretics, solid golden runes written in Helica Preatoria adorning the hem. The first two pages of the Book of Law covered its surface in so fine a silk thread that its weavers were known to have gone blind in the effort.

Above his robes the Castigator wore an immaculate platinum breastplate, without carvings, etchings or any other decoration whatsoever. On one side hung Urtis, the Mace of Judgment, the Castigator's long ago chosen tool of enlightenment and battle, that was said to have cracked as many heretic skulls as there are stones in the walls of the Disciplinarium. Indeed, some claimed the very same skulls had been used in building the later parts of the majestic building as a morbid reminder that All is Law.

The Castigator strode with a steady pace down the central lane where a raised block of marble floor had appeared in concert with the opening of the Gates. The only sound in the grand chamber was the sound of the Castigator's boots: a simple, utilitarian set of metal plated boots a soldier would wear, finely polished but otherwise quite common. When he reached the dais on which the Seat of Office stood, he surveyed the crowd momentarily, sat down and clapped his bare hands once.

"Stand and confess!", the Chief Functionary bellowed sharply, and the crowd complied smartly and fervently:

"All is Law!"

The Castigator echoed back the mantra in solemn ritual, his voice carrying unusual depth and mesmerizing melody for a single man, however powerful and unique he may be.

Those that saw the Castigator and had not been granted such an honor before in their lives, were immediately left awestruck. Some of them even broke down weeping, pious fervor instantly occupying their hearts and minds. Those that had been blessed so before, did not immediately stand but rather silently prayed with tears welling in their eyes, before being able to stand again erect. The people that kept closer to the Castigator, his immediate entourage, the Ruling Council, and his guards intoned the holy mantra and resumed their places and functions.

The Castigator then addressed the crowd which stood there reverently, their excitement and waiting evident in their glittering eyes and tense faces:

"I shall call you my children, for I am like a father unto you. I guide you, protect you, offer you learning and sustenance, like a father does for his child. I ask you: Does not the Ministry keep a daily watch for the heretic, the heathen, the lawbreaker? Does it not preach the Law every day, for the continued enlightenment of all? The Army, does it not safeguard our lands, from enemies from within and from without? The Procrastinators, do they not wisely guide your everyday lives, always watching over you lest you stray into a horrible path with no redemption in sight? I ask you again, am I not like a father unto you all?"