Author: Chris Pozsgai

I am new to faith.

From what I understand, there are many gods in the world, formed through the faith of people over time. For whatever reason, humans are better at channeling their faith into the world than other creatures, such as elves, and can do so much more quickly.

Benelians follow a spirit that seeped through the cracks in reality and merged with a white lion, led by priests devoted to various task-related archangels.

Vecatrans theoretically follow a spirit of nature which they seek to honor, led by a group of priests called Mothers who interface with a person who used to be human but is now merged with a spirit called a Crone, who communicates with the spirits on their behalf.

For most of my life, I thought that these religions were a method of control that “leaders” used to ensure people fell in line. For some, that was Father Vellete, Father Clement, Cheveille, and the like. They came with expectations of following a proscribed path. They knew best and would dictate that path to others in a way that none really disputed.

As those people have fallen away, replaced by Granny Jo, Isabella, Sophie, Henri, and Etienne, it has become much clearer that they are doing their best but also failing along the way to a degree unseen by those who came before. They even change fundamental truths about the faiths of the area to accommodate difficult realities which were in conflict with prior iterations. With a less clear understanding of the faith, I imagine that this will muddle the spirits and their power over time, much in the way we have struggled to properly shape Primus.

Yet in a world where faith is so mutable and the realities of our situation so harsh, it is foolish not to turn to our creations for strength.

The story of Primus is unlike the other faiths of Luisant. Primus is born of several things, primarily a spirit of the Red Stag which watched over the forests of Luisant and the spirit of those in the area who have suffered for the hunger of the adversary. The adversary has brought great suffering, consuming lives, hope, and faith, but from that suffering, a new force emerged.

Primus represents the resilience and defiance of the people of Luisant. Unlike the rigid doctrines of the Benelians or the mystical reverence of the Vecatrans, Primus embodies the adaptable and indomitable spirit of the oppressed who refuse to be broken. Our faith in Primus is not about blind obedience or ancient rituals that we have long forgotten the reasons for; it’s about survival, unity, and the shared strength of a community determined to protect its own.

I have seen the toll that blind faith in gods and corrupted spirits takes on people. I’ve watched as once devout followers of the Benelians falter and as the Vecatrans lose themselves in their futile attempts to appease the Crone. But Primus is different. Primus is a god of our making, a manifestation of our collective will and determination. We feed Primus with our memories, our struggles, and our victories, forging a god that is as resilient and determined as we are.

When we call upon Primus. It is not as a supplicant begging for mercy, but as a co-creator, channeling our rage, defiance, and hope into something greater than myself. The rituals we perform are not mere traditions; they are acts of empowerment, binding us to Primus and to each other, building our legacy for the future with our memories and intent.

As I stand with my family, House Chanceux, I see in their eyes the same fire that burns within me. We are bound by more than blood or circumstance; we are united by our shared faith in a god that truly understands our plight because it is born from it. Together, we will shape Primus into a force capable of standing against anything that would seek to control or destroy us. In this mutable world, where so many have failed us, we have created something that will not. Primus is our legacy, our protector, and through our faith, we will see Luisant endure and thrive.

Theo stared into the fire, bandages covering a fresh gash in his side that would certainly scar and his thoughts continued to race from the fight the previous night:

It should have been enough to have Primus help him!
Either I’m too weak to help, or Primus is too weak to help in any way that matters.
It can lead Suzette through a maze of meat, but refilling the pie plate or actually protection from the servants of its enemy, that’s too much to ask just yet.
Drugs were better than that, they helped me kill another one of those monsters and save the others with me.
It guided my blade just fine, but I felt no safer as it came for me.
Maybe thats why it hated me so much, why it was so intent on chasing me down-

It doesn’t matter. It wasn’t enough.
We must feed it, honor it for what it must become, give it strength that it may give us strength.
The handful of us isn’t enough to steer it quickly and the time seems to be coming sooner than we might want.
We need the others to do the rites, to make the offerings, to make it powerful enough to protect us.
I don’t know enough about ritual to do that, maybe Cole can explain some of it? Alphonse is probably better at it, but he is far too distracted to be helpful.
What can we do with that….memory, truth, legacy, a defender of the downtrodden, and avenger of wrongs. Something that will defeat the adversary.
I feel like I’m just waiting for the elf to betray us and yet I no so little about making a god that I can only screw it up I think.
Funniest thing about belief I’ve learned, thinking you’re going to screw it up is probably just as bad as actually screwing it up.

Fuck.

I guess we’ll get everyone to something and see where that goes.
I do believe that my family will be safe, that we will figure it out in the end, it just comes all too quickly and damned does this still hurt.
Who knows if another sacrifice would have made the difference.

There are creatures and monsters greater than I which lurk in the night and seek to kill me and mine, or worse. In these moments, I recognize a need for aid.
Drugs, magical though they are, are not enough.
Magic, though powerful, is insufficient to stop Chiropoler, Rat Wizards, and whatever else the world will put in front of us.
The spirits of the Vecatrans are weak, only capable of using their followers to their own ends.
The god of the Benealians is strong, but only seeks to conquer.
Much as I deride Alex for failing to embrace his role in this world, I cannot help but see myself in him.
I am a blade in the night, I have no place fighting a monster that can see me.
Cadence, Milo, Alphonse, Hugo, maybe even Fabron and Henri. They are the warriors who will stand in front of whatever lies at the end of this, but they are not champions of my family. They pretend to care for those who choose to live apart from them, but they are not a part of us.
Just as Isabel and Marionette refused to leave as the rat wizards came ever closer to cutting them down, I cannot help but feel like leaving is giving up, but staying is in its own way, foolishness, if we are only awaiting whatever fate others would find for us.
These are desperate times, and if I am too weak to protect my family, then I guess we will have to find a way to change that; even if it means looking outside of myself.

Theo turns on his ward Sherry as the rain begins to fall around their firepit. His finger wags at her as his voice rises in anger,

“Yes, Sherry, they do have shiny fucking armor, new pretty dresses, people to ferry them around, and personal chefs but don’t think that the nobles care who we are or what we want. The fact that the town is willing to feed us isn’t about the nobles, that’s about other people doing that work, collecting those things. They don’t organize or contribute to it. You owe them less than nothing. You owe them so little that whenever they want something you should think, ‘How are they trying to fuck me over?’

Nobles serve no purpose in the world other than to maintain their power over others, pass that power on to their children, grow their wealth by using that power, and ensure they are remembered. That is what noble blood means; to be a line of slavers and predators whom have done that for generations.

They are ultimately people, and do not have to be self serving, power hungry fools, but it turns out if you give a man power he will use it. She will find ways to maintain and grow it. They will do whatever they can to secure it for their future so that they are never at risk.

Henri and Abella stole food to ensure their power would not be threatened while their son watched. They demanded taxes that they knew the population could not fulfill. They paid someone to have the local priest murdered when he tried to stop their abuses. They failed to teach their son anything about how to look after the city. Ambrose refuses to speak to me, or anyone else he considers below him. Jean Luc is happy to send others off toward danger in his stead, but never risks himself. Thora actively plots and connives to achieve her ends, killed Nadja’s husband, and is willing to do whatever the spiders require of her. Zakar is a torturer who fails in his duty often and has made secret deals with the spiders. Nadja can barely tolerate our backward ways and is devoted to achieving greater power for herself.

The issue isn’t just about them individually though, but also about why the town fucking puts them on a pedestal so that they don’t have to take responsibility for their own actions. They literally give them whatever they ask for, whether they truly need it or not. Clean their own messes? Trap their own fucking food? Walk across town instead of having Tellis give them a carriage ride in the rain?

Sure, Ambrose and Nadja are living as peasants now, but what does that even fucking mean? Half the town still seems to want to suck them off at every opportunity because it turns out they know that ‘peasant for a year’ is the same thing as ‘noble in a year’. And even if somehow they learned something resembling responsibility, humility, or whatever words Cole would use to say they fucking get it, that doesn’t change that they don’t deserve to be given free reign to make us slaves all fucking over again. Respecting someone as a person doesn’t give them permission to think they have control over you and yours.

Our ancestors survived that shit and we will never go back. With the town council, maybe that’s almost possible. You know, if they aren’t just puppets too.”

Magic is a poor solution. That isn’t to say it isn’t a solution. That isn’t to say that there aren’t problems that it is necessary and useful to resolve. Rather, that is to say that rarely is magic the best solution.

Briefly consider this, suppose that we lived in a world where everyone was a mage, a magocracy as it were. What a wondrous world that might be. A highly educated world where Earth Mages brought in resources; food, minerals, lumber, and meat with a casual thought and buildings took shape from nothingness. Air Mages might create mechanisms for improved understanding of one another and communication. That world could have Fire Mages which could enable mechanics even Bakara had not previously fathomed. We might make it so that in that world, disease and insanity would be banished with a casual thought, no one would go hungry, and travel would be reliable and fast.

In a world where that magic was casually available, people would not fear it as much. They would understand that magic is a tool which can be used or not and that it is the wielder that is the problem rather than the tool itself. They would understand that those who used and abused their power for their own personal gain would be taken to task and held responsible for their actions.

That is not the world in which we live, as the truth is no where near so positive. People fear mages, not only because of the tools that they wield, but because of what the means by which they acquire those tools says about them. Mages are thought of as those who claim power because they can, for their own ends, at any cost, and that these tools give them the ability to dictate what is right or acceptable. They simply have tools which are beyond the ability of others to contest, or are so indispensable that the cost of doing so feels unacceptable.

People aren’t even wrong to believe those things. It is easy to ascribe the problem to the idea that those who are able to successfully join a guild rarely lack drive or determination, that those who lack such will crumble before their initial testing. The issues though are so much deeper.

Once you have broken through into a guild, time is rarely your own. Someone else will make decisions about what the guild needs from you and you are expected to obey. Some might joke that they could be asked to slay their loved ones, but comments like that come from a place of truth. Even if a guild probably wouldn’t do so directly without knowingly testing their commitment, that is in fact the level of commitment the guild expects. This corrupts one’s ideals, for you aren’t really in control of your life as completely as you might be and so you rationalize behavior you might personally not perform under the guise of being for the greater good or to help the guild along its path. How can those outside an organization like that trust you completely when they know you might be compelled by the guild to act against them or their interests, to betray their secrets, or the like?

If you are bright, you will then have to make decisions about what you want for yourself. Magic teaches people to want control over their environment, to subvert their weaknesses and enhance their strengths; that nothing is beyond their influence and power. For many this drives them to seek rank within the guilds, either to increase that power for themselves and to ensure they have autonomy to encourage others to seek out the particular interests of the mage in question.

Power isn’t a direct relationship to authority within a guild, but as a member of a guild, you have abilities that most do not. As such, you are expected to assist the guild in ways which are beyond what most would be capable of through mundane means. If you are studying magic most of your life, and you have a problem that you cannot resolve with your mundane abilities or would take an exceptionally long period of time or a large number of people, you are inevitably drawn to solve it with magic. If your current skill is not up to that task, you might push yourself to obtain more power. Thus the cycle continues of seeking power to solve problems to meet the demands of others, to gain authority, to obtain autonomy in your life.

We are then left with the fact that in gaining that rank by wresting that power from others who would seek to keep you from it, you will have already taught yourself how to take advantage of the talents of those below you, and so the cycle continues.

The mirage of the guilds is much more sinister than the truth. The Water Temple is foundational for the Sahirim for many reasons, but the most important is the lesson of knowing who you are and walking the path of Atma. Corrupting yourself and your Atma in service to the Temple is in fact a betrayal of the Temple and its ideals. You must make your own choices and follow your own path rather than blindly expecting others to make those decisions for you. Without centering yourself, you are left to float with the current, sucked in by the undertow of power, and will suffer at its whim. Instead you must learn to swim against these eddies.

As someone who lives in the Stragosa valley, it is difficult not to be tempted by the power that magical tools allow. These tools have allowed me to save many lives, and so the cycle continues. Seeking tools to aid those upon their path toward Atma while permitting them the ability to solve the problems for themselves .

Magic is not inherently evil, but giving up your path in its pursuit is to lessen yourself.