I was jostled as the carriage's wheel hit one of the potholes. Carriages—rooms with wheels pulled by moose. I was still numbly surprised by how Kindness had managed to tame those beasts.
"Is everyone here?" Kindness called from the driver's seat. The carriage was massive, the size of a small hall, with her at the helm.
Inside, the space was divided into four seats per row with an aisle down the middle for movement. Sixteen rows meant sixty-four seats, but even that wasn't enough. Nearly fifty people crowded the carriage—some sitting on others' laps, some crouched in the aisle ducking their heads when someone needed to pass. Others, most of them actually, huddled in the open space at the back of the carriage. Several had fallen asleep.
But there was one thing they all had in common. They looked tired as hell.
Kindness had explained they were escapees from other Virtue domains. People who had fled from the Priestesses' rule with nowhere else to go. People abandoned or victimized by the other Virtue Priestesses.
Were there any Waiters or people who'd had their pride erased like me? I didn't see any. I didn't care. Everyone wore variants of the same expression: tiredness, disappointment, fear, anxiety.
This was the 'we' Kindness had been talking about. Helpless people with no direction in life. Like me. She must have taken it upon herself to help those in need as the Virtue Priestess of Kindness.
I softly clenched my fists in silent resentment. If she really wanted to help people, she would stand up against the other Virtue Priestesses. She was one of them and, against my better judgment, seemed like the only one with a normal moral compass. Why couldn't she do anything beyond damage control?
I let my fist fall. I pulled my knees closer to my forehead, my long, greasy, wet hair falling forward. I couldn't do anything now except hope someone else solved my problems. I glanced to the left, and the person beside me averted their gaze. Of course. I must have looked like the personification of worthlessness. They must have heard about my outburst at the temple and how I had been 'humbled.' I couldn't face anyone.
I couldn't face myself. I couldn't kill the Virtue Priestesses. And even if I impossibly could—what then? Did I really think anyone would applaud and praise me? No. Maybe they would Reygir, but I am not him anymore.
What did I even amount to now? A baby or a corpse was more valuable than me. Why, why, why—
A hard rap on the carriage door shook me out of my melancholy.
"Stop, stop!" A gruff, clipped voice called from outside as someone struggled to catch up with the carriage that had just begun to gain momentum.
The handlers brought the moose to a halt, the beasts bellowing in protest.
Thoughts raced furiously in my head. Who would try to stop a moving carriage? We were technically still on Domitia's soil, so could it be her?
"I heard you're taking refugees. Mind if I join in?"
I knew that voice. The healer. What was he doing here? Why?
The carriage door opened, and Tav walked in. Bald and dressed in brown garments. In his hands was a bag of something. But what?
"Two people from Humility?" A man in the front interrogated. "Are you sure they're not sending spies with us? What's in your bag?"
People clamored in unison, and more eyes darted to me. The first person from Humility. Apparently, very few people left Humility's domain, maybe because most were too broken to leave. So two people on a single day must have been suspicious.
Tav, the second person from Humility, raised his arms in surrender. "I'm not a spy. I'm just a regular man like you. And these?" He motioned to his bag. "These are healing supplies. Should be useful wherever you folks are going, right?"
"Right, right! We do need a healer for wounds and broken bones and all that!" Veraque exclaimed, her voice musical with delight. Her eyes sparkled with that same nurturing warmth I saw when I first woke up, as though each new addition to her flock was a personal victory. Wait. Where the hell were we going that broken bones were a possibility?
"Fine then, you can join," the gruff man said, patting Tav on the back. The other passengers looked at him with a little more respect in their eyes. Healing must be an extremely valuable resource around these parts.
Tav walked down the center aisle all the way to the back. All the seats were filled, so the only option was the floor at the back, but still, I didn't like where this was going.
He plopped down on the ground near me, the scent of alcohol and antiseptics wafting from him.
"I did warn you though."
He muttered as he stared forward, and the carriage started moving again.
"Maybe if I told you how Domitia's mandate worked, you wouldn't have rushed in like that."
I gave him no response, just dug my head deeper into my knees, as if trying to make myself disappear.
"Still, who would've expected you to try and assassinate the Priestess on your first day here! I knew you were unhinged, but that was just total madness!"
Was he trying to taunt me? Well, it wasn't working. I had no pride left to taunt anyway.
"Please, leave me alone."
"No."
Tav answered back quietly, and he drew closer to me.
"I've lost family to the Priestess. Seven people. Completely broken. I was younger when it happened, and I couldn't do anything then. Guess how they're doing now?"
I didn't respond.
"They're broken. I keep them in a room and feed them daily because they refuse to do anything else but wallow in despair. Maybe there was something I could do that would have helped at the start. Maybe there's still something I can do now. I don't know. But maybe..."
"Maybe what?" My voice emerged hoarse and scratchy, betraying all the crying I'd done.
Tav paused, considering his words carefully. "There are two paths for victims of Humility's Sacrament of Submission."
He raised his index finger. "One: They lose all self-worth and accept Domitia as their master. They serve until either death claims them or the current Virtue Priestess of Humility dies and a new VP takes her place. Then the cycle begins anew."
A way to kill a Virtue Priestess existed? Not that it mattered—I remained too weak to act on such information.
"Two," Tav continued, "is that with zero self-worth, they lack any will or drive to do anything with their lives."
Leaning closer, he met my gaze directly, his green eyes intense with purpose.
"You're on the second path. Is that really where you want to remain?"
What was his point? I sighed. "None of it matters anyway."
"No, it does matter," he insisted. "Before the Sacrament, you were arrogant, aggressive, strong-willed. Most of my family shared those traits before Praxis touched them. All followed the second path afterward. I won't watch anyone else travel that pitiful road."
"So what do you intend to do?" I asked.
"Push you toward a third path," he declared. "A path without servitude to someone you despise because you feel undeserving of more. A path without depression from losing your identity. I'll create something new for you."
"Why?" I croaked, louder than intended. "Why bother? Just leave me alone! I'm worthless! There is no third path for me!"
Most passengers turned to stare at my outburst. They already distrusted me. I only wanted solitude now. I deserved no one. No one deserved me.
After attention drifted elsewhere, Tav cleared his throat and spoke quietly.
"You wanted to kill the Virtue Priestesses, didn't you? Don't you still?"
Yes. I hated them for what they'd done—to me, to everyone. Patience made me waste centuries. My name forgotten, my cause abandoned. And now reduced to this pitiful state.
Chastity had murdered my best friend and countless comrades.
And Humility... she had broken me completely.
Then there was Kindness. She'd shown nothing but compassion to me and everyone she encountered. Was she truly one of them? Could she really be a Virtue Priestess?
"Maybe what?" My voice emerged hoarse and scratchy, betraying all the crying I'd done.
Tav paused, considering his words carefully. "There are two paths for victims of Humility's Sacrament of Submission."
He raised his index finger. "One: They lose all self-worth and accept Domitia as their master. They serve until either death claims them or the current Virtue Priestess of Humility dies and a new VP takes her place. Then the cycle begins anew."
A way to kill a Virtue Priestess existed? Not that it mattered—I remained too weak to act on such information.
"Two," Tav continued, "is that with zero self-worth, they lack any will or drive to do anything with their lives."
Leaning closer, he met my gaze directly, his green eyes intense with purpose.
"You're on the second path. Is that really where you want to remain?"
What was his point? I sighed. "None of it matters anyway."
"No, it does matter," he insisted. "Before the Sacrament, you were arrogant, aggressive, strong-willed. Most of my family shared those traits before Praxis touched them. All followed the second path afterward. I won't watch anyone else travel that pitiful road."
"So what do you intend to do?" I asked.
"Push you toward a third path," he declared. "A path without servitude to someone you despise because you feel undeserving of more. A path without depression from losing your identity. I'll create something new for you."
"Why?" I croaked, louder than intended. "Why bother? Just leave me alone! I'm worthless! There is no third path for me!"
Most passengers turned to stare at my outburst. They already distrusted me. I only wanted solitude now. I deserved no one. No one deserved me.
After attention drifted elsewhere, Tav cleared his throat and spoke quietly.
"You wanted to kill the Virtue Priestesses, didn't you? Don't you still?"
Yes. I hated them for what they'd done—to me, to everyone. Patience made me waste centuries. My name forgotten, my cause abandoned. And now reduced to this pitiful state.
Chastity had murdered my best friend and countless comrades.
And Humility... she had broken me completely.
Then there was Kindness. She'd shown nothing but compassion to me and everyone she encountered. Was she truly one of them? Could she really be considered a Virtue Priestess?
"I was degraded, physically and mentally. There was no way I could even dream of killing them now. So what the hell did Tav want?
"I want to kill them too."
Huh?
"It's very likely that killing them would negate their Holy Mandates," Tav continued, resting his back against the carriage walls. "If they die, their Mandates won't be enforced anymore. Which means everything they changed would revert to normal."
"Back to...normal?" I gasped, staring at my wizened limbs. The weak blue veins visible through my pale skin. If Patience was killed, would I return to my former self?
Would I return to being Reygir?
Tav noticed my stare and voiced my thoughts. "There's no telling if the physical effects of their Mandates would be removed though, like the murders or physical degradation. Those things probably won't be fixed."
The small hope that had begun to emerge deflated. But Tav pressed on.
"But the main effects would disappear. Domitia's victims would regain their pride. The waiters would wake if Patience was killed. I don't know much about the other Virtue Priestesses, and this is all based on the hunch that killing them would succeed, but their Holy Mandates would likely be removed too."
"And your goal is what?" I asked weakly. "To help a broken man somehow defeat these literal demigods? Together, we're nothing more than a weakling and a healer. What are we going to do? There's no point trying to help me. I'm beyond repair."
"Like I said, I'm going to push you onto the third path," Tav concluded, shifting his weight. "Just consider my help a little charity."
"Damn that," I spat. When I first met Tav in the Healer building, he was merely someone accepting Humility's rule while silently resenting it. So why did he now want to fight? "That can't be your only reason for coming here."
"Also, I hate that place. Those stupid brown robes and white towers. I needed a change of scenery."
"Fuck you."
"Ha. This isn't all about you." Tav closed his eyes softly, as if preparing to sleep. The carriage had been moving for a while now. Maybe an hour or more. Even I was growing drowsy. I still had no idea where we were going. Anywhere away from Humility's domain seemed fine. "Believe it or not, your outburst at daily worship sparked something. Even though you were 'humbled' quickly, it ignited something small. People needed to know this rule isn't normal. You rekindled that. I'm one of the people you rekindled."
"Whatever you say. Do what you want." I mumbled. My stomach rumbled numbly. The sun was setting, barely visible through drizzling clouds beyond the carriage windows. How long since I'd eaten? My thoughts drifted lazily. The last thing I'd consumed was a lizard—hell, the only thing I'd eaten since waking from Waiting. More than a whole day had passed.
My stomach rumbled again as I struggled to fall asleep. There had to be food wherever we were going, right? They wouldn't withhold it like they had in Humility's domain, right?
My stomach churned again, violently, like my intestines were tying themselves into knots. My hand went to my abdomen instinctively. This isn't normal.
My breath became shallower as bile clawed up my throat.
"Is something wrong?" Tav asked, opening only his right eye, right before I vomited on him.
It was dry. It felt like sandpaper against my mouth. And with the vomit—blood.
"He's sick!" Tav yelled, as my body grew even weaker, the only food in my stomach now ejected. "I need space!"
I was fading. Was I going unconscious or dying? Maybe the latter was better. Tav's voice became slurred to my ears as I struggled to identify the cause. The only thing I had eaten was—
Lizard. I knew that shit wouldn't be good for my stomach.
Those were the last thoughts my worthless brain could manage before I blacked out.