The Citadel

Sizwe was finally able to rest since he woke up from suspended animation. Ironically, he went back to sleep. Chief Gazali hosted him in his house, which was safer than having a stranger in the village. The chief, a former resistance commander, was well-trained and one of the few who could handle a man like Sizwe.

Sizwe woke up and stared at the new world, now ridden by destruction. Before, he couldn't afford to notice it, but now he had all the time. Sizwe had been taught that unnecessary thoughts amidst battle could get one killed, so he had shut out the world until he escaped the dire situation. Now his emotions washed over him like cold water. The world was in a terrible state, and humans seemed to live tougher lives than before. The village was made of mud houses, and the clothes were made of cheap fabric. He felt a little bad wearing good clothes in this situation and wished he had brought more.

Gazali entered and sat on the floor next to him. Gazali's home had many huts on the property. It wasn't particularly fancy, but it was okay. At least Sizwe had his own room, with a fire to keep him warm. The bed was horrible, but he got good rest. It would be unfair to compare it to the beds he knew. His times were much simpler, with everything abundant: food, entertainment, sanitation, even transportation. It proves true that we don't appreciate things until they're gone.

Gazali faced the village, looking out the door of the hut, the same as Sizwe. He could tell this man was a little sad.

"So," Sizwe began, stretching out his legs, "what's the deal with this Citadel everyone's so scared of?"

Gazali had suspected this man of being from the old world. He spoke funny, and his clothes were very unusual. What interested Gazali was the man's eyes. They were sharp, as if cutting through illusions, firm, without despair, hopelessness, or even fear. These weren't the eyes of someone born in this world.

Gazali leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "The Citadel," he said, voice low and reverent, "isn't just a place. It's the epicenter of power and control in this fractured world. The church's iron grip extends from its imposing fortress, dictating almost every aspect of life."

Sizwe raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Sounds like a cozy little dictatorship."

Gazali's lips curled into a wry smile. "You're not far off. The Grand Citadel, as it's called, rose from the ruins of our old cities. It's a massive fortress, picture tall spires and buttresses alongside remnants of advanced tech—what's left of our civilization's former glory."

"A fortress," Sizwe mused. "Got it. So, what's their endgame?"

"The Citadel's power comes from their holy book, the Codex," Gazali explained. "A collection of doctrines they claim to have salvaged from ancient scriptures and tech manuals. They've fused religion with what little technology they can control, using both to maintain their dominance."

Sizwe frowned, finding the concept odd. "Religion and tech? Doesn't sound like the best mix."

Gazali chuckled softly. "That's the point. It's designed to keep people in line. The Codex preaches that knowledge is sacred but dangerous, something only the worthy—the Guardians and Priests of Aegis—can handle. It keeps the masses ignorant and obedient."

Sizwe scoffed. "Guardians, huh? Met a few of those. Not exactly a friendly bunch."

Gazali nodded solemnly. "The Guardians are the Citadel's enforcers. Trained to uphold the Codex, protect the Citadel's interests, and hunt down any threats or heretics. They're relentless and answerable only to the Priests of Aegis or higher-ups of the Church."

"And these Priests?" Sizwe prompted, leaning forward.

"The Priests of Aegis serve as both spiritual advisors and overseers," Gazali said. "They interpret the Codex, guide the Guardians, and ensure everyone adheres to the church's teachings. They're ruthless in their devotion, considering themselves the keepers of our world's last remaining wisdom."

Sizwe shook his head. "So, they're in charge of everything, then?"

"Mostly," Gazali confirmed. "The Citadel's power structure is divided into three branches: The Grand Citadel at the center, Enclaves of the Remnant scattered across the territories, and Sanctuaries of the Faithful in smaller communities. Each has its role but ultimately answers to the Grand Citadel."

Sizwe leaned back, processing the information. "And the Codex? What's it actually say?"

Gazali's voice took on a formal tone. "It warns against the temptations of forbidden knowledge, claiming it leads to ruin and despair. It dictates social norms, technological use, and moral conduct. Essentially, it's all about control—branding any knowledge outside the Citadel's teachings as heresy."

"So, knowledge is power, and they're hoarding it all," Sizwe said with a grimace. "Figures."

"Exactly," Gazali said, his expression serious. "They fear what they can't control, so they keep a tight grip on technology and information. Even electricity is a rare privilege, confined to the Citadel and their strongholds."

"No wonder people are scared of them," Sizwe muttered. "They've got everyone by the throat."

"That's why they're dangerous," Gazali agreed. "And why you need to be cautious. You carry old-world knowledge. To the Citadel, you're a threat—a living reminder of what they've lost and can't fully control."

Sizwe sighed, feeling the weight of this new reality. "I appreciate the warning, Chief. Looks like I've got a lot to learn about this world."

"You do," Gazali said, standing up and placing a hand on Sizwe's shoulder. "But you're not alone. There are others who resist the Citadel's grip, those who remember the old ways and fight for freedom. Just remember: knowledge is a double-edged sword. Wield it wisely."

"I'll keep that in mind," Sizwe said, giving a weary nod. "Thanks, old man."

Gazali nodded, his gaze lingering on Sizwe with a mix of caution and hope. He turned and left the hut, leaving Sizwe alone with his thoughts. The fire's glow flickered against the walls, and Sizwe stared into the flames, contemplating the path ahead. He had a lot to learn and even more to fight for, but for the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of purpose in the chaos.

---

Mhlengi got new clothes as a Chaplain. He was not officially promoted yet but could wear these clothes. The words of a Priest of Aegis were powerful; he could be instantly promoted. He could only imagine how powerful the Elders of the Remnant or, better yet, the Supreme Ecclesiarch were.

It was amazing to see such power with his own eyes. Now he was wearing better clothes, beyond his dreams.

He wore a brown robe with earthy tones, practical for daily wear and travel. For headgear, it was a simple cap with a cloth band featuring the Citadel's emblem. For accessories, a small pouch containing blessed herbs and oils for rituals. Lastly, his sleeve was embroidered with the Citadel emblem. This was the life; now he would gain the respect he deserved. As a child from the slums, the bottom of the bottom, he could now hold his head up high. He now had better accommodation, better meals, and better pay. What more could a man ask for in this doomed world?

Mhlengi knew this world was filled with lurking dangers. The wild had changed since the fall. Animals that used to be livestock were now very dangerous, and those that were already dangerous had become extremely dangerous. The Church might be a tyrant, but Mhlengi knew what most people didn't: the Church was keeping these evolved creatures in check, and without the Citadel there to pick up the pieces when the world fell, humanity would be extinct.

The Church was the only way. People in the territories of the Church were protected to some degree. The creatures could sometimes run wild and kill unfortunate villagers or invade cities, but for the most part, larger cities were protected with walls and holy relics to ward off danger. There are a few creatures that the Church is wary of, but they were relatively rare, and the Church made sure to stay out of their way, monitoring them from afar and planning ahead should they bare their fangs.

The robe was comfortable and much warmer. Looking at himself in the mirror, Mhlengi looked classy. This was demon-hunting attire; the demon would awe at his handsomeness before it died. This was the day to set out; the demon was spotted in one of the villages north of the Enclave. It was not too far, but he knew the demon wouldn't stay long in the village.

Someone came to call him. It was time to leave. Mhlengi stepped outside as a new man. The smile on his face couldn't be erased. He let the sun shine on him with happiness; he had reached the top.

He saw the Citadel Carriage stop before him, this Carriage was much nicer that the one he was riding on. The Aegis Carriage is a sight to behold, embodying both the austerity and grandeur befitting a high-ranking member of the Church of the Eternal Remnant. It is a large, heavily fortified vehicle, exuding an air of authority and sanctity

The exterior is crafted from dark, polished wood reinforced with panels of relic-steel, an ancient alloy known for its durability and resistance. Intricate carvings adorn the wooden surface, depicting scenes from the Codex and symbols of the Church—crossed swords representing the Guardians of the Aegis, and the sacred tree symbolizing renewal and hope. These carvings are inlaid with silver, giving the carriage an almost ethereal glow under sunlight.

Atop the carriage, a spire-like structure rises, echoing the design of the Citadel's spires, capped with a finial shaped like the Aegis pendant. Stained glass windows, salvaged from pre-apocalyptic ruins, are set into the sides, casting colorful, fragmented light inside. Each window portrays religious icons and allegories, providing a moving tableau of the Church's history as the carriage travels.

The carriage is drawn by a team of four robust, genetically enhanced horses—large, with a shimmering coat and almost mechanical precision in their movement. Their harnesses are adorned with the same relic-steel and intricate silverwork as the carriage, displaying the emblem of the Citadel on their bridles.

An Acolyte led Mhlengi to the inside where he was met with A Guardian Commander and next to him was Priest Yara.

"Nice of you to Join us Chaplain Mhlengi. Are you ready to hunt a demon?"

"I am Valiant Priest."

"Good."

The door closed gently.

Inside, the carriage balances practicality with opulence. The seating is upholstered in rich, crimson velvet, providing comfort for the long journeys between Enclaves, Mhlengi's heart filled with greed for such luxury, he began to imagine himselfas a Priest of Aegis. He looked at the walls which were lined with dark wood paneling, interspersed with more symbols and quotations from the Codex, reminding the Priest of their sacred duty. A small, built-in cabinet holded religious texts and a set of ceremonial tools, including a miniature altar for impromptu rites and prayers.

The floor was covered with a thick, embroidered rug bearing the emblem of the Citadel, cushioning the ride over rough terrain. A concealed compartment beneath one of the seats holds essential survival gear and communication devices, ensuring the Priest remains connected and prepared for any situation.

The front of the carriage featured a reinforced driver's seat, equipped with protective coverings and an array of levers and controls, hinting at some mechanical enhancements to assist the horses. The driver, often a trusted Guardian or acolyte, was clad in the Church's livery, ready to navigate both the physical and spiritual roads ahead.

The carriage began to move slowly, behind followed by a small army of Guardians. From Guardian Recruits to Enforcers, each with their weapon of rank. They were ready to hunt the heretic of the old world, only the gods can save him now.