Horse's Mouth

Understanding finally started to set in as he let his mind drift. He had woken up in this new world, and it was horrible. It was indeed his punishment, and just as soon as his sentence ended, he was in more trouble. He attracted trouble as much as shit attracted flies; it was a curse.

Sizwe began to reflect on how he got here. To be honest, it was not his fondest memory. He didn't enter cryo by choice; who would even want to do such a stupid thing unless they had to? Now he was at odds with the Citadel, and he was one man with a slow gun; there was no way he could fight and come out on top. More so, Sizwe was almost certain that there was Tech the Church hid from the public. Honestly, he didn't want to be on the bad side of the Church. In his new life, he wanted peace and a lot of delicacies, but he couldn't have both.

There were many ways that Sizwe could fight the Church or hide from it. Hiding in this case didn't seem possible since he was a threat to the Church. No one wants a blade hanging over their head, not knowing when it will cut them. The Church would hunt him down until he was dead, and they would proceed to bury him in cement for good measure.

To be honest, he had no solution. The Church was too big to take down over a short period of time, and he could only hide and avoid it for a short period of time. So maybe he could plan to oppose it as a long-term goal and hide from it short-term. Whatever the case may be, he needed an army. For his ideas to be realized and implemented, he needed to be outside the Church's influence; he needed to build his own kingdom.

Sizwe finally got up from the floor and went to look out the window. In this case, there was no glass, just wooden windows. As he opened them, a cold breeze invaded his room, refreshing him a little. He looked at the village. It looked like a small western town; people were in the streets working. He could see beggars lying next to shops asking for food. Some people were reasonably dressed, which signified a bit of a divide.

He stayed looking out the window for a while. There was something he wanted to see. It finally appeared. The village might be bigger than Gazali's village, but it was not that big. As Gazali said, there were members of the Church here. They were not powerful members, but Acolytes and Novices who had to spread the word. They were easily identifiable; they stuck out like a sore thumb. They were better dressed than most, and one could tell the ranks of the Church members apart by what they wore.

The material they wore ranged from basic fabrics for novices to advanced textiles and metals for higher ranks. These attires balanced ceremonial grandeur with practicality, suited for daily tasks and rituals. Novices wore simple white tunics and trousers, representing purity and new beginnings. As accessories, they had a leather-bound copy of the Codex of Restoration. One could notice a small Citadel emblem stitched on the tunic.

Sizwe looked at this young man in the street; he was his target. If Sizwe was doomed to fight the Church, he had to know all he could about his enemy. And what better way to learn about the Citadel than from the horse's mouth?

---

Mandla walked the street, his face full of grinning. He was finally a Novice of the Church; he had studied and studied and studied. His time was finally here. He could recite the Codex with his eyes closed. Mandla was a child from a poor family; he didn't know his father, and he only had a mother and younger sister. To be honest, he never inquired about his father. His mother already had a lot on her hands; he didn't want to bother her with such trivial matters. Even if he knew where his father might be, it wouldn't change a lot other than feed his curiosity. If he was not with them, he was likely dead, didn't know he existed, or worse, he was part of the resistance.

Mandla, for the life of him, didn't understand why people would oppose the Church. Without the Church, this world would have no order. The Prophecies of the Citadel foretell a future where the Citadel will fully restore the lost knowledge and lead humanity into a new golden age. This prophecy motivates believers to strive for technological recovery and adherence to the Church's teachings. But it also warns of a dire prediction that heresy and misuse of technology will lead to a second apocalypse. This warning must be taken seriously since the world is in the state it is in because of such.

The Festival of the Forgotten was fast approaching, and it would be the first he would be attending. The festival was a remembrance event for the lost world, where believers reflect on the fall of the old era and the importance of the Citadel's mission to prevent such a catastrophe from recurring. Mandla would be an assistant to Acolyte Johan, who would be preaching in the village. Acolyte Johan had been preaching the Codex for a few days, but today Mandla was given a chance to be the one to spread the good word. He would be preaching this afternoon. He was excited; now was his time to shine. He had studied the Codex, and he would give it his all.

---

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the village square as a crowd gathered to hear the new Novice preach. Mandla, a young man of humble origins, stood nervously at the edge of the platform, gripping his leather-bound Codex. His mother's face, worn from years of hardship, floated in his mind, reminding him of the weight of his journey. The crowd's murmurs faded as Acolyte Johan stepped forward, gesturing for Mandla to begin.

Mandla took a deep breath, his heart pounding. This was his moment. He stepped into the sunlight, feeling its warmth on his skin, and began to speak.

"Brothers and sisters," he started, his voice wavering before steadying, "we gather here today not just as followers of the Citadel but as guardians of a sacred truth, a truth that binds us together in hope and purpose."

He held up the Codex, its weathered pages reflecting the struggles of his life and the lives of those around him. "The Codex of the Eternal Remnant," he said, "is our beacon, our guide through the darkness of ignorance and despair. It is the wisdom of the ancients, preserved through trials and tribulations, that lights our path forward."

The crowd, a mix of weary villagers and curious onlookers, leaned in, captivated by the earnestness in Mandla's voice. He could see faces he recognized—old friends from his childhood, strangers who had become part of his new life in the Church.

"The Prophet Seraphiel," Mandla continued, "foretold of a time when humanity would rise from the ashes of the old world, guided by the light of the Citadel. He spoke of a new dawn, a golden age where knowledge and faith would lead us to a future free from the errors of the past."

His eyes scanned the crowd, locking briefly with Sizwe's, a man who had been watching him intently. Sizwe's face, shadowed by doubt and weariness, was a stark contrast to the hopeful faces around him. Mandla felt a pang of uncertainty but pressed on.

"We live in a world where technology, once our greatest strength, became our downfall," Mandla said, his voice growing stronger. "The misuse of this power led to the great cataclysm, a lesson written in the ruins of our past. But the Citadel teaches us that through understanding and adherence to the Codex, we can reclaim this knowledge, use it wisely, and prevent such a catastrophe from ever happening again."

He felt a surge of confidence, the words flowing more freely now. "The Festival of the Forgotten is upon us, a time to reflect on the mistakes of the past and to renew our commitment to the Citadel's mission. It is a reminder that we must be vigilant, that we must strive every day to live by the principles laid down in the Codex."

Mandla opened the Codex and read aloud, "In the days of old, when the world was whole, men and women sought power without wisdom, and their folly brought ruin upon them. But those who seek knowledge with humility, who honor the teachings of the Codex, shall find a path to redemption."

He closed the book, looking out at the crowd with renewed purpose. "We are the stewards of this knowledge, the bearers of this light. It is our duty to preserve it, to protect it, and to pass it on to those who come after us. Let us be vigilant, let us be wise, and let us be united in our faith and our mission."

The crowd erupted in applause, their faces alight with a mix of inspiration and determination. Mandla felt a rush of pride and relief, knowing he had connected with them, shared a piece of his journey and his faith.

As the villagers dispersed, Acolyte Johan approached Mandla, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Well done, Novice," he said, his eyes warm with approval. "Your words were heartfelt and true. You have the makings of a great leader."

Mandla smiled, a mixture of relief and pride swelling within him. He had taken his first steps as a preacher of the Codex, and though his journey was just beginning, he felt a deep sense of belonging and purpose.

---

From a distance, Sizwe watched Mandla, his mind racing with thoughts of the Codex and the Citadel. He recognized the fervor in Mandla's eyes, it somewhat reminded him of the old world. Sizwe walked straight to Mandla and greeted him.

"Fellow man of God, your sermon was beautiful," Sizwe said lightly, showing respect. He was an amazing actor, quickly donning the persona of a believer.

"Thank you, fellow brother in the good word. I'm glad I could share the Codex."

"I was happy to be here." He paused a little as if he was now in thought and continued. "But as you know, peasants like me have a lot more to learn. Would it be possible to learn more from you? I want to know everything about the Citadel."

Mandla felt as though this was a dream. His words had actually reached someone and led them to the good word. He couldn't hide his excitement; he was ecstatic.

"Of course, you've come to the right place. I will tell you everything you need to know. Come with me."

Mandla led the way, excited to share the Codex and his knowledge with this man. Maybe he would join the Church like he did and become a true man of God. Sizwe followed quietly, spending the whole afternoon learning about the Citadel. The systems were pretty solid, and he came to understand that the Church was far more dangerous than he thought. The Church was extremely powerful, and the only reason it had not yet taken over all of Azania was because it would be too expensive. The evolved monsters made it hard to be sure of your rule; they were unpredictable and dangerous. Evolved animals were very dangerous and could level a city in a few hours. That's why the Citadel had to monitor the most dangerous ones.

As Sizwe walked out of Mandla's dwelling, having received the information he needed, he heard drums sounding from many parts of the village. The people started to move in a strange way.

"What is going on?" he asked Mandla, who was ready to see him off.

"That is the sound of drums of danger. Beasts must be attacking."

"What? Really?"

"Yes, and there might even be an evolved beast among them."

Sizwe cursed his bad luck. It had not been a full day since he came here, and this happens. He was indeed a trouble magnet. Either way, he had to prepare.

"I have to go. Thank you for your hospitality."

Sizwe shook his hand and left in haste.

Despite the incoming danger, Mandla was satisfied with himself. He had done the Lord's work today.