CHAPTER 70: The Ashborn Gospel
CHAPTER 70: The Ashborn Gospel
Highcourt – The Grand Plaza, Weeks After the Forging
The Grand Plaza of Highcourt, once a stage for Imperial pronouncements, now pulsed with a different kind of fervor. The air, cleansed of the stench of burning bodies, was thick with the subtle, cloying scent of Seyda's ritual ash. Sunlight, filtering through the still-damaged spires of the Basilica, illuminated hundreds of upturned faces – gaunt, weary, but held captive by the figure on the improvised pulpit.
Seyda of the Pale Flame stood before them, her crimson robes a stark splash against the muted stone. Her veil was drawn, but her voice, amplified by an unseen resonance, filled the plaza. It was not the booming condemnation of Archlector Malgrad's old sermons, but a hypnotic, melodic cadence, weaving tales of Kael Ashmark, the Ashborn Sovereign.
"The old Flame demanded suffering! It fed on your pain! It forged your chains!" Seyda's voice soared, stirring the desperate crowd. "But the Ashborn Flame rises from the ashes of your misery! It burns with purpose! It burns with the will of a Sovereign who defied gods and shattered crowns! He brings not suffering, but salvation through righteous fire!"
Around her, the Red Veil acolytes moved through the crowd, their faces painted with war ash, their eyes burning with fanaticism. They distributed meager but untainted portions of bread and water – symbols of Kael's practical deliverance. They spoke of the Serpent's Spine flowing with bounty, of Ravencair's recovery, of the Emperor's broken fangs. They were missionaries of a new gospel, converting souls with desperation and discipline.
Converting the Converts – The New Doctrine
The conversion was swift, brutal, and systematic. Highcourt, shattered by Imperial purges and Kael's conquest, was ripe for a new faith. The Red Veil targeted surviving pockets of traditional Flame worshippers, particularly in the outer districts where fear still clung like a shroud.
In a converted Imperial shrine, Father Loris, a former Purifier priest whose zeal had been tempered by the horrors of the Serpent's Spine, now led a small, defiant congregation. He preached the old doctrines, clinging to the remnants of Malgrad's furious condemnations.
Suddenly, Seyda and a contingent of her acolytes appeared. The prayers faltered. The fear returned.
"You cling to dead embers, Father," Seyda's voice was soft, unnervingly calm. "The Flame has chosen a new path. The old ways bred weakness. They bred suffering. They allowed the Crown to starve its own. Do you deny the truth written in the blood of this city?"
Loris, his face pale, tried to rally his flock. "The Archlector… he will return! The Flame will consume this heresy!"
Seyda simply raised a hand. The Red Veil acolytes moved. Not with blades, but with relentless ideological pressure. They surrounded the congregation, their silent presence more intimidating than any Legionary. They recited verses of Kael's defiance, showed them the new, iron circlet symbol of the Ashmark Standard Kael had forged, subtly painted on their armbands. They offered them food, warmth, and the promise of a place in the new order, if they would only embrace the Ashborn Gospel.
Loris watched as his terrified congregation, desperate for survival, slowly began to waver. Some, driven by hunger and fear, accepted the blackened flame mark from the acolytes, bowing their heads in submission to Seyda's new truth. Others, fiercely loyal to the old ways, stood firm.
"Those who resist the truth of the Ashborn Sovereign," Seyda declared, her voice rising, imbued with a chilling finality, "they are a blight. A cancer on the new order."
Loris, seeing the unyielding fanaticism in her eyes, knew there was no debate. There was only conversion or oblivion. He himself was dragged away, not killed, but led to a "re-education" chamber, where his faith would be tested by Seyda's unique methods. The screams from those chambers, muffled by thick stone, would serve as a chilling testament to the ruthlessness of the new faith. The nature of this coercive conversion was palpable.
The Myth Spreads – From Ash to Ascendance
The Ashborn Gospel spread like wildfire through Highcourt and into the surrounding southern territories. Virelle's network, subtly influencing public discourse, amplified Seyda's sermons, ensuring the message reached even the most remote hamlets. The common people, witnessing the sheer military power of Kael's rebellion, the new flow of food, and the relentless zeal of Seyda's followers, began to believe.
Kael was no longer just a warlord. He was becoming a myth. The stories of his defiance, of his battle against the Empire's corruption, of his impossible victories, were woven into the new gospel. He was the "Ashborn Deliverer," the one who burned the old world to build a new. His rule was justified not by ancient writ, but by the tangible hope he provided and the brutal justice he enacted.
From his war room, Kael received the reports from Seyda, delivered by silent, devoted acolytes. They spoke of successful conversions, of temples cleansed, of new followers swearing allegiance not to the Flame, but to the Ashborn Sovereign. He read the numbers, the growing ranks of those marked by Seyda's flame sigil.
Myrren, observing the growing religious fervor, approached Kael with a worried frown. "They flock to her, Kael. But it is a fierce faith. Born of fear and desperation. It demands absolute obedience. It tolerates no questions."
Kael, tracing the new symbol of the Ashmark Standard on a map, simply nodded. "Fear breeds obedience, Myrren. And desperation breeds faith. We are building an empire, not a prayer circle. And for now, their belief, in whatever form it takes, is a necessary foundation." He looked at the new symbol – a dark iron circlet, threaded with faint gold, scarred with the essence of rebellion, crowned with obsidian. His new symbol of sovereignty.
He knew Seyda was forging him into something more than a man. Something terrifying. But he also knew that in this broken world, a living god might be the only thing strong enough to hold a new kingdom together. The grimness of this absolute control, the ruthless manipulation of belief for political ends, marked the terrifying ascendance of the Ashborn Sovereign and his new, brutal faith.