The Holy Conclave

Two days later, when the villagers sent out to the dragon’s lair returned with the treasure, we paid the survivors of the battle at Heron’s Hill. Father Alton weighed each one of the survivors and handed over to him an estimate of his weight in treasure. A generous estimate, I might add. Sometimes I had to wonder if the old priest was seeing the same men I was.

In the end it did not matter. Even minus the weight of seventeen men the amount of treasure recovered was enormous. Daletopia would be eating well for years afterward. Eventually, I hoped, the town would be properly rebuilt, free from the wrath of demons.

My companions slowly recovered, eventually being deemed fit to engage in normal adventuring duties in only a week following Spineripper’s defeat. The surge of recovery had come in the form of the discovery of several powerful healing draughts hidden among the dragon’s hoard. Now, finally free from external interruptions, we once more turned our attention to the matter of returning Atlas and I home.

Lynessa had managed to find the recipe for a powerful spell capable of interdimensional travel, though some of the ingredients were nigh impossible to acquire. Where the hell were we supposed to find the Salts of Creation? I had no idea, and neither did anyone else.

There were, however, other leads to be investigated. Imalor had heard through passing travelers that the Dungeon of the Duskknife had finally been rediscovered after two hundred years. The Duskknife, I was informed, was a weapon forged from a fragment of reality itself, capable of tearing open portals in space and time. Imalor theorized it might be able to create a wormhole to take us home.

We were searching for information about the dungeon when we first encountered missionaries from the Church of the Great Father. We were meeting with an adventurer in Enderspool, a small town that was two days' travel from Daletopia. The information we gathered wasn’t very useful, but it did give us a lead: the Duskknife was somewhere in the dwarven kingdom of Carcinex. Imalor was excitedly explaining all of the wonders of his home kingdom to us as we left the meeting, when we finally ran into them.

Three figures garbed in crimson robes stood on one streetcorner in front of a large crowd. One appeared to be preaching, a thick tome spread open in one hand. His fellows raised their hands to the sky in prayer.

“Oh thank you, Great Father, highest of all gods, for delivering these people from sin! May you bless them in their new faith, that they might never stray from your light again!” He cried. Ser Erik grimaced at the sight.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

“Used to be, the people in these parts followed the Order of the Golden Sun. The Order constructed most of these towns, fed their people when the crops were stricken by blight, sheltered them within their temples when the demons attacked in the night.” Ser Erik said, “But it seems as though the people have forgotten all of that in a matter of weeks. Ever since we defeated the corrupt Divine Speaker, the Order as a whole has fallen out of favor with the common folk. It pains me to see my faith brought so low.”

“Maybe we could try to reform the Order?” I suggested, “Appoint a new Divine Speaker, establish good grace with the common people once more?”

“That sounds like an excellent idea!” Ser Erik said, clapping me on the shoulder, “We should speak to Father Alton about it! He should know the local denominations of the Order, and we can hold a vote for the new Divine Speaker!”

When at last we returned to Daletopia, we presented the idea to Father Alton.

The old man scratched at his chin thoughtfully. “I’m surprised nobody’s thought of that sooner. It could work. I’ll send word for the remaining High Priests to assemble in the Holy Mountain for a conclave to decide the new Divine Speaker.”

“Sounds like I shouldn’t attend that one,” I said, “Last time I was there, I nearly caused the collapse of your entire religion.”

“Quite the contrary,” Father Alton said, “Your presence would actually be quite helpful. You’re the man who took down the last Divine Speaker, who was widely known to be corrupt, and you are the Legendary Hero who saved the world from the Demonlord. Your presence would be seen as an endorsement, a gesture of legitimacy.”

Atlas groaned, “Great. You’ve signed us up for nothing but boring religious sermons for the next month.”

“Oh come on, Atlas,” I said, “We helped tear the Order down, the least we can do is help these people get back on their feet. We at least owe it to Ser Erik and Father Alton.”

Atlas muttered something under his breath and stalked away.

The meeting was scheduled for the first day of autumn in the Holy Mountain. Nearly a dozen High Priests from all across Folona gathered in the meeting chamber where we had defeated the last Divine Speaker. Much to my disappointment, Father Alton was not one of the potential candidates for the new Divine Speaker. When I expressed my disappointment that he had not been considered, the old priest just laughed and muttered something about arming the faith.

The conclave took three days of constant discussion and debate. During that time, no one was allowed to interrupt the council of High Priests, so I spent my days exploring the caldera, training my swordsmanship with Ser Erik, and helping Lynessa study the ancient tomes recovered from the dragon’s lair for any alternate ways of returning home. We didn’t make any additional progress on that front, though I would hesitate to say that our time was wasted.

Lynessa still hadn’t forgiven me for lying to her. Not about not being a hero in my home world, she forgave that easily enough. No, she was still upset that I hadn’t stayed with her after Arthur had died. I resolved to make it up to her, somehow.

“I’m sorry.” I said for what must have been the millionth time as we sat in the gardens of the caldera. Lynessa sighed and turned her back.

“I’m serious,” I reiterated, “I’m sorry for breaking my promise to you. I know you needed help after seeing that horrible event, but we needed to get my truck back. We couldn’t let Spineripper have the Demonlord’s horns.”

“You keep saying that word!” She said angrily.

“What word?” I asked.

“But.” She said, “You apologize, and then you always follow it up with ‘but’. It makes me think that you’re not actually sorry, and that you just want me to forgive you.”

“Fine,” I said, “I apologize for abandoning you in your time of need. I’m sorry for lying about my intentions when I went to Alvensglen and I apologize that I never explained myself to you honestly.”

“And?” She inquired.

“And,” I responded, “That’s it.”

She smiled, “I forgive you.” She leaned her head against my shoulder and resumed reading her book.

That was it? That was all it took? Seriously? I was beginning to think I would never figure out Lynessa.

A voice came from nearby.

“I have some good news.” It was Father Alton. He looked tired, well, more tired than he normally looked. Deep bags formed under his eyes. He walked stiffly, as if he’d slept very uncomfortably.

“Father! So the conclave has concluded?” I asked.

“It has. The council has decided that High Priest Galemar shall be the new Divine Speaker.” Father Alton smiled, “I must admit, he was not my first choice, but I think he’ll do a good job in the role. He’s young, headstrong, maybe even a little devout if you look close enough. He’ll do.”

“Is everyone in agreement?”

“Mostly. Nobody seems to hate him, at least.” Father Alton said, “The future looks bright for the Order, and it’s all thanks to you, Dale.”

Despite being hailed as a hero for my entire stay in this dimension, despite having slain dragons and saved villages, that was the first time I’d ever truly felt like a hero, like I had made a positive change to the world. Seeing the smile on Father Alton’s face as he discussed how bright the future looked was worth more to me than all my hollow victories against the Demonlord and his generals combined. It felt good, and it made me wonder what other good I could do in this world. After all, who knew how long I could be stuck here?