The Coal Quarter

A few weeks ago, this old warehouse had been a wreck, filled with garbage both material and human and on it's last leg as a structure. Now though, after being repaired with the wood of a scuttled ship, and what could be scavenged from the area of donated by new followers, the sense of imminent collapse was long gone. The old building was even starting to take on its own kind of peculiar beauty. The windows were no longer shattered and dusty, but instead gleamed. Old wood had been sanded, painted, polished, or even replaced entirely where necessary. An entirely new structure rose from the top, something akin to a bell tower.
Ahremen approached this chapel from the dirty street, taking in the stark contrast between the red building and the hovels on either side of it. She scoffed at the vagrants collapsed against walls or even laying in the gutter as she passed. She did notice the red crumbs that dotted most of their beards and covered their dirty rags though and a half smile crossed her face. Her own red dress hovered just over the dusty road those others lay in, perpetually on the verge of being marred with grime, but never quite letting it happen. Her shining silver breast plate seemed immune to dirt altogether, as if it only allowed even the light to touch it out of vanity.

She flung open the heavy doors to the temple itself allowing them to crash into the walls to either side. A mass of red robes rose in greeting and bowed hoods mumbled words of respect as she passed. Eight bodies separated from the rest and formed two squares behind her four women behind her left arm and four men behind her right.

"Father!" she shouted, her high pitched voice echoing sharply through the many empty hallways and spaces in the building. From behind a corner, a dark figure appeared mere inches in front of her face. "Yes, my little red rose?" he said with a smile on his face. "We need to talk." Looking around, she added "In private."

"Very well, Ahremen" The man in black leather turned and began walking back the way he had appeared from and Ahremen dutifuly and silently followed, her eight guards still behind her keeping perfect pace.

Eventually they came to a metal-reinforced heavy wooden door. The eight guards turned inward and assumed a stiff position with their hands clasped behind their backs and feet shoulder width apart. Ahremen followed her father inside. "Things are progressing faster than we expected, we have reports of a rather... artistic display in the park."

The man sat down in a plainly made wodden chair and leaned back, lifting the front two legs off the ground. "We make no move until I speak to my old friend, we are new in this land and will draw suspicion if we act too boldly."

She huffed at that, "Your old friend had better bring plenty of friends of his own, this latest little vandal has the entire country in one hell of a tizy, as if recent events didn't already."

"Yo misunderstand little rose, that is exactly what we need, people in fear seek instruction, protection, a source of inspiration from on high, and we are all of that and more." He paused for a moment, allowing his chair to drop back forward. "Enough, you clearly still have much to learn about these sorts of things. Go forth and do the bidding of Omir, eighth inheritor of the God's blood, Ahremen Arkah"

With that, Ahremen whipped around and left the room, slamming the door behind her, and ignoring the eight guards as they took up their constant watch again. "You would think such an old man would move faster, at this rate he won't even be around to see all his work come to fruition, pft."

To most, the Red Temple would appear to be a fairly standard place of worship, pews were lined up in neat rows along either side of the main isle, a man in a red robe tended to red candles in a corner, light shone in through windows high along each wall. Populating the temple currently, Malcolm would see a dozen or so worshipers, all clad in red robes from head to foot.

From the front of the temple, a man leaves his station in front of a large urn and approaches Malcolm,"Greetings sir, come to hear the good word of Omir have you?" Most of the time, the man spent his day handing out loaves of bread to the vagrants who had wandered in, so a perfumed man in dashing uniform was quite the occasion.

"Oh goodness" the elderly man tutted, "I do believe you may have had a run in with Ms.Arkah, you'll find Father Chamberlain up the set of stairs in the right corner, hes down the hall behind the wooden door" the man started to turn back toward his urn but stopped and added with a barely concealed giggle "Oh and, hmpffft, please do knock, you may wake him from his nap."

He made his way quickly to the door "Ah at long last my old fr-Oh, excuse me, I've been expecting some other company for quite some time now."

Behind him Malcolm would be able to see a spread of bread and snacks, and an unopened bottle of wine set on a desk. "Please do help yourself there's more than enough for three." Regardless of what Malcolm chose to do, Highlan would go back to his desk, take a seat and begin buttering one of the many rolls. He takes a bite, chews thoughtfully for a moment and then asks "So what is a, Medanese, I believe, admiral doing in our little church today? Clearly not praying or else they would have entertained you downstairs."

"That, would most undoubtedly be my daughter. I'm afraid I'm not usually one for games though, its my impression she has seen the retirees in the Diamond district playing such a game and took to implying I myself should be doing so with them." Highlan set his roll down, and dabbed a napkin at his mouth. "She was supposed to be delivering a letter. It would appear I may have overestimated her ability to remain unseen." He sighed "A father does what he can of course, but the God's Blood flows hot in that one. She's been through quite a lot, both in her life and very recently, and so is still learning to deal with it all. Please, accept my apologies on her behalf, I hope she wasn't too much of an inconvenience."

He took another bite, and poured two glasses of wine.

"To answer your question as to why her in particular, she's being groomed to take up a much more public position as it were, and obviously, it wouldn't do to have such brash behavior as you yourself experienced put on display for the whole kingdom to witness. My understanding is that the local lords and their tottering wives are especially gossipy."

"She shall be reprimanded I can promise you that" He sipped, "a few nights on patrol should make her think twice before acting out in such a way again."

"Ahremen is something of a special case among us. She has already experienced an entire lifetime of diplomacy, and a long one at that, regretfully it would seems she has not yet remembered that fact. However I am sure with time that will all change."

He continued to lightly snack and drink while listening to Malcolm. "Mired you say? How dreadful, I'd think a man like yourself would have a fair bit more clout around here, I suppose the one thing a sword never can cut through is the red tape of bureaucracy. As for me, I am but a monk, while the Sani Sabik as a collective may have lofty goals, it is no longer my place to decide when and where we should pursue those, for now I am content to protect the people of what we have come to call home. I will admit to being guilty of a sense of pride in just how effective at that we have been. We have either converted or eliminated most drug dealers, their addicts, vagrants, the diseased, and a whole other myriad of people that it seems the city of Bayonne would rather forget existed. It's been many years since I've seen a society so starkly divided between rich and poor. I consider myself fortunate to be on this side of the divide actually, as it puts me in a position to help, there was a time when that was not so believe it or not."

"So very interesting indeed. Speaking of, what brings a man such as yourself to a foreign land? Surely Medan does not posses such an excess of admirals as to send them on far away vacations? I didn't notice a blockade on my way in the port at least."

It was quite enjoyable to have such a conversation while waiting for company, all to often these days the only words he had shared had been commands, to peak with another of his kind on equal terms was invigorating, refreshing.

"I hope you don't have anywhere to be sir. Beause you're stuck now." The old man chuckled aand poured another glass of wine. He settled back into his chair, and rather surprisngly, a look of deep sadness and regret took hold of his face.

"I know those feelings well. Unfortunately, as you seemed to have noticed, I can't retire just yet. I myself was once an Admiral, among other things, to the now non-existent Amarr empire, and Empress Jamyl Sarum I. I suppose it was inevitable, but eventually, one assassination attempt in a long series of failures managed to succeed. I was at sea when it happened, and received news while in a foreign port much like this one. Of course, had I returned home I likely would have been hung as a supporter of the former dynasty, so that option was out. I opted instead to take my ship, and hopefully buy my way into a group of pirates who we had been fighting off and on for years. At the time, I believed their off shoot cult of Imperial beliefs to be heretical, however beggars can't be choosers. I sailed with them, tolerated and tolerating for a full year. One the anniversary or my arrival, I was taken out on deck in the middle of the night, beaten senseless, lashed, cut, bludgeoned and a million other tortures, and while I lay broken and bleeding on the deck, a man dressed in nothing but an open red robe, opened my mouth, and cut his own throat, spewing every drop of blood in his body down my gullet. It took me another three years, but I was able to compel the rest of the Sani Sabik to believe that I was their rightful leader. And that brings us to today, the old country would not allow either me or the Sani Sabik on their shores, however in Gauldin, we are unknown, and can forge a new path for ourselves while pursuing our beliefs."

Somehow his wine glass had been emptied again throughout the course of his little story.