Ballinor was in his study when the Grandmaster came to him, poring over documents containing oral traditions of the Age of Settlement, making notes on what he believed to be true and what he believed to be false.
He closed his journal when Vosh entered and rose to greet him, the Grandmaster ignoring pleasantries, cutting straight to the meat of the matter.
"Weir Agrovaine has been captured."
He said, though the concern one would expect was lacking, but Ballinor knew how the two felt about one another.
"Captured?" Ballinor repeated, "In Brin?"
"Yes, in the capital of Latinium no less. Apparently he suggested, as he put it, that their Gods didn't exist."
Ballinor cringed despite himself, knowing what sort of feedback that remark would have brought, having been to Brin many times.
Not that he necessarily disagreed with Weir's 'suggestion' but he had lived long enough to know to let men believe what they believe so long as they didn't hurt others.
Unfortunately for Weir, the Latins, Brin's native human population, did not share the same philosophy, having no qualms of locking someone up for theological differences.
"They plan to execute him."
Maro finished, a wrinkled hand rubbing his beard. "I presume you've come to ask me to rescue him?"
Ballinor asked glancing at his research, not looking forward to being parted from it. "Yes, and that student of yours, Felinda Augar."
"No."
Ballinor shook his head.
"She's not ready for field work." "I think she is,"
Vosh rested a palm on the desk, "In any case you can't go alone."
"Then let me take Velnis or Catalya. Felinda needs more time to develop her skills, she just begun combat training last year for Gaia's sake."
Felinda Augar, his young apprentice, was like a daughter to him and Ballinor took pride in her accomplishments, but he knew her limits.
Going to Brin was too much.
"Velnis is needed here to train the new recruits, Catalya is being sent to Kalandore to see the Ansyth. Felinda is going."
Cutting off his protests, Vosh continued.
"If peaceful means fail, you are authorized to use deadly force. I know Weir and I have our differences, but he is our brother, and we don't leave family behind."
"Understood, Grandmaster." Vosh nodded,
"I'm counting on you. Don't let me down."
Once he left Ballinor walked over to where his sword sat, resting against his bedstand. Placing it in his belt the Mage grabbed a few bags of coins, put his journal back into the drawer he took it from and walked out, heading to Felinda's quarters to collect her.
He found the Dwarf immersed in study, books scattered across her desk, her face barely visible through the pages she read from.
Ballinor stood there a moment, grinning, before knocking gently on the door. Felinda glanced up, smiling when she saw him.
"When did you become interested in Camulod ghost stories?"
He asked, noticing the book she read from contained fifteen stories of reported ghost sightings in Camulod city.
"Since always," She said,
"There's so much mystery! Why do spirits get earth bound? Why can't they pass on? I want to be an expert in everything Master, not just a few topics."
"And you will if your thirst for knowledge continues to thrive." He walked into her room then.
Small, comfy, with a black ash bed and a desk, it matched the standard of all apprentice rooms, and, he thought, most full fledged member's rooms.
Felinda had grown up in Candlelight Hall, brought to the Order by Maro Vosh as an orphan, her parents having died of sickness sometime during her first year.
Ballinor, away at the time, met her two years later once he returned from Kaliden, and the two soon became close, Vosh entrusting her care to him.
"We've been given an assignment by the Grandmaster." He said, watching her face light up.
"What is it?"
She asked, nearly falling off the chair she spun around so fast. "Do you remember Weir Agrovaine?"
"Clara's lover?"
Ballinor held in a laugh, her knowledge seemed to extend beyond just books and folklore. "Yes. Eight months ago he was sent to the continent of Moldvia to study its plant life, but recently he's found himself in trouble."
"What sort of trouble?"
Felinda was all for freedom of thought and expression, so Ballinor knew once he told her what Weir's charges were, she'd jump at the chance to save him.
"He was charged with blasphemy against the Empire of Brin's Gods."
And sure enough Felinda was on her feet as soon as the words left his mouth, ready to go. She grabbed a pack, started throwing things inside it, including a few books to read on the voyage and paper to scribble on.
"The Grandmaster informed me that if we can't get Weir released by diplomatic means, he's authorized us to use force."
He met her gaze, saw the hesitance.
Felinda knew her combat skills weren't up to par. "Don't worry,"
He moved to her, a gloved hand resting on her shoulder, "Whatever the outcome is, you'll be safe."
She smiled confidently, nodding.
Riding from Candlelight Hall the two Priests made their way to Edling where they hoped to buy passage to Moldvia.
Not many ships went there these days, preferring to trade with Kaliden, Yasgard and the far off continent of Araba, the land of sand and giant stone structures called Pyramids.
Out of the three continents Araba still retained some mystery for Ballinor as, even though he was far older than any human alive, he hadn't explored it like he had Alboria, Yasgard,
Moldvia and the other lands. "One day,"
He nodded to himself as he and Felinda headed down the pathway towards the port, "Perhaps after we save Weir."
"What are you saying Master?" "Oh, just admiring the sun."
He pointed up at the blazing orange ball in the sky, Felinda squinted her eyes and glanced at it.
"What's so special about it?" "The Goddess created it."
He smiled.
The port, nicknamed Shantybends by Felinda, was bustling with people of all the Races. It amazed Ballinor how Edling, starting out as a small town inland, grew to become a baronetcy, covering several towns and having its own port.
Halflings bartered with Dwarves, Elves drank to the health of their human friends. Some of the humans and Elves, Ballinor noted, came from Yasgard, their snow pale complexion giving away their origin.
There were a few merchants from Araba as well. They wore turbans of varying colours, curved swords hung at their sides, dressed in cloaks.
One, a handsome man in his forties, stuck out a hand to Ballinor as they passed. "Hello my friend, may I interest you in some Arabian cuisine?"
His accent was thick, but he spoke Alborian well, what's more, the Mage could sense the man's good natured personality.
"Maybe another time." Ballinor gave a brief nod.
"Of course! Whenever you're in town, look up Harun Kassim! The best cook in all of Araba!" The man's boastful nature made Ballinor grin, he made a mental note to visit the Arabian again upon his return and sample his food.
Turning from his stall they continued on until they reached the docks where five ships sat in port, their captains either unloading or loading their vessels.
Ballinor knew convincing any of them to sail to Moldvia, most likely not on their map of destinations, would be a struggle.
He touched the coins beneath his black robes, hoping to the Goddess that they cared more about money than anything else.
"Do you want to split up? We talk to the captains separately?" Felinda asked.
He looked down at her,
"No, better to stay together."
With that he moved for the first ship directly in front of them.
A longship, its owner and crew Yasgardian, hardened veterans of the sea.
The Captain was polite enough, listening to their reason for going to Brin, heard what they were offering, but declined, stating he had promised his village Chieftain that they'd be back straight away after trading.
Thanking the man for his time they moved onto the next ship, but their luck never changed.
It went on like this for another hour until, quite by chance, they came upon the ship owned by the man named Victus.
Ballinor explained who they were, why they needed to board, and the man in turn explained he was the one who brought the letter to Alborian shores.
"Will you take us back with you?" The Mage asked.
"If you swear by Aeneas Drex to not cause trouble."
Aeneas Drex, the head God of the Latin pantheon, was, Ballinor knew, based on the life of Aeneas Ovidian, the first Latin King who led his people during the Great Migration.
He had known the man, known of his great feats. It surprised him little his people would deify him in later centuries.
Seeing no harm in it Ballinor stuck out his hand,
"I swear by Aeneas Drex that neither I or my apprentice will cause trouble nor harm to you or your crew, nor once we reach Latinium."
The fact that he was possibly lying to him did not fail to strike Ballinor. He hated doing it but Weir's safety came first.
Victus, satisfied with this oath, took his hand firmly in his, giving both Master and student a broad smile.
"Welcome aboard the Sollus."
He led them up the gangplank, telling them the names of the crew in quick succession, which both Ballinor and Felinda easily forgot.
Ushering them down below deck the Latin pointed out two beds they could use for the duration of their voyage.
"Thank you, Victus." Ballinor said,
"Its much appreciated."
"You're welcome. If you need anything, just let me know." With that the Captain went back to his duties.
The two got settled in, Ballinor stretching out on his cot, putting his arms behind his head and resting.
"Master, aren't you getting a bit too comfortable?"
Felinda teased plopping down opposite of him on her bed.
"There's a difference between too comfortable and relaxing," He laughed,
"Just enjoying my time at sea."
"We aren't technically at sea yet." "Oh Felinda, always so literal." "I learned from the best."
She rooted through her bag, pulling out a book on Kalandore and sat back and started reading.
He watched her for a time, then his eyes grew heavy, and he was carried off into sleep.
Weir's robes, once pure white, now looked smudged and dirty, his grey beard grown out, his skin and lips cracked.
Two months locked in Latinium's dungeon nearly drove him mad, and he had no hope of escape for another month, knowing that whoever Vosh sent to rescue him was still on the sea.....
He needed out.
The governor came to taunt him weekly, pointing out 'faults' of his religion, of his Order, spewing more falsehoods and lies than the old Priest cared to remember.
Wherever Lotorius obtained his information it was clear he knew nothing of the Priests of Mona or what they stood for.
He called them a religious order, which, Weir pointed out to the chubby man's annoyance, was untrue.
Most Priests did believe in Gaia, he said, but it wasn't a requirement. The only requirement was a dedication to knowledge and study.
"Bullshit!"
Nestor growled, face pressed against iron bars, "You are monks!"
"Believe as you wish."
Weir remembered the look of hatred that came over Lotorius then, how feral his eyes were. It had been two weeks since that taunting session, the governor off on vacation to his coastal villa in Laberna, the seaside village his family hailed from.
He left two guards, Cassius and Lorenzo, to keep an eye on the Priest, the two men taking turns taunting and threatening Weir in turn.
"You awake old man?"
Cassius's wizened face came into view, illuminated by torch light. Weir gave no reply, trying to sleep, his hood obscuring his face. "Hey! I asked if you're awake!"
"Keep it down oaf."
Was all Weir said, shifting himself away from the man's voice. "For an old man he sure got some heavy balls."
Lorenzo said this, his gravelly voice grating on the nerves. "Balls I'll cut off!"
'Yes fool, come on. Come in.'
Weir heard the cell door's lock click, heard it screech as it opened, Cassius's boots stomping on the stone floor.
'Arrogant Heretic.'
Launching off the ground at Cassius Weir slammed the man's head into the wall, feeling his face shatter, warm blood and mucus pouring out over his hand.
"Cass!"
Lorenzo stared at him, horrified at the brutal death of his friend. "If you run now, I'll spare you."
Weir said calmly, letting Cassius's body drop. "H...You're. "
"Old? Yes I am. But I'm not infirm. Either run or face me, it's your choice." Lorenzo looked at the corpse of his comrade, a sudden rage coming on him.
Raising his sword he charged like a mad man, not getting a foot inside, being blown back by a wind spell, his body breaking against the empty cell opposite Weir's.
With both guards dead the Priest quickly devised a plan of escape. While wiping the mess off his hand on Cassius's tunic he grabbed the keys and the man's sword.
Going to each cell he released his fellow inmates. It mattered little to him what crimes they committed, he only asked them to fight with him.
In all he recruited ten people to his cause, five men, five women.
He was done waiting for help from Vosh, Gaia giving him a vision while he astral travelled, calling him to purge Brin of the heretics.
To establish a new Golden Age not seen since the Garden of the First Born.
Ushering his followers out of the dungeon Weir didn't look back, heart burning for revenge.