Knight Commander Aristocles took a moment to light his pipe. "I talked to the messenger myself, Soton. The Usurper's troops have already reached the Trygath. Soon we shall cross swords with our true enemy, not these miserable curs that we have been driving into Kalvan's lands."
Grand Master Soton drank deep from his tankard. "We must not only harass Kalvan, but defeat him as well if we are to keep his armies from the gates of Harphax City."
"Better yet, let the nomads bleed him dry. Every day their forces grow and so does their battle prowess. This new Warlord of theirs may prove to be our problem someday. For now, let him be Kalvan's thorn."
"Well said, old friend. Although it sickens me to despoil any Zarthani lands with the nomads we are sworn to keep at bay."
"This Trygathi gaggle of pretend princedoms and petty kings are only a few generations removed from their cowhide wagons and tents! They are not true Zarthani, but mostly decadent tribes, remnants of the Urgothi migrations. I will shed no more tears over their passing than I would that of a herd of buffalo."
"That may be true of the Sastragathi peoples, Aristocles, but some of these Trygathi princedoms go back a century or two. You forget my own village was on the Trygath/Ktemnos border. True, their ways are crude, but their hearts are strong and they do know how to fight. I'm glad it's Kalvan and the nomads who will be ground against their spears and swords."
Knight Commander Aristocles reached over and poured another cup of the bitter chocolate into his tankard. At Tarr-Ceros he preferred his chocolate laced with honey to sweeten the taste, but the Grand Master kept his table as spare as those of his lowliest troopers. He raised his tankard up and toasted, "To the mighty walls of Xiphlon and long may they keep the Mexicotal at bay."
"A good toast, Aristocles." The Grand Master took a long draught from his own silver tankard. "It would be a tragedy if those flesh-eaters brought down the walls of the noblest city of our age."
In a lightning-swift change of mood, Soton slammed his tankard down on the table, spilling the dark brown fluid over the deerskin maps and parchment letters. "We should be marching toward the Mexicotal's rear instead of herding nomads!"
Aristolces shook his head. "The spiders of Balph would never allow us to march to the aid of a Middle Kingdom city. They would rather have us guarding turkey pens from foxes instead!"
"Baaaah!," Soton muttered, glaring down at the brown stains on the tapestry covered floor of his tent.
"What's wrong, old friend?" Aristocles asked. "You haven't been yourself since you last returned from Balph. You refuse to talk about your audience, but even the dimmest of the Brethren sense your dark mood."
"I should keep my own council, but this concerns your fate as well as mine. You have saved my life in battle many times, and I have felt sick at heart with all that I have had to keep to myself."
"I have only saved your life, as you have saved my own."
"True, we have known each other far too long to hold secrets. Besides, you will need to know these things-if only to protect yourself. I will not live forever, or even tomorrow if some barbarian's arrow pierces my armor. Investigator Roxthar holds the entire city of Balph in his thrall-"
"So I've heard. What does that have to do with the Order?"
Soton grimaced. "Everything. What you don't know is that Roxthar now pulls the strings of the Inner Circle."
"Axchpriest Anaxthenes would never allow-"
"Anaxthenes, like many others, has no choice but to submit to the Investigator. Those who oppose Roxthar vanish into the bowels of the Investigation, never to return. Roxthar has cooked up some deal with Sesklos where Roxthar cannot Investigate the Inner Circle, but that has not stayed his hands from their allies and minions. With Sesklos and Dracar's support, Investigator Roxthar has overcome most of the opposition. Only Anaxthenes dares oppose him-for now. Those who don't fear Roxthar, fear Styphon's Own Guard who have become the Investigation's other hand."
"Truly. Is it that bad?"
Soton looked up, his eyes hard. "Nay, it is worse."
"How could it be?"
"Roxthar has records on many of the Order's commanders and leaders; records that could prove blasphemy to Styphon-at least, in his hands. You know, words spoken out of turn or in the heat of battle. He even has your own criticism of the Inner Circle. Taken out of context," Soton paused to make washing movements with his hands, "they could lead to a charge of treason."
"What? I've devoted my life to Styphon's work. More than any temple rat-"
"See! Such words are but fireseed for Roxthar's guns. He could use them to have you thrown out of the Order, purged of your priestly rank and even Investigated. Such were his words to me…"
"So, you bent your knees to that madman because of me! Why don't we turn this army around and march on Balph. We have the Order with us; they will willingly follow you anywhere, Grand Master. We can purge the Temple of this wharf-rat Roxthar, and fumigate the Inner Circle as well!"
"You scare me as much as Roxthar, with your loose tongue, old friend! You have lost sight of the forest. What will Kalvan and his minions do while we kill priests at Balph? And, do you think Styphon's Own Guard will sit idly by as we kill the Investigators and corrupt priests-or those we think corrupt? The Temple Bands will die to the last man before they see us sack Balph. And what about the Sacred Squares of Hos-Ktemnos?"
Aristocles felt his mouth twist into a smile. "But what a war. We could sow the fields of Hos-Ktemnos with the bones of Styphon's Red Hand, as well as Roxthar's Holy Investigators. We could arrive before they would have time to muster the Sacred Squares."
"Many are true-believers. I could not in good conscience kill those who fight for Styphon's House. What would the Temple have to say about such foul infamy from its Own Holy Order, dedicated to protect its lands? Sometimes I think this Kalvan has infected more than Hostigos with his new ways and constant questioning of everything we hold true and dear."
"I'm sorry," Aristocles said. To himself he added, but your heart is too soft, old friend, and you do not have the friends in Balph you like to think you do. Sometimes I fear you take this Styphon worship as serious as some ignorant village lower priest; it may turn out to be your downfall. Aristocles had spent two years at Balph and had learned first hand that the only true believers of Styphon were those who did not live in that foul cesspool of a city, ripe with priestly intrigue and corruption. Unlike Soton, he was from Ktemnos City and his father was a baron, who had chosen the Order as a good place for a younger son. At the time, he had been thankful his father hadn't decided that he needed a priest in the family! No one he knew had believed in Styphon, especially the priests. Soton's devotion to the Temple had always been hard to accept in a man so practical in all other things. Soton had not been as blessed by the Temple as he thought; the Grand Master had forged his own destiny with his iron will and by the strength of his mace.
"The more they feed Roxthar, the bigger he will grow."
Soton nodded wearily. "This is what I fear. Where will his Investigation wander next-into our own ranks?" He slammed the table, buckling it with a hand as hard as horn from decades of sword practice.
Sergeant Sarmoth stuck his white face into the tent. "Is all well, Grand Master?"
"Yes, this is none of your concern. Go back to your cot!"
Sarmoth looked stricken, but quickly closed the flap.
"See, I take it out on everyone. My sworn duty as an Archpriest of the Temple is to protect Styphon's House. It is not my job to cleanse the Temple."
Aristocles wisely kept his mouth shut. If someone inside the Temple doesn't do it, then an interloper such as Kalvan would! Roxthar was going too far with his 'purges' and his personal crusade to remove all non-believers. Where would it end? When Styphoris House was as full of mealy-mouthed priests, as the Temple of Dralm? He spat on the floor.