Chapter Sixty-Two: Spokesman

"Oh forsaken, stand tall and face the tide of war. We are but one of countless servants of gods. May our path be righteous and preached for generations to come." a religious commander yelled at the top of his lungs.

A man in his forties listened to the end of the speech in awe. He had come to believe religion was just blindly worshiping your god, but the days he spent with the legion had changed his mind.

No longer did he think religion was whimsical praying to whatever god of choosing; nay. It was a sacred moment of tradition built from hundreds of years of worship. His new found enlightenment shook his core belief. His revering of Jantyr was built on a shaking foundation.

Yet the man did not defect from his belief, instead he spent time searching for an answer. He, like many others from Orkrasist, had been forced into a fun war that would decide the fate of millions of people.

In the makeshift army there were many kinds of people. Warriors, farmers and even fallen nobles. A house that's fallen from grace, one such way is to have no magical offspring for three generations.

It was amongst this varied crowd the man searched for his answer. He struck conversation with young and old, asking about the history of Catara. the goddess of peace and prosperity.

Their stories changed depending on who told them, but one thing always stayed the same. Catara hailed from a village, just like the man's own god. She had been worshiped for much longer than him, yet there was no indication of any story he heard, that they, the early believers, held the same kind of tradition as they do now.

As realization dawned on him, his belief was strengthened even further. So with his new found reverence of Jantyr, one might ask, what is it he did after.

He decided, without his god's consent, to name himself one of the spokesmen of god, believing his enlightenment to be of Jantyr's intention. Thereby, the conclusion he came to was simple. 'God has chosen me to be his spokesman', for otherwise his enlightenment was naught.

And spokesman he became. The word of Jantyr, the god of weather echoed through the canion, filled to the brim with tents, swarming with thousands of restless men, waiting to head to their young death.

"I am but one, a Storm-Chaser of Jantyr the god of weather. Heed my call restless men, we serve not the nation, neither ourselves, but the gods we worship. Through their mercy, they give us the right of passage, giving us a means to traverse the endless storm of life." the man yelled with passion. In his speech the first name of priesthood came to his head. Believing it to be a prophecy of god the man needn't hesitate and named the entirety of priests of Jantyr Storm-Chasers

A small crowd of godless men, in their hour of desperation had gathered before the self proclaimed spokesman of Jantyr. They were meek, afraid of what the future held in store for them. In their weakest state, the Storm-Chaser had not hesitated for a moment.

"Only through taking in the teaching of Jantyr can one reach enlightenment. Through his endless reach he will quake all ground and raise a new foundation!"

"Come, accept your moment of redemption. Only the grace of god will receive all mortals with open arms. God is ever present and ever benevolent. Through the acceptance of his wisdom will you reach peace!" he continued.

Days went by with his endless preaching. Every city they passed he left a statue of Jantyr, usually to one of the new worshipers. Believe it or not, the spokesman had chosen the perfect time and had converted over hundreds of people to his cause, Jantyr's cause.

"The Holy Land Orkrasist is open for all who accept his teaching. If times are tough, or you feel unwelcome in your old home, come to the haven of weather, where the seasons only change the sunlight!"

…

"What are you so happy about?" asked Catara. Like usual she had come to complain. But instead of Jantyr getting worked up with her, complaining about the damn emperor, he was smiling. Well radiating happiness, which could be felt by the weather on the mountain peak.

Instead of answering directly, Jantyr shared his vision. There a man by the name Bjark was preaching like usual. Jantyr had to be honest, the imagination of his worshiper was impressive. Whatever bullshit came to his mouth would be preached next second and Jantyr honestly liked what he heard.

"Did you know that my priests go by the name Storm-Chaser? My idea, if you're wondering!" Jantyr said, lying through his teeth.

The two spent days observing the curious fellow and by the end of it Catara gained a doubtful gaze.

"You're telling me that you've been sending messages and hints about what to say this whole time, because that's what he's saying." she asked. In answer to this Jantyr just smiled.

"Why would I ever lie to you?" he asked, almost sounding innocent.

"You know what, I don't care! Get back to studying the history of the world, you uncultured bastard!" she said and left.

Jantyr spent the next minutes snickering for himself, watching his wildcard recruit soldier after soldier. Despite the grim destiny coming to reap their lives, the man kept them sane, even making them emotionally stable.

The spokesman would be at the frontline, at the initial assault, meaning death was almost guaranteed. Yet through all this he kept everyone's spirit high and even made them religious.

'I might just make you my spokesman, Jasmine, Lenart and Howard are only good at fighting. But they're very bad at anything else. I really need people to do their job, only what they're best at!' Jantyr contemplated, as he did his godly duties of stalking those who worshiped him.