EvieRiver
New Member
The festival of New Summer was always a long one.
It lasted for three days, two of Rites and Prayer, one of celebration. The people of Sanctum adorned the city in colours of greens and blues and pinks, welcoming the summer season and the harvests to follow. Bards played on the cobbled corners, the high structures and open windows of the buildings guilded in silver that caught the sun and dazzled passers by. Trade was open late, wine free flowed and merriment was obligatory. Market stalls peddled their figures of summer, the colours of this year, the markings of House Adae upon each of their works.
House Adae, the leading House of the Matriarch within the eight that held A'stira - centered here within Sanctum, its beloved capital. Within its high, ancient walls and even taller Tower, House Adae was made almost entirely of Priests and Guardians of Liriel. Stern, unyielding, unmoving in their faith to the diety that held the hearts of all in A'stira, that held the faith strongly in its deterrent of wild, unrestrive magic.
For the last 400 years, House Adae had overthrown the old gods worshipped and revered, each of their own respective meanings and words - replacing them with what is known today - Liriel. Goddess absolute. No more were the old gods of spring, summer, winter and autumn. No more of war or death of fertility. Instead, Liriel was each in turn rolled together. The All.
And much apart from the gods of old, Liriel had a human personification. Every generation without fail since the birth of House Adae and first apostles 400 years since, a girl or boy was born holding the markings of Liriel and a breath of her power. The silver hair was a clear marker the baby had been touched, and with it a new Matriarch or Patriarch was born.
House Adae held great wealth and power despite their members being religious figureheads. Over the centuries, the magic wielders, the Elves, the Fae, had been driven to almost extinction. Humans were without magic, their gifts came from Liriel, and the one sigular chosen to wield. It was protected. It was sacred. And the heathen, old god worshipping races had a difficult time relinquishing their ways, from extinguishing their heretical abilities. Their borders pushed to the very edges of the continent, to be forgotten.
The New Summer was a good time to remember how far they had come. It was hard to deny, to argue, against House Adae and its somewhat brutal past methods. The prayers held in the cathedral gave all the confidence and proof required, the human girl who should have no ability, with her delicate frame and sharp features was able to conjure the teal droplets of light into the air without so much as a breath. The blessings falling onto the people in attendance, high born nobles and the few scattered lower Lords. She was their Matriarch. And with each passing festival, she would bestow the blessings and show Liriel was absolute. A long reign of peace between the past warring human houses of A'stira.
Confetti fell from the sky as the last afternoon came underway. Cheers from those lining the streets. The silks and velvets of the Upper Circle visible, as the poorer peasants of the Lower Circle of Sanctum were too unpredictable, as the Matriarch had been answered when she questioned quietly.
She stood quietly, adorned in silk and silver, her loose hair matching as it caught in the breeze. Her hands remained clasped in front of her, pale eyes watching the crowds of happy faces and perfect scenes. It gave her some hope, indeed, that her otherwise isolated existence had to be for a reason. There were things expected of her. Things that were required of her, to keep the world functioning as it should.
The dias was moved on wheels, the platform itself also covered in chiffon and lined with summer flowers, all the way to her bare feet where she stood in the middle.
Surrounded on the floor by armed marching guard, their swords raised and held in a salute, their blades catching the sun.
Ahead, the priests marched in their matching robes of white and purple, adorned with the Adae sigil on their belts, the symbol of Liriel hanging from their necks - a sharp crescent moon on its side with a sharp line through the middle. They were chanting, the usual murmur of prayer to Liriel and her chosen Matriarch. For a good summer and peace for the season. Blessings for the harvests to come.
The Matriarch turned her gaze upwards, towards that high sun. It was not often she was granted such open access to the streets. To smell the spices, to hear the sounds. To be crowded by so many people.
All too quickly, their destination arrived. The stage set up at the statue of Liriel, her gracious form with her hands raised towards the sky. During the Winter Solstice festivities, those hands held the moon perfectly. On the Summer Solstice, it was the sun. Situated in the grounds of the cathedral, where the Matriarch had spent the last two days standing.
Even now, her legs threatened to give way from under her. But she would not falter. Not with such expectations. Not with what relied on her.
"Citizens of Liriel, welcome!"
The booming, unmistakable voice of the Arch Priest Lazrian cut through the cheering crowd, at their greetings to their Matriarch, their calls for blessings. The grew quieter, awaiting what was to come.
The Matriarch took her steps, the first unsteady. No hands were offered for her assistance, it was forbidden to touch the Matriarch unless instructed by the High Priest. She could count on one hand the amount of people who had touched her within her life, as the same serving woman and her daughter assigned to her care as a baby served her now. Despite herself, secretly in the dead of night, high in her tower, she wondered what it might be like when the aging lady passed. Would she get another, to go with her daughter? Maybe one who would talk more, as the current two were abstinent of chatter.
She walked from her travelling dias to the stage, the silver across her silken dress clinking in the new found silence. The hem grazed the floor perfectly, every inch of her preened and proper, as always.
She stood next to High Priest Lazrian, his lower priests behind him holding the sacred oils, some praying quietly, others silent.
"The Matriarch of Liriel gives blessings to you all,"
The signal was the same, from the mouth of the aged and gnarled Lazrian. His balding head reflecting the sun. Despite his age, he was not weak. His spine stoll strong, his hands steady.
The Matriarch took a breath, the sea of faces before her as she reached out her hands, the familiar tug on her soul as the teal droplets materialised in the air.
With it, the cheers began a new. The hands of the common people reaching up to touch the orbs, as they shattered at their fingertips into glitter that disappeared into the wind.
The girl kept her face still, as was expected. Trained. But inside she couldn't help but wonder, what exactly those orbs did. Confetti began to fall from the windows again, flower petals released from rooftops. Another New Summer.
"We give thanks to Liriel and her kindness. To the kind Spring that we leave behind, and into a bountiful Harvest. May the Summer be peaceful, and may the Heathens be silent,"
The last was an old saying. May the Heathens be Silent. No raids. No more need for bloodshed. May they dissappear quietly.
The Matriarch lowered her arms, her jaw set. Her eyes glancing again into the blue sky.
It lasted for three days, two of Rites and Prayer, one of celebration. The people of Sanctum adorned the city in colours of greens and blues and pinks, welcoming the summer season and the harvests to follow. Bards played on the cobbled corners, the high structures and open windows of the buildings guilded in silver that caught the sun and dazzled passers by. Trade was open late, wine free flowed and merriment was obligatory. Market stalls peddled their figures of summer, the colours of this year, the markings of House Adae upon each of their works.
House Adae, the leading House of the Matriarch within the eight that held A'stira - centered here within Sanctum, its beloved capital. Within its high, ancient walls and even taller Tower, House Adae was made almost entirely of Priests and Guardians of Liriel. Stern, unyielding, unmoving in their faith to the diety that held the hearts of all in A'stira, that held the faith strongly in its deterrent of wild, unrestrive magic.
For the last 400 years, House Adae had overthrown the old gods worshipped and revered, each of their own respective meanings and words - replacing them with what is known today - Liriel. Goddess absolute. No more were the old gods of spring, summer, winter and autumn. No more of war or death of fertility. Instead, Liriel was each in turn rolled together. The All.
And much apart from the gods of old, Liriel had a human personification. Every generation without fail since the birth of House Adae and first apostles 400 years since, a girl or boy was born holding the markings of Liriel and a breath of her power. The silver hair was a clear marker the baby had been touched, and with it a new Matriarch or Patriarch was born.
House Adae held great wealth and power despite their members being religious figureheads. Over the centuries, the magic wielders, the Elves, the Fae, had been driven to almost extinction. Humans were without magic, their gifts came from Liriel, and the one sigular chosen to wield. It was protected. It was sacred. And the heathen, old god worshipping races had a difficult time relinquishing their ways, from extinguishing their heretical abilities. Their borders pushed to the very edges of the continent, to be forgotten.
The New Summer was a good time to remember how far they had come. It was hard to deny, to argue, against House Adae and its somewhat brutal past methods. The prayers held in the cathedral gave all the confidence and proof required, the human girl who should have no ability, with her delicate frame and sharp features was able to conjure the teal droplets of light into the air without so much as a breath. The blessings falling onto the people in attendance, high born nobles and the few scattered lower Lords. She was their Matriarch. And with each passing festival, she would bestow the blessings and show Liriel was absolute. A long reign of peace between the past warring human houses of A'stira.
Confetti fell from the sky as the last afternoon came underway. Cheers from those lining the streets. The silks and velvets of the Upper Circle visible, as the poorer peasants of the Lower Circle of Sanctum were too unpredictable, as the Matriarch had been answered when she questioned quietly.
She stood quietly, adorned in silk and silver, her loose hair matching as it caught in the breeze. Her hands remained clasped in front of her, pale eyes watching the crowds of happy faces and perfect scenes. It gave her some hope, indeed, that her otherwise isolated existence had to be for a reason. There were things expected of her. Things that were required of her, to keep the world functioning as it should.
The dias was moved on wheels, the platform itself also covered in chiffon and lined with summer flowers, all the way to her bare feet where she stood in the middle.
Surrounded on the floor by armed marching guard, their swords raised and held in a salute, their blades catching the sun.
Ahead, the priests marched in their matching robes of white and purple, adorned with the Adae sigil on their belts, the symbol of Liriel hanging from their necks - a sharp crescent moon on its side with a sharp line through the middle. They were chanting, the usual murmur of prayer to Liriel and her chosen Matriarch. For a good summer and peace for the season. Blessings for the harvests to come.
The Matriarch turned her gaze upwards, towards that high sun. It was not often she was granted such open access to the streets. To smell the spices, to hear the sounds. To be crowded by so many people.
All too quickly, their destination arrived. The stage set up at the statue of Liriel, her gracious form with her hands raised towards the sky. During the Winter Solstice festivities, those hands held the moon perfectly. On the Summer Solstice, it was the sun. Situated in the grounds of the cathedral, where the Matriarch had spent the last two days standing.
Even now, her legs threatened to give way from under her. But she would not falter. Not with such expectations. Not with what relied on her.
"Citizens of Liriel, welcome!"
The booming, unmistakable voice of the Arch Priest Lazrian cut through the cheering crowd, at their greetings to their Matriarch, their calls for blessings. The grew quieter, awaiting what was to come.
The Matriarch took her steps, the first unsteady. No hands were offered for her assistance, it was forbidden to touch the Matriarch unless instructed by the High Priest. She could count on one hand the amount of people who had touched her within her life, as the same serving woman and her daughter assigned to her care as a baby served her now. Despite herself, secretly in the dead of night, high in her tower, she wondered what it might be like when the aging lady passed. Would she get another, to go with her daughter? Maybe one who would talk more, as the current two were abstinent of chatter.
She walked from her travelling dias to the stage, the silver across her silken dress clinking in the new found silence. The hem grazed the floor perfectly, every inch of her preened and proper, as always.
She stood next to High Priest Lazrian, his lower priests behind him holding the sacred oils, some praying quietly, others silent.
"The Matriarch of Liriel gives blessings to you all,"
The signal was the same, from the mouth of the aged and gnarled Lazrian. His balding head reflecting the sun. Despite his age, he was not weak. His spine stoll strong, his hands steady.
The Matriarch took a breath, the sea of faces before her as she reached out her hands, the familiar tug on her soul as the teal droplets materialised in the air.
With it, the cheers began a new. The hands of the common people reaching up to touch the orbs, as they shattered at their fingertips into glitter that disappeared into the wind.
The girl kept her face still, as was expected. Trained. But inside she couldn't help but wonder, what exactly those orbs did. Confetti began to fall from the windows again, flower petals released from rooftops. Another New Summer.
"We give thanks to Liriel and her kindness. To the kind Spring that we leave behind, and into a bountiful Harvest. May the Summer be peaceful, and may the Heathens be silent,"
The last was an old saying. May the Heathens be Silent. No raids. No more need for bloodshed. May they dissappear quietly.
The Matriarch lowered her arms, her jaw set. Her eyes glancing again into the blue sky.
