Farris didn’t respond. He stared up at the Silverback, barely noticing that Nicole’s quivering hands were clutching his own.
“The building behind me,” continued Argyll, “is the closest thing to a fortress that any Simian has ever built. We were a peaceful race before the Final Conquest of Man, for it was they who taught us the ways of violence. But in a place so well protected and so secure, many of you may be asking how could this have happened? How was it that someone, or something, was able to gain access to the Triad’s private chambers?”
Argyll paused again, letting the Simians in the crowd speculate amongst themselves. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke again.
“Borris was murdered by a Wraith of Seletoth!” he roared. “For he wished to take power away from the Church and its vestigial role in this city, and this worried Arch-Canon Cathbhadh and his high-cardinals so much that they sent one of their holy monstrosities to dispose of our beloved leader.”
The crowd erupted. Curses and profanities filled the air under raised fists of defiance. Anger tore through the Simian swarm, replacing the panic and fear that had brought them there. Nicole’s grip on Farris’s hand tightened.
“He’s lying,” said Farris, calmly. “This was no work of a Wraith.”
“H-How do you know?” stuttered Nicole. Although typically of height with Farris, she seemed to shrink with fear as she looked up at the Silverback.
“They only answer to Seletoth Himself,” said Farris. “They’ve never answered to the Church or the Arch-Canon before.”
Nicole gave no response, which Farris found fortunate. In his phrasing, it almost sounded like he believed Seletoth existed.
Worse still, there could be some truth there.
“But the House of the Triad is not the most steadfast building in our fine city,” boomed the Argyll. “In the Dustworks of Penance lies a gated district of incalculable wealth and affluence. As impoverished Simians struggle to survive in the neighbouring streets, as their infants starve and freeze during the harsh winters of Alabach, those that serve the Church dine in the Basilica on plates of silver and gold. The cost of the Arch-Canon’s stole alone could feed a family of ten for a year, but the Church prefers to put its own image before the well-being of our people.”
A furious cry rose up from the crowd—several hundred voices in unison. Together, their words were incomprehensible, but their tone was as distinct as the broken tower that stood above them: a maddening anger born of life-long frustration. Discontent bordering on rebellion.
“To say that Borris’s death was the last straw would be an injustice to this great Simian’s life work,” continued the Silverback. “For he stood up to the injustice and prejudices of the Church long before Arch-Canon Cathbad first donned the stole. If only we had stood by Borris then. If only we had supported his cause to loosen the Church’s grip on the throat of our city, then we might have saved him.”
Farris shook his head. “Borris was no iconoclast,” he muttered. “He and Cathbad were allies if anything.” Nicole didn’t seem to hear him, however. She too was caught in the frenzy that Argyll had whipped up. Her jaw was clenched tight, her nostrils flaring wildly.
Skies above, she can’t have been won over that easily. She’s far smarter than that. Surely, she can see what’s going on.
“But it is not too late!” cried the Silverback. “Even in his death, we are not lost to Borris’s cause. For the first time in the history of this city, we need to stand together! Our voices united are stronger than their prayers. Our strength in numbers is more powerful than their magic. Let them know that the people of Old Simia will not bend to the whims of a tradition that is not their own. The Basilica of Penance is less than a mile away from where we stand. If you feel wronged by the teachings of the Trinity, go there, and let your voices be heard!”
The crowd responded immediately. People rushed past Farris, almost knocking him off balance. With so many Simians present, they pushed and shoved against one another, even though they were all headed in the same direction. Misguided rage turned to action, and those passing Farris almost seemed gleeful, like young soldiers marching to their first battle.
“Aren’t you coming?” asked Nicole, pulling Farris’s arm with the flow of the crowd.
“I need to speak to Argyll,” said Farris, sternly. “And you do too. That’s why we came, remember?”
“Oh… of course,” said Nicole, shaking her head. “The guards will recognise me. I’ll take us there.”
With Nicole leading the way, the pair shoved through the stampede of Simians. Many clutched impromptu weapons in their hands: loose rocks and glass bottles. One wielded a dagger, as if he had come prepared for such a turn of events. Some Humans were dotted through the crowd, and those who were bore the sigil of the Sons of Seletoth around their necks.
The crowd thinned as they approached the steps of the Triad. One guard immediately stepped aside on seeing Nicole, bowing as she went. Up on the steps, Argyll hadn’t moved from his position, but stood there alone as he watched the Simians of Penance marching towards the Dustworks.
“Argyll!” yelled Farris once the old Simian was in earshot. “What the fuck are you doing?”
The Silverback’s face returned to the stolid expression Farris was used to. When he spoke, the fury disappeared from his voice, and was replaced with his usual calm and commanding monotone.
“I’m fulfilling my side of an agreement,” he said. “All while furthering our cause.”
“How does starting a riot help us?” snapped Farris.
“The Sons of Seletoth will not aid in the coming war unless I give them reason to. I promised to restrict the Church’s influence over this city before we march on the Crown.”
“And murdering Borris was the only way to achieve that?” The thought to hold his tongue came too late. Fortunately, there was nobody else nearby to hear.
“I did not kill Borris,” said Argyll, his tone barely changing despite the weight of Farris’s accusation. “There will be far more casualties before this day is out. If the riots turn to violence, the Churchguard will send its mages to quell the dissenters. Many may die, but all will be united under a new, common cause. It will not matter who lands the first blow, only who suffers the greatest wound.”
He’s gone too far. We’ve waited too long to act, and now he’s dug us deeper than we ever intended to go.
“When do we march?” asked Nicole, after a pause. “If people die today, we want to make sure that something good comes of it.”
Farris turned to Nicole, not bothering to hide his shock. Sin’s stones! She’s gone mad too.
“Garth has left Penance to scout the lands south of the Glenn one more time,” replied Argyll. “The Reapers are ready, the Sons of Seletoth are armed and on our side. We shall leave as soon as he returns.”
“And the Triad,” asked Nicole. “Will there be an election for Borris’s seat?”
“No,” said Argyll. “The Triad no longer functions as it once did. Now there is just one seat, occupied by the leader Penance needs the most right now.” A quick smile crossed Argyll’s thin lips for a fraction of a second. “They’ll need me even more than that when the war comes.”
Chapter 18:
What We’re Capable Of
NINE KILLED AND DOZENS INJURED IN BASILICA MASSACRE
The Daily Penance
16th Day Under the Moon of Dana, AC404
