5. Temple of Lathander

Aiwë watches Koveras carefully from the corner of her eye. It's hard to tell if his emotions are unstable or if he has a great deal of control over his display of them. The two scenarios would need very different handling.

"Hello," Aiwë smiles, beginning to feel at home. "I'm having some issues with my memory I was hoping one of Torm's servants could help me with. Otherwise, I came to worship."

"That's alright, I really appreciate your help. I'll just spend some time on my own now, if it pleases Torm."

Koveras moves close to Aiwe. "How does one worship Torm?" he asks quietly. "I'm afraid I don't know much about him. Other than that he killed Gruumsh, I suppose."

Aiwë looks at him in surprise. "Really? Keggruk is a paladin of Torm, he didn't talk about him in his book?"

Koveras shrugs. "He talked a lot about paladin tenets. But less about the day-to-day worship. Besides, I'd like to hear it from you."

"Alright then." Aiwë closes her eyes and recites the tenets of Torm with emotion.

"Be the champion of the weak and the defenseless.
Be stern, unyielding and unswerving in your battles with evil.
Obey your masters with alert judgment and anticipation.
Serve the common good and the rule of law established by honorable rulers.
Seek prowess and skill in all endeavors.
Stand ever alert against corruption.
Be ever mindful, and enact justice swiftly."

She opens them again. "A paladin will swear to uphold them in a specific way, like my mother's oath to uplift the orcish people. A cleric will swear to uphold them with a mind toward support and teaching, like my father. Many more are simply dedicated to Torm, and make a commitment to follow his tenets throughout our normal lives. For those of us who are sworn to Torm, any act in line with his tenets is worship. It can be that way for others, too, if they think of him in their actions."

Koveras nods attentively to each tenet. "Many of these sound like the opposite of Rieltar. The opposite of my childhood."

He rubs a hand along his jaw. "But how do you know what is 'evil'? Well enough to be stern, unyielding, unswerving in your battles with it, I mean?"

"Intent is important, but most of the tenets can be flipped to give you a good idea." Aiwë lists off examples on her fingers. "To take advantage of the weak and defenseless, to serve only yourself, to break the law, to allow corruption or partake in it." She sits on a bench and leans back to take in the artful carving on the ceiling.

"When in doubt it helps me to think: is my intent to help others, or help myself? Will this action help or hinder the whole?"

He drops his hands into his lap. "Just thinking of Rieltar. He's definitely evil. But if I go and kill him without 'evidence', am I not breaking the law? What if my intent isn't even revenge, but to remove his stain from the world?"

Aiwë nods. "Yes, you would be. It's not in your authority to deal judgement to him. We need to bring evidence of his crimes to the Dukes, so they can act as is lawful."

"But isn't it better for me to act sooner rather than later, to prevent his victims from suffering? What if the evidence is never found? What if there isn't any?"

Koveras folds his arms. "Speaking as one of his victims, I would have preferred someone break the law than let me suffer as I did. Wouldn't that 'enact justice swiftly', as Torm decrees?"

Aiwë frowns with sympathy. "What if your haste to end him causes his underlings to escape their justice? They will in turn cause more suffering. If this is handled improperly it could cause people to lose faith in their Dukes, and the disruption could cause them to be less able to protect others. What if someone, so eager to end Rieltar's cruelty, saw you as an evil accomplice rather than a victim, because they did not take the time to look?"

She sits up and looks at him. "'Swiftly' does not always mean the shortest number of hours. Sometimes it means exercising active intent and effort. We are doing everything we can to take him down."

Aiwë meets his eyes. "Torm is a god of mercy, too. There is grace in him for the difficult calls like there would have been if someone had seen you under Rieltar's abuse. But you aren't there anymore. You're here now."

Koveras thinks on this for a long time. Eventually he shrugs. "I see where you're coming from, and it's given me a lot to think about."

He puts an arm around her shoulders, resting on the back of the pew. "I can't argue against the fact that I'm glad I'm here now."

"Its the milk I was raised on, so I can understand that it doesn't seem as clear to you. I would ask the clerics if you have more questions. They have more practice answering them." Aiwë looks at him as he settles into the pew. It's still strange to see him do anything other than sit stiffly.

"It's been... a wild day already. And what is it, noon? How are you holding up?" She scrutinizes him. "I can't read that merchant prince face."

The half-orc chuckles lightly. "Merchant prince! Yes, that's a face I've been trained well to wear."

His hand lightly brushes her shoulder. "The day's had its ups and downs, yes. I-"

Koveras keeps speaking, but its as though Aiwe has suddenly gone deaf. She has just a moment to recognize the feeling of a returning memory before she's fully caught up in it.

"...his lineage is old, and he's proud of it. He believes it is his sacred calling to resurrect his fallen god, by the means of a ritual fueled with the blood of thousands. This is why he's working so hard to start a war. He will take credit for every casualty, and offer them up as murders in his god's name. If enough violence is brought to bear, he believes he will become the vessel of his god's rebirth." Viconia's eyes are wide enough that Aiwe can clearly see the whites surrounding her irises. The drow is truly afraid.

"There are no lengths he will not go to in order to see this brought to pass, no lines he will not cross..."

Aiwe comes to cradled in Koveras' arms, with dozens of faces in the Temple of Torm turned her way. The cleric from earlier approaches with concern on his face and healing light in his hands.

"Aiwe! Shelur!" Koveras calls. The half-orc stands from the pew and goes to meet the cleric halfway. "I-I don't know what happened. She just passed out!"

Aiwë blinks blearily as she takes in her surroundings.

"It's alright." She shifts in Koveras' arms—he's carrying her like she's nothing!—and pats his chest to get his attention. "I'm okay, Koveras, it's alright. You can put me down now."

Koveras sets her down, but stays close - just in case.

"Are you sure you're alright? What happened?"

"Yes, I'm okay." She sits heavily on the nearest bench. "Sorry, I forgot to tell you that might happen. I was hoping it wouldn't. Another of the memories Viconia hid came back." A horrifying one. Of all their theories, she hoped that one would not be true. She puts her head in her hands.

"Rieltar is trying to become an avatar of Bhaal resurrected," she whispers in Orcish. "Viconia believes he can do it, too." She takes her hands from her face and clasps them in prayer instead.

"My Lord Torm," she prays aloud, in Orcish only loud enough for Koveras to hear. "An evil man seeks to bring an evil god back into the world through the suffering of thousands. It cannot be allowed," she snarls through grit teeth. "You should have a great paladin here, or a mighty cleric, but... for now you only have me. Please send another, or give us strength to fight this evil." She pauses, breathing slowly. She had never personally felt anything from Torm besides the day she was dedicated, but that has never mattered to her. She knows the stories, and all he has done. Now, she might need to be the person doing things in his name. She feels wholly inadequate. "Please."