Shrouded Piety: Order of Yaktosh - Chapter 1

**Prologue < | > Chapter 2**

The holy men, Sixtus, Modestus, and Pius have met the Gothic healer, Suri, who claims to be immortal and possess the ability to heal wounds for her people. A 'half-convert', Suri entertains the idea that Jesus Christ and the old god, Baphomet, are siblings under God, largely hosting the thought that Baphomet is responsible for her immortality and powers. With many Crimean Goths loyal to Suri's theology, the three bishops debate on how to approach the matter of Suri. Sixtus wishes to take a quick and violent approach of simply removing Suri from Crimea for good, thus breaking her influence over the people. Modestus wishes to win the argument and wind Suri out of her Baphometic beliefs. Under an appointed democratic system where at least two of three bishops must reach an agreement, Modestus and Sixtus compete over the rather neutral vote of Pius, who is simply looking to gather more information first. Now, Modestus suggests a strategy where each bishop gets an opportunity to approach Suri in their own way, independent of each other's intervention, with Sixtus first to go. Meanwhile, King Goltz-Plut is made aware of a possible coming attack by the Huns to the north, in what could certainly put southern Crimea under fire...

## Chapter Reading

== Chapter 1 – Well of Baphomet =

King Goltz-Plut, seated on his simply carved throne, closed his eyes in thought. “What were the Huns doing?”

A Crimean Goth garbed in a manner that would help blend in with the local environment reported, “They were scouting, mapping, and discussing. My fellow scout was revealed by the sun and immediately attacked by the Huns; he was barely able to return to the camp in one piece—Suri was furious.”

Goltz-Plut opened his eyes a bit and resolved, “These are all clear signs of an impending attack by the Huns.” The king raised a hand to his scout and praised, “God grant you for the forewarning. I will summon our warriors and have them ready to fend off any attack. The Huns have lost the element of surprise this time.”

Suddenly, and without invitation, the king’s home was invaded by the brown-robed Suri. Her necklace waved left and right by how fast she entered, and a kind of fierceness was visible upon her.

“Great King! I have a complaint of mild annoyance.”

The scout and Goltz-Plut exchanged glances, the former permitting himself to take leave. Goltz-Plut received Suri’s tempered approach by preemptively guessing, “Do not blame our scout for sustaining such wounds, the Huns are quick in their attacks.”

Suri stopped and rolled her eyes, “Oh, that man? I have already treated his wounds, though he has yet to regain consciousness.” Moving on, she imposed her displeasure with arms crossed. “Those Roman holy men are testing my patience.”

“I told you to treat them with the most inviting of respect.”

She glared and opened her arms, “Those men are obnoxious toward me—interrogating me with questions and accusations of mistruth, and staring at me from a distance. Can you tell them to leave me alone?”

“That is why they are here, to correct the flawed minds of Crimea. You and they are much alike, you know.”

“Oh, do tell.”

Goltz-Plut puckered his lips, explaining, “Someone comes with a hole in their body and you heal it. They will complain as you perform your work, but in the end, the reward is good health. You have a spiritual hole, and they are here to heal it—and this can be painful.”

Suri retorted, “I do not need it. I believe in God and his two sons. If there is truly but a single son—Christ—God will correct me, not some… *Roman* soldier boy.”

The king’s resolve became harsher, “You are a weak thread in the fabric that makes up our people.” Suri grunted and with a glare. “The majority of us have abandoned the Baphometic faith entirely and embraced the teachings of Christ—son of God. When shall you?”

The woman retaliated, striking a pose meant to intimidate with non-existent muscle, “God did not stop me from worshipping Baphomet for hundreds of years, and Baphomet did not stop me from elevating God above him.” Goltz-Plut lowered his brows at the defiant Suri. “Keep your Roman hounds at me if you must, but I will not abandon what I strongly believe to be truth.”

Suri took off enraged, leaving Goltz-Plut to eye her out of the room with a face of anger. Yet, when she left his sight, the man let out a sigh and shook toward the ground.

Later, on the village outskirt, the three bishops stood together with tension between Modestus and Sixtus, and the tiebreaker, Pius, in the center of their differences. For now, Pius was aligned with Modestus’ desire to ‘win the argument’ and convert the Crimeans by word. By a two-to-one vote, Sixtus had no choice but to play by Modestus’ book.

Sixtus nodded away from his companions, concluding a good minute of personal contemplation. “All right, Modestus, as I recall, you graciously handed me the first whip at Suri.”

Modestus replied, “I have. What method of persuasion will you apply on Suri?”

He replied very quickly, “Suri is more than happy to claim the benefits of following Lucifer, and I understand her reasoning.” This comment attracted the initial ire of Pius. “What does worship of Lucifer allow man? Senseless violence, thoughtless consumption of drink, limitless orgy, unchecked decadence, a lust for power. Yes, the temptation of Lucifer is powerful, for the benefits are desirable to the weak.” Modestus was rubbing his chin and with a brow raised, for once, approving of where he felt Sixtus was going with this. “What Suri did not explore are the costs of sin. Life on Earth is short, life beyond is forever. Where these Earthly pleasures deliver Suri in the long term, is where she must be informed.”

Modestus clapped, “A sound plan, Sixtus.”

Pius concurred, “Let us remind Suri that God is as punishing as he is welcoming.”

A short time later, Suri found herself in her medical den along with an unconscious man in wraps. In the meantime, she was pouring a vase of water into several smaller containers—all of which were then corked and put onto a shelf. Sudden groans from the laid up man soon interrupted her process.

Without looking she informed her patient, “Your clothes and axe are by the drying table to your left.”

The middle-aged warrior sat up from his table with initial shock at his own body, of which was completely absent of damage, save for the disappearance of hair where flesh tears once existed. His shock did not last long however, as he quickly turned to the clan healer with concern.

“The Huns were too equipped to be mere hunters. Plus, they had me pinned by arrowheads the moment they caught me—as if they were prepared for a fight.”

Suri respected the man finally by turning to face him, “Your friend briefed the Great King. You were barely alive when he dropped you off with me.”

A sense of shock returned to the man, who again went on to investigate his seemingly healthy body. “How long was I taken out for?”

Suri pointed backwards out the den, “Well, that vulture had been sitting atop the well since a short time before you arrived, and it’s still flying around now, so… not long.”

“Feels like I’ve been out for weeks.”

“No, only a moment of day.”

This somewhat intense yet casual talk was interrupted very quickly by the expected return of the three holy men, this time with an energy suggesting Father Sixtus was in charge of the show. Try as she may to remain inviting, it was the face of Sixtus in particular that breached Suri, causing her to give him a not so subtle disapproving face.

“Rome making itself comfortable in other people’s property as usual,” she said with open hostility.

Sixtus declared, “God opens all doors for those performing his will.”

“What do you want now?”

Sixtus signaled his two companions to stay a few steps back while he himself sharked around Suri’s personal space. Given time, Suri capitulated to his intimidating motions and sat herself on one of the tables. Unlike Modestus or even Pius, Sixtus had a demeanor rather stereotypical of the Roman soldier that he once was, and he had no problem capitalizing on this fact for practical sake.

“Do you fear death, Suri?”

Suri smirked, “Death? What’s that?”

The Crimean scout seated near her shared a disturbed look with Pius, Modestus and Sixtus were both unaffected by her game.

“All life has an end, and even you with your magician claims are no exception.”

She persisted, “I have yet to see it. I was alive a hundred years ago, and will be alive a hundred years later.”

The bishop pointed at her, “There *will* be a day you mess up. You will fall off a roof, wild game will devour you, a hunting accident, crucifixion—something will end you.”

“Not true.” Sixtus grunted at her strong defiance. Following this, Suri reached under her robe and pulled out her glimmering gold star necklace, “I have ‘died’ before, not just once, but several times. After a period of waiting, I always return from cruel fate.” Modestus stared intensely into the pendant, as if God himself were commanding his eyes onto the apparently supernatural artifact. “When I return from death, it is always over the spot in which this necklace exists. This necklace is my portal back to the living. So, no, I do not fear death, for without the consequence of a true ending to my life, death loses its venom.”

Pius and Modestus exchanged stares directly into each other, as if having a conversation through eye contact. Sixtus found himself played masterfully into a corner, his entire strategy easily demolished by Suri’s unexpected rejection of Hell and Heaven as relevant to herself. He had to think quickly and not cede any idea of victory to her. The answer, as he believed, was then found beside Suri, in the somewhat disturbed eyes of her fellow Crimean scout.

Sixtus posed the question differently, “Let us pretend for a moment that you speak truthfully. Do you fear for the death of those you care for?”

Suri’s cocky face started to decline, “My people?”

The bishop paced himself slowly by the surviving scout, “Your friends and family. Are you so certain of their fate after death?” Suri remained silent, back to showing some signs of hostility. “Does the pain of dooming so many of your loved ones to eternal misery not claw at your soul regularly?”

He seemed to have lost Suri at this point as she darted her eyes around the room for clarification. Eventually she shot Sixtus a puzzled look and shrug.

“I help people. They come to me harmed, and I send them out of here better than ever.”

Sixtus, with massive eyes and another pointed finger, lectured, “And yet, by your own chief’s claim, you, Suri, *you* lead your own down the path of Hell with your reckless intuition and selfish insistence on this false god watching over God’s creations!”

Suri thought deeply about this for a moment but did not express any signs of remorse. “The choice to follow Baphomet and not God is a choice of their own.”

Unable to help himself, Father Pius broke their agreement on non-intervention by backing Sixtus, “You corrupt the righteous path of many by influencing them into accepting Baphomet as a Biblical hero.”

The woman was so upset by this accusation she jumped out of her seat, yelling back at Pius, “I don’t influence poop! They bleed, I heal, and they on their own accord find Baphomet—whether it be alone or alongside Christ.” She slashed the air in front of the three, “Do not accuse me of indoctrinating anyone, I do not control these people.”

Sixtus clenched a fist at her, “Yet they follow you. They respect you, and respect commands followers. If you told these people to take up arms in *your* name and throw themselves into battle, they would. That is the power of influence, and you carry a responsibility of guiding your followers down the correct path whether you like it or not!”

Further agitated, Suri threw up her arms and declared, “I am not responsible for anyone but myself! I did not ask for followers, and I did not command them to worship both Christ and Baphomet. Your assertions are without sense.”

The Roman bishop came close to her, furiously insisting, “Do you acknowledge that for every follower who follows you down this path, a family loses their loved one to Hell?” Suri did not respond. “Eternal suffering—endless! God forfeits his watch of these people when they go to Hell. Once you deliver them there, they are doomed forever. Do you want this, Suri? Do you *want* your loved ones to forever curse your name in Hell?”

Finally, Suri started to stress out, but still she responded, “I am not accepting responsibility! My beliefs are my own!”

“You are running out of time, Suri. There is still time for you to reject Lucifer and accept God and Christ, and save your tribe from eternal misery! You *must* change for the sake of your people!”

“Are you not hearing me?” she lectured back, “I am *not* responsible for the actions of those who are inspired by me. If they go to Hell, that is the consequence of their own actions! I am not going to listen to your nonsensical accusations a moment longer!”

From this moment on, Suri turned her back to the bishop and crossed her arms with a rather childish pose. Sixtus did comply as much as to stop grilling her, for now. A silence took the den as Sixtus and Suri gathered their respective thoughts, but no longer facing one another.

“We, God’s children, are at war with Lucifer, Suri. The entire world is Lucifer’s country, and all of us soldiers—either soldiers of Lucifer, or soldiers of God.” Sixtus paced back and forth slowly. “In this war, you cannot simply abstain. You cannot sit around with a war around you and do nothing, nor can you reject the responsibilities that a person of your position is—whether fair or not—imposed.” The bishop began to back away from her, a finger out, “There is no middle ground. You are either with Lucifer or with God in this war that has no end. But know that in your current position, you are on the side of Lucifer, and then also know that so long as even a single one of us continues the fight against evil, we will win, Suri. *We* will win…”

Sixtus, now rather enraged, waved the Crimean off with the wave of his sleeve, and then pushed himself past his two fellows. Modestus and Pius followed him away from the den, leaving Suri to dangle her necklace to herself.

A short while later, Sixtus summed his approach of Suri up like, “I allowed my primal reactions to get the best of me. I had her where I wanted her, but allowed the discussion to get away.”

Pius contributed, “Your approach was not without its success. Your words clearly bothered her, so we now know that it is the fate of her followers that causes her distress.”

Modestus, however, suggested, “Yet I feel your approach, although seemingly effective, was too direct in its challenge. We’ve surely made enemies of her after that, and thus, she may lock herself up from us going forward.”

Nevertheless, Sixtus turned with a commanding posed and declared, “I will return to her den and finish what I started.”

Modestus fought back, “Enough, Sixtus. We’ll be lucky if she ever speaks another word to us after the imposing approach you took. Besides, the agreement was that we each take a personal approach of her—your turn has expired.” The Roman bishop squinted at the man but did not object. “We need to reassess the situation with Suri and appeal to reason—remind her that we are all allies under God—and convince her to turn away from the path she is on.”

Sixtus objected, “So you will simply reverse the progress I made by now placating her.”

But before Modestus could reply, Pius came interjected, “Hold on, as I recall, *my* turn would follow.”

“Well,” Modestus held out his hands, “Given the tense circumstances, I suggest you two allow me -”

Pius continued, “I believe that beyond Suri’s childlike absence from responsibility exists a reasonable Christian-to-be. I would like to now validate the strength of her Christian knowledge by testing her.”

Sixtus laughed, “Tests? Must we? Is it not plainly obvious to us all that Suri is a lost sinner?”

Modestus inquired, “What tests do you have in mind?”

Pius folded his sleeves, “Nothing difficult. I just want to hear from the young woman what she knows of the Bible.”

Now free of her medical duties, Suri had herself sitting against the central well of this village, where she was again playing around with her single drum. Her necklace dangled directly over the drum as both hands researched rhythm. Her eyes remained centered on the instrument with an almost obsessive appearance. Her drumming would continue up until the moment the bird sitting atop the well flew off in a panic; the fleeing bird brought Suri’s playing to a stop with haste.

“A good day to you, Suri,” Father Pius greeted.

“Is it now?”

As before, the two other bishops respected a distance from the leading one—this time Pius. This bishop did not approach Suri with a friendly face, but not a strict one like Sixtus had imposed before. Suri did not grant the man any respect, even going as far as to resume drumming with her eyes down. Pius made no scene of this rudeness.

“As you claim to be a follower of Christ, going so far as to claim he inspires you -”

Interestingly, this prompted Suri to interrupt with passion, “One day, I will understand the miracles of Jesus Christ and be able to heal the souls of those hurt. The Bible will guide me to discovering this power.”

Pius quickly built off this, “The Bible—the one text in this world that matters. Surely, if you claim to follow the Christian faith, you must be familiar with its teachings?”

Suri boldly answered, “I’ve taught the Bible.”

Caught off guard by this, and also a bit disturbed, Pius demanded, “To whom?”

“People who need it.” Suri stopped drumming, becoming a bit sad. “I am… not perfect. I can save a lot of people from death, but not always. It helps to be able to leave those I cannot save in time with the saving lessons of the Bible.”

“Indeed…” Pius had finally gotten Suri’s attention, for she was now looking at him and no longer drumming. “Then tell me, Suri, the origin of the Ten Commandments?”

“*Ten* Commandments?”

All three bishops widened their eyes.

“Y—Yes…”

Suri puckered her lips, “Call me crazy, but I thought there were twelve.”

Sixtus muttered, “This is a waste of time…”

Pius cleared his throat, “Well, go on.”

Following this confusion, Suri sucked on two fingers in thought for a moment, becoming almost playful in mannerism as she thought hard. Eventually, she popped them out of her mouth in a loud showy manner and nodded.

“God created Adam and Eve in the beginning.”

“Oh, alright…” Pius entertained her decision to start so far back.

“Now, Adam and Eve spoke to a snake, and then the three ate apples together, and God hated apples so he killed all three of them.” Pius grunted, as did Modestus a moment later, but not Sixtus. “Before Adam and Eve died, they had a magic baby named Noah, who God spared because, well, the child didn’t do anything wrong, you know? Noah was just a child, not responsible for his parents eating apples with the snake.” Pius cupped a hand over his mouth, hiding whatever expressive response he may have had. “So, anyway, a flood happened, and Noah took his animals aboard a ship, and the flood took him and the animals to the land of Egypt. There, God instructed Noah to save his people who were slaves from their king.”

Suri stopped her story here, closing an eye with a struggling face. She proceeded to scratch her head amidst deep thought, recognizing something wrong with her words. Pius was just about to stop her from continuing, but she snapped her fingers.

“No! Wait! I was wrong, the flood didn’t happen yet. Noah goes to the King of Egypt and asks for his people to be free. The king refuses, and God was so mad that *then* he caused the flood. The animals, Noah, and his people all got on the boat and the flood took them to the Promised Land, where God then rewards Noah and his people with the… *Ten* Commandments.” Suri crossed a leg over her knee proudly. “I might have the flood part of the story off, I honestly don’t remember where that comes in. But there you have it, anyway.”

Pius was left with a finger up, unable to produce a clear answer for the moment. Sixtus was simply left shaking his head, and Modestus a bit speechless.

“Do you want me to share what I know about Jesus?”

Minutes later, the three bishops reconvened elsewhere, with Pius still cupping a hand over his mouth in deep thought. Sixtus was back to trying to run the show.

“It is abundantly clear that Suri’s education on Christian theology is entirely based upon secondhand hearing. She is no Christian!”

Modestus argued, “She may be the worst Christian I’ve met in a long time, but her passion for the… story she was telling cannot be mistaken. She can be saved with minimal effort.”

Sixtus angrily turned to him, “I cannot believe you continue to defend that of whom cannot be defended.” He approached Modestus with fingers up, “She follows a false god, she refuses to take responsibility for her followers, she made a mockery of the Bible, and she does not show proper respect to God’s holy men.” Sixtus looked deep into Modestus’ eyes, “All you need to do is go with me and recommend her execution to the chief, and our two votes alone can bring an end to this insurrection against God. Enough is enough, my friend.”

But Modestus retorted, “We are reaching very different conclusions. Where you feel compelled to burn her, I believe she should come with us.”

Sixtus glared, and this suggestion was what took Pius out of his trance.

“What?” Pius asked.

“How long until we concede that this Suri is too complex for us three? Suri should be brought with us and returned to those higher up in the church.”

Sixtus furiously, yet in a calm tone, asked, “Why would we do that?”

“Because if Suri is truly immortal -”

“She is not!” Sixtus yelled, “Do not fall for her trickery! She is playing your mind, Modestus.”

Modestus sternly answered, “And what if you’re wrong? What if this Suri is Lucifer’s hostage? We Christians do not execute hostages, Sixtus! She could be an essential component of God’s plan!”

“No, I do not see the sense in delivering a witch to the pope. Where you see a chance at strengthening Christianity, I see only a path to its destruction. The name, ‘Baphomet,’ should never be uttered anywhere near the pope’s domain.” Sixtus turned to Pius, and yet again insisted, “You heard with your own ear the deliberant wickedness of Suri. Won’t you come to your sense and side with me—let us tell this chief to destroy Suri and let us be done with this ordeal!”

Modestus reacted toward Pius, “No, Pius, you know as well as I do that there is too much at stake. This no longer concerns the Goths of Crimea as much as it does the world. We *must* take every precaution we possibly can when handling Suri. Let us present Suri to the pope and gather the combined wisdom of many bishops.”

Following a deep breath, Pius responded, “I agree with Modestus that Suri is not without reason, and that there is a path that may be followed which sees her properly converted.” He turned his head aimlessly, adding, “But I also side with Sixtus in my firm conviction that Suri is not immortal, nor does she possess sorcery. She has displayed childishness each time we speak with her, and so I have no doubt she is the sort to play games of pretend magic. And so, I can say with the utmost confidence, that Suri is deceitful and misguided in her ways, but I cannot condone her demise.”

Sixtus crossed his arms, “So what *do* you wish to do?”

Both their eyes came onto Modestus, Pius asking, “It is your turn to take an approach on Suri, if you wish. What will you say to her?”

Modestus blinked without expression, glanced over to her den, and with some thought answered, “I must go and relieve myself first. Then we will confront Suri again.”

“Very well.”

The lone bishop wandered off around the corner of a hut, walking off in a direction with bushes so he could release himself. In reality, the bishop walked through the bushes and then crouched, bringing himself along the row of bushes in the direction of Suri’s den.

Suri, again in her medical den, was using a conservative amount of water to try and wash away blood left behind by her latest patient. Much of it was already dry, thus she found herself scraping away at the table in question. The already frustrated expression held over her face would have made this the worst time to approach her for more Bible talk, yet the return of calm sounding footsteps barely caused a difference in her.

“Yeah?” she asked without looking.

“May I have a private audience with you?” asked Modestus.

The Crimean turned her head, a bit surprised to find only the one bishop in her presence.

“Where’s your crew?”

“I assumed you were getting restless of us ganging up on you.”

Suri sighed, respecting the man enough to at least turn and face him, “Well, you’re the least annoying of the three so far, so I should not be so mad.” She followed this up with a defiant pose, “So, what do you want?”

Modestus further approached her but while maintaining space, “To understand you better.”

“To press me on Baphomet.”

He played off this, “I am still puzzled by that. Why confuse your theology by mixing a monotheistic faith with a polytheistic?”

Suri said with a strong-throated tone, “I told you three already, I believe in Jesus Christ with great energy, but you cannot disarm simple logic: My immortality and magic long preceded the Lord. Only Baphomet could have granted me these powers.”

“You know this to be true?”

She essentially repeated herself, “I worshipped Baphomet when Rome was nothing but a city, and I had my powers then. I continue to worship Baphomet, and surely so, I maintain my powers.”

Modestus pushed on, “A sound theory, but have you truly tested this?”

The Crimean clicked her jaw without expression, “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever rejected Baphomet? Do you *know* for certain that without Baphomet, you are as mortal as everyone else?”

Suri defiantly asserted, “The divine need not be tested.”

“But what if everything you know about your supposed powers is a misunderstanding? If you denounced Baphomet now, and accepted God and Jesus Christ alone, and your gift remained—then what would you do?” Suri gave the man a silent stare. “Would you crawl back to Baphomet? What sense would that make.”

“If that were the case, I…” Suri’s conflict escalated, evident by the disturbed look upon her face, “A sound theory,” she mocked, “But not a risk I will take.”

Modestus applied pressure, “But letting those who follow your theology fall into Hell forever is a risk you will take?”

She quickly answered, “I am not respons-”

“If you could do *one* thing that guarantees these people their place in heaven, would you not try?” Suri again became silent. “You are not a selfish person, Suri. You help your people when they come in harm’s way, you even speak the Bible… somewhat… to those you feel you cannot save.” Suri slowly turned, looking back at the Gothic image of Jesus Christ in her den. “You wish to heal the souls of men, does that not start with faith? If you do not feel responsible for the afterlife of these people, do you not at least care for them?”

Suri’s overall mood fell, stuck staring across at the image of Christ. Modestus took the moment of peace to collect his thoughts, while Suri meditated on her own. She soon did so with her necklace firmly in her hand.

“I would like you to convert those who tragically follow me. If I am wrong, I do not wish for them to be dragged down into eternal suffering.” Modestus raised his brows just as Suri turned back to face him. “As for myself, you walk a path I cannot follow. The Goths need me, and all I know for certain is that even when dipping into two religions you cannot make sense of, I remain immortal.” She bit her lip and nodded to her own sayings. “It is too late for me, Father. So long as I can continue healing my people, I will not forsake Baphomet.”

Modestus fell gently to a knee, taking Suri’s small hands into his own, “Suri, please.” His intimate connection with the sad woman was well done, crafting trust and respect on her end. “Come with us back to Rome. Let us help you cross over into the light, and perhaps there under us, you will gain the knowledge you have always wanted—to heal the wounded souls of men and women.”

Suri gawked, “Me? Go to Rome?”

“Yes! Where you will be taught scripture verbatim and learn your true place in this world. Follow in the footsteps of Peter and change the world for the better. Won’t you please walk with us?”

A moment of silence ensued left with Suri staring with wide eyes at the bishop. In the meantime, Suri took to twirling around her star necklace. Modestus honored her contemplation with as much respect as he could.

*SWOOSH!*

Suddenly, the thin walls of Suri’s den had been penetrated by a blazing arrow. Modestus, who had already been on one knee, fell over in response. Suri displayed a professional reaction time, already jumping at the burning arrow, snapping off the front, and stomping out the fire.

“What’s going on!?” Modestus panicked.

Suri attached a satchel to her side and started to fill it up with corked water containers. She was very energetic in doing so, but her unsurprised tone would not fit the scene.

“The Huns,” she spoke simply. “They’re always raiding us Goths.”

“By God, we’re being raided!?”

Suri, without even a weapon, was already by the den entrance and holding out a hand, “Father, keep your head down. The Huns kill without bias.”

“What are *you* doing!?”

The woman left, and despite her warning, Modestus cautiously treaded outside after her.

The Huns came atop horseback and not in numbers that would suggest an invasion; just as Suri guessed, this was but a common raid for valuables. Unfortunately for the Huns, the Goths were ready for the raid and met their horsemen with battle-ready warriors.

Gothic men with axes and armor fought with every means they could, even throwing their weapons when the advantage seemed to be on their side. The Huns only attacked via horse charge, usually with great success due to the speed in which they struck. The horsemen armed with short weapons were the same who would dismount to burn structures and take their hand at valuables and even kidnap women or children. The Goths were quick to retaliate to these actions, some being so desperate as to kill the dismounted horses that the Huns would intend to escape on. It did not take long for the village to fall into utter chaos with shouting and blood from all walks of life.

Modestus, once outside, looked left and right, finding only warfare at every direction. He was either looking for his fellow bishops or Suri, but neither came into immediate sight. He was furthermore stunned by the raging fires already committed at various structures. Only a veteran like Sixtus could possibly brush off the destructive sight as a normal sight.

For just a moment, Modestus could see impending death as a Hun came galloping past him with such force that his robes were blown back—fortunately, he was not the target. Creeping around the corner of Suri’s den, Modestus spotted the only robed figure in the village without a weapon. Suri was crouched over the thumping body of a Gothic warrior, and even from Modestus’ distance and point of view, he could recognize that she was performing her water healing. Seeing an unarmed Suri in the center of a battlefield performing this water act on a wounded warrior did well against Sixtus’ and Pius’ claims of trickery.

“Suri!” Modestus shouted.

But just as quickly, Sixtus shouted, “Modestus!”

The former was grabbed and dragged over to his two companions, bringing the three back together. They were together, but not at all on the same page.

“We need to hide and let savages do savage things,” Sixtus insisted.

Modestus combatted, “We need to get Suri away from the fighting!”

“Forget her!” Sixtus shouted, “If Suri is killed, God’s will be done, and our job here as well!”

Pius nodded frantically, “Let Suri go her own path in this battle and see if God sanctions it!”

Suri finished performing her works on the wounded warrior and got up to attend to another dying person. Modestus, upon seeing this, shook his head and broke free of Sixtus.

“Suri’s place is in Rome, not here!”

Sixtus shouted toward the man, “No it is not!”

Suri took a dive just as a Hun rode its horse over her, amazingly, she dodged its hooves completely. After regaining her confidence, the woman took out a container of water and dipped her fingers into it, then concentrating for a bit. She motioned words with her lips without actually saying anything, and following a time of wait, ripped an arrow out of the Goth and immediately poured water over his wound.

“My end nears..!” the warrior asserted.

Suri quickened her work, “No, no! You’re okay, I’ve already done the hard part, you just -”

Modestus, running towards the woman, shouted, “Suri!”

The woman gasped and turned her body, “Wh- What are you doing here!?”

“We need to head for the beach! The horsemen can’t charge us if we’re -”

“Father!” Suri panicked.

Modestus turned his torso, suddenly faced by the intense charge of a Hun from behind Suri’s medical den. The man, gawking, reached his hand down as if reaching for a sword, but ultimately stood there without a thought on what to do. Sixtus and Pius made the scene at this time as well.

“Fall!” Pius shouted.

Modestus heard the man but was so stunned by the charging animal that he could not move his muscles. Without any other option, Suri dropped her waters and jumped off her foot to the rescue. The Hun threw out his blade at full speed, but just as he arrived to Modestus, Suri had tackled the man with as much force as she could assert, trying to get them down to the ground. Both took the intense trampling of the horse, but Suri traded fates with Modestus, suffering the fully charged attack of a blade.

The two were separated from one another, but with Suri’s entire severed arm flying up in the air behind her. The woman was stunned by this attack, flying with eyes open wide and a jaw down. She hit the ground in a bloody mess, and her arm falling close beside her. Suri’s screams inevitably followed, panicking loudly at first in an expanding mess of blood, eventually followed with her rolling around trying to grab at her severed arm.

Gothic warriors at this point had turned the raid away from the village, keeping all the action in this precise area. The Huns left without horses were completely slaughtered within a minute, while the remaining horsemen took their loot—or none at all—and retreated back into the countryside.

Sixtus and Pius, sensing the passed danger, began to approach Suri and Modestus, the latter of whom was already on his feet trying to figure out what to do for Suri. The woman was very strict in holding her severed arm close to where it should be, but regardless continued to make loud agonizing sounds.

In a panic, Modestus opened up one of her containers of water and splashed the woman with it. “Will this help!?” he asked.

Suri tried silencing her agony and waved off Modestus with closed eyes. He looked for another way he could help but was soon joined by his companions. Only Sixtus seemed undisturbed by the sight.

“It is an unfortunate sight but the way of things.” Sixtus pulled Modestus away from Suri a bit. “With any luck, God will be merciful of her Luciferian tendencies and do as we failed to do for her.”

While escaping the attention of Modestus and Sixtus, it was Pius who noticed something unusual—the fact so many Gothic warriors were now returning to village with barely any attention to Suri. Many were walking by them and simply avoiding her blood. For someone who apparently inspired followers, it was not the kind of treatment one would expect.

Sixtus went on to say, “Now, let us reach an accord on how to deal with those who followed her.”

Modestus gasped, “What the…”

In the time they were not looking, Suri had ceased her agony and was in a state of complete concentration. More incredibly, however, was the sight of her severed arm—or what was once a severed arm. Now it was an arm connected by strings of organs, of which here and there had a glowing aura. The three bishops were speechless, and finally, even Sixtus was with a dropped jaw and wide eyes.

“Impossible…” Sixtus expressed.

With every half minute or so to pass by, Suri’s arm restructured itself more and more by means of a curious glowing light. The joints of her bones were now repaired, veins again functioning, and even the back of her arm forming skin again. Bleeding, although persisting, was only being lost at a quarter speed now.

Modestus took a step back, sharing in the awe of this moment, “I- It’s a miracle…”

Pius gulped, “The circumvention of fate itself..!”

Suri, very slowly, arose from the bloodied ground in a rather zombie-like stance. While her robes contained the soaked blood left from such a scene, she now presented to them an arm that was somehow even better than before. Not a scratch existed in the inflicted area, supernatural healing left a smooth and new surface.

The woman’s only address to the three bishops was a look into Modestus’ eyes, a nod, and then a graceful turn. Without saying a word, she brushed off the horrific, agonizing event as if nothing happened, and with that, she picked up her water containers and rushed back to healing the wounded warriors of Gothia.

Sixtus still stood with quivering eyes and a dropped jaw. Modestus, in similar amazement, commentated, “Then it is true. Suri’s claims of immortality and beyond, it is true…”

The Roman bishop maintained this face, staring at Suri as she was already in the process of healing a dying man of his pains. Gradually, his look of shock transitioned into a face of horror, and seconds after that, fear became ferocity.

“This atrocity shall not stand.”

With a dramatic turn of the heel, Sixtus turned on a dark face and marched off with fast intent. Pius and Modestus turned from behind, the former worried enough to chase after his friendly adversary.

“Sixtus, wait!”

Sitting atop his throne after a quick but destructive battle, King Goltz-Plut received a detailed report of the raid damages from one of his councilmen. This important discussion, however, was apparently insignificant in priority given Sixtus’ decision to march straight into the room with a dramatic arm in the air.

“I have entertained the cancerous pacifism of my group long enough!”

“Sixtus!” Modestus ran in behind the man, “We are under the strict mission of deciding by majority rule!”

The Roman bishop ignored him, “Your Suri is a confirmed witch of Lucifer, bypassing the will of God by manipulating life and death through supernatural means!”

Goltz-Plut tensed up and argued, “I see no evidence that God’s will be cheated.”

Sixtus came dangerously close to the king without permission, “I saw with my own eyes that woman cheat death while under the worship of her false god. Only almighty God decides one’s start and end; Suri challenges God’s control of the end, and in doing so, she threatens your *entire* nation with eternal damnation!”

Modestus approached from behind and shouted, “Enough, Sixtus! This is a matter for us to still discuss!”

Still choosing to ignore his companion, Sixtus asserted, “Suri must be permanently removed from your tribe at once, or else every one of you will surely be condemned to life in Hell! Suri has corrupted each and every one of you, and until she is buried, an eternity of doom awaits you all!”

Goltz-Plut, growing nervous, looked to Modestus, “You do not share this belief?”

“We have not decided as a group to recommend this action against Suri. Sixtus has betrayed the mission by acting on his own impulses.”

A step from behind the two came belonging to Pius, “Although it pains my heart, I must side with Sixtus.”

Modestus turned with a gawk, “What?”

Pius closed his eyes and explained, “No being should possess the powers that Suri does, and by her own claim, she appeals to this Baphomet for her powers.” He nodded at Sixtus. “I do not believe Suri is a bad person by choice, but she will bring your entire people into the depths of Hell if not stopped. She is a demon corrupting the people of Crimea.”

“I don’t believe this…” Modestus muttered at Pius. “You know Suri deserves better.”

Pius sighed, but said, “There is simply no Biblical explanation for her powers. She is an agent of Lucifer regardless of if she knows it. The world will be better without her.”

Goltz-Plut, hearing all sides, brought up his own thoughts, “Suri carried me into this world when I was born, and has saved many of us throughout the centuries. I do not believe God will condemn us to damnation for her services.”

Sixtus looked deep into his eyes and asked, “Life is short. Are you prepared to accept the risk that, when you die, you will live in eternal torment?” Goltz-Plut returned the heavy stare. “Are you ready for the reality that by accepting Suri, and therefore Lucifer, you and your tribe are doomed?”

Pius contributed, “You may be a devout Christian, but by housing Suri and utilizing her dark powers for yourself, you yourself are guilty of accepting Lucifer into your heart. This cannot be denied.”

Sixtus crossed his arms, “It is time to act. By a two-to-one vote, we are telling you that it is a choice between Suri and eternal life in Hell.”

Goltz-Plut remained still, trembling but stone-faced, and looking between the three holy men in search of compromise. Modestus remained very displeased with this turn of events, as did Pius to an extent, despite his vote. Indeed, all this two-to-one vote could do is recommend a course of action. In the end, the final decision on how to proceed with all matters of Crimean conversion came down for the king to decide.

That night, Suri laid resting in her bed, situated in the medical den in plain sight of all the tables. The Huns had been repelled with comfortable ease, likely meaning they would not return for some time. Her struggle continued with the three holy men of Rome, only one of whom she held any real respect for. Only now after the raid did Suri have time to think about Modestus’ suggestion of her coming with them back to Rome. Her interest in leaving Crimea was not all that high, but it was in fact the idea that the clergy might help her discover how to heal a wounded soul that kept the debate ongoing in her mind.

She turned in her sleep, but the sound of a floorboard creak would provoke some waking motions on her face. The creaking stopped just on the brink of waking up, but sleep ultimately prevailed and retained its hold of her. This was an unfortunate outcome, for her lack of consciousness left her vulnerable for the unexpected.

Sudden action had taken the woman, for her head was pushed into a sack, and another force harshly shoving the rest of her body in as well. Just as quickly, a Gothic warrior closed the sack and put the woman over his shoulder and was assisted by the other.

“H- Hey! What’s going on!? Release me!”

Neither man responded. They were in such a rush at this point that they charged through the various tables of her den in a quick way of escaping. Suri kicked and thrashed the entire way out the den and then some. A kidnapping was at hand, and unaware of who was behind it, Suri was fast to assume this somehow involved the bishops.

She pleaded, “Wait! Wait! Let’s talk some more about God!”

Her assumption that the bishops were the handlers of this operation, of course, was false, but she was not wrong in assuming their involvement in the kidnapping. Similar pleas would go on for well over five minutes as the two men took Suri just outside of the village, where eventually, they were met by a few fellow Gothic men, as well as the three bishops.

“We can talk about this!” Suri continued to beg.

The sacked Suri was eventually dropped against a simple stone structure covered in moss and even some fungus—an abandoned well, surely once used as the primary water source. Suri could tell that she had been placed against rock, and the sound of lit torches was also evident to her. This was all she had to go by for information.

“What is the meaning of this!? Are you the Huns!?”

From around the corner of the well, King Goltz-Plut emerged, explaining to the blinded woman, “I am sorry, Suri. It has been decided that you are a liability to the kingdom’s eternal fate.”

Suri gasped, “Great King? What are you talking about?”

“The Goths must move on, and leave the old ways behind.” Goltz-Plut nodded at the strongest guard, issuing him a wordless order. “There is no place for Baphomet amongst us any longer, and no place for acolytes of his wickedness.”

The woman, taking all of this in, began to hyperventilate for a surprisingly short time before panicking, “Well, I’m not staying anyway! I- I’m going to Rome! The bishop said I will go to Rome! *I want to go to Rome!*”

Modestus lowered his eyelids in sorrow.

Sixtus intervened, “That was an idea, not the plan. We have decided to strike forth into Lucifer’s plan.”

“You!” Suri hissed.

The sacked woman was held up by a guard, and turned over towards the well. Goltz-Plut explained, “You will remain in Crimea, but forever apart from civilization. You and your evil necklace will be exiled into the depths of the well for eternity. May God have mercy upon your sanity.”

“Great King!”

“Goodbye, Suri.”

“You’re making a grand mista-”

Suri’s words were cut off by her own scream, as the woman was dropped down a pitch black well of especially deep depth. The sound of an eventual thump and the silence of the woman was more than enough evidence that she met her temporary demise on impact. By her own claim, she would return to the world of living over the site of her necklace—now located at the bottom of the well.

With this dramatic scene over, Goltz-Plut sighed and said to Sixtus, “The deed is done. So Gothia is safe from damnation?”

A delighted Sixtus put an arm around the king and walked him off, “Patience. Salvation for Crimea nears, but there still exists an issue of Suri’s followers…”

Everyone followed, save for Pius and Modestus, who took some time together to stare at the site of this truly dark deed. Pius rested a hand over Modestus.

“How could you, Pius.”

“I did what was necessary.”

Modestus imposed himself into Pius’ soul, “You made your decision only moments after seeing what you saw during that battle. No thought, no debate, only rushed, cruel judgment.”

Pius quirked his mouth, showing signs of second thought, but defended his vote by saying, “Crimea will one day become a better society, and it will do so without Suri and her Luciferian influences.”

“I will pray you settle peacefully on this as you sleep.”

A bit disturbed by Modestus’ comment, Pius decided to step away from the man and follow the rest of the group. This left Modestus next to a quiet well—Suri’s eternal prison. As one final communication with the woman, the man reached for his collar, snapped off the metal cross that hung from it, and tossed it down into the well.

“Do not worry, Suri. I will get you out of there.” He crossed his arms behind his back and followed the group. “I will not allow this well to be your end…”

To be continued…

**Prologue < | > Chapter 2**

## Chapter Summary

1. Goltz-Plut is given a report by one of his scouts that he and his companion were attacked by the Huns not far from the village. This is seen as evidence of a coming attack.
2. Suri stages a complaint to Goltz-Plut that the bishops are being aggressive toward her. Goltz-Plut sides with them, stating that Suri's resistance to full conversion is a liability to everyone.
3. Sixtus initiates his phase of the new strategy for each bishop to take an independent crack at Suri. For once supported by Modestus as well as Pius, Sixtus wishes to take a more aggressive approach of reminding Suri about the terrors of Hell that await.
4. When confronted, Suri reveals that she does not fear Hell personally due to her immortality, that even if she were to die, she would eventually resurrect over the spot of her star necklace. Sixtus turns the discussion onto her followers, disturbing her with the threat that her resistance to conversion will lead those who follow her to Hell. This matter is put to a close as Suri denies having any responsibility for anyone but herself. Sixtus leaves in a rage just as she becomes infuriated with the bishops.
5. Pius later confronts Suri while she is drumming by the village well. For his approach on her, he questions her knowledge of the Bible. She attests that she teaches the Bible to those she feels she can not save in time from death. This surprises the three.
6. When tested with summarizing the origin of the Ten Commandments, Suri gives a very broken, inaccurate amalgamation of various Biblical stories, claiming that Noah is the son of Adam and Eve, and that he led the Hebrews out of Egypt, only to be led into a flood that takes them to the Promised Land. Dumbfounded by this, Pius breaks off his approach.
7. Sixtus again argues for the termination of Suri on grounds of wickedness. Pius still resists voting with him. Modestus now reveals his belief that Suri should be taken away from Crimea and brought to Rome, for the pope and his bishops to guide down the righteous path. Sixtus passionately condemns this idea. Pius suggests first letting Modestus do his approach of Suri, but before doing so, Modestus excuses himself, secretly running off to confront Suri by himself.
8. Alone with Suri, Modestus tries to get to the core of her Baphomet obsession. He learns that Suri has never considered testing Baphomet, that is, to reject him and see if she retains her powers. Ultimately, by appealing to Suri's care for people, Modestus convinces Suri that she should help her followers break off from her own theology. While she insists on sticking with Baphomet, she requests Modestus to help convert her people away from him, claiming it is too late for her.
9. Modestus pleads with Suri to come with them back to Rome, offering to help her break away from Baphomet with the pope's help, and to help her discover the ability to heal a hurt soul as she has always wanted. Suri is shocked by this invitation, but before she can respond, the village comes under attack by the Huns.
10. As the Huns attack by horse, Suri rushes to the rescue of various wounded Goths with her water and magics. Modestus meets up with Sixtus and Pius, but he insists on getting Suri out of danger, charging at her. Amidst his attempt to get Suri out of danger, he himself comes under attack by a Hun.
11. Suri loses her arm in her attempt to save Modestus from the Hun, and as the battle comes to a quick end, the three bishops are shocked by the sight of a dying Suri. Sixtus is content with this outcome, however, they are soon shocked to discover Suri's severed arm coming back together through means of supernaturalism. Finally, the three bishops are all convinced that she is, in fact, immortal. Modestus declares this to be a miracle, but Sixtus runs for Goltz-Plut with a different mindset.
12. With great passion, Sixtus demands Goltz-Plut remove Suri from the world, claiming she is overruling the will of God by defying death. Modestus intervenes, reminding Sixtus that he is breaking the majority rule objective they came with. Regardless, Sixtus continues to threaten that *all* Goths of Crimea will go to Hell if they continue to entertain Suri's existence. Pius, reluctantly, arrives and throws his vote with Sixtus, deciding that it is simply too risky to leave Suri out in the wild, praying to a false god, and defying God's will. Under immense pressure, Goltz-Plut agrees.
13. In the thick of night, while meditating on Modestus' offer to go to Rome, Gothic warriors kidnap Suri in a sack and carry her to the old and abandoned well outside the village. Here, Goltz-Plut informs Suri that she is to be exiled underground forever, along with her necklace so that she is doomed to always resurrecting in the well should she die. Sixtus is revealed to be the leading figure behind this, backed by Pius, but opposed by Modestus.
14. Suri pleads to release her, insisting that Modestus offered her to travel to Rome, and that she accepts. Sixtus rejected this notion as a mere idea, not a plan, and thus Suri is thrown into the well, where she is killed on impact, but her necklace nevertheless down there for her to respawn to. With Suri seemingly exiled forever, the group walk off.
15. Modestus scolds Pius for making a dark decision, but is essentially ignored. Finally, while alone, Modestus removes his own metal cross and tosses it down the well with Suri, promising her that he will one day get her out from there.

## Author Notes

#### Tale of Two Godcrafts Inspiration

In Tale of Two Godcrafts, Suri explains to Selina that she was abducted in the night and thrown down a well because of an incident where she severed her arm after falling from a rooftop, only to heal it with her powers. In this old story, the suggestion is that the Goths did not know Suri had literal powers, and that seeing this healing ability at work was what prompted them to exile her. In the new story, it is instead known to the Goths that Suri is supernatural, but a surprise to the visiting bishops when the Huns sever her arm with a similar conclusion. I wanted to take a new yet similar direction with Suri's Gothic backstory, and so I took her story from the now non-canon Tale of Two Godcrafts and adjusted it to fit this new vision.

## Chapter Illustration

The first chapter illustration for Order of Yaktosh that was made exclusively to represent the chapter. The drawing is the first to depict Suri in her Gothic appearance, featuring a hooded robe and unkept hair.

The image was prepared fully through Adobe Photoshop.