Cultist of Cerebon

Zareth was grateful for the view afforded to him by the room he’d chosen to become his new living quarters.

After being given the right to live within the far more affluent Spire Gardens, Zareth hadn’t hesitated for a moment to gather up his meager possessions and move into his brand new tower. Not only was it obviously safer, but who would pass up the chance to live in an enchanted tower like some sort of wizard?

Zareth might criticize the vast wealth disparity that existed in Tal’Qamar, but he was just shameless enough to indulge in nice things when given the chance.

Zareth had experienced both a life in which he’d never had to worry about food and another in which he’d literally had nothing but the rags on his back. If he was ever given the choice between pretentious luxuries or humble poverty, it was an incredibly easy decision.

His new room wasn’t as luxurious as it could be, given that High Command had confiscated the majority of the tower’s furnishings, but it still offered light and a pleasant view that he could enjoy while reading. At this moment, Zareth was sitting in a chair by the window and reading the Grimoire of Cerebon for what was likely the fifth time in the past few hours.

It was only a few hours after the end of his conversation with Cerebon that Zareth suddenly remembered that he’d forgotten to ask the god how to get rid of the foreign divine energy clinging to the spire. Almost immediately after having that thought, Zareth had then felt an inexplicable urge to check his grimoire in search of answers.

He’d been more than a little surprised to discover an entirely new section of the grimoire that he’d never seen before, despite knowing for certain that he’d memorized nearly every word of the book. Zareth had also felt a bit uneasy to know that Cerebon could just beam information into his brain and manipulate the content within his grimoire.

Gods were said to have minimal direct influence on the mortal plane, but ‘minimal’ obviously meant something different for people who’d caught the direct attention of one of said deities.

Still, it was convenient to be offered the information he needed.

The new sections detailed which Skill he would need, [Ritual of Sanctification], and the method of getting the System to offer it to him, either learning to manually manipulate divine energy or receiving the direct favor of their patron. Given that the ability appeared in the list of Skills being offered by the System, it was safe to say he’d received Cerebon’s favor.

Despite this, Zareth was still plagued by the familiar sense of uncertainty that affected him whenever he was about to allocate his Skill points.

He’d already thoroughly considered his options and settled on an outcome, but there was still an inescapable worry at the back of his mind about whether he was making the right decision. Generally, it was prohibitively difficult to change any decisions made related to the System. The only exception to this was kids changing their Class when they became of age. As a result, Zareth always found himself triple checking his options before finalizing his choices.

There had been quite a few additions to the Skills being offered by the System since he had last leveled up. [Leadership], a passive Skill which would grant him an intuitive understanding of organizing and delegating members of his cult, seemed particularly useful.

[Divine Link], a Skill which would allow him to contact Cerebon, was made redundant by the artifact at the top of his spire. [Ritual of Sanctification] was definitely one of his top choices, but it required him to import several rare materials that would take a while to arrive.

It’d be much more convenient if I could just yell [Ritual of Sanctification] and be done with it…

[Manipulate Divine Essence] was a Skill with a vague description that told him little more than what he could guess from its name.

Fortunately, the new sections in the Grimoire of Cerebon were much more helpful in this regard, making it clear that while [Manipulate Divine Essence] wasn’t very useful on its own, it was a prerequisite for a multitude of other Skills.

Zareth would almost certainly need to acquire [Manipulate Divine Essence] in the future, but he didn’t intend to spend one of his two Skill points on it now. Why? Because there was something that he wanted to try and [Manipulate Divine Essence] was the perfect test case.

It was a widely known fact that not every single Skill offered by the System needed to be acquired by purchasing them with Skill points. Otherwise, how would a [Mage] ever be able to use the vast array of magic available to them if they needed to spend a point each for miscellaneous Skills like [Fireball], [Frostbolt], [Lightning Strike], and so on?

Instead, certain Skills could be learned through rigorous study and practice. Unfortunately, some Skills quite obviously were impossible for a person to learn no matter how they practiced, such as [Far Slash].

No matter how much a [Warrior] practiced, they wouldn’t be able to teach themselves how to cut a target twenty feet away through sheer tenacity.

While most people knew that some Skills could be learned, it wasn’t widely understood exactly which Skills those were. After all, it was unintuitive to understand why a [Mage] could go to an academy to learn how to set things on fire with their mind, but a [Warrior] couldn’t cut down a tree on the other side of a field if they tried hard enough.

It wasn’t just magic either. According to one of the [Carpenters] who’d joined his cult, his apprentice had acquired [Basic Carpentry] a year into his apprenticeship without spending a Skill point on it.

When Zareth asked Lady Marilith about this topic, she’d freely admitted that the Great Houses all carefully archived which Skills could be learned and the best methods of doing so. The monopolization of this kind of information was one way that the most powerful factions of Tal’Qamar maintained their dominance over their competitors.

Fortunately for Zareth, his grimoire verified that [Manipulate Divine Essence] was a Skill that [Cultists] could learn while meditating in a location suffused with divine energy, or essence as the System called it. Zareth wanted to attempt this, as every single Skill point was a precious resource that he didn’t want to waste if he could avoid it.

Furthermore, Zareth had developed a theory about which Skills could and couldn’t be learned which required [Manipulate Divine Essence] for him to test…

That means that I’ll have to use one of my points on [Ritual of Sanctification], Zareth mused as he once again read the newest section of his grimoire. There are a few spots in Tal’Qamar with the necessary Divine Essence, but being in those places makes me feel way too uncomfortable to meditate. I’ll just have to wait until I’ve sanctified the tower.

Besides, Zareth had to admit that being attacked in his own temple had… affected him more than he’d expected. He wanted a place that he could feel safe, and [Ritual of Sanctification] would certainly help with that.

However, that still meant that Zareth had one more Skill point which he needed to spend, and a few options to choose from. [Template Body] would allow him to quickly swap between several sets of physical augmentations, while [Flesh Crafting] would let him create stuff with organic matter, like tables made out of flesh.

Zareth could honestly find himself spending far more time than he would like considering each of his options. Not only the Skills themselves, but the Stats they offered and the future Skills he could potentially unlock by choosing them.

After thinking about it, Zareth had narrowed his choices down to either [Precise Flesh Perception], [Leadership], or [Template Body]. Most of the other options weren’t particularly useful, or could be replaced by other means.

[Leadership] in particular held promise, as the Grimoire of Cerebon made it clear that it was a prerequisite for some Class Evolutions such as [Cult Leader]. Zareth was hoping for something a little more special, but he was close to reaching level 25 and being offered his first Class Evolution, so it was something he needed to consider.

Fortunately, I can afford to wait a little before making my choice.

As he was considering his options, Zareth was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by a loud knocking on his door.

“Enter,” Zareth called out, wincing as he looked to the sun and realizing that he’d been pouring over his grimoire for longer than he’d intended.

As expected, Rizok walked through the door to remind him that he actually had things that he was scheduled to do today. “Sir, it's nearly time for your meeting with the Desharin tribes. Will we be departing soon?”

“Of course. Just give me a few moments to get ready and then we’ll head out,” said Zareth, as he stood from his seat and returned the grimoire to its bookshelf.

Rizok nodded, his normal stoic demeanor unchanged. “Very well, sir. I will wait for you on the lowest level.”

Zareth briefly considered whether or not he should spend his Skill points before leaving, but ultimately decided against it. He didn’t want to wait too long, but the Skills he was leaning toward wouldn’t do much to help him survive an attack anyways.

Therefore, there was little point in rushing.

Settling on a decision, Zareth started making his way to the door. As he descended the tower, Zareth couldn’t help but cringe at the persistent discomfort he felt by being surrounded with the divine energy left behind by the Conclave.

Ugh… I’m definitely choosing [Ritual of Sanctification]. There’s no way that I’d be able to live here long term otherwise.

Zareth continued to grumble to himself until he reached the bottom of the spire and stepped into the main hall. He’d begun to furnish the hall to prepare it for regular use by his cult, but it was still largely empty for now. The only exceptions were a few tapestries depicting various aspects of Cerebon’s mythology that were being hung up by Tamir. Each of them had been personally sewn in gratitude by Onara after Zareth finished healing her son.

Without comment, Rizok fell in behind Zareth as they made their way out of the tower and onto the streets of Tal’Qamar.

The Desharin, which was the ethnic name of the nomadic human tribes, lived to the north-west on the furthest outskirts of the city. They almost exclusively lived on the other side of the city’s walls, preferring to have nothing preventing them from freely traveling out into the Qahtani Desert. While the Desharin couldn’t and didn’t prohibit non-humans from entering their territory, it was still rare for anyone but them to be seen coming and going to that portion of Tal’Qamar.

As prejudiced as it might sound, he’d never really had a good impression of the Desharin. From his perspective, they were nothing but a group of nomads who took on the role of representing all humans in Tal’Qamar just because they outnumbered the humans who lived in the city proper.

Zareth hadn’t been the only human child living on the streets of the Sunrise Slums, yet he’d never seen the Desharin do anything to help any of them.

Now when Zareth had gained a modicum of political power, Farida and the Desharin had the audacity to warn people against joining his cult and talk badly about him for not following their cultural practices?

Utterly ridiculous.

As Zareth made his way through the streets, he paid close attention to the reactions of everyone who saw him as he passed them by. He’d considered wearing a turban or pulling up the hood of his cloak to hide the extra eye that Cerebon had popped onto his forehead, but he ultimately decided against it.

If the citizens of Tal’Qamar were going to react poorly to significant physical changes, then that was something that Zareth needed to know now.

However, Zareth was surprised to discover that the vast majority of people didn’t even notice his third eye in the first place, and those few who did only gave a quick double take before passing him by.

Zareth felt a hint of embarrassment. Here he was bracing himself for everyone to start pointing and staring at him, only to be reminded that the majority of people were too busy with their own lives to pay attention to a random stranger’s forehead.

Once on the other side of the walls, Zareth was greeted by the vast expanse of the Qahtani Desert. Without any buildings or walls to protect him, the harsh wind carried fine grains of sand that batted against his exposed skin, causing him to squint and pull the hood of his cloak over his head.

Fortunately, the Desharin weren’t crazy enough to live too far away from the oasis that Tal’Qamar was built around, so it didn’t take long for Zareth to spot their… rather unique encampment.

The Desharin were well known for being the only people capable of taming the Living Sands, which were sand elementals native to the Qahtani Desert. They used them for everything from providing protection to creating the structures that the Desharin lived in, allowing them to quickly create shelter as they traveled the desert.

Zareth couldn’t help but marvel at the domed huts made of sand that seemed to constantly shift under the desert sun. Many of them were adorned with colorful textiles or strange symbols, mostly likely to represent different families or clans. Off in the distance, Zareth could see several heavily robed Desharin returning from the desert while riding horned camel-like creatures.

Several children were chasing each other around the herd, using the animals as makeshift barriers in their game. All the while, sand elementals of various shapes moved through the settlement.

Briefly opening his third eye, Zareth could see a thick weave of divine energy coursing through the area and around one of the few non-sand structures in the area. The building was almost certainly a temple dedicated to Silvaris, the Stern Wanderer.

Zareth could immediately tell that Farida had been very effective in spreading her faith ever since the Conclave had been removed.

This wasn’t his first time seeing the Desharin encampment, but Zareth still felt a bit surprised both by how large it was, and how content everyone seemed. Not a single one looked to be bothered by the harsh conditions of the desert, and there was a distinct sense of community here that was absent in Tal’Qamar.

As Zareth and Rizok approached the encampment, they were greeted by the wary gazes of the Desharin. They were both distinctly out of place, and he could feel the weight of their stares. Zareth forced himself to ignore it as he walked toward the largest structure in the center of the encampment, which was where the Desharin’s leadership gathered.

Unfortunately, the two of them didn’t make it that far before they were intercepted by a group of four Desharin guards. Each of them carried long spears and wore thick veils that obscured their faces and protected them from the harsh sand.

“Greetings, city-dwellers. Are the two of you the Cultist and his guardian?” asked the lead guard.

“That’s correct,” Zareth replied, giving a faint nod. He’d already sent word ahead that he would be coming, so it wasn’t a surprise that they were expecting him. “I am Zareth, and this is Rizok. I’m supposed to be meeting with your people’s Council of Elders?”

“You were, but there has been a change in plans,” the lead guard stated, his stern tone making it clear that he wouldn’t be accepting any argument. “You will be escorted to the Temple of Silvaris. The Council of Elders has decided that Priestess Farida will represent the Desharin in all matters related to your cult.”

Zareth felt his heart drop at the news. Even if Cerebon had spoken with Farida’s god and arranged for her to cooperate with him, Zareth would have preferred if he could have simply dealt with the Desharin directly. Unfortunately, there wasn’t anything that he could do about it now.

“Very well. Lead the way.”

The four guards promptly arranged themselves, two ahead and two behind Zareth and Rizok, guiding them towards the Temple of Silvaris.

The temple, a solid sandstone structure, seemed out of place amongst the many structures of shifting sand that surrounded it. Built in the shape of a layered pyramid with a flattened top, it stood taller than any other building in the encampment. On its facade, intricate carvings depicted scenes of the Desharin being led through the desert by a tall, hooded figure holding a long staff.

The entrance to the temple was heavily draped with deep blue and gold curtains that gave an air of regality. As they passed through the curtains, Zareth noticed the atmosphere become much cooler, as if he had suddenly stepped into a heavily air conditioned building. The main hall was dimly lit by lanterns, and there Desharin worshipers were quietly praying around a hooded and faceless statue of Silvaris that stood at the center of the temple.

“You’re late, boy.”

Zareth sighed as he was pulled from his silent appreciation of the temple by a familiar voice.

“If I am, it’s not by long,” said Zareth, turning toward Farida as she walked out of a nearby hall. “Still, I apologize for wasting your time, Priestess. If you’re too busy to see me, then I wouldn’t be opposed to having this conversation with one of the Desharin Elders instead.”

“Clever, but you can’t avoid me that easily,” said Farida, a hint of reluctant amusement passing through her expression before disappearing. “The only Elder who you’ll be speaking to is me. I was born and raised among these people, and have earned my right to speak for them.”

Zareth nodded slowly, fully expecting her response. “Understood. Then can we discuss this matter somewhere more private?”

“Fine. The sooner we get this done with, the better,” Farida agreed before glancing towards the guards. “You’re not needed here. Go do something useful somewhere else.”

Zareth was somewhat glad to see that he wasn’t the only one who Farida was used to treating brusquely. The guards must have been accustomed to her attitude, because they merely threw one last distrustful gaze toward Rizok and left without another word.

“Come,” said Farida as she turned around and began heading deeper into the temple.

Zareth and Rizok hurried to follow after her through the structure’s halls and were soon led to a modest chamber. The room was obviously used by Farida to hold private meetings, as there was a porcelain tea set on a low wooden table in the center of the room, surrounded by large plush cushions.

Rizok quickly glanced around the room for any potential threats before nodding to Zareth and leaving to wait outside.

Farida took a seat on one of the cushions and gestured for Zareth to do the same before beginning to prepare the tea. Zareth couldn’t help but notice that Farida took particular care during the process, and that the tea set was surprisingly luxurious given that it was owned by a woman whose faith eschewed unnecessary material wealth.

There was a slight pause as Farida poured the tea into two cups and Zareth took his first sip. It was more delicious than he’d expected, with a rich flavor reminiscent of honey and a subtle floral undertone.

“Contrary to what you might think of me, I’m not a golem,” Farida said with a smug smile as Zareth let out an appreciative hum. “We are all mortals. Silvaris will forgive his followers for some small indulgences, so long as it doesn’t lead us astray from my path.”

“I must admit, this is a pleasant surprise,” Zareth responded politely, taking another sip.

Farida gave a pleased nod before taking a single sip from her cup and setting it to the side.

“Well, I think we’ve successfully established that we can both drink tea civilly without insulting each other. An accomplishment that I’m sure we’ll both remember. Now, how about you tell me why you’re here? I assume you haven’t suddenly decided to turn away from your foreign god.”

Zareth straightened up, just as eager to skip the pleasantries. “Cerebon has directed me to find something in a lost temple somewhere in the Qahtani Desert. I need help finding and reaching the temple, and there’s obviously no group more suited to do that than the Desharin.”

“Hmph. Good to see that you have sense enough to realize that at least,” Farida remarked with a snort as her eyes narrowed slightly. “And what are you offering for this assistance? Such an expedition would require us to venture deeply into the great sands, something not even we are willing to do lightly.”

And now they reached the obvious sticking point. Compensation.

“I’m willing to offer you a tenth of whatever we find within the temple,” Zareth proposed, his expression calm. “The temple precedes the Nephala Dynasty, so any artifacts that we find within it would definitely be worth your trouble.”

He didn’t really want to offer any of the potential artifacts that they might find, but it couldn’t be helped. A tenth was still far less than he would have had to hand over to House Vhelan for the same services.

Farida chuckled disdainfully at his offer before responding. “A tenth of what might be nothing? Do my people look like brain-dead Adventurers willing to throw themselves at danger for the slightest possibility of reward? I knew that you thought little of us, but this is just insulting.”

Zareth sighed inwardly. He’d thought his offer was more than fair, but he shouldn’t be surprised that Farida would make things difficult.

“Then what would you suggest is adequate compensation, Priestess?” Zareth asked, forcing himself to remain patient.

“I normally wouldn’t want to help you at all, but Silvaris told me to play nice, so I will,” Farida said as she leaned back on her cushion, fingers tapping thoughtfully on the table. “Unfortunately for you, the Desharin aren’t all that interested in empowering some city-dwelling brat who’d rather side with snakes than his own people.”

Zareth took a deep breath, reminding himself that getting into an argument with someone as stubborn as Farida wouldn’t do him any good.

“If I didn’t know you, then I’d question if this was actually you playing nice,” Zareth said through gritted teeth. “I would think that the Desharin would prefer to focus on the very present danger of the Conclave rather than worrying about me cooperating with House Vhelan. Have you forgotten that Tal’Qamar is currently at war, and the consequences if we were to lose?”

“Oh, please. The Conclave was more than content to simply ignore us while they were in power,” Farida said with a dismissive scoff. “I see no reason why the Desharin should care about the snakes infighting when the outcome hardly affects us.”

Zareth sincerely doubted that was true.

“How could you possibly say that this war doesn’t matter to you? Even if you don’t care about who controls Tal’Qamar, there’s no way that the Desharin aren’t affected by the closing trade routes, the increasingly scarce water, or the possible attacks that could happen anywhere in the city.”

“All transient problems. The Desharin will endure through the guidance of Silvaris.”

“The Conclave literally sent [Assassins] to kill you just a month ago!”

“I’m alive, aren’t I? If those second-rate killers are the best they can do, then the Conclave are even less of a threat than I thought.”

Zareth’s jaw fell open at the absurdity of what he’d just heard. There was so much wrong with Farida’s perspective that he barely knew where to begin.

“I’m glad to hear that you’re so confident, but not all of us are so lucky!” Zareth snapped, frustration overpowering his self-control. “Just tell me what it is you want for your people’s assistance. Stop treating this like it’s some petty game!”

“I’ve already told you what I want, boy. For you to cease associating with those snakes and show some loyalty to your own people,” Farida replied, her voice as cold as ice.

Zareth carefully studied the old priestess’ expression and realized that there was no use attempting to negotiate with a stubborn zealot.

What a complete waste of time.

“Unlike you, House Vhelan has already assisted me on multiple occasions,” said Zareth, his voice suddenly calm as he stood from his seat. “I’d hoped we could find some common ground, but I see that’s impossible. Thank you for the tea.”

With that, he bowed to Farida and started to make his way out of the temple. Zareth was already considering several different options for finding the lost temple of Meldorath when he was unexpectedly interrupted by a sigh and a harsh voice.

“Wait.”

Zareth halted in his tracks, glancing over his shoulders to see Farida staring at him with a strange expression. He wasn’t sure what it was, but something in the priestess’ eyes filled him with a sense of foreboding.

“Perhaps you’re right. It is unreasonable for me to expect you to side with us when you have no reason to do so,” said Farida, her voice solemn.

Zareth felt a surge of hope begin to grow within him. There were other factions that he could make contact with in order to locate the temple of Meldorath, but he truly would prefer to work with the Desharin. Not only because they were the most well suited for this task, but also because his cult really needed to maintain a good relationship with them.

Unfortunately, Farida’s next actions poured cold water on those hopes.

“That being the case… perhaps it’s time that I gave you that reason,” said Farida, her voice carrying a sense of finality as if she’d just made an important decision.

“What are yo—”

Before he could react, the air around Farida seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy and wrapped itself around Zareth, completely immobilizing him. Zareth’s vision blurred for a split second as he was encompassed by the energy being emitted by Farida. Panic welled up within him as he tried to break free and call out for Rizok to help him, but found his voice muffled and distant.

Zareth found his gaze locking with Farida’s, and in that moment, it felt like he was no longer looking at an old and curmudgeonly priestess whose only dangerous attribute was her sharp tongue. Instead, he felt as though he was staring into the heart of an endless desert, vast and merciless to any who dared to tread where they do not belong.

“There’s no need to worry, boy. I have no intention of hurting you,” said Farida, her voice echoing eerily around him. “I merely intend to… give you a quick lesson on our people’s history. Perhaps then you’ll understand some of our perspective.”

Zareth tried his hardest to ask Farida what she meant by that, but found himself unable to say anything as the world around him began to fade away. What happened next was an experience frightfully similar to when he touched the artifact which allowed him to speak with Cerebon. His consciousness was sent spiraling until his surroundings began to coalesce once more and he found himself standing in a completely different place.

“What is this?!” Zareth exclaimed as he took in his new surroundings.

It was clear to him that he was somewhere in the middle of the Qahtani Desert, the vast dunes and the scorching sun high above leaving no room for doubt. However, he definitely wasn’t alone, as all around him were a large number of Desharin resting around what seemed to be a large oasis only slightly smaller than the one which sustained Tal’Qamar.

The oasis was full of life, with tall palm trees casting shadows on the water’s edge and providing a place of respite for the Desharin to relax. The atmosphere was lively, with children playing near the water, men and women engaging in various chores, and the elderly socializing in the shade of the trees. Zareth couldn’t help but notice that the Desharin seemed… distinctly happier than he was used to seeing them. Even their sand elementals seemed more powerful and robust.

However, the fact that none of the Desharin were paying him even the slightest bit of attention quickly aroused his suspicion.

Zareth took a deep breath to calm himself down before opening his third-eye, immediately confirming his suspicions. Everything that he was seeing was an illusion, one laced with divine energy and manifested in a way that was entirely too real. As he focused on the illusion and attempted to see beyond it, the illusionary world began to shimmer and ripple as if about to collapse.

“Amazing. I hadn’t expected you to be able to see through my [Echoes of Silvaris],” said Farida, her voice astonished as she suddenly appeared next to Zareth. “I assume that third eye of yours is responsible? It’s practically glowing with divine energy. Your god must have high expectations if he’s gifted you something so powerful. I’d ask that you close it, boy, before you shatter the entire illusion.”

Zareth very much didn’t do that, instead glaring at Farida with open resentment. “Do you really expect me to listen to you when you’ve done nothing but treat me rudely and brought me here without even the slightest warning? What is wrong with you?”

Much to his annoyance, Farida merely chuckled softly before responding. “Perhaps I should’ve told you first, but then I wouldn’t have gotten to see that look on your face. This is merely a memory formed by one of my Skills, [Echoes of Silvaris]. It allows me to both remember and share memories from my god’s most faithful servants. I often use it to educate the younger members of our people.”

Educate or indoctrinate?

Zareth huffed in annoyance as he closed his third eye and crossed his arms. “Fine. Then hurry up and show me whatever it is that you think is so important. I don’t want to be here forever.”

“Of course. I’ve no doubt that you have more important things to do than learn our people’s history,” Farida replied with a hint of sarcasm before turning to face him. “If you wish to understand why I’ve brought you here, then answer me this, boy. Which oasis are you currently standing in?”

Zareth blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. Looking around, he suddenly realized that there was something very strange about this oasis. In a land as inhospitable as the Qahtani Desert, any body of water as large as this one should have been a hub of activity for miles around, and yet Zareth couldn’t see any permanent settlements or other structures.

Not only that, but there was something notably… artificial and perfect about the oasis. The exact symmetry of the palm trees that surrounded it, the perfectly clear water, and the exact proportion of the oasis relative to the dunes which surrounded it.

“I don’t know,” Zareth admitted as he looked around in growing confusion. “This oasis doesn’t match any descriptions to the ones I’ve heard about. There’s also something strange about it.”

“Sharp eye,” Farida said, nodding in approval. “In truth, this oasis has no name. After all, there is no particular reason why we would name a mere temporary landmark. What you are looking at is the product of a Skill by the name of [Haven Manifestation].”

Zareth’s mouth immediately fell wide open once he processed Farida’s words. There were a lot of things that were possible with Skills, but to create an oasis nearly as large as the one which allowed Tal’Qamar to exist was absolutely insane.

“Impossible. If the Desharin had a Skill like this, then every single person in the Qahtani Desert would have heard about it,” Zareth said with obvious skepticism before suddenly realizing what the old woman was implying. “Are you trying to convince me that the Great Houses have… done something that prevents you from being able to use this Skill?”

“Clever. I knew there was a reason why I thought you would’ve been a capable [Priest] for Silvaris,” said Farida, a mixture of appreciation and regret passing through her expression before she continued. “[Haven Manifestation] is a Skill which can only be acquired through a secret and very specific series of Class and Skill consolidations known only to the Desharin. Unfortunately, the Great Houses somehow discovered part of this series and did everything they could to prevent us from completing it.”

It took a moment for Zareth to understand what Farida meant. He’d heard rumors before about situations like this happening, but never imagined that it would be something he’d actually encounter.

It was common knowledge that powerful groups hoarded information about the System, learning the requirements to acquire special Skills or Classes and keeping it for themselves.

For example, a city’s Blacksmith’s Guild might discover that forging a particular type of weapon with a rare material during the full moon would unlock the [Moon Forged Blacksmith] Class. That guild would then go on to do everything they could to keep that process a secret while their competitors would do everything in their power to uncover it.

In that scenario, if the guild’s rivals discovered the rare materials needed to forge the weapon but didn’t know the rest of the requirements to acquire the Class, they might take actions to ensure the material became inaccessible.

If Zareth’s reasoning was right, then Farida was accusing the Great Houses of doing something similar to the Desharin. Turning his attention back to the illusion, Zareth immediately understood just how much this would have affected these people.

[Haven Manifestation] was a Skill which would have allowed the Desharin to live freely and somewhat prosperously as they traveled Qahtani Desert, free from the influence of the Great Houses. In current times, the Desharin were essentially forced to live near the various oasis cities across the desert, never traveling too far from a consistent water source and constantly being at the mercy of those who controlled these areas.

If this was true, then the Great Houses were essentially suppressing the autonomy of the Desharin, pushing them to a slow death as their culture and way of life was gradually eroded.

No wonder Farida is always so bitter and vitriolic, Zareth thought with a wince.

It also explained why the Desharin didn’t really care about the war. The Conclave might have suppressed the worship of Silvaris, but the Great Houses had done just as much to hurt them.

As far as they were concerned, this was just a war between two enemy factions.

“Ah. I see now that you’re beginning to understand,” Farida said, her voice filled with zealous anger. “Now you see just what the people you’ve chosen to side with have done to our people. While we Desharin once roamed these sands freely and unfettered, the Great Houses have put shackles around our necks! We became not the free desert folk of legend, but slaves to the oases and their masters, and that’s far from all they’ve done."

For nearly a minute, Farida continued to rant about the various injustices the Desharin had suffered in Tal’Qamar from her perspective. From the exorbitant tax on salt, which caused difficulties in food preservation and created difficulties in malnutrition, to particular articles of traditional clothing being banned in the city.

During her rant, the old priestess mentioned quite a few issues which Zareth had never heard of before.

It was… quite illuminating, and made it clear to him that Tal’Qamar was far more complicated than he’d known. The city seemed like it was caught in an intricate web of power, politics, and historical grudges that drove the actions of its many factions.

All he wanted to do was grow his cult and increase his Levels, but he was starting to get the feeling that things would not be that easy.

Several questions in particular ran through his mind.

If the Great Houses did something like this to the Desharin, then would they do something similar to him? Which of the Houses were actually involved in this, and was House Vhelan one of them? What had the Desharin, a group of nomads with little political power, done to warrant that kind of enmity?

Zareth honestly didn’t want to involve himself with these kinds of issues, but he knew that he had little choice. The cult of Cerebon was a growing faction in Tal’Qamar’s political landscape, so situations like these would pop up more and more.

Still, Zareth would prefer to learn more from a less biased source before he committed himself to any particular course of action. Even if Farida may have reasons for her actions, that didn't change the fact that she was an old and bitter woman who had never given him a kind word in her life.

“Thank you for sharing this with me, Priestess Farida. I will certainly do what I can to learn more about the Great Houses and their actions in the future,” Zareth began, choosing his words cautiously once she was done with her rant. “However, I don’t feel comfortable making any decisions for my cult until I do so.”

Farida stared at him silently for several long moments with an inscrutable expression before finally nodding. “That is fair. You have little reason to trust my words, and are likely too young to understand the cruelty of those in power. It would be unreasonable for me to expect a different response immediately.”

Zareth let out a breath of relief. There had always been something about Farida that didn’t seem completely stable, so he was glad that her reaction was somewhat reasonable. However, her next words were more than a little surprising.

“I will recommend to the Council of Elders that they grant you assistance in navigating the sands and finding the temple you’re looking for,” said Farida, her gaze softening a fraction. “Despite my reservations, Lord Silvaris has ordered me to treat you fairly, and it is clear to me that I’ve failed to do so. You may consider this both an apology and a gesture of goodwill. Although, I sincerely doubt you’ll feel thankful once you’re experiencing the great sands for yourself.”

Zareth was more than a little taken aback, not expecting such a swift change in Farida’s demeanor. Still, he quickly gave a respectful nod, not wanting to risk her changing her mind now that he’d gotten what he came for.

“Thank you, Priestess. This means more to me than you know. I won’t forget it.”

As Zareth looked back up, he noticed Farida continuing to stare at the peaceful Desharin surrounding the oasis with nostalgia as the illusion began to dissipate. For that brief moment, Zareth could see the heavy burden of representing her people the old human priestess carried in the stoop of her shoulders and the exhaustion in her sunken eyes. Then she straightened her posture and became the familiar, imperturbable priestess of Silvaris once again.

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