The Redeemer Has Come

 

The Redeemer has come.

The road from the harbor to the Throne of Ascension was carpeted with flowers - white orchids for the purity of the return, lilies, the flower of the Good Father, pansies, yellow and purple, for the lost children of the age, and roses, of course. The roses didn't symbolize anything in particular, but you just couldn't have this sort of event without them, at least according to the Guild of Florists.

The Redeemer has come.

The citizenry arrived in throngs from all over the city, from the patricians of Jeweler's Peak to the beggars and lepers of Last Leap. All but the pariahs of the Heretics' Quarter, who sat sullenly at their homes, awaiting the inevitable pogrom that was sure to come when the procession concluded. Such was the way of things.

The Redeemer has come.

The temples opened their doors to all who wished to give thanks to the gods. Of course, one had to possess enough in the way of gifts to qualify, but that was par for the course - one couldn't expect the gods, mighty and ineffable as they were, to perform their services for free, especially after they already went to all the trouble of bringing the Redeemer back. That their clergy should receive a small share of the largesse intended for their masters was only sensible - the ecclesiastical orders might not be strictly divine themselves, but they were as close as anyone was likely to find on any given day.

The Redeemer has come.

The citizens waiting to greet the Redeemer were arranged in ranks, as was proper. To the front were the Genteel Classes - noblemen, high ranking members of the clergy and military, the heads of the guilds and the merchant houses - all men, of course. Behind them were the Adjutant Classes - female companions and family to the Genteel, junior clerics, craftsmen of the respectable sort and educated servants. Behind them were the Brutish Classes - laborers and sailors, hawkers, actors and musicians, novices and common soldiers. At the very back were the Classless dregs - those beggars and lepers from the depths of Last Leap, prostitutes and nightsoilmen, the physically and mentally afflicted. It wouldn't do for the Redeemer to dirty their holy sight with such filth, after all.

The Redeemer has come.

 Just as the auguries had predicted, on the day of Twelfth Sun in the Year of the Rook a ship of three masts was seen passing the Cape of Palms, heading towards the city. Its sails were crimson, azure and emerald and it was accompanied by three flights of great winged condors, the enormous birds struggling in the unfamiliar currents of the sea. That alone might have been deemed a coincidence had it not been for the collapse of king Serod's tower. The fall of the last remnant of the Heretic King's terrible reign was seen as a conclusive sign that this was truly the time.

The time for the Redeemer to come.

All the noble and noteworthy gathered at the harbor to welcome the Redeemer ashore. King Rouden IV, with his wife, three children and half a dozen concubines stood at the forefront of the crowd, sweating profusely despite the mild weather. Exactly at the sound of the second bell the Redeemer's ship crested the horizon, to the crowd's great enthusiasm. Said enthusiasm cooled ever so slightly when the ship was forced to wait for the tide to settle before landing, which took until half past the sixth bell. 

Then, the Redeemer came.

Which was distinctly worrying, since certain things about the Redeemer didn't seem to add up. First was the question of height - according to popular belief the Redeemer was supposed to tower above any ordinary man, yet here they were, standing at an entirely unimpressive five feet nothing. Second was their color, which was certainly entirely too dark (or too pale according to some, but certainly not right at all). 

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, was the matter of the Redeemer being a woman. This was of course wholly unacceptable - the very notion was the basis for a rather violent heresy not fifty years back. Well, technically speaking it was the suppression by the temples which was the violent part, but the principle of the matter stood. The canon was adamant that the Redeemer had to be a man, yet here they were, obviously lacking in certain parts and having too many of others. The crowd's mood turned rather sour but the king, gritting his teeth, swallowed his pride and, his head ever so slightly inclined, offered a pudgy ringed hand to the Redeemer.

Who looked at him as if he was offering her the corpse of a half-eaten skunk. Refusing his hand she looked at the assembled crowd, so neatly divided into ranks, at the gilded domes of the palace and the temples and at the dilapidation of the harbor, at the sneering faces of the clerics. She took a step back, turned from the crowd and walked back up the gangplank to her magnificent ship.

The Redeemer was gone.