Today I treated Sabbath properly, I worshipped God, rested, and the only work I did involved religious studies... and I started writing for pleasure again. I think this is going to be a long piece about a king who is told by a prophet to go to the 7 monothiestic communities in the known-world and be forgiven by them for killing his father and marrying his mother. And the adventure beings.
The Fool
By Chris Halverson
As I looked up the sloping sandstone minaret of the Cathedral of Amul, the Purile’s god, I thought of a verse of their scripture, ‘salvation comes from above.’ I had read that the height of the tower was intended to remind the nomads of the area of that verse, and I suppose to the cow herders the… seven, maybe eight, story tower was impressive, though it was nothing compared to my Palace I had left in Torvettii.
“E’scuse me sire,” said a Purile beggar slouched below me in the shadowy corner of the twofold gate I was entering.
I rested against my staff and reached for my Alms purse at my side, “Here,” I said, gently tossing a nicked bronze Jortall into his dusty open hands. His large mouth broke into a toothy grin and let out a fast string of Purilei that was too accented for me to make out, though he did say, “Moray,” many times, which means thank you or blessings.
“You are welcome,” I said in the best Purilei I knew.
He bowed low against the sand, melting into the shadows of the gate as he slunk away from me.
So I entered into the city of Amul-Bei. Translated the city’s name is the Cathedral of Amul, or perhaps more properly the House of Amul. It was still early morning, rather cool, as desert mornings tend to be. I had spent the night a few clicks to the north, sleeping just out of sight of a nomad family that I ended up watching for most of the night. I awoke before the nomads did, a rather impressive task if I do say so myself, and headed into Amul-Bei.
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