Chapter 1 – Divine Encounters

“Citizens of Bellumor City!” a Royal Guard called down from the castle wall balcony to the Towne Square below. Evelyn, a miller’s daughter from just outside the city gates, gently applied the brake to her pulley-and-leather carriage, parking quickly to catch the announcement. As she jumped out of her seat, she looked up at the Royal Guard who had just spoken. “Our King Samuel was granted a Divine Encounter last night! An announcement of this encounter will be given by Prince Jonah of Bellumor in just a few short moments. Please gather in the Square below to hear this important Royal Proclamation.”

Evelyn’s heart leapt. She traveled through town often, delivering flour to patrons for her father, but she had never been present for a Royal Proclamation, and certainly not a summary of a divine encounter.
Evelyn took the opportunity to move her carriage to a better spot, one more convenient for making many flour deliveries. As she locked the carriage door and waited for the Proclamation, she looked around at her favorite place in the world.

Towne Square was the sight of the most grand market in all of Bellumor Kingdom, if not all of Akelian itself. It was one of the only places in the city where trees could be found. Large trees with drooping branches, full of yellow leaves, lined the walk around the Square. In the center was a massive, elegant fountain where young children would often throw coins given to them by their parents. People would often sit along the fountain, lazily dipping their hands in while they took a break from their shopping. Many restaurants had outdoor seating within the Square itself, and people loved making picnics under the drooping trees. Evelyn often brought her copy of the Script, her Kingdom’s religious scripture, and would read it underneath one of these trees in between deliveries. She wasn’t alone either. Many people brought their copies of the Script to the Square, to pray in the presence of the Divinely appointed Royal Family.
The Square’s wide open space was perfect for setting up all kinds of shops, particularly because it was the only place in Bellumor City that sunlight was not blocked out by the massive buildings for most of the day. Shops and stands sold everything from toys and clothes to bread and meat. During the peak hours of the afternoon, this Square was alive with consumers, hustling and bustling about and gathering up the day’s shopping.

But for Evelyn, the pale light of morning had only just begun to creep into the Square, which was mostly empty since vendors weren’t yet set up for the day. An early morning feel hung in the crisp air as a few people bustled, most of them shop owners and tradesmen getting ready for the day. It didn’t take long for the announcement of a Royal Proclamation to reach the rest of the city, and the early morning silence was quickly snuffed as the streets began to flood with people, pouring in to find a spot with a good view of the castle wall’s balcony.

The atmosphere was tense with excitement as people cluttered closer and closer together. The Royal Family was blessed with divine encounters from God and his Disciples, and they often appeared before members of the Royal Family to offer their praise and guidance.

As the sea of knocking arms and elbows continued to grow, Evelyn thought it best to climb to the roof of the carriage. Before long, the Square was full to bursting with Bellumor City citizens, their chatter filling the air with an excited sort of buzz. As she sat on the roof and waited, she allowed her mind to wander. Her family, along with most every decent family in the kingdom, were Disciplists: good, God-fearing people with a healthy respect for God and his Divine Disciples, each one granted divinity by God himself, so that they may carry out God’s divine plans. Evelyn’s family most often prayed to Mapenzela, the Disciple of love and family, God’s only daughter. Many prayed to Gledion, Disciple of Joy, hoping to find happiness. During more dark times, one may pray to Tukkar, Disciple of melancholy, for guidance.

In all, there were thirteen Disciples that carried out God’s orders, and each one received prayers of their own, for that was the only was the common man had to communicate with God and his Disciples: prayer. Only the Royal Family had been granted the right of Divine Encounter, where a Disciple would personally visit and give guidance, advice, or even warnings.

As she waited, Evelyn couldn’t help but let her mind wander as she imagined what a divine encounter must be like for someone who had never experienced one, such as herself. Which Disciple would she want to encounter anyway? Perhaps, Nanamae, the Disciple of Wisdom– she could teach her how to wisely handle the criticisms of her father– or possibly Nimea, the Disciple of Creativity– perhaps Nanamae could grant her a new talent, or any talent really. Aside from being a great help around the farm, Evelyn couldn’t think of any special talents she might have…nothing that would attract a husband, something her father was quick to remind her of. Perhaps she could have a divine encounter with Mapenzela, who could point her in the direction of her future husband…

Evelyn’s musings were interrupted by a sudden roar of cheers from the crowd; Prince Jonah had appeared on the balcony above, holding a rolled-up scroll in his hands. He was a tall, slightly pudgy man in the formal royal dress (a fine suit of deep violet dotted with golden trimmings). His face was the color of cream, and atop his blonde head sat an ornate golden crown…one that was not commonly seen by the citizens, unless the news was of a more serious nature.

The Prince held up his hand, and the crowd fell silent.

“My fellow humans, citizens of the grand kingdom of Bellumor, I stand before you today with news of a Divine Enounter.”

Roars and applause boomed from the audience. Evelyn could feel her heart leaping with girlish excitement. To think she was here to see a proclamation for a Divine Encounter! She thought of her sister Maryella, who obsessed over anything related to the Royal Family. She was going to squeal with delight when Evelyn told her of this.

The crowd fell silent as the Prince held up his hand once again. “Last night, my father was visited by Disciple of Love, Mapenzela herself.” Awed murmurs flittered through the crowd. Evelyn kept her attention excitedly on the Prince. “In this encounter, Mapenzela expressed having a heavy heart as she sees the plague of disappearances happening within our walls. Many of our own have gone missing in recent months, vanishing without a trace, leaving children fatherless, and parents childless. Even some whole families have been lost, leaving our communities to mourn in fear of who will be next. Mapenzela fears the continued loss of our citizens to this unknown force. She warns that the threat to our people will grow if we do not take defensive action, and says her heart grows heavy. She asked us to remind you, the citizens of Bellumor, that she watches on and loves you all.”

With a handsome, assuring smile from the prince, awed murmurs swept through the crowd. Evelyn herself felt reassured just to know that a member of the Divine was thinking of them. Surely this meant everything would be getting better soon, and the disappearances would finally be old news. “Contrary to what some have suggested,” Prince Jonah continued, “the Crown and Court do not believe that our own people are responsible for these disappearances–” Mutters quickly morphed as some began to shout, other began to scoff at the very idea. Everyone knew exactly who had been suggesting that good, hard working citizens were responsible for these attacks. They’d been making the same accusations ever since the disappearances first began many years ago, accusations that were unfounded and, quite frankly, unfair. These Sympaths have gone too far this time, she thought.
“The cause remains a mystery,” The Prince projected loudly, and the noisy crowd finally subsided, allowing him to speak. “We are conducting a thorough investigation and are confident that we will find the culprits, and finally get some answers that we so desperately crave.”

A deafening applause exploded, making Evelyn ump and clasp her hands to her ears. Some members of the crowd urgently shushed others as the Prince waited patiently to continue.
“Mapenzela urges us to be more prepared, to protect our people from these invisible, but very real threats. The time to act is now!” Cheers and affirmations swelled from the crowd. Evelyn applauded rapidly along with everyone else, not taking her eyes off of the prince.
“The time to act is now,” Price Jonah repeated. “In response to the increased disappearances in our cities, the Crown and Court impose these new actions, effective immediately.” The Prince unrolled the scroll in his hand and began to read. “Action One: Bellumor Court is reinstating the draft for the Militia. All able-bodied men over the age of sixteen should be prepared to receive orders, and to report to their required stations within seven says of receipt. Able-bodied women will be accepted into the militia, but will currently not be subject to the draft. Failure to respond to a draft notice will result in arrest, and execution for treason via public hanging.”

Mutters rippled through the crowd once again, but these were more ominous and subdued. The draft hadn’t been used in decades, not since the First War with the elves nearly a hundred years ago. Surely, Evelyn thought, this couldn’t be a good sign.
“Action Two: All citizens of Bellumor Kingdom currently abroad are required to report home within the next thirty days. This ensures that all Bellumor citizens will be under the safety and protection of the newly assembled Militia.
“Action Three: Because citizens are disappearing from Bellumor City, the gate to the city will be closed, and all travel into and out of Bellumor City will be halted–” He paused as angry shouts and growls from the crowd began to drown out his words. Evelyn’s heart dropped. Her family lived outside of the city, in Bellumor’s vast Farmlands just outside the city walls. If they weren’t allowed to pass through the gates of the wall, they couldn’t do business within the city. And the city was where they made most of their money. What in the world was she going to tell her father? “Those who travel back and forth for work or trade are exempt from this action, and will be given special passage to continue their work. However, please be advised that all merchants granted special passage will e subject to random searches by the Gate Guardsmen,” the Prince said with a raised but calm voice. Many sighs of relief came from the crowd, Evelyn’s included among them. At least she didn’t have to go home and tell her father to expect a huge blow to their income. All the same though, Evelyn couldn’t help but feel concerned. She had been taught that closing city gates was a measure reserved for dangerous situations. From what she had heard on the city’s thriving gossip chain, only a handful of people had gone missing thus far. Was that really enough to warrant such an extreme measure? “This concludes the actions of Royal Proclamation 412, The Safety First Proclamation,” Prince Jonah said as he rolled up the piece of parchment. “With your loyalty and cooperation, we know that Bellumor will see past these disappearances and return to an era of peace–”

“MURDERERS!” A dark voice shouted from behind. Evelyn turned around to see a raven-haired man with a short, dark beard, his face and clothes covered in soot, standing on the roof of a baker’s stand. Frightened, the baker scrambled from underneath the now swaying and unsteady structure. “LIES! EVASION! DOES THE CROWN KNOW NO LIMIT TO ITS POWER?!”

Evelyn recognized the man immediately as Lysander, a disgraced blacksmith. Many men had crowded the baker’s little stand in attempt to forcefully silence him, but Lysander had pulled two short swords from his belt. Evelyn could see a shield hanging from his back as he widened his stance, a sword in each hand. The men who had gathered were now slowly backing away. Disgraced or not, Lysander was the most talented blacksmith in the kingdom, and his proficiency with his weapons was legendary.
Evelyn could see Prince Jonah, standing stiffly on the castle balcony in silence.
“You talk of disappearances, yet you refuse to acknowledge exactly who has gone missing among our people! The only people that have gone missing are Sympaths, those among us with the brains to know the elves speak the truth, not the Crown and its ‘Divine Encounters’.”
He pointed one of his swords to the crowd around him as he spoke, as if everyone there shared the blame of what has happened. “Every single missing person, a Sympath, or from a Sympath family. We are being hunted and attacked just for wanting to listen to the elves, to at least hear what they have to say. And yet you address your people without assigning blame, knowingly stoking the rumor that the elves are the ones behind this!”

Many people in the crowd scoffed and booed.
“They’re the murderers!” one man shouted from the crowd. “Lies!” “They would see us all rot!” “Those elves will kill us all!”

Lysander shouted over the crowd that was trying so hard to drown him out, directly to Prince Jonah. “What say you, Prince of Lies? What say you to the murder of your own people, by your own people? You do NOTHING to protect those with a different point of view. You look the other way while good and honest people are slaughtered in the streets. Our people aren’t missing; they’re dead! Murdered, while the Crown and Court do nothing!”
The crowd was dangerously close to a riot. People were spitting in Lysander’s direction, shouting and screaming for someone to grab him and silence him. Evelyn’s stomach ached as she hear the most derogartory slur that existed in their kingdom, one reserved for perceived traitors and scum that swirled caustically through the air toward Lysander: Symp. Over and over the word was spat at him as members of the crowd winced upon hearing it, but Lysander didn’t flinch. Evelyn knew that he was used to this treatment. The townspeople could hardly do any more damage to him than they had already done.
“SILENCE!” Prince Jonah shouted from the balcony, and the booming sound of a trumpet reverberated through the Square to quell the crowd. Everyone fell silent and looked up at the Prince, while Lysander held his ground on the roof of the baker’s stand, swords still drawn. “My father’s divine encounter with Mapenzela finally brought answers to these questions. The great goddess offered words of wisdom that she wanted passed down to all of our people.” He paused for a moment, and the crowd held its breath.

“Though there are those among us that carry beliefs that border on treason–” the Prince’s gaze shifted to the direction of Lysander, who was shaking with anger, “–we must remember that they are still our citizens. This young man is able to stand up and express his beliefs without fear of persecution by the Crown or the Court, as is the right of every human, a divine right given by God and his Disciples. The Disciple Danaya of Empathy has taught us to be compassionate and tolerant of those that hold beliefs that are different from our own, provided–” he looked severely at Lysander, “–that those beliefs do not cause harm to others. I strongly advise all of our citizens to remember the teachings of Danaya, and to offer empathy to our Sympath brothers and sisters. They are not traitorous; they are misguided. The Crown and Court of this glorious kingdom will enter council and work to correct the misguided beliefs of the Sympaths, and to save them from themselves. To the Synpaths, I offer this kind reminder: you will receive no persecution from the Crown or the Court.”
With that last statement, Prince Jonah elegantly bowed his head in thanks, and turned toward the balcony door. “YOU DON’T NEED TO PERSECUTE US!” Lysander shouted desperately from the roof as it gave a threatening wobble beneath his feet. “YOUR OWN PEOPLE DO IT FOR YOU!”
But the Prince was gone, leaving no indication that he had heard Lysander at all. The crowd turned to Laysander. A few people just pointed and shouted at him, as if he were a poorly misbehaved, child. Others, however, wanted to take Lysander down by any means necessary. Two large men had started to topple the baker’s stand, but Lysander had already leapt from the stand to a garden wall. Then, in a flash, he disappeared over the wall. The two large men went to follow, but he was nowhere to be found.

Evelyn sighed as she finally climbed down from the roof of her carriage, unable to get Lysander out of her mind. He looked so filthy, so…heathenish!
As she pulled out her delivery cart and piled sacks of flour onto it to be delivered, she remembered a younger Lysander that was much more of a gentleman, much more presentable. Of course, that was many years ago, back when they were children, before Lysander’s father was hung for treason.
A pang of guilt rushed through Evelyn’s stomach. If only he’d had better parents, she couldn’t help but think as he headed toward her first customer. Perhaps he wouldn’t have turned out so badly.
As Evelyn made her deliveries, smiling and bowing as she traded flour for money, all her customers could talk about was the morning’s surprise Proclamation. Though the opinions of the Proclamation’s actions varied, two thoughts were universally shared: the elves were trying to ignite a war with Bellumor, and Sympaths, like Lysander, were helping them.