April 8, 9 ATC

Somewhere near the Crack River, Pollination-Crosshares Commonwealth

Zissman sat at a small, dank desk in his room, reading Scripture by candlelight. It had been a few days since Inferno fell, and the Badaz League had eagerly spread news of her death. According to reports, she was hung from the parapets of her castle, and her body was then buried in an unmarked grave. A most undignified fate, Zissman thought.

He and the men with him had traveled downriver to Inferno's designated meeting point: an ancient mausoleum, repurposed and rebuilt as a safehouse in case things went awry. Already, Zissman had sent out letters to the nobles of Inferno's realm, telling them of what had happened and where to regroup and discuss the future of the war. Success was in his grasp.

Of course, now Zissman had to tidy up his affairs before he could move on. He had to wait for everything to fall into its proper place; an infuriating requirement when he was so close to achieving his goals.

Zissman shook his head and cleared his mind, refocusing on the Scripture passage he was reading:

And the Red Maiden said to the White Maiden, "Be patient, my love. Does the farmer reap his fields when his crops are half-grown? Does the tax collector take what is due before the harvest? No, they do not. Seek only good and be patient in seeking. For I say to you and all others, if you let greed and eagerness cloud your vision, you will grasp at plenty and find only dust."

A knock on Zissman's chamber door startled him from his ruminations. Sighing, he closed his book.

"Come in," he grumbled. Jannis opened the door.

"Forgive me, Scion, but I have some very interesting news for you." Jannis stood partially in the doorway to suggest that Zissman should follow him out. Zissman frowned and stood.

"Okay, Jannis. I'll bite." Jannis nodded and exited, and Zissman followed. As they walked through the damp stone hallways of the safehouse, Zissman wondered what could be so important. At last, they exited the safehouse and went out onto the docks, which were obscured from the outside by a thicket of trees and heavy foliage. Faker and Anti stood uncomfortably on the docks, glancing around nervously.

Zissman smiled as Jannis walked back inside. "Anti! Faker!" he exclaimed with enthusiasm. "How kind of you to join us."

"Yes," Faker said dryly. "You know, if you wanted to talk to us, you could've just sent us a letter instead of intercepting our boat. Your men are very rude."

"I had nothing to do with how you got here," Zissman said, "but now that you are, we might as well make the best of it."

"We've been battered about the Crack River for four days in a rowboat," Anti said. Her tone was flat, almost exasperated. "I really don't have the patience for games."

"I plan to take Inferno's place at the head of this war," Zissman said plainly. "You two have been with me since I came to the Subreddit. You helped me begin this war and you helped me install Inferno. You were there before her and you're here after her. Isn't it fitting that you should be around to finish this?"

"We made a deal with you four years ago," Anti said. "You don't need to convince me. I am a woman of honor; I will see it through."

"Agreed," Faker said. "I made this pact for a reason, and I intend to see it through. If it gives me the chance to take Enabler back from Contramundi, all the better."

Zissman smiled and clapped his hands. "Fantastic. I regret that this little safehouse of ours is quite… compact. Don't worry, though, you won't be here for long."

Anti nodded quietly and allowed the Church guards to lead her into the safehouse. Faker remained outside, looking at the river.

"Zissman," he said, somewhat concerned. "You should know—"

"Scion!" One of Zissman's men interrupted them, marching up the knotted slope with a grim expression. "We found something in the boat. A body, sir, with a Crossharish uniform."

"I'll be there in a moment," Zissman said. He beckoned for Faker to follow him down to the dock. "Is that what you were about to tell me?"

Faker nodded. They stopped at the dock, and Zissman peered into the boat. The captain of Inferno's honor guard, Jay, lay in the boat, severe bruises and contusions blemishing the right side of his head.

"We found him wandering around the paths outside the battlefield," Faker explained. "He was barely responsive. When Anti and I stole our boat from a nearby village, we took him along for the ride, thinking maybe we could use him. Instead he falls into a coma. Barely woke up for food or drink. Hasn't said a word in three days."

Zissman nodded. Perhaps Jay could be of some use to them.

"Let me take care of it, Faker," Zissman said. "You run along and find your lodgings. I'll handle Jay." Faker nodded uneasily at the undertones in Zissman's voice, but he obeyed.

Zissman remained on the dock, looking over Jay. His breathing was shallow, and he was covered in dried blood; apparently neither Anti nor Faker had decided to clean him up. But he was alive, and Zissman could still see a flicker of stubborn determination stained on Jay's expression. The Scion folded his hands and sighed.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked. "What will I do with you?"

He awoke in darkness. His vision was swimming and filled with splotches of light, but he was quite certain his eyelids were open. He had a head-splitting headache, though, and even opening his eyes seemed a chore. He tried to sit up, but was instantly struck by a wave of dizziness, and collapsed back down onto whatever he was laying on.

"You're awake?" A male voice spoke, startling him. He sat up and squinted into the darkness, making out only a single person. The man was dressed in fine red-and-white robes, but was facing away from him, standing over a table. He wore a red cape with a sigil of a white rose on the back. It beckoned to him, oddly.

The man walked over to his side and touched the side of his head lightly. Instantly, his head exploded in pain, and he yelped. The man removed his hand, startled, but eased him back down onto the table.

"Easy, son. You took quite a hit to the head. Better rest for a while longer."

"Who are you?" he asked. The man scratched his thin beard and smiled.

"I am Scion Irving Zissman of the Church of Thorns, but you may call me Zissman."

He shook his head. Zissman seemed kind enough, but what was this Church of Thorns he spoke of? Where was he? He tried to think back on what had happened the day before that would've led him here, but he found that he could not remember. Concerned, he thought back farther, trying to grasp anything that might've led him here, but found that he could recall nothing of what happened before he woke up. He could remember nothing at all, and the scope of that loss dawned on him slowly.

"Who am I?" he asked. Zissman sighed, and his smiled faded.

"Who you were matters little," Zissman said. "It is who you are now that matters." He found Zissman's voice soothing, and he let his head fall back onto the table.

"And who am I now?" he asked. He found himself wondering about his identity again. Strangely, he found himself caring little for whatever identity he had before. He had only a curiosity for what Zissman had to say.

Zissman, however, said nothing, instead fetching one of several books from the table he was previously standing at. "Do you mind if I read a passage from this book?"

"Not at all," he said. He was quite interested in what Zissman had to say.

Zissman flipped through the book until he found the page he wanted, cleared his throat and began: "As she said she would, the Red Maiden ventured to the top of Mount Draco, at the summit of which was the Pool of Forgetfulness. There, she meditated for three days and three nights, resisting the temptation of release from her solemn duty. At last, she completed the trial, and resolved to return to her three companions at the base of the mountain.

"But Queen Cinder had heard of the Red Maiden's plans, and sent an assassin to kill her and end her mission. But when the assassin arrived, dagger in hand, he was surprised to see only a young woman there, resting by the waters, and he felt doubt about his mission."

He felt the truth of Zissman's words coming to rest in his mind. Something about this story held a certain credence to it, a certain truth that he hadn't felt before. He leaned in, enthralled by Zissman's book.

"'Woman,' he said. 'Make your peace.' And he prepared to kill her. But the Red Maiden responded: 'Why would you kill me in this holy place? What crime have I committed?' And the assassin said, 'I know not of any crimes you have committed, but my queen decrees you must die, and so it must be.

"But the Red Maiden rebuked him, saying, 'I have committed no wrongdoing. I have broken none of our ancestral laws. To kill an innocent person is a grievous sin, and to kill one at such a holy place is a crime in itself. Your queen commands both, and as it is written, any man or woman who commands another to commit a sin is just as guilty as the one who carried it out. Repent, and drink of the Waters of Forgetfulness, and you will be forgiven.'"

"And the assassin felt the truth of her words. He drank from the Pool, and lost the old sinner to the waters. And he turned to the Red Maiden a new man. So she christened him Draco, for the mountain of his rebirth, and took his dagger and gave him a sword. So they descended the mountain, and Draco continued to serve her for the rest of her days."

He longed to hear more, to be taught more of what Zissman had shown him, but Zissman closed the book and set it on the table. He returned to him and caressed his face.

"Do you understand, my child?" he asked. "Do you know who you are?"

He nodded. "I am Draco," he said, and it came so easily. He let the words form on his tongue, feeling them out, testing them for truth, and found that they rang true. "I am Draco."

"Indeed you are," Zissman said. "You are Draco, the sword of the Church. The Goddess has cleansed you of your past wrongdoings and given you a second chance. Follow the Church, obey the Church, and you will be saved."

"Yes," Draco said. "Yes, I will follow. The Goddess has saved me. I must repay her." Draco said the words dreamily, not understanding fully, yet they made so much sense in his mind.

"You will, in time," Zissman said. He noted the disappointment his comment brought in Draco with satisfaction. Eagerness to serve was a promising trait. "But you must rest, my child. You cannot take on the Church's enemies in your condition. Rest and heal, and your time will come. I promise."

Draco nodded. Zissman noted the complete transformation of Jay's old stubbornness and skepticism into Draco's new obedience and zeal. Most promising indeed, he thought.

"Go back to sleep," Zissman said. "I'll return in the morning to see how you are." Draco obeyed and lowered himself back down onto the table. He closed his eyes and Zissman left.

A most promising conversion, Zissman thought. He had regained his old allies in Anti and Faker, send out couriers to Inferno's allies to ensure their obedience, and now he had a zealous warrior at his beck and call. Jannis was a fine general, and an exceptional intimidator, but sometimes what Zissman needed was a mindless brute to smash things. Perhaps that would come in handy when he met with Inferno's vassal lords.

Everything was in its proper place. Soon, the Church would rise.

That's a wrap, folks, but we aren't done yet. Stay tuned for part two: Meta-Fic II: New Gods!