The Dig

[VaevictisAsmadi]

28-5-834
The Amber Citadel

---

A Master cuts off a boy's finger.
The boy cries and runs away.
The master calls him back and holds up his own finger.
The boy looks at it and is enlightened.

"Why would you cut a child?" Arthur mumbled under his breath as his body slid into the hole. He held his breath, and swallowed his stomach for the next section. "Cutting people's fingers, these blokes are insane. Who the hell makes up these ridles?" Finally, he reached the crack and saw the inner garden.

The artificial grass was a mix of colors reminiscent of autumn leaves. Orangue hue masked almost all other colors in the sanctum. The fissures and crevices of the cavern walls were filled with candles and torches. In the middle was the Reverend, dressed in jet black. Inky robes flowed and crashed into his stygian throne. A squad of blue-robed guards was kneeling in front of him. He was yelling another lecture on brotherly love while designing their routes.

Their faces were already familiar to Arthur. He scribbled the names and the routes yet again. For many, the selection of people and destinations could seem bizarre, but when it was formed into hours, gathered into days, and poured out on a map, it made sense. People who hate each other don't conspire or share. They were always on guard against each other. "And remember, love thy brother. Love him! Guard him against sin!"

The Reverend turned to his chair while adorations filled the room behind him. As the blue robes left, the red ones came in. They were his conspirators, for the next hour, in ascending order of importance, daily life will be discussed. Staring at the number of new followers, their progress, to schemes and gossip between the various groups. 

Holding his breath, Arthur started his crawl to the cell. He had timed it to be there at least ten minutes before his patron would check on him. "Ten thousand credits for this bull... a week to feel the old loon's wisdom. 'A room close to his Eminence' yeah, right.". As the walls closed in, the light vanished. He moved slowly and felt around for the drop with his hands. After a few minutes, the end expanded into a tiny room. Arthur jumped lightly onto the floor. He kneeled and stretched on the mat. A dim amber light oozed lightly from where he came. 

There was a silent knock before the door opened. His teacher came with a candle, giving off a gentle light. "Have you found enlightenment, pupil?". "Which finger was cut off?" the teacher grimaced. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, and his teeth clicked. With anoyance, he said, "No, no, it's not about the finger. Next time, accept the breather mask. It will clear your mind. Let me tell you another koan.".

A monk was seeking enlightenment.
The master sent him home, thinking of an ox.
The monk couldn't leave his room.
Later, the master asked him why.
The monk replied, "My horns are too big.".

Pearly teeth flashed in a smile, the cleric proud of some great design unseen by Arthur. "I will leave you to ponder this one, acolyte.". A loud clank from the door was followed by subsiding footsteps. Arthur reached up and started his climb. "I hope that man from the NCC is right. I'm going to lose my mind if help doesn't come soon.". Excited voices reverberated between the walls.

"More and more scientists join or flock!" chimed one monk. "Sire, the miracles you have provided prove you're the holliest of men! Truly, the object is a sign from God.". The minions had finished the procedures and were now cleaning the hands and feet of their lord. His body was twitching from the orange haze that poured into his system. "Father, he is here.". Another figure had appeared at the door. If he hadn't been announced, Arthur wouldn't have noticed him.

He leaned off the door and approached them with finesse. All of his various equipment was fastened tightly, and no sound was heard from his steps. "Jones, we need to talk about our deal." The Reverend stood up on his throne and locked eyes with the newcomer. "I agree." The cleric motioned for his followers to be calm. "Address me correctly in front of my clergy.".

Disgust flashed for a moment on the brigands faces. "You are late on your promises. You should have had everything set up for extraction. I shall not tolerate anymore delays!". Hands moved into silk, and metal jumped into view. In the blink of an eye, red robes gave way to guns and swords. The jet-black robes and throne disappeared beneath a wave of willing bodies.

Arthur held his breath as both sides waited. "As you see, we are prepared to face any aggression." The reverend spoke calmly. "Why do you doubt a holy man?" His voice came from everywhere. The lonesome blackguard eased his posture. His face slowly and deliberately turned to Arthur. Something felt wrong, as if both men were suddenly in front of each other. Arthur felt his soul read. They were both at the poker table, and he knew he was beat. "Reverend," the Outcast spat in the grass, "can you forgive a sinner?"

Arthur rushed into the gap beside him. As if his body forgot the way. Every day he took this route, yet fear slowed him down. He fell into the cell, and a crack came from his ankle. As he limped through the compound, he read his notes for the guard patrols. At this time, his only chance was the path near the Holy Room. Old service doors rushed past him as faraway voices took up a strange chant.

The Holy Room was where the Reverend performed his miracles. As he turned the corner, he saw the metal door etched with strange markings. His mouth watered, and his stomach turned. He had seen people come out of there without wounds, without scars, without burn marks, and yet they all looked somewhat wrong. "Why do I feel disgust?". He held his breath and rushed besides the door. A low thrum came to his chest when he passed, and after a few unsure strides, he vomited. He leaned against the wall and continued away from the acursed place.

Arthur left the compound through an old service shaft. The public part of the settlement was filled to the brim. Smiles, cheers, and songs echoed above in the high ceilings of the tunnel. People clad in white silk danced with bare feet, as Arthur hurried to the visitor lodge. A small crowd of would-be acolytes, passersby, and traders watched the unending festival outside. "Watch it, geezer!" Arthur said as he ran an old man to the ground. Jumping a few steps at a time up the staircase.

The door opened, and the men were waiting. A colorful ensemble of blue and yellow robes greeted Arthur. His teacher was in front, smiling. "Acolyte Gaehan, have your studies borne fruit?" A pistol was thrown in front of Arthur. "Why did you bring, tools of the Devil into this Holy City?". The men overtook him, and he was lost in a waterfall of fists and kicks. Curses poured at his ears as hurt gripped him. At first he remained stoic, but his will gave and he pleaded. His consciousness slipped, and he drifted into a dark sea of pain.

---

The old man dusted himself off and went to the backroom. Muffled shouting and painful screams came from upstairs. As he hurried to his room, a prayer was on his lips. The verses continued in a sweet silent song, in contrast to the sharp screams. A man asked for mercy, but none came. The old man's room was humbly decorated. He took out the Arthurs notepad from within his coat. On the last page a panicked "Help" was scratched. As he unscrewed one of the room side panels, the beatings gave way to deathly silence. Under the panel a hidden comms terminal flashed to light. The sacred NCC symbol, a glimmer of hope. "Deux Our Lord is merciful and forgiving, even though we have rebelled against him. Amen".