He supposed this was what happened when one had over fifteen thousand years to build a fortress. That was when the construction of the Citadel had begun: fifteen thousand years ago. Teragdor was not even certain if any kingdom, nation, or civilization on Astlan, outside the alfar, had even survived that long. Obviously, the alfar had royal lineage on that timescale and longer. Perhaps, on Nysegard, it was the close work of the alfar, dwarves, humans, orcs and others that had allowed this civilization, this society, to survive so long, particularly in the face of such adversity.
He shook his head, once again marveling at the strangeness of his own thoughts. Alfar and orcs working together? To say these were interesting times was so far beyond an understatement. He sighed and then peered down to the giant moat below them. He suddenly realized that something odd was going on. He had not been paying much attention to all the activity along the extremely wide and long moat that wrapped the giant fortress, but he now realized that the activity was quite strange. Or at least he thought it was; he was not that familiar with moats. Only the largest fortifications in Murgandy had true moats.
This moat was not a dirt channel filled with muck; no, it was a solid stone-lined channel with gigantic, shaped stones on par with those of the walls. What was odd was that the water level in the moat seemed noticeably lower than it had been when he had arrived. Further, there were boats cruising along the sides of the moat, with workers doing something.
“What in Tiernon’s name are they are doing?” Teragdor asked out loud to no one.
“Apt, I suppose, in that Vicar General Darkness Slayer has ordered it in the name of Tiernon and his siblings,” a voice replied a short distance away.
Teragdor jumped. While he knew there were a number of other people along this section of the rampart, he had not realized that anyone was so close. To his right, about ten feet away, was a middle-aged human in the robes of a priest of Krinna, Goddess of the Wind and Sky.
Teragdor chuckled at the priest’s response and nodded at him.
The priest took this as an invitation to approach and came closer, nodding in respect at Teragdor. “I am Leighton, priest of Krinna,” he said with a smile.
Teragdor nodded in return. “Teragdor, prie — apostle of Tiernon.” He grinned at his inadvertent slip of the tongue. He was not yet accustomed to his new title. It sounded so presumptuous.
“I must admit, I had assumed as much.” Leighton smiled back at him. “We do not see a lot of apostles in Nysegard of any god, let alone Tiernon.”
Teragdor nodded and tilted his head in wry response. “Nor in Astlan. It has been at least a thousand years since there have been any apostles of the Five Siblings in Astlan.”
“And now there are two. Are things that bad there?” Leighton asked in concern.
Teragdor frowned. “That is a complicated question to answer.”
“Complicated? An apostle of Torean and an apostle of Tiernon at the same time,” Leighton said, raising an eyebrow. “Seems rather obviously dire.”
Teragdor grimaced. “In the grand scheme of things, yes. In the immediate term, I should think less dire than here.” He gestured to all the activity going on down below.
Leighton chuckled. “Indeed. Yet every day here is dire, a never-ending struggle for Life against Unlife; and yes, things are starting to appear direr than in centuries.”
Teragdor nodded. “So what is it that they are doing in the moat? If war or a siege is coming, then draining the moat does not seem like the most obvious course of action.”
Leighton grinned widely and nodded. “They are not exactly draining it.” Teragdor raised an eyebrow. Leighton continued, “Yes, they are draining the current water from the moat and are about to cleanse the entire system and then purify and sanctify it. After that, it will be refilled with Holy Water.”
Teragdor blinked, nonplussed. He looked back down at the giant moat, it had to be over fifty feet wide, thirty or forty feet deep and encircled the citadel — thousands of feet long. “Holy Water?”
Leighton nodded. “The Sacred Water of the Five.”
Teragdor’s mouth dropped open for a moment. The Sacred Water of the Five was something he had, of course, heard about, but never encountered. It was Holy Water that was jointly blessed and sanctified by all five of the Siblings. It was thus rare outside of New Etonia and the Holy Etonian Empire, and in general only used for imperial functions such as blessing heirs and nobles of the empire.
“That is a lot of Holy Water.” Teragdor shook his head.
“Indeed. We have very large vats within the citadel where we prepare it and then, when times require, we fill the moat and catapult bombs with it,” Leighton replied.
