When Heroes Die

Eh? How is that the simple answer, given that from the end result it would seem to also be the wrong answer?

There really isn't enough information to give a 'correct' answer because it depends on the nature of the two players, specifically it depends on whether the two players are the same in terms of decision making, and whether they know that. They both have the same information, and so if they both make decisions in the same way you can presume that they will both come to the same decision. If they know they are both the same they will also know that they will both come to the same decision. Given that, although there has been no communication, they will both choose to share.

Now let's assume that the two players do not know if the other player thinks the same way as they do. In the audience some people had different initial answers so that is reasonable. One point for decision making is whether either or both players are motivated by spite or not. Imagine you are a player, and you suspect the other player may well try for ALL THE COINS. If you are correct then you are already going to get nothing. Choosing to 'share' or take 'all' makes no difference to your future income, the only difference is that by choosing to take all you ensure that the other player will also get nothing. So choosing to take all isn't just a choice to maximise your possible coins, it's a choice to spite the other player.
When I write Taylor giving speeches, one of the things I like to do is find new (novel) ways for her to fuck up giving the speech. It imo makes for an entertaining character flaw for her to have that matches her Canon worm personality. In this case, she uses an extremely low stakes variant of the Prisoner's Dilemma, where the conclusion the participants reach should contradict the traditional version of it. Not just for the reasons you stated, but if one person votes to share and the other votes to take everything, there is nothing stopping the person who got nothing from raising a fuss and beating money out of the opposition (or convincing them politely) afterwards.

Despite that, she manages to lead the audience to the same conclusion (even if in this case, it is wrong).

It's worth noting that when a low stakes version of the Prisoner's Dilemma was trial tested (rather than just considered in abstract), the participants were far more generous than game theorists expected them to be.
 
When I write Taylor giving speeches, one of the things I like to do is find new (novel) ways for her to fuck up giving the speech. It imo makes for an entertaining character flaw for her to have that matches her Canon worm personality. In this case, she uses an extremely low stakes variant of the Prisoner's Dilemma, where the conclusion the participants reach should contradict the traditional version of it. Not just for the reasons you stated, but if one person votes to share and the other votes to take everything, there is nothing stopping the person who got nothing from raising a fuss and beating money out of the opposition (or convincing them politely) afterwards.

Despite that, she manages to lead the audience to the same conclusion (even if in this case, it is wrong).

It's worth noting that when a low stakes version of the Prisoner's Dilemma was trial tested (rather than just considered in abstract), the participants were far more generous than game theorists expected them to be.

and here was me thinking she'd just seen the bet version of golden balls.
 
Concord 5.03
"Like history, stories repeat themselves. Reject the lie of safety offered by narrative. For only by casting off its shackles can power truly be seized."
— Translation of the Kabbalis Book of Darkness, widely attributed to the young Dead King


"Surprised you've not stopped glowing," Songbird stated.

Again? Fuck it, I'm sticking with this.

The sound of her horse's hooves to my left were muffled by a thick bed of dirty snow. Efforts had been made to remove it from the main road, but they were of limited success.

"It's a strategic action," I lied. "If I glow all the time, then people can't tell when I'm considering something."

"I think you're lying I think it's just that you don't want to be called the Flickering Priestess like I was calling you earlier." Yvette added.

"Shining Priestess does sound better," Songbird agreed.

"Pests, both of you."

Songbird and Yvette both laughed. Songbird was rubbing off on Yvette. It wasn't something that I approved of.

"This is a course of action that I most heartily approve of."

Of course.

I turned to my right, brushed some snow out of my face, and raised an eyebrow at Roland on his dappled horse. It was awkward when riding side-saddle, but by now I had almost acclimatised to it.

"You're just saying that to flatter me." I tried to keep my voice even, but it was hard not to allow my amusement to bleed through.

"Flattery a fair maiden such as yourself most surely deserves." He grinned at me.

Frosted wooden houses stood hunched behind him. Many of them were hidden behind the traffic beside us. People stopped and stared or pointed at me as Pandora plodded along. By now I was used to it.

He's not giving up on this any time soon, is he?

"You're going to need to try harder than that."

If anything, he seemed more reassured.

"Y'know m'starting to think I didn't make a mistake after all." I turned back to the bedraggled, grinning redhead and glared at her.

"You're so much trouble, Song."

"M'not trouble at all. My soul is pure, oh refulgent one."

"As pure as the snow on the ground."

Songbird gasped, affecting a look of mock offence at my words.

"S'pose you can give me good dreams too?"

"What?"

"Y'know. They still call you the Sovereign of Ardent Dreams. I could do with some of those. Three or four naked-"

"Not happening," I cut her off. "I'm not indulging your fantasies."

"Awwww. S'pose you can't be fun."

It was more that I couldn't do it, although not from a lack of trying. Creating illusions was easy. Seeding pleasant dreams in advance was something I thought I could do, but hadn't succeeded at.

The rugged caravan in front of us came to a halt. I tried peeking around and finding out what was occurring up ahead. I could not see past the olive painted roof.

"See if you can find out what's happening, Roland. I'd like to be within the city walls before dusk."

"I count on there being another brawl," he replied.

"Y'know, this wouldn't've been a problem if you'd agreed to stable them earlier."

"It's not a problem it just means we need to wait a little and not walk much further in snow besides do you really trust the stables further back in the slums at the city outskirts they looked like they were considering selling off our horses here isn't much better either." Yvette interjected from behind.

"It would take someone truly bereft of their wits to attempt to sell our mounts," Roland criticized.

"Fine. I'll admit I made a mistake," I admitted.

Roland dismounted and handed the reins of his mount to me, lightly brushing his fingers against mine.

"So," I turned my attention back to Songbird. "You still haven't told me why you're fine with this."

"Be more specific," she tapped her leg in thought.

"Me trying to empower the church."

"Why?"

"I've spoken to Cordelia. I know that the Lycaonese view the amount of power the House of Light wields down south in a dim light. Can't see why you would be fine with me increasing that."

"M'not sure if you understand yourself that well."

"What?"

"Think. Say y'see a crowd beating someone. What're you gonna do?"

"Don't know why that's important." I ran my hand through Pandora's mane in my impatience. It was silky soft to the touch.

"Answer the question," Songbird mock glared at me.

"Break up the fight. Ask what's going on. See if I can resolve it without violence."

"S'my point."

"I'm not following."

"Normal people either sit and watch or don't care."

"So you're saying that you're not worried about me trying to empower the House of Light because I… care?"

Surely that can't be the reason.

"S'right. You'll arrive, find out how useless they all are, then start to tear into them."

Her ironclad belief in that was discouraging.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Ever been to the large cathedrals?"

"No."

"You'll see them soon. M'sure that they care more about money and power than you'd approve of."

"So you think I'd take power away from the church instead?"

"You're a saint, Taylor. Not one of the ones that swings swords, either."

"Well. This saint wants power over parts of the church."

"And we'll all be better for it. Y'won't get what you want. Not any time soon at least. But you'll fix everything else."

A flamboyant array of silks approaching marked Roland's return.

"Found out what the problem is?" I passed the reins back to him.

"Two men are settling grievances up ahead in a duel." He took the reins, but did not mount up.

"You're joking. The magistrates will be all over this. I'm surprised the guard has not stepped in."

"It is a spar between two ninth sun duellists."

"You didn't intervene?"

Roland was usually one to involve himself in these kinds of conflicts.

"I am not so much a fool as to position myself between the blades of two swordsmen of such renown."

"I doubt that."

A smile tugged at his lips. He didn't reply.

"Well, I'm about to be a fool then." I sighed in irritation, then snapped my mouth shut.

The air was thick with a cloying smog.

Snow crunched as my boots touched the ground. I passed Roland my reins.

"Take care of her."

The gremlin in question was busy harassing a poor pigeon that had landed on the nose of her horse. She looked up when I mentioned her name.

"I'm fine you don't need to look after me just do whatever you need to do I promise."

Roland dipped his head in acknowledgement.

I started to weave my way between the cramped traffic ahead. I felt eyes linger on me as I progressed past the crowd. It took another hail for me to break through to the front of the congestion.

It was much as Roland had said.

Two youths were exchanging blows with duelling swords. Their movements were fluid. The blonde on the left stepped forward, his footing sure on the stained mud. He parried the blow to his right. Two steps back. His black haired opponent tensed as if he was about to perform another jab. It was a feint.

Despite my expectations, there were no magistrates or city guards ready to intervene in the fight. A wide open ring had been cleared out for them.

I don't have time for this.

"Enough." I declared, stepping into their ring. The Light flowed through me. It always did. However, the feeling was different when I actively called upon it. I knew that it scalded near everyone else, even when used to heal. That was not true for me. It felt like the hope of a better future when it coursed through my veins.

Green eyes on the left flicked to me for not even a heartbeat. His opponent tried to capitalize. A blade blurred forward, only to strike against a golden barrier. It shattered on impact. They continued as if the interruption had not even taken place.

Really?

Two more attempts at barriers. They moved around my obstructions as if they weren't even there. The light around both of them bent. They could only see me now. Me, and nobody else. Both fighters closed their eyes and kept fighting. Another strike. Parried this time. Emotional manipulation came even easier to me than before. Unfortunately, it did nothing to either duellist.

I didn't want to hurt them. Was there another way to force this to end? Yes.

I deliberately walked into the middle of the arena and intercepted the blade with my hand. I focused the moment before I was struck, turning that part of myself into what I truly was.

"I said enough."

The blade passed through my hand. There was a blaze of Light where the cut occurred, but not much else. My hand appeared soon after. The other swordsman's blade slammed into my robes but failed to penetrate.

The fight ground to a halt.

"Chosen. We-we're sorry." The words were stammered out in fear. "Were you struck? Do you have wounds that need tending to? Oh, no. Oh, no."

"No."

"Do you seek redress? My family may be able to-"

"No. You're lucky. I'm compassionate, not just."

The man sounded relieved.

"There's no need for you to intervene. No disrespect was intended. If there is a slight, then-"

I looked up into the amber eyes of the pale faced man who had addressed me. Despite towering over me, he looked small.

"That is not for you to decide." I interjected. "Why are you two fighting?"

"We s-strive to test ourselves in the hopes of one day moving beyond the tenth sun."

"And you couldn't fight this out somewhere else?" My eyebrows must have risen into my hair.

"The roads were clear when our bout began," the one on the right defended.

I turned my gaze towards him. He flinched.

"It isn't now."

Both of them glanced around, taking in the sizeable delay along the road. They had the decency to look chastised once they saw the waiting traffic.

"We apologize for the inconvenience we caused." I looked from one to the other.

"Be more considerate in future."

They both ran as if they were hounded by devils the moment I finished speaking.

Sighing, I began to return to the others.

"Had fun?" Songbird queried.

"Waste of time," I complained, mounting up.

We were on our way once more. Deeper towards the city. The Yearning Walls beckoned in the distance. Buildings grew from wooden shacks to stone houses. Chimneys bellowed out a thick smoke. Chaotic construction work took place among the slums.

The state of the city became cleaner and more organized the closer we drew to the walls. Gardens started to appear between buildings, and the further we progressed, the larger the gardens grew. The side of the road — once bereft of anything but travelling vagrants — was now lined with stalls.

We passed through the Griffon Gate. The road beyond was swept clean. It didn't take long to hand off our horses to a poor attendant. The girl took one look at me, then stammered out a nervous assurance that our horses would be well cared for.

The state of the city within the walls was another step up entirely.

Multi-storey stone houses with stained-glass windows. It wasn't anything I hadn't seen before, but it was notable in how commonplace it was compared to anywhere else I'd visited in Calernia barring the Titan's city in the Chain of Hunger. We continued onwards past vast open-air markets.

The sun had passed its zenith and started to sink by the time we approached the green bannered exterior of the destination Songbird had picked out for us. The establishment ran more to her tastes than my own, but I wasn't about to make a fuss about it. It did amuse me that a few patrons seemed more uncomfortable with my presence than I was for being there.

"See if you can find out if Cordelia is still in the city, Song." I turned to Roland. "You said you could help find other heroes?"

"I'll see what I can find with the rise of dawn. For now, I intend to rest."

Right. We've only just arrived.

"I think we should all do that"

"Y'know, m'surprised that you agreed to stay here." Songbird snorted. She leaned against the out wall of the establishment. We were saved from having snow in our hair by a large cloth shade shrouding the front of the building.

"Where did you expect me to stay?"

"In one of the cloisters, with the other sisters."

"No, thanks."

"If you get your way, then you'll have to."

"Don't think so," I sighed. "I'll find some way to live where I want to."

"Corruption, already?" Songbird mimed being struck by an arrow. "And to think, you haven't even met any of the Holies yet."

"Who would you suggest talking to?"

"Nobody important. Yet."

"That's not helpful."

"Y'don't want to waste their time."

I looked at her.

"Just tell me who you think I need to talk to and where I need to go."

"You're gonna need to head towards the Upper Yearning to find the Holies. Then just pick any Cathedral and chances are you'll run into one," she answered flippantly.

… She doesn't actually know, does she?

It struck me that I probably knew more about the church than she did. I'd just assumed I'd be relying on her for parts of this. I'd assumed that I'd be relying on her like I had in Aisne, but I probably didn't need to.

"You don't know anything about the church's organization, do you?"

"S'not like I needed to deal with them," she groused. "I dealt with nobles, not priests. You prob'ly know more about them than me. I'm not a devout priestess. You are! You prob'ly memorized the Book of All Things."

"I didn't."

"Actually she did remember ma you told me you can remember your life like reading text off a book now and I know you read the Book of All Things that means you know it right?"

"Okay, so maybe by technicality. I never quote it."

"Bet you think about it when talking to other priests."

"Is today gang up on Taylor day?" I complained.

"Always is."

"If you're not going to give advice, then don't complain about whom I decide to talk to."

All four of us shuffled indoors. I sent for a messenger and penned a letter to one Sister Dominique at the Selandine Basilica in an effort to arrange a meeting the following day. She was someone who had actually responded to some of my communications in the past, and was a person of influence within the church. Songbird also penned letters of her own.

It was at dawn the next day that both of us received our replies. Cordelia was no longer in Salia. That complicated matters, but not to the point of endangering my plans. Roland decided to go on his own adventure and take Yvette along with him. Songbird would correspond with old acquaintances. That just left me.

I'd been cordially invited to speak with Sister Dominique after the morning service at a nearby chapel. There was an open invitation to attend the service as well, but I doubted I'd be able to arrive in time. There were also instructions on how to find the Basilica in question.

I was about to depart when Songbird seized me by the arm.

"Don't promise her anything," she hissed. "The powers that be in the church are just as canny as even the sharpest prince."

"I wasn't planning to."

The Holies were the most respected figures within the Proceran House of Light. They weren't officially in charge, but their words did tend to become policy. I was willing to extend them a fair amount of trust, despite Songbird's protests. It didn't mean I wouldn't temper it with a healthy dose of caution, but I had yet to meet a priest that I didn't like.

"M'serious, Taylor. Be vague. Let this Sister Dominique fill in the gaps. You're a Chosen priestess. She'll fall over her own feet to help you. Doesn't mean she won't have her own schemes. Best to move only after you know where the knives lie."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I left the establishment and started to follow Dominique's directions. The first part wasn't that hard. The Upper Yearning was the part of the city further uphill. It was also the nicer part of the city, although that didn't mean much. It was the difference between upper class citizens and princes in terms of wealth. Everyone in these parts of the city lived well.

I felt out of place as I entered the Upper Yearning. Dirty. Like I was a trespasser in the homes of the wealthy. While Cordelia's fortress had been more extravagant than most places I had been, it had nothing on the palaces in Salia. Large mansions with exquisitely cared for gardens trailed as far as the eye could see. Hedges dusted in snow. Frost lined buildings that looked almost as if they had been designed for the express purpose of being painted in winter white.

At least the advice had been easy to follow.

I shaded my eyes against the harsh glare of the snow as I caught sight of my destination in the distance and made my way towards it. There weren't many people out on these streets. The rich had no need to be out and about in the cold.

Boots clicked on cobbled road as I passed down an avenue of well tended naked oaks and walked beneath the comforting shadow of the bell tower. I trailed my fingers along the masonry, lost in thought, as I approached the basilica before me. A tower loomed on either side of the monument, and decorative arches were carved into the masonry.

The pale flicker of candlelight through the stained-glass windows featuring famous religious figures beckoned to me up ahead. People were leaving the building in crowds. I drew closer, slowed. Two wide-eyed figures ahead to either side of the entrance of the Basilica bowed to me as I passed. I thanked them awkwardly. No words were said in return, but none were to be expected. They were among those who had sworn a vow of silence.

The place was busy. The faithful gathered together in small groups and whispered to each other. Some entering, some leaving. Everyone present was dressed rich. This was not a place attended by the poor.

Many of their dreams were enraging. That observation wasn't limited to the attending nobility.

… Songbird had been more right than I liked.

A few of them turned and looked at me as birds of prey do when circling up high in the air. The rest either put up an air of indifference, or were too indulged in their existing conversations to notice me. I suspected that most fell into the latter category. While my glow was distinct, it was also faint and hard to notice.

"May you be always graced by the Light, Chosen. "Someone greeted me from behind.

I turned.

A broad shouldered boy was bowing to me obsequiously. It was something I doubted I'd ever become used to.

"Stand up. I'm here to speak to Sister Dominique. I have a meeting scheduled with her."

He straightened. His feet started to eat the ground. I followed behind him. I was led by my guide into the back halls. They were no less immaculate than the part of the building available to the public. My guide ushered me into a parlour guarded by a trio of armed priests. My eyes raised. I knew that they existed, but hadn't encountered them before.

My guide left me seated in the most comfortable recliner I'd ever sat in at a mahogany table, then returned shortly afterwards with a roasted quail and plums. I had been assured the accompanying wine would be to my tastes, but I declined it regardless. I dug into the meal.

Perhaps I should have declined the meal as well?

I moved the plums to one side with my silverware. I was certain that they had been drenched in alcohol. It was disappointing. Even if they weren't ethanol in a plum, they were still too sweet for me. At least the quail was succulent. I'd never had one before.

My mind wandered as I ate. I took the opportunity to examine the room.

There was a painting on the wall opposite the door. It showed a woman dressed in white, sword raised to the heavens. A winged angel floated above her.

"It was one of our darker hours," a calm, feminine voice spoke.

"Seventh Crusade?" I turned towards the door.

"You have the right of it, sister," my interlocutor gave me a wrinkled smile. Silver haired, she stood straight backed and lithe at the doorway. She looked spry, despite the evidence of her old age.

Punish the wicked. Punish the unworthy. Strengthen the church. Uphold the faith. Woe to any who do not share our beliefs.

My heart sank.

It was her dream. Like many of the priests I had seen within the Basilica, her dream was incompatible with my own. Not because she was not faithful — all of them were — but because somewhere along the line they had lost sight of the people they were trying to care for.

Why did Songbird have to be right?

"Want any?"

I gestured towards my plate.

"I already ate," she answered. "The fell tidings you warned of proved to be timely."

The chair scraped as she sat down opposite me.

"What happened?"

"A painter who renders scenes that can make stones weep."

My brow furrowed.

"They're not painting people's souls into paintings, are they?"

"A fair concern after that atrocity of an artist you ended years past," she nodded my way in approval, "but no. This painter is sworn to above. The Old Master earned his choosing by painting the rooftop of a chapel in Aisne."

Michelangelo?

"Is that it?"

If that was the extent of it, then I would be relieved.

"Three Names not recognized as either heroes or villains of old have appeared."

"Only three?"

"We suspect many more. Chaos haunts the Principate. Those are confirmed." she paused, then gestured towards the wine bottle I had set aside. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

Sister Dominique poured herself a glass of wine.

"The second was one of our lay brothers in Bayeux. He attempted to publish several blasphemous texts. The clergy attempted to apprehend him, but he has eluded capture so far."

Which story would this match? Galileo? No, I don't think it matches. Leave it for later, Taylor.

"And the third?"

"A member of the upper nobility in Salia ran from her house after her brother claimed his own life. She has gone on to commit a string of lesser crimes, always tearing into the heart of people when she speaks."

My heart sank.

It could have been a lot of stories, but in my heart I already knew which story it was.

The story of Tattletale had come back to haunt me once again.​
 
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Concord 5.04
"I find that there is no difference between a diabolist and a priest once you stake them through the heart and peel away the skin."
— Dread Emperor Nihilis I, the Tanner


"I had not thought this news would distress you."

The next bite of my quail had become lost in the purgatory between the plate and my mouth the moment Sister Dominique had mentioned the third confirmed Name.

They're not Lisa.

"I knew the last person who held that Role." It was difficult to keep my voice measured as I replied.

"Were they among the Chosen or the Damned? Some Chosen are known to have a… loose relationship towards ownership."

Think about this later.

"How has the House responded to the chaos?"

"The seventy-first conclave in Salia has been called to determine the shape of our response." My eyebrows rose in surprise.

"That's the first I'm hearing of it. I thought it was customary for these things to be announced to the public." She kept her green-grey eyes locked on her wineglass as I spoke, and affected as if her attention was elsewhere. I knew that to be a lie. Her attention was honed to a fine edge.

"The tidings you brought cast a dark shadow over the future. It would be remiss for us to act without proper consideration being given by all parties." Sister Dominique swirled the last of the wine in the glass around in her wrinkled hand, then downed it in a single gulp.

"Lesser or greater conclave?"

"It is a lesser conclave. Are you sure I cannot offer you a glass of wine? It is an Arlesite red." she asked as she reached around the unlit candle on the desk towards the bottle.

"No, thanks."

I noted her offer as I dismissed it. Her offering to pour implied that she considered herself lower in the hierarchy than I was. At least… that was what Roland had taught me years ago. I didn't need to pay attention to these details all that often.

"Your words were passed on to our brothers and sisters on foreign shores, along with invitations to attend. Only polite refusals were returned."

It didn't surprise me. The last time the entire priesthood of the west had been moved to act had been during the time of Triumphant.

"What has the conclave decided?"

"It has yet to occur. We are waiting on the last few influential among the Proceran clergy."

"Has nothing been done then?" I gripped my fork tighter.

"These are dark times. The rise of new heroes and villains both is not the only ghost to haunt these lands. War still ravages the Principate, and ghosts haunt Constance's Scar."

"There are no ghosts there," I denied. "I've been to the scar. Creation is weakened there. It's the Fae pretending to be ghosts, not ghosts."

"That is an even greater cause for concern."

"And yet you don't sound worried."

"Time wears away at all things. We do our best to endure its ravages, but only the Gods may truly reverse the flow of the sand."

"The rise of new Names will only become worse." I finished my meal, made use of the napkin, set my cutlery down and moved the plate to the side.

"Are you an Augur then, blessed with prophetic visions?" Her eyes moved off of her wine glass to my face.

Avoid that question, Taylor.

"If we want to avoid anarchy, then action needs to be taken."

"Would I be remiss in assuming that you have a specific response in mind?"

How much should I say? Songbird had advised being vague. I was leaning towards following that advice, despite my initial belief that the priests would be trustworthy. It disappointed me, but it was only a minor setback. If I had to rip out corruption in the church at its roots to obtain the outcome I wanted, then… the church was in for a thorough pruning.

"We need to find every hero we can and recruit them to our cause. Organize. Act as a stabilizing force in the times ahead."

"I believe it would be best for you to wait before you share the lay of your thoughts."

"What?" my eyes narrowed.

"A minor gathering was arranged at the Starlit Cloister between those of us present in Salia once I had already received and responded to your missive. I would have brought up the matter earlier, but delayed in light of your meal. I trust that you do not mind?"

The words sounded apologetic, but I knew otherwise.

"When?"

"I suggest we venture forth soon if you intend for us to arrive before the meeting begins."

It was as I had expected. I was being ambushed. She had waited until the last possible moment before springing this on me. I was unamused. If the Holies thought to play games with me when the Principate was in a state of turmoil, then they were biting off more than they could chew.

"Let's go."

She stood up, then I trailed behind her white and gold figure as she led the way. We left the Selandine Basilica. The two of us stepped into a waiting carriage outside the Basilica that had been painted the same shades as sister Dominique's robes.

"Salia is the jewel of Calernia, don't you agree?" Sister Dominique asked.

"It is," I answered absently.

I allowed the clip-clopping of the horse's hooves and merchants on the streets hawking their wares to drown out my interlocutor. It didn't take long for conversation to peter out. The two of us sat in silence while I pondered the trap that I was about to face. And it was a trap. That much I was certain of.

How was I planning to approach this? The Holies wanted something from me. They also believed me to be someone who could be manipulated to their ends. Why? What gave them that impression? I wasn't the Saint of Swords, but I also wasn't toothless. Their decision baffled me.

I considered what kind of impression that I may have given them.

I would bet they knew every piece of correspondence that had passed through all of the many churches I had visited. Those fell into two categories. Political inquiries and warnings about the future. The former would include vague statements of my broader goals, without any of the finer details. Those would paint me as an idealist. A dreamer.

Someone whose vision would be viewed as unachievable.

That fit with the angelic Choir that had chosen me. Every hero who represented the Choir of Compassion was a dreamer. We all wanted the world to be perfect. We all wanted everyone to care for each other. Most of us swore off violence, but I hadn't. That made me unusual, but… my family had hinted that I was not the only one of their heroes who had drawn blades, just the most recent one. Once long ago Compassion had been Reverence, and Reverence did not hesitate to fight.

I wondered what that meant for the future of the Choir if they were permitting acts of violence once more.

The wheels of the carriage rattled against the road as we ascended the shallow slope of the Upper Yearning. At least people did not stop and point at me. My glow was difficult to see through the glass of the carriage window.

What else did they know?

Well, they knew that I had an existing relationship with Cordelia Hasenbach. I doubted they knew the specifics, but they likely knew I was cordial with her. They would know about the various conflicts I had been involved in, and that I had returned from a journey into the Chain of Hunger.

Aisne.

That would be it.

They knew I was an idealist and that I had failed at politicking in Aisne. They would also know that I had a negative disposition towards most of the Proceran nobility. The fact that I had political ambitions, but was unskilled at politics, would give them the impression that I was someone who could be used.

How could I take advantage of this?

I couldn't pretend to be completely naive. That princess had already escaped captivity. That didn't mean I couldn't pretend to have less of an idea of what I wanted than I truly did. Was there a benefit in doing so? Possibly. I could also challenge their expectations. Present them with what I wanted right out the gate and put them on the back foot.

It all depended on what I saw when I arrived.

The carriage drew to a stop.

The two of us climbed out, then started to walk down the slate tile pathway lined by snow dusted hedges, leading up to the stairs marking the entrance to the cloister. The Starlit Cloister was secluded from the rest of the city. Immaculately cared for gardens surrounded it. The grass — green despite the turn of the season — was so even that I doubted even a single blade stuck up above the rest. There was irony in that, considering the men and women I was about to meet. The basalt building itself wasn't as tall as many of the other Basilicas and Cathedrals I had passed, but no less impressive.

"It is a pity that our schedule is so tight. There is much beauty to be found in the Starlit Cloister. Pieces of art that one such as yourself would most assuredly appreciate." Sister Dominique commented from my left.

"I'm sure."

"There are paintings, sculptures, and tapestries dating back towards the First Crusade. Works crafted by the blessed that only the faithful ever lay their eyes on. No others are so fortunate. You should take the opportunity to appreciate them while you are in residence."

What, does she expect me to live here?

Two of the silent monks seized the iron rings set into the thick double doors and opened them for us before we had even begun to ascend the stairs.

"Really?"

"Not even the First Prince may lay their eyes on all the wonders of the Starlit Cloister," Sister Dominique stated in satisfaction.

"What if they're visiting?"

We entered the building. Sister Dominique continued to lead the way. Several of the nuns bowed to the both of us as we delved deeper into what I was starting to see as the heart of the Proceran faith.

"Should the First Prince wish to entreat with the Holies, they would be required to submit to hour-long ablutions in a private garden set aside for that purpose. Their visit would be guided such that at no time they would step into parts of the cloister which are held to be sacrosanct."

"I see."

I supported the idea of princes being made to show humility before my Gods. I'd seen enough of the nobility to believe that an indirect encounter with an Angel might do them some good. The adjustment in their perspective would make the world a better place once they realized how fickle their power was. That wasn't the impression I was receiving here. It sounded more like the princes were being made to show humility before the priests.

That didn't sit well with me.

More because of what it did to the egos of the priests, then what it meant for the princes.

I added it to the list of changes I wanted as we continued down the chequered corridor lined with basalt pillars that bulged at the waist. We arrived at a thick oaken gate. Loud sounds of jubilation could be heard from the other side of the door. Sister Dominique reached forward, seized the brass ring in front and opened the door.

I now understand why the Merry Monk force-fed one of the Holies until they died of over-consumption.

It took effort for me to hide my tells. For me to contain my outrage. It was the most furious I could remember being in an aeon. The word heretics burned at the edge of my tongue. Were it not for the support of my family, I might not have managed to suppress my anger.

Their dreams made me want to cut them all down.

They were faithful. Technically. They dreamed that the church should rule the Principate. I moved my gaze from one to the next as fast as I could. Power. Power. Power. That was what they dreamed of. The Gods were the ultimate power in Creation. They saw themselves as the most important non-heroic mortal representatives of the Gods, and some of them wavered on the brink of seeing themselves above heroes as well. They dreamed of themselves ruling over all others, handing down edicts from Above.

While I suspected that all of them had sworn off violence, I didn't believe that meant much. Not with how their dreams glorified the suffering of those they did not approve of. There was no compassion in their dreams. They were fanatics of the worst kind. Those who saw no value in anybody who did not share their beliefs. While I was willing to acknowledge that I was a zealot myself, I liked to think of myself as the good kind of religious extremist. My beliefs did not discriminate against helping those that did not share my faith.

I'd known from the start that being Good did not necessarily mean being good. That it would be my version of what Good was, competing against countless others. That did not make me any less disappointed by what I saw. I wouldn't have been offended had they all worshipped the Gods Below. At least then they wouldn't be pretending to be good according to the virtues espoused in a book that I did not agree with verbatim, but approved of enough to consider one who followed it virtuous. It was the fact that these men and women claimed to be the best of us — the bastions of light amidst the sea of darkness — that lit the furnace of my rage.

They were all liars and hypocrites.

The only way I could see them benefitting Good is if I squinted through a dirty lens. Perhaps they helped achieve a "greater good," in some way. It was unfortunate for them that I no longer believed in peddling lesser evils or greater goods.

Not one of you will remain in power by the time I am done with the church.

The scope of my plans would need adjusting.

I came to a halt as I stepped through the door. I wasn't sure if the crimson hornets buzzing behind my eyes showed on my face.

"Is something the matter, Chosen?" Sister Dominique asked, affecting concern.

She had been at the razor edge of what I was willing to tolerate. The rest of them were not.

"It's just a lot to take in," I lied, keeping my breathing measured as I gestured towards the long table where the Holies were seated.

Some men and women decked in white and gold looked up from their chairs as we entered. Ornate golden cloches sat atop a delicate white lace tablecloth that was weighted down by elegant glass droplets dangling off the edge. The dishes contained a wide array of edibles. More than I could recognize.

Royal purple tapestries were draped across the right walls and paintings clung to the left. The opposite end of the room was open, with a fountain gurgling in the background. A golden candelabra hung over the table.

"Isn't it heartening to see the faithful receiving the respect they are due?"

"Definitely," I agreed.

It was a pity that the two of us had differing opinions on what that respect should look like.

"Sister Dominique, Chosen, come join us in our feasting." A corpulent man on the left-hand side of the table beside a boar with an apple in its mouth called out and gestured enthusiastically at us.

"I've already eaten," I replied, but took a seat on the teak chair beside the man nonetheless. It was one of the few that remained open.

The table was stacked with everything I could imagine. From exotic out of season fruits to fine cuts of meat. The sights, the smells, everything about the table was a feast for the senses.

Everything except the people seated at it.

I wondered why Sister Dominique had fed me if she knew I would be arriving at a scene like this. Perhaps to alienate me? Make me the only person at the table not participating in the festivities? The Holies had already moved to put me on the back foot, which came as an unwelcome surprise. I'd expected us to be allies, not enemies under the same banner.

"It is a pity that you are unable to partake," a green-eyed woman commiserated. I had to squint around the glazed duck to see her properly.

With her long nose and narrow face, she looked a little like a white peacock.

"It's fine."

"Your warnings forestalled much trouble within the House," the woman continued, placing her silver knife and fork down with care on her empty plate below.

"Really?"

"A missive was sent to the House of Light from a scriptorium in Bayeux inquiring into whether texts commissioned by one of our lay brothers to be replicated several times over were heretical or not. If it were not for your warnings, the matter might not have been investigated. He was almost apprehended while attempting to nail one of the few copies he succeeded in having transcribed onto a church door."

Martin Luther.

"What did his manuscripts say?"

"They were naught more than vile calumny. Slanderous claims that those of us at the upper echelons of the faith are perverting the intent of the House of Light."

"Did he write about anything else?"

"The heretic preaches of a common church of man. He asserts that the Holies have no claim to authority over the House of Light, as the Gods Above did not ordain our positions when granting us leave to wield the Light and only confirmed our faith. A blasphemous idea, don't you agree?"

Wait what?

"There's plenty of blasphemy about this." I allowed my anger at them to bleed through.

"You do intend to apprehend the villain soon."

"I'll see what I can do."

I'll apprehend him all right. The two of us can do far more working together than alone.

It felt odd to be in a position where I wished that I knew more about religion on Earth Bet. I knew whose story this was, but little else. I didn't know more than the barest skeleton of his story. It was frustrating. I knew it was unrealistic to expect every new Name to be one that I recognized, but it would be so much simpler if his Name was one taken out of English literature.

It wasn't.

But even if I didn't know much about him, after meeting the Holies… I was leaning towards him being a hero and not a villain.

"That is music to all of our ears," she sent a dragon-like grin my way.

"What's your name?" I asked.

Other conversations had continued as we talked, but people's voices had dropped to murmurs. I could see them watching the both of us like vultures examining a corpse out of the corner of their eyes. This priestess was clearly important. They were allowing her to take the lead.

"I'm Sister Adelie. It's a pleasure to count you among us, Chosen."

"How do you plan to deal with this?"

"Would that we could act, only our hands are tied," Sister Adelie sounded apologetic. I wasn't buying it.

"In what way?"

"In the past we could function unimpeded, but our influence has waned with the passage of years. The House of Light is denied a standing army, and all but the southernmost principalities bar us the right to recruit warrior monks to our cause. The Lycaonese do not even permit us to own the land where our churches reside."

"Surely you've done something?"

"Word is being delivered to every ear loyal to the Gods Above. It is being carried to all that can be reached, from the princes of Procer to the Citizens of Ashur. How they choose to interpret your words…" she shrugged, "is in their hands. The authority to serve further has not been extended to us. We will offer our guidance, shelter behind our walls, and work to mend wounds, but to reach beyond that is to threaten another Liturgical War."

Somehow I suspected that it wasn't the idea of a war that bothered her, but more the fact that the House of Light would lose it.

How much do I say?

This was a delicate situation. I wanted to be rid of all of them, and I wanted to do it legally. I was certain that they had enough skeletons in their confessional booths that if I dug them out, I could see all of them removed. The problem was doing it without having the church's power curtailed in the process.

What would Songbird do?

I needed to play both sides here. I wanted oversight over a functional House of Light. It wasn't important for me to manage the parts of the faith that they were currently responsible for, but I wasn't willing to relinquish authority over what I wanted to introduce. That meant I'd need to offer Cordelia something — probably the removal of the Holies — and offer these carrion eaters something else.

They were lucky I wasn't Laurence. I'd be taking a hatchet to the rot if I were, rather than finding a way for it to fade gently into the night.

"Then we will need to change that."

"It is rumoured that you have the ear of the Lycaonese Prince. How amenable do you believe she would be to a proposal if you were to present it?"

Careful.

"It depends," I kept my voice as carefree as I could. "I'll need scribes. Many of them."

"For what purpose?" the man beside me asked.

The hem of his robe brushed my hand as he grasped a chicken leg with a greasy hand and added it to his platter. I pulled my hands off the table and onto my lap. Sister Adelie glared his way for only a moment before her gaze softened and returned to me.

"Recording stories. It should help mitigate chaos if people have some idea of what to expect."

"I'll make some of our scribes available to you," Sister Adelie replied.

"There's more. I want to create resources for heroes to draw upon. Tools, information, teachers, weapons, communications networks. The church has the ability to help there."

I'd start with the less dangerous requests.

"What you ask for would serve as cause for deliberation in better years. They are an unwelcome burden in light of the oncoming storm."

"I can contribute in other ways."

Sister Adelie paused and took a sip of her wine. Her eyes narrowed in thought.

"It sounds as if you have higher ambitions for the church."

"I do. I'm not happy with how much the House of Light has been restricted."

There. The bait is set.

"Then you would see our wings unclipped?" She blinked and almost smiled. The gold of one of the cloches reflected in her eyes.

"I would. I have proposals I'd like you to look over. They aren't with me right now."

"I suggest that we meet at another time to discuss the merits of your proposals further."

"That sounds fine."

A low murmured chorus of approval echoed across the table.

Conversation continued for a while, but shifted towards small talk. Others occasionally added their own thoughts. I made sure to avoid committing to anything until I'd spoken to Songbird. I left the Starlit Cloister after setting a later date to speak with Sister Adelie, although there was an unspoken offer for me to remain in the cloister.

There was much for me to think about.

I considered it all while walking back to our temporary residence.

First came thoughts of not-Lisa. They were more conflicted but less anger inducing than thoughts about the Holies. I didn't think I'd be able to redeem Tattletale if I met her today. I wasn't certain if I'd be able to redeem her at the start of her journey. Her story was a villain's story. I had no doubt about that. The smart decision would be for me to leave dealing with her to somebody else. I knew that I was emotionally compromised.

I didn't want to leave this to somebody else.

What should I do?

I prayed. My family reassured me that I would be fine. I should resolve this myself. It would be a chance for me to lay one of my own demons to rest.

Snow fell around me, but I remained warm. My light kept the cold at bay.

I passed beneath a stand of poplars as my mind moved towards my next concern.

I wasn't certain what to do about Not-Martin Luther, but I was willing to bet that he would be helpful towards my goals. Roland had volunteered to help with finding heroes. I'd ask him if he was prepared to look for the man.

That left the church. The anger I had felt before had cooled in the time since I had left. Cooled and frozen over into an ice-cold rage. The church would need to be handled carefully. I'd need Songbird's help to concoct the right kind of scheme.

I wouldn't be satisfied until the Holies were unseated and work had begun on organizing the other heroes within the Principate under the umbrella of the House of Light. This was my mess. I'd made the bet that I could organize the chaos that would come from this choice. Now I had to validate that decision.

I ignored the suggestive sign outside the establishment as I entered the Snake's Nest and wiped off my feet before making my way to the suite we had rented out on the second floor. The hinges of the garish purple door creaked as I turned the rusted iron handle.

Thunk.

"Is anyone here?"

Thunk.

It was quiet except for a repeated knocking sound. My toes relaxed as they moved off the cold, hard wooden floor and sunk into the soft, red carpet.

Thunk.

I entered the parlour.

Songbird had her back to me. She was throwing knives at a dartboard on the wall before examining her shot and then retrieving them afterwards. Her posture was loose, her head cocked to one side, and her attention was entirely devoted to the target. Roland was nowhere to be found.

"Why is nobody…" my voice trailed off as I looked to my left.

Yvette was scrunched up in her green tunic. She was almost fused to the leather couch she sat on beside the rickety coffee table. Her eyes were red.

One of her dreams was brittle. It was teetering on the edge of breaking.

I didn't often think about Yvette's dreams. It felt like I was invading her privacy if I did. This dream was one that I frequently assured her that she had already achieved. It wasn't her only dream, but it was one that shouldn't worry her.

She wanted to make her mother proud of her.

I bolted across the carpet, completely forgetting what else was on my mind.

"What happened?"

She looked away from me, averting her eyes.

I knelt down and seized her in a hug.

At least she didn't flinch.

It wasn't something that I had done.

"Please tell me," I kept my voice soft. "I'll try to help. Promise."

She remained unresponsive, just sniffed and rocked from side to side.

"Yvette ran into someone while she was out with Roland," Songbird answered my question. Her voice had a hard edge. "Someone who made a big fuss, said some words to both of them, then ran off."

"Where's Roland?"

"He's taking a walk to clear his head. Said he'd be back later."

"Was it a man or a woman?"

Songbird told me what Roland had told her. I asked another question, then another. My suspicion grew with every added detail.

It was the new person with Tattletale's story, and she was already tearing apart other people's lives. This time it was the lives of people I cared about.

Do you still want me to try to redeem her?

The arm of the chair groaned as I gripped it tighter.

My faith required that I try to help her. My own feelings demanded the opposite.

I wasn't sure what to do.​
 
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Well, this should be an interesting test for Taylor - dealing with an antagonistic Tattletale always makes for very interesting reading. Looking forwards to that.

Having said so, a bit more details on what Yvette was told, how the confrontation went - maybe even a full on flashback to the meeting from Yvette's point of view - would help a lot in selling the outrage; Yvette makes for a wonderful puppy to kick so that this Tattletale can prove herself antagonistic, but puppy-kicking really need to be done on-screen to achieve its full outraging effect.
 
Well, this should be an interesting test for Taylor - dealing with an antagonistic Tattletale always makes for very interesting reading. Looking forwards to that.

Having said so, a bit more details on what Yvette was told, how the confrontation went - maybe even a full on flashback to the meeting from Yvette's point of view - would help a lot in selling the outrage; Yvette makes for a wonderful puppy to kick so that this Tattletale can prove herself antagonistic, but puppy-kicking really need to be done on-screen to achieve its full outraging effect.
It's planned for Monday's interlude, along with a few other things.
 
No. Bad Taylor. You did this already, and you almost got bound because that isn't a Hero move, and it's not really an Anti-Hero move. This is a Villain move, and you'll suffer for it again because you didn't learn the lesson the Bard tried to teach you.
Wow, didn't notice it, but it is pretty similar to her last mistake, she should take measures to avoid falling to the same story.

Being a hero and doing politics is hard, because if she outright told them her thoughts, they will act against her and close ranks, which means her only ways to proceed "conventionally" are rejecting or removing them from power forcefully.

I don't think it is impossible to act to remove them without being treacherous underling, maybe she could take over? If she is planning to take over and than clean house, it is different from undermining them from below or the outside.
 
As a Hero, she's forced into the narrative perspective of Good. As Taylor notes, "Good" doesn't always mean good, because that may be a matter of perspective and context. Even so, there are still rules.

The Martin Luther expy, from the perspective of the Church, is a Villain. He is a blasphemer, undermining the power of the Church at so crucial a time, preaching heresy. But he's only actually a villain if he's doing what he's doing in service (knowingly or otherwise) to Below.

I'm sure, from his perspective, what he's doing is the most noble and Heroic thing someone can do. He is fighting against corruption, the perversion of faith, a caricature that pays only lip service to Above. In doing so, some of his actions are indeed destabilizing the powerbase of those on the side of Good - but he's not doing it for that purpose. Therefore, he's not a Villain, but the position he's in is dicey because he's working against the established mortal powers of Good. A Villain, or someone narratively savvy enough, could take advantage of him.

Taylor is in essentially the same spot, but a bit worse. She's not a Villain, she's not trying to do things in service to Below, but she is working against Good. What makes it extra worse, and what the Bard tried to drill into her head, is that Heroes don't scheme. They don't plot. They don't line up dominoes to set them up to fall such that she betrays her targets after convincing them she was on their side. That's so deep into the exact actions a Villain would do that that's all the Praesi Chancellor Name does.

The Heroic Axioms don't speak about the Hero setting up a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, they warn the good-hearted, scrappy heroes to expect that from Villains.

So even though both the Martin Luther expy and Taylor are working similar goals in service of Above, ML is doing it like a Hero (I'm fighting against the heart of corruption) or Anti-Hero (The right thing to do is to bring down this system, even if innocents are hurt in the process, because more people will be saved in the future). He doesn't seem to be duplicitous. Taylor is doing it as a Villain.

What she should be doing is being up-front about everything; that's what Heroes do, they're earnest. Of course it's more troublesome, but oftentimes doing the right thing means screwing yourself over and choosing the harder path because that's the right thing to do. The actions of a hero would be to declare to their faces how disgusting they are and how disappointed she is, or to be otherwise tense or awkward as Taylor is very clearly uncomfortable with them. That's more along the lines of what a Hero would do.
 
As a Hero, she's forced into the narrative perspective of Good. As Taylor notes, "Good" doesn't always mean good, because that may be a matter of perspective and context. Even so, there are still rules.

The Martin Luther expy, from the perspective of the Church, is a Villain. He is a blasphemer, undermining the power of the Church at so crucial a time, preaching heresy. But he's only actually a villain if he's doing what he's doing in service (knowingly or otherwise) to Below.

I'm sure, from his perspective, what he's doing is the most noble and Heroic thing someone can do. He is fighting against corruption, the perversion of faith, a caricature that pays only lip service to Above. In doing so, some of his actions are indeed destabilizing the powerbase of those on the side of Good - but he's not doing it for that purpose. Therefore, he's not a Villain, but the position he's in is dicey because he's working against the established mortal powers of Good. A Villain, or someone narratively savvy enough, could take advantage of him.

Taylor is in essentially the same spot, but a bit worse. She's not a Villain, she's not trying to do things in service to Below, but she is working against Good. What makes it extra worse, and what the Bard tried to drill into her head, is that Heroes don't scheme. They don't plot. They don't line up dominoes to set them up to fall such that she betrays her targets after convincing them she was on their side. That's so deep into the exact actions a Villain would do that that's all the Praesi Chancellor Name does.

The Heroic Axioms don't speak about the Hero setting up a sudden yet inevitable betrayal, they warn the good-hearted, scrappy heroes to expect that from Villains.

So even though both the Martin Luther expy and Taylor are working similar goals in service of Above, ML is doing it like a Hero (I'm fighting against the heart of corruption) or Anti-Hero (The right thing to do is to bring down this system, even if innocents are hurt in the process, because more people will be saved in the future). He doesn't seem to be duplicitous. Taylor is doing it as a Villain.

What she should be doing is being up-front about everything; that's what Heroes do, they're earnest. Of course it's more troublesome, but oftentimes doing the right thing means screwing yourself over and choosing the harder path because that's the right thing to do. The actions of a hero would be to declare to their faces how disgusting they are and how disappointed she is, or to be otherwise tense or awkward as Taylor is very clearly uncomfortable with them. That's more along the lines of what a Hero would do.

Is that still the case tho with all the bet roles and stories in play plus isn't bard her ally now so won't she get warned if it will cause more problems which wouldn't be as bad since she's not against Black this time.
 
Is that still the case tho with all the bet roles and stories in play plus isn't bard her ally now so won't she get warned if it will cause more problems which wouldn't be as bad since she's not against Black this time.
Bard isn't part of her band or something, at least not yet, she might come and give advices more frequently now, considering she took the role of Lisa, but if Taylor fucks up, she is more likely to come after the fact and tell Taylor she did it, than stop her, just like last time.

We know Taylor can't enter into bet type stories now, we don't know if she can be caught in one or how net stories will work when she is involved, so it might be fine...

But that assumes Black doesn't interfere, who to say he doesn't have agents around to push things, entirely possible he will deliver another scheme if she leaves herself open to one, and that's before we take new Tattletale in mind, who is nearby.


Taylor is trying to prevent deaths, but by doing so put herself in bad narrative, it is probably fine as long as only she is there, because she is just significantly more powerful than everyone nearby, but another named getting involved make things dicey, because than it isn't Taylor alone.

The question is also how she is planning to go about stuff, using this duplicity to get to the conclave, before declaring herself the leader of her church, might work well narratively, but also likely wouldn't really get her far practically unless she used her powers to enforce stuff, say doing what she did to the peasant or making them feel shame by force.

Basically, she isn't really in good position, doing stuff properly means politics, which is bad hero narrative, doing it heroically will probably either be ineffective or force her to using her mind powers in some way.

I guess she could also get street cred by beating some massive threat in a very public way (beating a horned lord in the chain probably doesn't count for the south) so the holies can't go against her even with her declaring them sinful.
 
Taylor is trying to prevent deaths, but by doing so put herself in bad narrative, it is probably fine as long as only she is there, because she is just significantly more powerful than everyone nearby, but another named getting involved make things dicey, because than it isn't Taylor alone.

The problem there is that the power of narrative is almost retroactive in the setting. Black implemented a ridiculous amount of welfare programs in Callow just to effectively subvert tropes that would pop out Heroes like no tomorrow (although we learn that to some degree it probably wasn't just his programs that massively reduced the amount of Callow heroes).

If there's a Hero who is being a Villain and intends to betray the entire leadership of the predominantly Good religion, another Hero may literally just happen to have wandered into the mix in order to get tangled up into the plot and stop it without knowing it was happening in the first place. Or, as we saw when the Bard bailed her out, Villains or those serving Below capable of messing with her might just be in the area to take advantage of her narrative dissonance.

She's strong, but things like the Rule of Three exists in-universe: it doesn't matter how strong you are if the power of narrative is working against you.
 
The problem there is that the power of narrative is almost retroactive in the setting. Black implemented a ridiculous amount of welfare programs in Callow just to effectively subvert tropes that would pop out Heroes like no tomorrow (although we learn that to some degree it probably wasn't just his programs that massively reduced the amount of Callow heroes).

If there's a Hero who is being a Villain and intends to betray the entire leadership of the predominantly Good religion, another Hero may literally just happen to have wandered into the mix in order to get tangled up into the plot and stop it without knowing it was happening in the first place. Or, as we saw when the Bard bailed her out, Villains or those serving Below capable of messing with her might just be in the area to take advantage of her narrative dissonance.

She's strong, but things like the Rule of Three exists in-universe: it doesn't matter how strong you are if the power of narrative is working against you.
I doubt heroes will just wander in, because the vast majority would definitely be completely fine with what she does, and the rest are enemies she would want to remove, like the holies.

The biggest danger is a villain turning it against her I think.

Part of it is how she goes about it I think, as long as she has some plan for heroic reveal, I don't think she would fall into the wrong narrative.
 
The actions of a hero would be to declare to their faces how disgusting they are and how disappointed she is, or to be otherwise tense or awkward as Taylor is very clearly uncomfortable with them. That's more along the lines of what a Hero would do.
So, scheming isn't allowed, tricking people isn't allowed, and being dishonest isn't allowed, if one wants to remain heroic? Because that would exclude a lot of characters from being considered heroic, including classical heroes like Zorro and modern superheroes like Batman. These are people who spend a lot of time pretending to be something they're not, often even faking friendship with their enemies as an information-gathering tool. If that's not "scheming", I don't know what else it is, and yet I would be very skeptical of anybody who said they weren't heroes.

And then, of course, there's criminal heroes, like Lupin III or about half the protagonists of many heist movies - people who do nothing but scheme, in some cases so well that their enemies never even realize who it was who tricked them, and yet, as long as their motivation are selfless and their enemies deserving of punishment, it's impossible to declare them as not being heroes.

So, I said it before when the Bard claimed Taylor was in a Starscream narrative, and I'll say it again here: I don't buy it. It's not convincing. Heroes can be subtle and tricky and even betray people, so long as those people deserve their betrayal and the end result is a net positive: there's nothing that prohibits an heroic narrative to be built around an hero who uses guile. Indeed, they're often some of the most popular.

And, before anybody tries to weasel out of it by saying "but not in Calernia", (1) Thief is very often an heroic name, and (2) well, that was just solved by Taylor introducing her culture into the setting. If, for whatever reason, trickster heroes weren't a thing before (they were), they certainly should be now.
 
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So, scheming isn't allowed, tricking people isn't allowed, and being dishonest isn't allowed, if one wants to remain heroic? Because that would exclude a lot of characters from being considered heroic, including classical heroes like Zorro and modern superheroes like Batman. These are people who spend a lot of time pretending to be something they're not, often even faking friendship with their enemies as an information-gathering tool. If that's not "scheming", I don't know what else it is, and yet I would be very skeptical of anybody who said they weren't heroes.

You're taking what I said to an illogical extreme, and I believe you're mistaken in two separate ways.

The first is not that any kind of slightly bad-sounding action is therefore turbo illegal for Heroes. It's the way it's done. Scheming with the explicit intent to murder people who believe you are helping them is capital 'E' Evil. Scheming to out-think a Villain obviously isn't. Tricking people into thinking you are helping them, just so you can use them before you slip the knife into their ribs is Evil. Misdirecting people isn't. Being dishonest isn't inherently evil, as just like the other things, it depends on what you're being dishonest about and how.

At what points do Zorro and Batman disguise themselves and mislead others for an extended period of time, selling a lie, to get close to a target before murdering them? I'm admittedly less familiar with Zorro, but I don't think he did anything like that.

Also, none of that is the point, and this is the first thing I think you're mistaken about. Just because it's bad doesn't mean it's illegal for heroes to do. Heroes in the setting can lie, and cheat, and steal - even when it's not really justifiable in the context. That they couldn't wasn't the argument. The argument is that when they do those things, they have to fight against the narrative of the world. They aren't going with the flow, they're fighting against it, and that means anyone is around to take advantage of that.

It's that inherent, actual pressure of the world actively self-reinforcing narrative in-setting tropes that I think might be the second major thing you are mistaken on.

We have an excellent and story-relevant character to analyze. Olivier, under the moniker of his brother Roland, the Rogue Sorceror. What does he do? He literally lives a lie, presenting himself as his brother instead. His powers literally involve the theft of power from others. Does that make him Evil? Does that mean that he fights against the narrative? No, and it's for a few reasons.

The lie he presents matters to no one but himself. The powers he steals he steals from Villains, therefore taking from the corrupt and wicked to punish them. Beyond that, though, his Name gives him some benefit: Rogue Sorceror. Inherently, he doesn't play by the same rules. His actions can be a little more gray than others. In fact, if he was too much of a "Goody Two Shoes", he wouldn't be the Rogue Sorceror, he'd lose his Name.

Let's look at another example, which would appear to support your point. The Lone Swordsman. He was specifically selected by a Choir to be a Hero, and it was their intent that he be a monster to fight monsters. He's truly a wretched individual, but fights on the side of Good. What does that mean, exactly? Does it mean he's physically incapable of doing that because he's Good? No. What it does mean is that he doesn't get the same protections as far more genuine heroes would, because the narrative isn't fully behind him. Catherine Foundling, in the earlier books of the setting, is the Squire under the Black Knight, the foremost officer of The Dread Empire of Praes. She likewise doesn't have the same protections a Villain would have, and the narrative isn't fully on her side, because she tries to straddle the lines.



In doing some research on The Lone Swordsman, I went back and read some chapters which highlight some of the things I'm talking about. Spoiler warnings apply.

"You are not Evil," she said. "That is what irritates me most about you, Catherine. You just ape the methods, reassuring yourself your intentions are still Good. You act like your Name is a weapon and ignore that it has a meaning."

She slid her fingers down the length of her blade, the runes shining at the touch.

"Your master is the same. Lord Black, fear of the continent," she mocked. "He is a rat hiding at the center of maze of traps he spent decades building. Dangerous, perhaps, but behind all the tricks he is weak."

She chuckled.

"No matter how clever the traps, they will not save him from a boot. You shy away from what you are, Foundling, and Creation abhors such spineless dithering. I know what I am. I embrace it, because that is what a villain is. That is why I have power…"

Her sword rose.

"Monologues," I said, "Not even once."

The Lone Swordsman hit her with a burst of light before I even finished talking.

A couple things here. One, as Akua states, you are not just you in this setting if you have a Name. You might be Chancellor, but if you're not scheming to take the Empire of Praes, you're not actually the Chancellor. You have a weapon that you're not using correctly, and it can be taken from you.

Two, this highlights the literal narrative power of the setting. Villains monologuing is a trope. Heroes taking advantage of that is also a trope. It doesn't matter where The Lone Swordsman was before, or what he was doing; all that matters is that there would be an opportunity to punish a Villain during a monologue, and so wherever he was and whatever he was doing led him here to this moment, which Catherine uses to her advantage.

"What did you do?" Akua said suddenly, looking at me.

"I have three things," I said. "A kingdom, an enemy and a claim."

William snorted.

"A claim?" he said. "You-"

"I am the heiress to the King of Callow," I interrupted calmly.

"There is no King of Callow," the Lone Swordsman said.

"Yet a man rules it, and I am his chosen successor," I said.

Akua flinched, then looked at the sword. Too late now: she'd already given me what I needed. Of her own free will, too. That had to sting. William took the opening to dart for the blade, wrapping his fingers around the hilt and tugging it out. It did not move. His eyes turned to me, scared for the first time since I'd met him.

"It isn't yours anymore," I said.

"It was granted to me by the Hashmallim," he said.

"It's a sword in a stone. You did that yourself, with no one forcing you," I smiled. "It's a symbol, now, in a story about Callow."

This showcases the literal power of narrative in the setting. Catherine simply proposes the idea of this situation being a certain narrative, and it's so strong that she effectively steals a Hero's sword that was granted to him by literal Angels, because this narrative is far more powerful than that one. Last quote to underscore that:

"You can't cheat me," I laughed. "You're not the Gods. You're part of the story too. You have to follow the rules."

I opened my eyes, looking up into the perfect blankness.

"And if you won't give me my due," I said. "I'll Take it."

They shrieked but the power flowed into me. I felt my body spasm. My heart beat. My blood flow. The plain blurred, collapsed into me as I laughed.

Here, Catherine uses an Aspect to thwart the Choir of Contrition. So can people normally just go out and do that? No, obviously not. Angels are threats on the scale of Demons, and just because they are Good doesn't mean they aren't existential threats to mortals. But she could do it, in this moment, because it had the full weight of the capital 'N' Narrative behind it. Even the Angels, if they go that far from the path, can be defeated.


If all of that was a Too Long, Didn't Read, then read this:

Names have functional mechanics to them. The force of narrative trumps all. The Wandering Bard warned Taylor about this, because she's not Starscream. She's not Zorro, she's not Batman. She's not Robin Hood, or Thief, or the Rogue Sorceror, or the Heroic Assassin. Her Name doesn't coincide with doing distasteful things for the ultimate good, it doesn't offer protection when she does those things. She has a transitory name, full of potential, and the only narrative backing she has, besides trying to be a Hero, is to become something else later. Anyone else doing anything that is more in-line with their own narrative will be able to defeat her if she rids herself of what protections and weight she has. That was the Bard's warning, because she intimately knows how the world functions, and she knows even Angels and Devils, for all their power, can be defeated by puny mortals if they have the right narrative power in their sails.
 
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At what points do Zorro and Batman disguise themselves and mislead others for an extended period of time, selling a lie, to get close to a target before murdering them? I'm admittedly less familiar with Zorro, but I don't think he did anything like that.
If you remove "murdering" from that sentence, both of them do that all the time.

Zorro is the prototype upon whom Batman was built. Diego de la Vega is a noble, a scholar and dueling champion coming back to his home in California from a decade of studying in Spain, and he finds out that the local Spanish governor of his town is oppressing people, using the law as a weapon to make himself dictator in all but name. Now, as an heroically inclined individual, he could use his fighting skills to lead a revolution to take down the governor; the traditionally heroic thing. Or, as a noble, he could try and use political pressure to demand some change in the governor's action. He does neither, because he has people he cares about that he is worried will suffer from any reprisal the governor will attempt if he go either of those routes. Instead, he pretends to be a meek individual, with no fighting skill, a wastrel of a noble son basically, and use the lower profile this grants him to make friends with the staff of the governor and his guards, so that he can know any new scheme the governor might be hatching in advance, and then he uses the alternate identity he created, that of a black-dressed, masked outlaw and master swordsman, the Zorro, to constantly foil the governor's plots (which the Zorro appears to always have knowledge of in advance, somehow - he wouldn't be nearly as effective without that knowledge), slowly eroding the man's power until he is able to have him removed from his post, in a slow process that keeps his loved ones, as well as all of the people of his town, safe from facing the reprisals that other approaches might have engendered. He saves more people by taking the longer approach, and that'd somehow be "less heroic"?

I hope you don't need me to explain to you how Zorro was the inspiration for Batman in particular, and most modern superheroes in general - it should be pretty self-evident.

So, we have an hero, with both physical and political power, facing off an enemy who has institutional power, working to oust them by scheming and pretending friendship to "backstab" them; and this is so heroic a narrative that it's the basis for 90% of the superhero narratives ever, having popularized the very concept of a person with incredible skills using a secret identity to dispense justice while hiding themselves with a true identity that is something of a wimp. It's so strong a story that it originated hundreds of copies, and what is currently the most popular narrative in both movies and comics. This is a narrative as solid as steel.

And it is what Taylor has been trying to do... very badly, admittedly, because soft power and trickery aren't and haven't ever been strengths of her. So, what I'm taking issue with, both with your comment here and with the Bard's comment back there, is that this is an inherently villainous story; it's not, it can in fact be extremely heroic if handled correctly.

You make a valid point that her Name, in particular, might be unsuited to this; we haven't really been given any details on what her name is about - we know that it lets her see people's dream, introduce new ideas to a situation, and persevere through adversity, but none of these provide a clear identification of what her role is, what narrative she's into. Of course, we could just guess at that from reading the story, which is the narrative that she's into, and to me it reads very strongly like a reformist story, which should allows for subterfuge, but you have a point that, if her story is meant to have her confront problems head on instead of circumventing them, then trying to do what she's doing is doomed to fail, and a straightforward approach would see her win... but, the thing is, that'd be because her actions are unsuited to her name and role; not because they are villainous by default. Because, as I hope I've made clear, they're very much not.

And Bard is not, and never has been, and never will be, not even if we had a POV chapter from her that said "this is what I genuinely believe", a trustworthy source of information; she could just as easily have said Taylor "your narrative doesn't allow you to go for subtlety" because she was trying to shape Taylor's name so that it would not allow her to go for subtlety. That applies to everything she ever says, does, and even think - it's all in the service of shaping narratives in certain ways, and those are ways that are advantageous to her goal (of destroying everything), not in the service of ever helping people understand the truth of things.

I hope that makes sense?
 
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I've mentioned this elsewhere, but this is the story of the Name Aspirant:
Attempting to achieve something which is impossible. The person with the Name needs to know that their goal is impossible, but believe that they can do it regardless. It can be either heroic or villainous (in Taylor's case, it's heroic) and obviously you wouldn't see too many Aspirants in the Guideverse, even if I am putting it down as an already existing Name. Most people that know something is impossible, don't believe that they're special and can do it anyhow.

If the person who has the Name actually succeeds at doing the impossible, the Name transitions into the appropriate Name for "person who does whatever that impossible task is." For example, if Taylor succeeded at making a perpetual motion machine, she would be something like "The Eternal Mechanist."
 
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I've mentioned this elsewhere, but this is the story of the Name Aspirant:
Attempting to achieve something which is expressly impossible. The person with the Name needs to know that their goal is impossible, but believe that they can do it regardless. It can be either heroic or villainous (in Taylor's case, it's heroic) and obviously you wouldn't see too many Aspirants in the Guideverse, even if I am putting it down as an already existing Name. Most people that know something is impossible, don't believe that they're special and can do it anyhow.

If the person who has the Name actually succeeds at doing the impossible, the Name transitions into the appropriate Name for "person who does whatever that impossible task is." For example, if Taylor succeeded at making a perpetual motion machine, she would be something like "The Eternal Mechanist."
Wait, so Taylor wouldn't transition out until and if villains ceased to exist? Or would some sufficiently impressive steps towards that goal change the name before that point?
 
Wait, so Taylor wouldn't transition out until and if villains ceased to exist? Or would some sufficiently impressive steps towards that goal change the name before that point?
She could also transition if she no longer believed she could do the impossible and found some new purpose (in which case she would transition to something more grounded) or she could transition if she achieved something which is impossible, but was not the goal she was attempting to achieve (if she made a perpetual motion machine by accident, she would still be an Eternal Mechanist).
 
That's interesting, and very welcome information. I do want to note that I'm not seeing anything in that prescription that requires the Aspirant to be a "confront problems head-on" type of person, especially if they believe they can solve the problem in question through subterfuge. Just my opinion on the matter.
 
That's interesting, and very welcome information. I do want to note that I'm not seeing anything in that prescription that requires the Aspirant to be a "confront problems head-on" type of person, especially if they believe they can solve the problem in question through subterfuge. Just my opinion on the matter.
Taylor would not have earned it without the Bard interfering. The Bard wants to die, and her dying is an impossible task. When Taylor arrived, she decided to try and add Taylor in as another possible solution to her own problem, because somebody who is trying to solve impossible tasks is more likely to run into them.

Her manipulations of Taylor obviously backfired, but they were planned with her dying in mind.
 
That's great to know, as the same time as entirely unsurprising, and pretty much confirms my opinion on the matter. Now looking forwards to see how that all shakes off.
 
Wait, isn't changing completely the course of creation worldwide by adding all her stories impossible? Is that why her dream called her to the city, was it opportunity to do the impossible?

If not, is there a particular reason it didn't count?
 
Wait, isn't changing completely the course of creation worldwide by adding all her stories impossible? Is that why her dream called her to the city, was it opportunity to do the impossible?

If not, is there a particular reason it didn't count?
That was not action on her part. She was provided a series of choices, where the Gods would do something to her. It's sort of equivalent to if the Gods killed the Bard. Yeah, they always could kill her, but it isn't getting anyone else a Name.
 
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