Arahetian Legends : Pt 1
The life and trials of the founding prophets of the Arahetian Empire
You can learn much about a people by understanding their legends, their gods, and their faith in practice. This is the second of several entries exploring the religions of the world of Ash and Ruin and the people who adhere to them.
The Legend of Arahet
The Arehetains were once a divided people inhabiting an archipelago they called Ylefode (meaning fire-forged in the ancient Arahetian tongue). In Ylefode, feudal lords fought for dominion over both land and sea. Eventually an advisor to one of those petty lords managed to garner a lasting peace by uniting the fractured islands into a singular people. He was soon after declared a prophet and became the central most figure of a budding faith. That advisor’s name was Arahet. In his short life, he planted the seeds of a faith that would unite the disparate Arahetian people as one. Now, that faith continues to leave its mark the world over.
Arahet was born into privilege and benefited from a sharp mind. He advised lords, devised strategies for conquests, and basked in the pleasures of the life his station provided.
In his middle years, jaded by the pleasures of the flesh and distracted from his duties, he was beset by a growing unease. To stay this restlessness, he pried himself away from his daily frivolities and began spending time alone, in darkness, reflecting. Still yet haunted by his busy mind, he began to wander. By trail, by caravan, by sea; Arahet attempted to run from his own thoughts but made no progress in escaping them. None knew what troubled him so - least of all himself.
On his journeys, people of all walks of life engaged with him. He found their company inspiring. He would treat them kindly, hear their stories, and offer them gifts. And despite all that he gave, he would feel as though it was he who gained. He learned of their gods and their practices and found great insight within them. In fact, he found more wisdom in the common folk than was ever gleaned from scrolls of the ancients peoples long gone. Yet, in the long hours of the night, he would be consumed again by spinning thoughts as if there were some great puzzle that demanded to be solved.
While Arahet grew ever more restless, his estate of Astos grew ambitious in kind. It longed for an even greater domain and greater riches. Men were sent searching far and wide for Arahet. When finally found in a fisherman’s storehouse, he returned to his liege lord (Heftos) with a heavy heart, and began devising strategies for the summer raids.
One day, shy a quill and short of patience, Arahet pricked his finger to mark a map for the eager council around him. With his blood he marked the plot of land for the coming conquests that he would choose to claim as his own. Then, he would finally retire to a life of peace and simplicity. This was the price he demanded from his lord. It was at that moment, blood marking the canvas map, that he began to convulse and spilled out upon the table.
When pried away, the map had been stained fully with his blood.
In the firdens after his collapse, Arahet was not the same man. He was rattled, confused, and distressed. When called upon by his lord for council, he would merely stutter. He could not even muster the most basic of wit or fundamentals of strategy. And he was haunted by visions and spectres in the night.
The lord of Astos would not be taken for a fool, and had Arahet confined to quarters in a fury. He saw the blood stained map as a premonition for Arahet’s desire for total dominion. He denied Arahet sustenance while subjecting him to all forms of torturous treatments.
Yet, Arahet persevered because of the help of the maid Falradar of Hos. She provided him nourishment against the will of their lord and provided him a paper and quill. It would be said that she had a great wisdom of her own.
Heftos was incensed upon discovering the subterfuge and what he was certain was Arahet’s continued ruse. All that he wrote in the following months, but for a small sliver hidden by Falradar, was discovered and cast into flame. Arahet was then exiled from his court and lands. Yet, not all was lost. What writings that were saved by Falradar were copied and read in secret by the common folk and nobility alike. What was dismissed as madness by Heftos was seen as great wisdom by many.
Life among the commoners was one thing. Life in exile as it turns out, is an entirely more difficult affair. Those exiled are assumed lost to the world and dead. As much as Heftos would hope it, Arahet was not dead. And he was not defeated in his exile. According to his later writings, Arahet faced a series of trials. Each was more intense than the last and each was overcome without the sharpness and mind he had beforehand. With each tribulation, a small piece of his mind was rebuilt. The trials of Arahet are the source of many moral tales for the Arehetians today - though their telling is rarely the same from one man to the next.
Meanwhile, Astos expanded to encompass many territories including whole islands of Ylefode, largely stillwith the strategies laid in place by Arahet before his fall. In that expanding domain, the salvaged scribbles of Arahet became ever more popular. They stirred something inside those that read them. It wasn’t long before the entire domain was astir with novel ideas and a growing unease with the rights, ranks, and rituals so well established before. At the same time, the trudge of conflict and famine had driven the commonfolk to bare bone and ruined home.
The name of Arahet became a proposed answer to all these ails. A whisper, then a murmur, then a shout. Finally - revolution. The people and all of the forces of Heftos searched far and wide for Arahet for years. But he could not be found. It soon became a contest, as powerful families hoped to find Arehet for their own ends. All the while whispers of conspiracies of another sort began to surface. There were those who suspected The Lord of Astos had murdered him. Others assumed he had kept him hidden away to prevent the necessary insurgence he might bring about.
Revolution was brewing.
It was on the cusp of a thousand rebellious acts that Arahet emerged, adorned in snakeskin garments. Nobody knew from whence he came, but they knew he came with purpose. In silence, he strode through the front passage of the manor of Lord Heftos. The guards did not stop him. After calling for the lord, he walked back through the gathering crowds that followed him hence. He continued on until he reached the place of his tale’s culmination.
Standing atop a hill, below the sun on that cloudless day, he addressed those that came for him. All of the conspiring lords and revolutionary leaders, and even lord Heftos himself, were in attendance. It was there that he delivered his final insights to the crowd. He spoke clearly of the nature of the world, of a single God, of sin, and of goodness. He spoke for many hours, yet the air remained crisp and the sun stayed above him in the sky. All the while he held outright his sheathed embersteel blade.
To the bewilderment of the crowd, he unsheathed that blade and plunged it into his gut and upward to his heart. At that moment, Arahet was reduced to ash by a divine bolt from the heavens. All who witnessed this act professed that he wore a gentle smile. After his death, it was witnessed that a crane plucked a perfect diamond from the ashes and took flight eastward.
In the wake of Arahet's death, lord Heftos, weeping atop the ash, declared himself an Arehetian. So too did all present. Soon, all of Tlefode declared themselves loyal to Astos, behind the teachings of Arahet alone, and sailed under a single sail. Heftos, truly repentant, focused his efforts on reforming his domain to reflect the ordinance of the newly divine. Temples were erected in every city. The wise maid Falradar of Hos was given charge of these temples. She appointed scribes to take down the teachings of Arahet for all to read. Thus the teachings of Arahet spread and the world was made anew.
