Eventually a
bumpy ride ended before the forgotten chapel.
Rose had not
spoken since the hilltop, and neither did Zanderin, other than the curses
required to awaken his driver.
This was
Sunflower Tower, the chapel built in commemoration of an ancient battle. A long
time ago warriors from a neighbouring society invaded this mountain basin, to
rape and pillage and burn. Many died, and in the aftermath sunflowers sprouted
up from this field of remains. Many still regarded it as an omen; the bodies
now dust, the bones buried deep within this fertile field. By all accounts,
every attempt to remove the dead, whether of friend or foe, met with only
failure. Another omen.
After the pass
through the mountains was sealed to future invaders by induced rockslides, the
Tower was built, but most ignored it today, as if proximity would infuse them
with dark thoughts. The sunflowers continued to flourish. No one was able to explain
it. No one sought to explain it. This was an out of sight, out of mind
mentality.
Zanderin
speculated whether Amaris could have illuminated the phenomenon. If anyone had
an answer, it would be her. It was a pity she was deceased. Thank the ancient
gods she was.
Time to focus on
the present.
On the living
mirror she left behind.
After the events
at the Stone, a number of the warriors present there chose the cloth. Guilt? No
doubt. Jonah Ferntree was one; Rex was another. Jonah received the blessings of
Ferntree wealth in his choice of parish; Rex chose this backwater as his
vocational home, because here he felt able to atone.
“Which card is
his?” Rose asked, speaking for the first time as she clambered from the
carriage to stand staring over the masses of sunflowers all around.
Black discs
surrounded by bright yellow petals lifted their faces to the sun they were
named after.
“The Penitent. His name is Rex. No family
name. He is no more than a labourer, but the Church accepts all kinds.”
“Ignorance won’t
save him?”
Zanderin frowned,
voicing a thought he entertained when Bronwyn handed him the card. “Rex killed
sixteen of Tinsal’s guard at the Stone, among them a man loyal to Bronwyn his
entire life. No, ignorance won’t save him.”
They turned as
one when a voice called out, “May I help you?”
Fantasy with a twist; akin to an
alternate Assassin’s Creed, where tarot cards are the weapons.
Bronwyn, a woman scorned, loses her
honour, status, and her leg, and now the time has come to exact retribution.
Zanderin, a sorcerer bound to
her, waves his magic over the attention seeking cards, each with a name
attached, and every card becomes a symbol of doom. This is a cosmic deck, dealing
in fate. Via his swift carriage, hooded and cloaked, he is the harbinger and assassin.
Terra meets her betrothed,
Rhodry, when Zanderin gifts his first card. Rhodry and Zanderin are connected,
and everyone linked to them is on Bronwyn’s list of names.
TINSAL is about bloodlines, secrets,
and a controlled society. As the cards are dealt, death follows, until the
endgame moves to Castle Tinsal itself.
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