The Grey Ones
The Visitors: III

THE VASAATH

The Kas general never expected someone from the mainland, someone who benefited from the unfairness and savagery of the Faith of the Builder, to understand the philosophy of the People. Not at first, at least. But this woman, this girl, insulted him too easily.

Dressed in red silk and lavish golden jewellery, she was hardly an advocate of the people. He should have known the moment he had laid his eyes on her elegant form that her privileges were too great for her to understand the fairness and the correctness of the Philosophy; beauty, in this case, was not a valuable virtue.

He should have known—the ohkasenon, those who converted to the Philosophy, did it because they saw the unfairness of the Builder and recognised the Philosophy as the solution. But they were not the corrupted ones.

His fleeting conversation with the girl had convinced him that there was no use in trying to bargain with these people. Better to scorch the land to let it heal than to attempt to salvage the little that was left to hold on to.

His brooding thoughts were interrupted by Kasethen as he entered the tent. He bowed and said, “Forgive me, venaas, but I understand your meeting with the lady did not go as planned?”

The Vasaath grunted. “I have no intention of trying to persuade someone who isn’t ready to learn.”

“But, my lord, don’t you think you judged the girl too soon?” Kasethen sat down by the table. “You mustn’t be offended if she said inappropriate things. The women of these lands aren’t trained in matters of diplomacy.”

“No,” said the Vasaath, “they are not, and they have their faith to thank for that. And yet, not even a woman so repressed as to not be trusted with matters of intelligence can see the faults in her faith. There is no hope here, Kasethen. This land is cursed, and we need to rid it of that curse.”

Kasethen seemed to carefully choose what next to say, and just as well—he ought to know the Vasaath did not have much patience with the mainlanders, to begin with.

Finally, he said, “My lord, I advise you to give the girl a second chance. She is the daughter of the Duke, and thus she holds much authority. I have made the kaseraad make inquiries around the city, and she is very well respected amongst the citizens, more so than her brother, the Duke’s successor. If you can convert her, the sheep will follow.”

The Vasaath considered this. It was true what the Kasethen said, that if the girl indeed possessed the love and respect of the common people, she would be the perfect pilgrim. But he was no teacher, and he was certainly no Vasenon—it was not his role to teach the philosophy to those who did not understand it. The Vasenon was, however, far from Noxborough.

He grunted again and glared at Kasethen. “You do it. You teach the girl.”

Kasethen’s eyes widened. “Me? My lord, that would not be proper.”

The Vasaath shrugged. “You and I are equally equipped to teach a stranger. You have indeed the better temperament and patience to do so. You are, after all, a kasethen.”

“But you have the authority,” Kasethen concluded. “I am but an advisor. A saath-kasethen, not an enon-kasethen. It is much less my role to teach the philosophy, than yours.”

The Vasaath sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I am glad you think so,” said the advisor, “because I told the lady to return tomorrow at noon.”

The Vasaath raised a brow. “Did you, now? Well, you seem confident in your abilities to persuade me. Good. Now, bring me my tea.”

“Yes, my lord.” Shortly after, Kasethen served him a large cup of Redroot tea but he still seemed trouble.

“Out with it, Kasethen.”

The advisor sighed. “My lord, I would not wish to impose on your methods, but perhaps it would be wise for you to treat the girl with kindness henceforth? I believe that appeals to these people, and especially womenfolk.”

The Vasaath glared at the man. “Am I not kind?”

Kasethen widened his eyes. “Of course you are, my lord! I just meant—”

The Vasaath huffed. “Enough. I know what you meant. And yes, perhaps I spoke too harshly with the girl.” He sighed. “It sickens me to find so much fragility in these lands.”

“I believe it is but custom,” said Kasethen. “They are taught to bow to men. Perhaps you would do well to speak with the lady in a softer manner.”

The Vasaath grunted disapprovingly.

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