Free Aegis of The Gods: Book 00 - The Shadowbearer by Terry C. Simpson

pictures his mind conjured from the years he’d done battle against the monsters.
    However, the tomes of the Chronicles spoke of a time when the creatures would rise again to scour Denestia. Supposedly, if the prophecies were to be believed, the Setian would pave the path to free the world from doom. Thinking of the books conjured memories of Stefan’s old wet nurse, Shin Galiana who often told him the stories. To many, they were little more than myths. Stefan wasn’t so sure.
    Part of Nerian’s words rang true for the Knight Commander. Granadia’s Tribunal had done what none else accomplished: Their Dagodin, Ashishin, and High Ashishin had driven the creatures from their land and helped Ostania accomplish the same. Why should they risk more for kingdoms unwilling to convert to the Streamean religion despite all they’d done to help in the past?
    “Would you care if you were them?” Stefan asked.
    “If I were them, the world would already be mine to do with as I wish,” Nerian replied absently, his gaze seemingly locked on something in the distance.
    Stefan frowned. This was not the Nerian he remembered before going off to war. Sure, they were both ambitious and both lived for glory, but the sound in the King’s voice spoke of a longing, a need to make the entire world bow to him. When they shared their dreams in the past, they wanted the Setian to stand above all but without oppression, without tyranny. Nerian sounded almost … jealous. “You intend to take on the Tribunal, don’t you?”
    Nerian’s gaze shifted to the Knight Commander.
    Stefan almost flinched at the cold pits there. “Why? They helped to give us much of what we hold now.”
    “Give?” Nerian scowled, showing his teeth. “They gave me nothing. All I have I took.” He paused. “You helped me take. You, my son, are the only one I need to thank for what we Setian accomplished. The rest are fodder.”
    Stefan opened his mouth to tell the King he was wrong. Without the men who worshipped them, the men Stefan convinced to follow him and the King’s wishes to their death, they would have nothing. The same men Nerian now denied the peace Stefan had promised them. Had it not been for them, the Setian would be a shell of their current glory. How had the King changed so much in three years? The man spoke as if life was little more than a tool to be sharpened, used until it broke, cast away, and then replaced. Stefan bit his tongue. Instead, he said, “Thank you, sire. You honor me.”
    Eyes again drawing to something distant, King Nerian nodded as if he expected nothing less than gratitude. “The Tribunal wishes to make it seem as if they have no real interest in Ostania or even Everland, but indeed they do. They may not be able to rule us by force yet, but they conquered many Ostanians mentally. If only I saw it sooner.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Streamean worship, of course.” Nerian pointed toward the towering statues of Ilumni and the other gods at the temples in Benez. “With their Devout priests and priestesses, the Tribunal has accomplished what no army could. They have subverted the rule of the Ostanian kingdoms with their promises of unity of the gods, harmony between the three religions, and equality between men and women.” Nerian spat. “They tout compulsory education and universal language as if we are semi–intelligent beasts. Through the knowledge they garnered from the Chronicles, they lead people to think the gods reveal their will through the Devout. The fact every one of the priests is also a mender only helps to make that more believable. Look around you some time. Their influence is rampant. Despite their promise of unity, which god do most of us pray to? Ilumni. When something ill happens, to whom do we direct our curses, our blasphemy?” Nerian turned to meet Stefan’s gaze, letting the answer hang.
    Amuni, Stefan thought, but kept silent.
    “I see you begin to understand,” Nerian said.
    “You might be