LOG: Saiban and Baudouin Discuss Religion

[Karrde <karrde@karrde.apropos.org>]

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice says,
"Message from ornithopter 2067, bound for Ginaz Embassy, requesting
clearance, "Are you shutting your ears to the Living Word?""

Over your communicator's secure frequency, you say, "Please accept the
Marquis' apologies for the wait. In the meantime, we have supplied you
with some exciting selections from Morgo's Kazoo Heaven for your
listening pleasure."

Over your communicator's secure frequency, a man's voice says,
"Clearance has been granted for vehicle 2067, bound for the Ginaz
Embassy, by Saiban."

[A time later, in the Marquis' sitting room...]

Baudouin climbs up the Escalator.
Baudouin has arrived.

The Grand Master huffs briskly up the stairs, escorted by two tall men
with hair cropped to a finger's breadth but nevertheless equipped with
beards. They are clad in plain white uniforms and armed with ancient
Norman swords. The Templars' eyes focus on nothing in particular as
they continually take in their surroundings. They move with a relaxed
feline grace but seem ready to spring to immediate action.

Saiban is already standing, the guards flanking the doors pulling them
open on cue to introduce the distingished guest to the bright sitting
room. The Marquis studies his visitor, hands clasped behind his back.

Baudouin bows his head curtly as a greeting, before speaking in a
rumbling tone, "Marquis, I be the Grand Master Baudouin Emmering of
The Holy Order of the Soldiers Ecclesiast of the Imperial Temple. I
come here on the command of the Living God to enquire of the state of
your soul, and of those of your servants." He shifts his gaze to the
the Ginaz guards.

Saiban's guards look impassive, and the Marquis nods at the
introduction, replying calmly, "Grand Master, I would be glad to
assure you of our firm footsteps on the path of the Lord. How may I
help you?" He motions, in respectful offering, to the most pious chair
in the room.

Baudouin signs for his men to step back and take up guarding positions
flanking the entrance. Baudouin peers enigmatically at Saiban but
moves over to the chair and takes his place.

Saiban waits for the other to become comfortable, signaling for the
usual guard at the door to stay to their positions, before he also
takes a seat nearby and regards the visitor with a keen, attentive
eye.

Baudouin says, "Good. The One True God takes care of his own and
exterminates the unbelievers. We," Baudouin barks with a powerful
gesture to himself and his followers, "make sure of that. We are the
Scythe of the Lord, engaged in the sacred mission of cutting down all
who place themselves in the way of Him in his Most Holy
Progression. Now, the masses cry out desirously for us to make haste
in embarking on that journey, treading in God's footsteps. We have to
differ between heathen and believer, though. And we hear tales of your
religious misconceptions, of you reading the Orange Catholic Satan's
Bible under the tutelage of that misled man Osien. True, no?"
Scrutinizing Saiban he growls, not unfriendly - just in his usual
rough commanding tone, "So, how is it to be, Marquis? Will you keep
that wormstongue, eh? With the Lord or with the Devil, are we?"

Saiban listens with that same calm, attentive expression, nodding at
points until the other gets to the point of the Orange Catholic
Bible. Then he smiles endulgingly. "Grand Master, it is well known
what faith the Ginaz follow. If you've come here to convert, I must
say I admire your own faith, but my family has done well by our
following of the Lord and the Gospel, and do not sway in it."

Baudouin smacks his lips. "Not here to convert, I am. Only to ask and
answer. I say - choose the victorious Lord, the One True, and not some
rotten idol made up from the imagination of weak minds. There is a
wind blowing, born out of the throats of the poor and lowly. That wind
is growing to a storm, and when it breaks custom will mean less than
this speck of dung on my boot." Baudouin pauses to point at the sole,
where a brownish spot can be discerned. "Tis not a threat, I say. Just
an explanation of our most sacred plight and what God is -really-
planning for us."

Saiban keeps his polite expression, his intent listening, and then
nods. "Grand Master, Ginaz has followed the word, the...Orange
Catholic phrasing, mind you...for many generations now. We have
uttered it as we died for the righteous, given thanks to the Lord for
victory, received the blessings as promised us in the realm through
steadfast faith." He pauses, his smile blending modesty with teeth. "I
have felt the wind and the storm already, and my soul is at
peace. What goes the Almighty plan for you?"

Baudouin grunts and leans back in his chair, studying Saiban in
silence. It stretches, but Baudouin doesn't move or speak. Not until
one of the men in the room move slightly and scrapes his boot on the
floor. Then the Grand Master nods to himself with a satisfied
grunt. "I am unimportant," he rumbles dismissively, then continues,
"but there's strength in you, Marquis. A man has to respect that. I
can only regret that when God pushes the button we will end up in
opposing trenches."

Saiban raises an eyebrow, patient through the silence. "On the
contrary, he who is custodian of the deliverance of mortal souls, and
their judgement, is hardly insignificant. Though I gather I may be
saddened that you do not agree with the path of my House and family, I
fail to understand the trench you speak of. Do you follow another God
that I am unaware of, that would put such a cleft between us?" He
leans forward a bit, confidentially, almost.

Baudouin raises a gloved fist to his beard and starts to twirl a few
wayward strands. "Between the two of us I say differences between
editions of the Good Book seem trivial, but then I am only a man of
simple habits. Where the Vicar of Our Lord points, the swords of
Mother Church will thrust. And His Eminence says the Imperial Standard
Edition is to the liking of the Almighty but that the Orange Catholic
one is the work of the Devil. And," he says, spreading his arms, "I
follow Our Lord the Messiah in His blooded footsteps. He is One and
True, not an amalgam born out of old men's fears. Perhaps," he adds
thoughtfully, "it is a reflection of Him that you really follow,
albeit distorted by this Orange business."

Saiban smiles at that, noting, "Arguments on matters of religion and
politics flow over the mind like waterdrops over a lily leaf, wetting
little." He settles back again, adding, "You hold fascinating
conversation, Grand Master. You come, thus, into the home of one you
see as a follower of Evil, to be so eloquent?" Again the teeth in the
smile.

Baudouin chuckles. "No!" The answer bursts from him like a mortar
shell hitting stone. "You're not evil. At least you believe in some
god, Marquis - and that's more than can be said about the other
slicked old Siridar goats strutting around in this cursed city. I
can't make one out from the other! Details," he offers with a gesture
of generosity, "can be disregarded as long as we all share a purpose -
namely following the Lord and putting His enemies to the sword."
Baudouin's fingers search their way back into his beard. "What would
you say of being present at a discussion of faith... and strategy, at
a time not so distant from now and in the company of both the learned,
the holy and the honest warriors?"

Saiban listens with a touch of amusement at the judgement of the other
leaders of the Landsraad, and shrugs a shoulder, replying, "Their own
souls are not my business, thank the Lord. Those who do not follow Him
will answer eventually for their lost wanderings. But am I given to
believe you and yours favor a somewhat more...proactive approach to
matters of faith and cause? To be sure, Ginaz has historically been
graced with worthy cause and company. It would follow that we would
not reject such if we were to come upon it in these times."

Baudouin's pussy and wildly bearded face actually lights up at this,
as something boyishly enthusiastic sweeps over his features. "Jolly
good," he barks and sits straight in his chair. "I'll let His Eminence
send you invitations when time draws near then. And of course the
Order has a direct approach to religion. Our simplicity is our
strength. There is only One God, you know." Baudouin puts his hands to
his massive thighs and heavily rises to his feet. "I hope you will
excuse me now, Marquis. The Lord won't wait for idle conversation, and
I have to lead weapon's exercise back at the Cathedral in a short
while. 'Twas a true pleasure to meet you, I say - even though you
might have something of the heathen in you, old wolf!" The Grand
Master grins, pulls off his glove and offers you his hand to shake.

Saiban quirks something close to a wry grin as he, too, rises. "Call
it the Ginaz unpredictability. It benefits often in the sitting room,
as well as on the practice floor. " He smiles wider, and inclines his
head without shaking. "Thank you for coming, I anticipate the
invitation."

Baudouin glances at his palm, then rubs it on his uniform jacket to
rid it of some imagined speck of dirt. Merely grunting he nods his
goodbye to Saiban, pulls on his glove and marches toward the exit. The
silently waiting Templars pull it open and follow their master down
the stairs, leaving as briskly as they arrived.

Baudouin descends the Escalator.
Baudouin has left.

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