The Godless City

To remind all men that fortune is never constant, a storm afflicted the victors of the great naval battle so that within an hour they might have wished to have lost it instead that retreat could save them. Of one ship tossed far and then low, sinking, an officer and a portion of his soldiers made the shore.
The officer declared it a miracle and vowed to give offerings to the god who preserved them, and if there was no shrine for the purpose already, he would have one made, and the same for a temple when his means permitted. He encouraged his men to join him in that. "Certainly, but what god is it?" they asked.
The plain and uninhabited shore gave no answer to that. Stymied, the officer led his men away from there and succeeded so well that not a single one of them died before seeing home or whatever other destination he liked.
That duty done, the officer turned to the other, and in furtherance of it he settled a colony where he washed up. It flourished, whereupon the founder attracted scholars and philosophers whom he tasked with determining the god in addition to their other studies.
It flourished still more and soon became prosperous enough that its founder had erected the grandest temple known, though he refused to have it consecrated before his rescuer was known. More than that, he forbade the building of any other temple within the city limits before then. The injunction is observed today. Therefore, stranger, to answer your question at last, your devotions must be done outside the walls.
Finis

Furor and Nobility

The page sent to investigate the dismal clouds hanging over the route returned with his report too late to save his master the trouble of mounting but comfortably in time to avert disaster. "Your Lordship, please stop! The rain is a very flood, and the storm barons smite the wetted earth with their terrible bolts!"
"What of it, if barons have their trifling sport? We who have higher duties are not dissuaded from touring our lands by that." Saying that, Count Fandeghen rode forward. He dismissed his retinue, but no other concession did he make.
The tempest did not prove the page a liar, nor did it dissuade the count. The missiles of the storm barons struck the ground closer and closer, and never did he honor them with his attention till his steed forced the issue, for it shied when a bolt came too close for its animal courage to bear. The rider wrested his horse back to placidity, but he himself was wroth. He dismounted and declared this.
"The fright you caused my beast will have its consequence, vassal!" He stretched his great bow and loosed a shaft upward to the bolt's originating point. The roar which followed was not thunder. Soon the wounded storm baron appeared and gave notice of challenge by raising his furious mace.
The battle ended this way, that Count Fandeghen was too much for any baron of whatever realm. He pinned his foe to the ground and made of him a prisoner. The ransom the count gained was seven talents of silver, for that baron's bolt forked seven times, and a fulgent lance difficult to withstand on the battlefield. If you go to the current count and ask to see it you will be refused, for the grandson of the man who won it gave it as a gift to a knight who did him great service, and that was well done.
Finis

A Story of Shapes

Once, a traveler became lost in a land in which he had never before gone astray. The reason was the mist, thick, cold, and obscuring, unusual in that time of drought. He wandered until the mist began to clear and saw himself to be in a place he had not before visited, away from the road and ringed with rocks, and in the center, a figure, dim at first but gradually visible.
The man was waving around a sack, and not without effect, for the mist went into the sack and caused it to bulge. Little by little, all of it was drawn in so that the day was as clear as could be.
"What is that sack, good sir?" the traveler asked. "And what is your name?"
The sack-swinger stopped and saw the traveler for the first time. "Oh, it's a shame you saw that, it is. Now you must press the mist in this bag." So saying, he threw the sack on the ground and menaced the traveler until the job was done.
"Good. Now you must roll out the mist and make the edges even." The traveler did that as well. The mist made a large, gray sheet, and though its borders lacked definition, the traveler was able to tell where they should be.
"Good. Now carve apart the mist into sections." Seeing the traveler unsure whether to speak, the man went on to say, "The size is your choice, and up to you also is the shape, and whether to make them uniform."
The traveler made them blocks at first, but as he went he made circles and spirals and petals, and other shapes as well, some of them small and others nearly the whole length of it. More than that, his confidence increased so that he packed some together and pulled others apart as it felt right to do. When he completed his work, the man looked it over.
"At last, something I can use. I'll end the drought with this, and as for you." The man made the mist into the clouds and the traveler into the god of them, and from then on the world had weather again.
Finis

To See the Future Is to Conquer It

The astrologers claimed the world would change, that the heavens would treat them differently, and the great king listened. He thought, he mused, and he pondered till the gods spoke to him.
He commanded a great work. The cleverest designed it, the wealthiest funded it, and the strongest carried it out. For years blocks were cut, hauled, and set in place so that above the groaning plain rose the pyramid, the answer to the certain prophecy.
When the work was done, the great king himself ascended to the very apex. None of his counselors did he permit there to attend him. He waited, he waited, and he waited.
Then, at last, clouds gathered and for the first time gave the land snow. And the great king was the first of thousands to sled down the pyramid, which was so rad he had it written on pillars in order that all who read of his feat throughout the ages might know how totally sick it was.
Finis

An Incident in the Year 572

When the storms started, the Oddani prayed. When the storms continued, they asked their priests to use stronger rituals. When the storms worsened, they pleaded with Hobbell, one of the prominent men, to make use of his foreign connections and learn of some worthy ceremony or helpful god before they were ruined.
He said, "I know you are quick to act and quick to change your mind. First you must promise two things, that you will accord me noble honors and that you will do whatever I say in this crisis without punishing me later regardless of what you think of it, since you have admitted your helplessness." The other Oddani made the promises he demanded and begged him to do as he had undertaken.
Hobbell traveled somewhere, and when he returned, he had with him men from another land and an altar of the same sort. He commanded everyone to gather where his guests placed the altar. Heedful of their promises, the Oddani came.
They stood in silence for some time until one among them, a householder, Maffan by name, asked what was the purpose of the altar. Hobbell signaled and his men grabbed Maffan, dragged him to the altar, and slit his throat while the Oddani watched, still keeping their word. Hobbell dismissed them then to their homes.
The storms left their lands after that. Hobbell took the honors given him and sent cattle to Maffan's family, more than the dead man was worth. When asked why he had someone killed against whom he had no grudge or reason for rancor that the Oddani knew, he shrugged and said that was part of the ritual as he was told it, to give to the god the first who dared speak, for the storms raged at their weakness, who ought to be strong. Because of that, everyone honored Maffan as a brave man, and his son became prominent later.
Finis