THE APOSTATE SAINT

“Regardless of all that, the fact remains that we now look like complete fools, utterly unprepared for disasters that could be just around the corner. We must do better to understand the dangers that lie in wait, or we have no one to blame but ourselves for the inevitable downfall of our great republic.”

Senator Hector Salinator had grown bolder since his campaign for the office of Senate Consul, a seat he lost to Kaius Tegula, who was now serving his second consecutive year. Ever the opportunistic politician, Hector found the chaos of the Stranger’s arrival the perfect opening to intensify his combative rhetoric against Kaius, his great rival. Valoricus Caballarius, on the other hand, saw disunity in the Senate during societal upheaval as a greater threat to the republic than the cult of personality that had stolen away his son. The Senate had a way of dealing with charismatic men; it did not have a foolproof protocol to handle a lame legislature and constant in-fighting during crises—aside from the rarely-used tool of electing a temporary dictator with emergency powers to navigate through discord.

The Senate Consul shared power equally with the Religious Consul, ensuring the Torian Church's doctrine remained balanced with the Senate's voice. This balance had been maintained since the departure of the First Man and was enshrined in the laws carved in stone during the reformation of the City. Despite numerous attempts by the loudest Senate voices to undermine the Torian Church's authority, such efforts never ended well, as the Church had the freedom to declare anyone stationed in the Church an apostate or anyone in the Senate a heretic.

The Senate convened to discuss the impact of the Stranger, his immense support among the populace, and the infrastructure warnings that now had the public worried and demanding answers. Valoricus, mockingly nicknamed Aesculus for his perceived stubbornness, wore the title proudly, warning his contemporaries that his will was unyielding. Slow and methodical in decision-making, Valoricus was nearly impossible to sway, especially not through bribery, making him unique among senators. He had not yet finalized his opinion on whether the Stranger was the rightful heir to the Toriad.

“We must act, and we must act promptly and decisively to address concerns about the City’s weakening foundations,” Hector continued his impassioned oration. “If we wait, we risk the Stranger being proven right and solving our problems himself. He intentionally left without resolving the concerns he raised to return triumphantly and demonstrate our ineptitude to the masses. We cannot be at odds with the Church if we seek to protect the City from a hostile takeover.”

Kaius, presiding over the court, pointed out the flaw in Hector’s plan. “If we redirect all efforts to bolstering the City’s foundation, we might as well prepare the crown for his return. You acknowledge the army sieging your walls, yet you fail to see the swords they carry. Once they have starved us morally, they will cut down every man who challenged their authority once they fully capture the hearts and minds of the populace.”

“So your plan is what, exactly?” Hector thought he had Kaius cornered. Both had valid points, but Hector was the only one offering a solution, albeit a radical one. Valoricus wasn’t sold on Hector’s plan to reroute all efforts to bolster the mines' weak points and pause quarry work entirely. He was curious about Kaius' suggestion.

“We’ve done little to validate the claims,” Kaius said. “The economic impact of marching headlong into your suggestion would be felt for many months or years, depending on the project's duration. Meanwhile, homes will fall into disrepair, and construction will cease, leaving buildings in dangerous, incomplete states for an indeterminate time.”

“You mean Primisian homes, Primisian buildings,” Hector said. Hector, like the few other Solumians who held enough wealth and notoriety to gain a Senate seat, resented the Primisian class. Despite his wealth, he was still Solumian and could not overcome the invisible barrier of success in the City.

“Whose homes would sustain the lion’s share of the destruction if the mines collapsed? Would your viewpoint differ if, instead of tenement blocks, it were your ancestral manor atop the mines? Would there be time for inaction and months of surveying then?”

“The placement of the mines is irrelevant!” shouted Urban Praetor Tolamirus Aurumantian. “You turn everything into a class argument. You’ve climbed high on the backs of your people, but what have you done to improve the status of those who put you where you are? You shout and cry foul, but I see you every night going home under guard protection, like the very men you castigate.”

“Deflect my argument all you want,” Hector replied. “But if the mines collapse and crush the working class, who will rebuild? Do you imagine your own sons and daughters adapting well to hard labor? Let me see your hands, Praetor, that I might count the callouses.”

The Praetor, red-faced, hesitated, missing his chance to respond, as often happened in the Senate. Tolamirus had risen on the coattails of greater men, blanketing himself in the glory of honor when there was no foe to conquer. His position beneath the Consul for the City testified to his bootlicking art. Valoricus would never stoop so low, so he remained merely a respected senior Senator, never a real contender for higher office. He hated campaigning, something the three men arguing on the floor had no qualms about.

The one thing Valoricus had in common with Tolamirus was that both their sons were out playing soldier with a man neither trusted. Valoricus blamed Kaius’ inaction for allowing the whole series of events to go on unimpeded. The day's reality would never have come to fruition had the Consul acted sooner and not allowed the Stranger to ride the momentum created by crashing through the Holy Gate.

“You are right that we must act now,” Valoricus said calmly but loudly. He was convinced that his chosen seat had the best acoustics in the forum, ensuring everyone listened when he spoke.

“Hector is right; we don't have time for inaction. But Kaius is correct that we cannot blindly follow an outsider’s orders based on hysteria of his making. We are the governing body. The City looks to us for guidance, even if they are smitten by hero worship. We must wisely and unitedly spend what resources we have at our disposal. At the same time, we must form a coherent plan to address what happens if -- when the Stranger returns victorious. This requires a joint decision from both Consuls, ensuring Church support. Make them feed the masses whatever we need them to believe so that we don’t roll over to the outsider’s command. We cannot act alone, and we must act now.”

As Valoricus sat down, he listened to the murmurs of Senators discussing his speech. That was always the measure of his effectiveness—how long it took for someone else to speak after him. No mere Senator would challenge him this time.

“Senator Valoricus,” said Consul Kaius. “If you seek to align the Church with the Senate, be prepared to deal with zealots and madmen who have declared the outsider the Son and heir of the High Seat. Consul Quintus is already struggling to prevent his priests from calling a special election to replace him with the Stranger. You always speak from a high moral ground, as if your words were the words of God. Your idealism pervades your stances, and you fancy yourself a mediator between parties. But in practice, you neglect to show understanding of the irreconcilable aspects of the opposing plans. A government cannot be both merciless and merciful. There are hard choices to be made, and negotiating a solution between extremes negates the potential benefits of both options. If one commander calls the army to scale a wall and another to dig under it, the army would crash against the wall if you convinced both to meet in the middle.”

Valoricus felt embarrassed but composed himself. Never before had Kaius attacked his greatest strength—mediation. He suddenly feared for the republic’s survival. If the two sides were deadlocked, they would never survive the upheaval Valoricus knew was already in motion.

“But you have a point.” Kaius gave Valoricus a look that spelled trouble. “Consul Quintus may have denied my request to negotiate, but I have not exhausted all options. I understand your wife’s brother is an influential cardinal in the Consul’s inner circle. Have a chat with him; see what you can accomplish.”

Valoricus said nothing but eyed the Consul with contempt. His brother-in-law Stasius hated him, and Valoricus would rather forget the man's name than ask any favors. But there was no middle ground between speaking with Stasius and denying the Consul’s request. Valoricus had to choose, and he already knew what choice to make.

“I will go and speak with him.”