In a Kingdom Called Crossroads- The Temple School.

It is the place of a priestess to stand before the gods and carry out the will of the one who favors her.

If the god she serves desires to speak, then she is to be their mouth. When the divine demand war, then it is their responsibility to follow those devoted to the battlefield. And should they seek to teach, then the priestess is to withdraw and spread their words.

And it was in that position where the young priestess, Nailia, found herself, with scrolls in hand walking to the adjunct building.

Stationed in a a temple dedicated to the Goddesses of the Seas, located in a vital trading hub, her days never lacked for things to do. Every year more and more traders crossed through and every year children from across the land came to join the school established there on its sacred ground. A school founded to spread the knowledge brought from all corners of the world.

And it was there that Nailia served as a priestess and teacher for the newest students, teaching them about the gods of their world and their domains.which she would be doing at this very moment if not for the absolute riot she was witnessing in her classroom.

“WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?”

At the center of the room, two boys no older than ten held pieces of each others clothes or hair, one with a bruised eye that would no doubt darken in the coming hours and the other with a bloody nose. The desks near them had all been cast aside, flipped in an attempt to make space or create a barrier between them and the others, she couldn’t tell.

Naturally neither of them answered. Instead a slightly younger girl in jewel tones and wearing silver accessories common in the moon goddess’s land answered her distressed plea.

“He said that the goddess of the summer seas was nothing but a thief.” She pointed the the lighter skinned boy holding his adversaries hair in a tight fist. “And he said that he was just jealous that his goddess wasn’t good enough for the storm god.” Her little hand slipped down to the other who held the collar of the others shirt, his sun kissed skin paling rapidly from how tightly he did so.

“Not even one class in and there’s already a religious schism?” A bone deep sigh slipped free as she spoke. She could tell that this would be a fun group to try and wrangle.

“What’s a kism?” An unseen child asked.

“And excellent question.” Walking forward with as much patience as she could invoke she stood in front of the ruffled pair before her and, with patience, ripped them away from each other. “One that I will be happy to answer another day.”

They both shrieked as they were forcibly untangled and made to hang loose from the backs of their shirts. One attempted to retaliate and was lifted even more to ensure he couldn’t find a perch from which to relaunch his destructive efforts in earnest. In contrast, the other shook as he hung from he hold.

“If you want to learn, then you will behave. If you cannot behave, then you will be brought to the high priestess and made to obey.”

“Im not wrong!” The pale child insisted as he continues to try and wrench free. “My mommy told me so! The southern sea goddess stole the storm god from the Lady of Harvest. All of the stories say so!”

“Liar! She won fair and square! Your goddess is just a sore loser!”

“ENOUGH!” Once she was sure the pair were successfully silenced they were both deposited in different corners before she coolly added. “Stay.”

The next few minutes were spent attempting to straighten up the mess that had been made prior to her arrival. The tables that weren’t damaged were returned to their places with their accompanying seats and slowly but surely the other students returned to their places. Though, not without great apprehension and staying clear of the two left at either wall.

“Now, someone-NOT YOU TWO!” Nailia cut off the shouts before they could really get started, glares tossed at both before she resumed. “Someone tell me what originally started the fight.”

For a time no one spoke up, perhaps hoping that she would grow impatient and move on. But she was a trained priestess and had spent many hours standing perfectly still watching rituals and performing prayers, a little bit of uncomfortable silence wouldn’t break her so easily. Eventually it was a boy sharing similar features to the pale child who spoke up with a quiet shaking voice.

“Dane said that, that the other boy was a liar and that when you got in you would tell everyone so. He-he said that lairs don’t deserve to learn about the gods.” The poor thing seemed shamed for speaking. She wondered if this happened often, the elder forcing the younger to explain his actions while shaking from fear or distress.

“Right. Well, in that case we will need to skip ahead a bit to clear up this violent misunderstanding. Lesson one, regional differences in godly tales.” Turning around, she pinned up a map of their known world with the crests of gods that ruled over different areas blazoned upon it.

“The first thing to understand is that humans are imperfect creatures. We are not all knowing and our memories are imperfect, only growing more so over time. Using the recent story of the Storm gods wedding as an example, no human was present for the event so everything we know comes second hand.”

“But if no people were there’ then how do we know about it?” One brave young girl spoke up.

“The same way we learn many of the gods’ stories. From the gods themselves.” A murmur went through the classroom as the children processed the information. “As you all must know, it is the job of priests and priestesses, such as myself, to record the words of the gods. In this case, roughly one hundred and fifty years ago, the goddess of the Summer Seas descended to this temple and proclaimed her marriage.”

“This leads up quite handily into the second major point of this lecture. The gods may be all powerful within their own domains, but they do not necessarily know what the others are thinking or feeling.” A few gasps rung through the room. “As an example we will say that the gods collectively form a city, and each god is their own building. Do you all know everything that happens in your neighbors house? Or the mayor’s house? Or a building on the opposite side of the town?”

“That’s impossible!” Another child in the back of the room leapt up, smacking their hands on the table. With knowing smile Nailia continued.

“Exactly.” The child seemed put off by her blunt response, and slowly lowered back into their chair as she continued the lecture. “Just as you can’t know, with certainly, what happens in another house, the gods cannot know the thoughts of their peers.”

Now sure that she held their full attention, the young woman opened folding panels built into the wall behind her that reviewed elaborate and vibrant portraits of some of the different gods. Each room in the annex played host to different ones, the building acting as overflow when prayer time came and the main building flooded with people. In this room, the storm god was in central display with his brother, the Winds, on his left and his mother, Love and Beauty, on his right.

“We know first hand the thought of the goddess of the Southern Seas because she told us. But records from the north tell a different story. Where Harvest insists that there was a competition for the storm gods affection and that the Southern goddess cheated, thus stealing away her would be groom. Two very different stories with broadly the same outcome.”

“Then how do we know which one is real?” The timid boy from earlier spoke up again, his shaking having mostly subsided.

“As a mortal, I cannot denounce the words of the gods directly.” She held up her hand to the shoulder wrap she wore, soaked in the color of stormy skies and with the symbol of storms laid proudly just above her chest. “As a representative i can only say that the words spoken are the truth as the gods who shared them understands. If you want to know the full truth, then you would need to join the services of either my own patron or the goddesses Fate, as they would have memories of the day in question on hand.”

“So you can’t tell us?” The darker skinned boy from the fight shouted suddenly, apparently having found his voice only to express anger.

“I can tell you the records, collected from every kind of temple we have contact with. For those who seek to question the gods directly, you much be a disciple. Just as the gods only tell their names to their followers when they make their vows, they only speak to the truly devout or loyal.”

The room remained silent, processing what they had been told. Some shuffled uncomfortably, others looked frustrated, but a rare few, in this room of nearly forty children, carried a look of determination. She supposed that if they kept it she would be speaking to parents about them joining the service.

The lesson, thankfully, continued without issue from there, successfully turning back to what they were originally meant to cover. The current roster of gods that were worshipped by the kingdom of the Crossroads and their vassal and protectorate kingdoms. Eventually, the large gong in the middle of the temple complex sounded and the children, sans three, were released for the day. Once her delivery to the high priestess was complete, she walked the familiar path to the open air sanctuary of the storm god and eyed the man who lounged in the center.

“Far be it for me, a mere priestess, to criticize the methods of the divine,” a distant roll of thunder sounded and the sky above darkened, the man cracking an eye to meet her gaze. “But I believe that it is time for my Lord Torrent to have a conversation with his ex-fiancée about weaponizing human children to get back at his current wife.”

In a second, the sanctuary filled with water, as if the bottom of a barrel had called out from under it, and the man before her was gone. She closed her eyes and turned to the sky, familiar enough with his tantrums at this point in her life.

“At least give an official statement about your wedding!” But she heard no answer. Only the drumming of heavy rain, and cracks of thunder with no lightning to accompany it.