1.31 – BTGGF
Cult/religion
On the other side of the continent, around the same time Maple appeared on it, so too did another young woman. Her name was Alicia Rivera, and they'd found her before she even knew what was going on.
"It is as it was foretold, Archbishop. A pure maiden chosen by Her to guide the next era. She appeared from nowhere, and knows not of our world."
"Hm. And have our [Prophets] confirmed this with Her directly?"
"Not yet. They're working on it. We'd be remiss to not treat her as such in the meantime. The girl has confirmed it herself. More or less."
The Archbishop turned to Alicia. He barely contained his disgust as he took her in. Her fashion sense clashed with everyone else's, and went against everything the church stood for.
She looked fit to attend a funeral. Black clothing, black boots, black lipstick, and black eyeliner. The makeup made her look more ghoulish than Human, and for some reason, the underside of her black hair was purple.
Her boots were studded and looked more fit for war than their own [Knights'] did. They were something a Goblin or Orc might savagely wear.
If that was all—and the look was wholly unbecoming of the lady—if that was all, the Archbishop would not be reciting holy scripture in his head while scowling.
Her black skirt ended halfway above her knee. Fishnets drew the eye to her exposed legs. The tank top she wore left far too much uncovered. He could see her belly button, for Claira's sake. Forgive him for invoking Her name, but this looked like—how he'd imagine that Other's chosen to look.
If this truly was Her will, though...
"You understand how harsh the penalty for a lie of this caliber would be, yes? I will not sully your mind with the details, but your tongue would be cut from your mouth as the bare minimum."
"Archbishop! That's—"
His steward cried out, affronted. He was about to say blasphemy.
"I am not doubting Her will, nor her Chosen, if that is who this really is. We simply must carry out Her will with the utmost attention to detail. Well?"
Alicia gulped. Sweat beaded up on her forehead despite the tame temperature. She'd been heading home from the club with a rather cute score, when suddenly, she was here.
Men and women in heavy armor with pointy weapons surrounded her and she soon learned they were a cult. Or something like that.
The steward with them had spent several hours interrogating her. He had a stone that changed colors, and somehow knew whether she was lying. In those hours, she learned that it wasn't perfect. Half-truths were able to get through.
She also picked up a little on who they thought she might be. It was risky, but she managed to manipulate him enough to roll with the 'worshiped as a god by a bunch of primitive imbeciles in a fantasy world' route. Or thereabouts.
She'd thought it'd been going well enough. Now, she wasn't so sure. Their society was—messed up, to say the least. If she could just not get executed for the day, then maybe she could escape.
"I—I'm not lying, but I'm also not claiming I understand anything about a Goddess. I'm from another world and ended up here. Nobody told me why. I am totally a pure maiden or whatever, though, so I'd guess that makes sense. Definitely ask her and see for yourself. Before you uh, do anything potentially blasphemous, eh?"
The Archbishop's lips twitched and Alicia worried she'd pushed it too far. She was betting on Gods not actually being real, and carefully manipulating her way out.
The [Steward] also gave her a side eye. Truthfully, she hadn't so much manipulated him as she had convinced him of the parts that were true, and then got him to sympathize enough to not have her immediately executed.
He miight have a little crush, if she hadn't misjudged. Given how oppressed the people here were, it wasn't surprising. She turned heads back on Earth, where her look wasn't that unusual.
The fishnets definitely helped. A crush or bit of sympathy only went so far, however.
"Fine. Give her a bath. Get that ridiculous makeup off her. Then get her some actual clothing. The Chosen should not look like—like this. Get our [Prophets] whatever they need to hurry the ritual along. We can afford the expense for something as, important, as this."
"Yes, Archbishop."
The Steward, she'd learned his name was John, bowed and led Alicia by the elbow out of the room. They stopped just outside for him to let out a long breath and grab his hair. He looked more stressed than Alicia felt.
"That didn't go too badly. I could use a bath."
She'd worked up quite a sweat at the club. Sure he'd demanded they 'give' her one, and it was out of some kind of discrimination against her, but she was looking on the bright side. New clothes would help her fit in, and eventually, escape.
John looked at her. And then he looked at her, and Alicia recoiled. She smirked.
"You're leering."
"Sorry—I wasn't. I mean, that was not my intention. Chosen."
He said the title with skeptical deference. Alicia wasn't sure how truthful he thought it was. She was even less sure, given the way he occasionally stared at her. His gaze wasn't entirely lustful, so much as it was—curious?
As if he'd never seen even a woman's thighs before? Despite appearing somewhere between her own age and the age of her parents? She didn't mind the attention either way, and she'd certainly slept with worse looking people before.
"Do you have a wife, or girlfriend, or something, John?"
"I am a [True Steward of Claira]. This way, Chosen."
He led her through the temple. Servants and other members of the church stared at Alicia with varying levels of disgust and interest as they passed. When they saw John, they stood to one side of the hall and bowed until they passed.
"Is that a no?"
"Yes. I was born into the church with virgin parents—as you must be, to get the 'true' variant of a class."
"Wait, what? Virgin parents? How does that work?"
He glanced at her and carefully considered his words.
"All church officials must remain chaste, or else have their rank revoked along with other punishment. The same goes for you—not that a maiden such as yourself would ever consider such a thing, of course. Chosen."
"Okay, but—"
"This is not a topic for polite conversation, and definitely not something Her Chosen should be bringing up. Please keep that in mind after I leave you. But we do have ways of bearing children without—personal contact being involved."
Like some kind of artificial insemination? The entire church did that? Fuck, that was weird.
"Huh."
It really threw her. She turned her attention away from the conversation. The temple was kept in a sterile condition. In cleanliness, and how ascetic it felt. Only the rare painting or statue decorated the area, and she'd be hesitant to call any of it art.
Most of the women they passed had on modest, stifling, dresses in bland colors. The men had a little more variety. The knights' pure white or silver armor actually looked kind of stylish, but part of that was the novelty of it. And their crests did have a splash of color.
They looked particularly dour when they saw her.
They arrived at a large ornate door. John rang the bell hanging outside. It opened to two young women who bowed to John, and then again to Alicia.
"This is Alicia. The Chosen of Her Holiness. Please see to it that she gets a bath and a fresh set of clothes. Along with anything else she requires."
The two handmaidens ushered her in, nearly dragging her by her arms. Alicia turned to John.
"Well that's sudden. Bye?"
"Until next time, yes...May Claira keep you pure, Chosen."
He bowed and Alicia swore his eyes lingered on her thighs one last time before he turned and left.