Preparing for Pilgrimage

"Where are you going?" Myrah looks up at the king who checks over the bulging saddlebags of his favorite steed, a magnificent Appaloosa pony of wild, native stock.   He tightens a strap, but doesn't look at her. "South."   "South? Do you think that's wise?"   The king exhales. The recent attempt to find help and allies to the east had been disastrous, and the king still feels a sting of guilt about it. The situation with Myrah is still a bit awkward, too. But he feels her concern. "It is just a pilgrimage. The denizens to the south have always been my friends." He looks off at some far distant point in the sky. "...probably longer than I can even remember. Probably long before I was even born, somehow." His attention returns to the present place and he finally turns to her. The worry he was fearing is in her eyes. He gives her a brave smile.   Myrah averts her gaze, instead looking at his boots. "I mean no disrespect, master."   The king scoffs. "Stop it with the 'master' thing. We're not going back to that are we?"   She looks up, still somewhat doe-eyed. "Sorry."   "We've counseled one another. I helped you adjust to the material world and have tried to give you as much autonomy as that damned Spirit Code allows." He places his hands gently on the sides of her shoulders. "You've given me plenty of comfort, guidance, and assurance. Let me do the same for you. I'm okay. This is okay. Look, even Brin isn't concerned."   She nods, still looking at him. "Can I go with you?"   The brave smile is replaced with consideration. He can feel a bit of doubt. Perhaps even a little shame. Rarely does he go to seek communion with his god accompanied by anyone, let alone with a supernatural being. But he cannot think of a good reason why not. "Alright." He turns and walks back towards the stable.   Myrah blinks a few times until the realization sinks into her face. "Really?" She blinks a few more times before running...almost skipping...up to join him.   The king barely stifles an amused chuckle. "Really."  
  Myrah realizes she is staring at him. But she doesn't turn away. Instead, she smiles. She isn't sure if she had ever seen him like this. "You seem at ease, my lord."   The king smiles back at her. "I am." He turns to look at what passes for a path through the pines and firs. The sounds of the rushing river in the ravine below are accompanied by the chatter of squirrels and pine jays above. "This is probably the only place where I am most at ease."   Myrah lets out a little chuckle. "You are most at ease in an uncivilized wilderness outside of your own kingdom?"   He smirks. "It tells you something, doesn't it? In fact, I don't even let Brin come with me. Until this time, I've gone by myself."   "Really?" Myrah feels her heart beat a little harder. The gravity of that confession feels like a thick mantle upon her shoulders. "I'm honored."   The king smiles. "Relax. It's not like we're going to go see the Great Hierophant or anything." The smile wanes slightly. "In fact...just the opposite."   "Why do you say that?"   "Before you knew me, I was...somewhat religious. Being the 'good boy' that I was, I did my religious duties as was expected of the family. And I liked it, actually. It was a good religion. I still have a lot of sympathy for its good parts."   "But?"   "When I was nearly finished with my courses at the seminary, I took a good look at my religion and the people who were in my classes. I looked at the priests who were in the churches. And the preachers and ministers. While I knew many good people, I saw how the greater and growing majority weren't interested in the greater good, but in their ideas of God based more on their cultures and customs or philosophical ideologies or rituals. Priests were using their pulpits to shame people into their political alliances. There was a prophet that came to the kingdom that I favored for a time until I realized he was actually interested in building his own empire.   I had been helping distribute food to the poorer kingdoms for many years, until the prophet and I parted ways and I lost support among my peers. I found more and more oppression in the so-called 'City of God' and soon found myself on the city's outskirts. Then, in its margins. Then, across the river. This very river you hear below. So I decided to move my camp to find the source of this River."   Myrah looks down at the ravine where glimpses of its white waters roar. "This one?"   The king nods.   "Did you find its source?"   He hesitates noticeably, opening his mouth and then closing it. "In...a manner of speaking," he answers haltingly. "The further I've gotten, the more it becomes apparent that the real goal is not to find the source, but to realize that you are on holy ground." The king blushes and turns to her. "Does that make sense?"   Myrah searches his eyes, but she realizes that she cannot see an answer. She shakes her head, but says nothing. No, it doesn't make sense. If the whole purpose of going into the wilderness to find the source of this sacred river is the goal of the pilgrimage, how come not finding it is okay? She gives the king an apologetic smile.   He just smiles kindly in return and gestures ahead of them. "We're coming up to the first clearing. We can set up camp there."  

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