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There was much dissension amongst the priests: some thought it more valuable to divide themselves from any physical pleasure, and others thought it best to participate fully in all, believing that the spirit and body could never influence each other. The disagreement finally broke out into war, with each faction insisting that all the others follow their own disciplines. In the end, the discipline and hard training of the traditionalists won out. Those who would not give up their new-found hedonism were summarily put to the sword. This necessitated a slight withdrawal of the monks from direct supervision of the Astaldi peoples, and a small flourishing of culture began among them. New art forms were developed, and new ways of thinking began to be shown.

------------------------------------from the journals of Gerja, Ersan explorer and chronicler.
“When are you coming to supervise the final arrangements for the party, Tsuda?” Kaedti asked, turning towards the woman beside her. Tsuda wore the silver armband that marked her as a woman presented in the temple, but not yet spoken for in marriage. Her white-gold hair was pinned up and elaborately tied with strips of bright red cloth. Her skirt was of bright yellow with large purple flowers painted on it, which contrasted strikingly with her skin.
“I plan to come by tomorrow night. I want to make sure that everything is just right. I believe that your men came by last night and got the last of the statues moved, and you’ve had your gardeners working on the plants for weeks. There’s not much left for me to do.” Tsuda smiled at the young woman next to her. Kaedti had just been presented at the temple two weeks ago, and she had grown into a lovely young woman. Her muted-gold hair had been piled up in a complicated twist on top fo her head, and she wore her usual bright blue skirt and shirt. Her face looked more like the face of a grown woman, but her eyes had maintained their wide innocence.
“I still can’t thank you enough for this. It’s a risky move for your father to show his support of my statues.”
Kaedti smiled slowly. “No, he’s happy to. The Ersans have a strong native art, and the cities back home are filled with statues. He missed it, and I confess that I do, too. Perhaps this will be a new beginning for art among the Astaldi.”
Tsuda nodded pensively. “It could be, but I confess that I have my doubts. You don’t know how deeply ingrained the antipathy towards this sort of thing is ingrained in our culture. Once, when I was a child, I had drawn a very crude face on my favorite doll, so that I could see her smile abck at me. A monk saw what I had done, and he threw my doll into the fire. My father gave me a long lecture about blasphemy that night.” She grimaced slightly at the memory. “Oh well, it’s all one now. I have done what I have done, and created what was in me to create. Things became so much easier when the monks began fighting amongst themselves and began to leave us alone.”
The younger woman agreed, and turned to go. “I must run back to the court and take care of some more preparations. Please, come whenever you like. The party will be soon, and there’s still so much to be done!” Tsuda watched her go, then turned her path towards Mede’s house.
As she walked, she though back on the events of the past few months. Her small sculptures had become rather popular round the village. One day, she had been working on a large statue in her garden when Kaedti had stopped by to visit. When the younger girl saw the work, she was so impressed that she otld her father, knowing is great love of statuary. A few days later, he came in person to see the works. Her parents had not approved of her recent undertakings, btu finally accepted Tsuda’s pursuits as tolerable when the ambassador came. He had examined some of the smaller works, and insisted upon seeing all the large works she had created.
“It would seem to me,” he had stated, upon completeing his tour of her work, “that you are quickly running out of room.”
“I suppose so,” she had responded. She had covered her corner of the garden with the figures, and her parents staunchly refused to allow her to move any of them to the garden proper. She had been wondering for quite some time as to what she would do to make more room.
“Well, then, it appears that we have the opposite problems,” he continued. “You have a great many statues, and not nearly enough room to hold them all; I on the other hand, have a perfectly monstrous garden, and no statues to put in it. Perhaps I could purchase your statues and keep them in my garden for you?”
Tsuda had gasped out some sort of incredulous response, and the ambassador smiled. “You have been very kind to my daughter, and it gives me great pleasure to be able to give a little back. Besides, as I’m sure my Kaedti has mentioned to you, I take great pleasure in the arts, and have missed the statues of my homeland very much. When these are fully established in my gardens, we will give a party so that everyone in Leti may see these great works.” In the months since then, things had moved so quickly that Tsuda still had difficulty believing that they were happening at all.
When she arrived at Mede’s house, she rapped her knuckles lightly on the doorway and walked in; Mede’s father had died about three months before, having come down with a bad cold in the damp halls of the temple libraries. Mede kept house by herself now, though a young man from the village had recently asked for her hand in marriage.
“Hello, Mede? Are you in here?” Tsuda called, and a muffled voice answered from the back of the house. Tsuda moved toward the voice, and found Mede rummaging through a pile of fabrics. “Sorry, I was just going through these skirts. I don’t think I really need them all, do you? Oh dear, if you’re here than that means it’s almost time for the prayers, isn’t it? Alright, give me a moment to get ready, and I’ll meet you in the garden.”
Tsuda strolled peacefully through the garden. She had almost as many memories of Mede’s garden as she did of her own. She’d experienced the greatest pain of her life here, as well as many happy moments of learning with Mede. More recently, they had taken to saying the prahyers of the Selidian rituals here.
In a few moments, Mede came hurrying out, blinking in the noon sunlight. “Alright, I’m ready. Just let me catch my breath.” She took a few deep breaths, then lifted her arms towards the sun, and began to chant in a clear voice.

Tsuda joined in, voice rising in the now-familiar rituals of the god Suk. She thought for a fleeting moment how strange these words had seemed four years ago, when she first learned them, and how natural it seemed now to sing them towards the sun.
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Across the island, the Temaltan monks finished loading a ship full od weapons and armor under the watchful eye of Vedek and Murul, another monk. Vedek had risen quickly in the ranks when the war broke out, since his information about what the novices were being taught had proven invaluable to the masters. He was now the leader of a small troop of monks; rumors had ariusen of apostasy in Leti, and he was determined to find it.

“When do we set sail, Murul?” he asked the man standing next to him.

Murul eyed the stack of provisions left to load, and thought for a moment before replying. “I believe we can set sail with the first wind tomorrow. That will give us the rest of the day today to get these materials loaded, provision the men, and load the ship. Will that be enough time for you?”

Vedek nodded, not taking his eyes from the ship. “I just want to make sure that we get there in three days or less. I have heard rumors of an event at the Ersan ambassador’s house, and I would like to be present for it myself. I believe that it may require a strong hand to deal with it, so I am onlyh taking the best of my men.”

The boatmaster nodded absently, then made his apologies, and walked down tok the docks to check on another ship that would be sailing soon. Vedek continued watching as the provisions were loaded onto the ship, and smiled inwardly. Soon.
“Vedek, here are the reports you asked for.” The black-ahired man looked up to meet a runner coming swiftly across the hill.
“The reports from the central islands? Good. Let me see these.” He took the proferred scrolls, and opened one, scanning it rapidly. “Is this an eye-witness account or did the author just hear about it?”
The young runner responded wearily, “We got first-hand accounts when we could, but a feew are hear-say. That one, I believe is a first-hand record.”
Vedek scanned it hurriedly, then opened the other records and perused their contents. A slow smile spread across his face. “Well, well, well…riots in the middle islands…and a monk killed in the central islands. I think the Astaldi have been left to their own devices long enough. It’s time we took a firmer hand, don’t you think?”
The runner nodded, pushing his damp hair off hiss forehead. “My group had to leave one of the islands that we supervised. Things became too unstable for us to stay, but it grated on me. I want nothing more than to make sure that these people remember their place.”
Vedek nodded, and turned back to the provisioning. “You will have your wish soon enough, I promise you.”