A New Religion in Omsarim, 502 BCE

[Myroria]

The man nodded.

"The spirits do not communicate their desires in matters like that to us," he said. He removed his hat and placed it in his lap. "But our honored saints were often philosophers in their material life, and they would preach what makes humanity right and just. It was Saint Olm, perhaps the highest of all Maerorist saints, who said: 'the highest honor one can do to your ancestral spirits is to live a good life'."

[Omsarim]

Ulara of the family Ramanon spent much of the next several days meditating and praying.  He performed his scribe duties to the minimum, but otherwise he had neglected much of his real life.   The floor of his house was quite dirty, not having been cleaned in almost a week.  The spiritual concepts the second group of traders had explained were interesting, but Ulara could not reconcile them to his existing faith in Vanata.    It was the concept of the first group he had met, the group with the strange burning herbs, which struck him more.   They too worshiped Vanata, though they excluded the "Vana" from his name (Ulara could not fathom why), but also believed in a concept known as Gaea.  The idea of all things being connected intrigued him.   If only he knew how to speak Khem, or if that trader was better in his Omsari.    But perhaps it was fated that they wouldn't fully understand each other.   After all, surely that concept was heretical.    Ulara laughed at himself as he pondered these recent events in his room.   What arrogance!   To think that he was somehow connected to the Great Sun!

His concentration lost, Ulara realized he was quite thirsty.  He walked to the side room where he kept the water pitcher.  He glanced out the window, noting to his disappointment that the sun was blocked by a cloud.   He poured some water into a cup.   Water!   In the sky, in the sea, in the rivers, and in his own body.   He could see why the people from that far-off land thought that he and the water shared some connection.    Or a connection to the earth, or plants, or animals.    But to the Sun!

Lost in his thoughts, Ulara was not watching where he was going.   He struck his arm against the door frame and dropped the cup of water, which splashed across the floor.   Bending down to pick up the fallen cup, Ulara noticed just how dirty most of the water was.    The dirt from the floor had made the splashed water so impure.   He really should have cleaned his floor sooner.   Only a few drops of the water on the floor splashed onto a clean section, and were not contaminated.    As Ulara picked up the fallen cup, the room lit up as the sunlight shone through the window, the clouds having parted.   

The sunlight reflected brightly off of the pure drops of water upon the ground. 

Ulara dropped the cup again.

~~~

The next day, Ulara began consulting those in Tyros who spoke the language of the Khem people, to learn that foreign tongue.

[Omsarim]

501 BCE:

"Narala!" called out Priest Asadra.  "How good to see you!"  The elderly priest hobbled over close to the nobleman.  Asadra wore a red robe.  Most of his hair was gone, and what was left was white.

"Greetings, Priest," replied Narala respectfully.  He was younger than Asadra, but still in his late forties.   Grey was creeping into his black hair, and his brown skin was starting to wrinkle. He wore the elaborate robe of the Council, white with green trimmings and the golden amulet of the Family Ramanon. By this he was marked as the head of one of the 74 Families of Tyros, one of the leaders of the city.   

"I was just talking to your son the other day!" exclaimed the old Priest.  A smile leaped upon his face, causing numerous tiny wrinkles to appear around his small eyes.  "He is quite the budding theologian."

"Indeed," said Narala. "I am glad he appears to have calmed himself, after his long period of questioning a several years ago."

"He has many interesting ideas," stated the Priest. "Many people have spoken of the purity of Vanata, but few have placed such an emphasis on it in their words.  He is truly inspired."

"Truly inspired indeed," replied Narala.  The pair sat down on a bench, for the sake of the elderly priest.

"Perhaps he will write some great hymns to the purity of Vanata," speculated the priest. "He could leave a great mark upon the religion of Tyros, even if he is not a priest."

"I hope he shall leave many marks upon Tyros," state Narala. "Did you know, he has put great effort into learning the language of the Alkemin?"

"Really?" inquired the priest. "I admit, I know few languages.  The Old Ardhari from the South, and the language of the Omsari islands as spoken in Tyros."

"The Ardharin!" exclaimed Narala. "How I have come to resent that foreigners still think of us as parts of their empire.  They haven't even managed to collect any taxes in seven years, and their record was horribly spotty before that. The Republic of Tyros is part of that decrepit empire in name only."

"Ardharim lost the favor of the gods, and now decline," replied the priest.  "I fear they angered Hadare, and She sent that drought upon them."

"They were declining before the drought," responded Narala. "They were declining before even you were born.  I was speaking to my son the other day, and we both agreed it was time for Tyros to negotiate with foreign nations as an independent Republic."

"And to think," replied the Priest, "That if you said that a mere fifty years ago, when I was you son's age, you would be sentenced to death."

Narala smiled as the sun shone upon Tyros.  He exclaimed, "A new age is upon us!"