The Man They Name The Lion

To His Eminence, Arch Confessor Kayvar Soln, I hope this letter meets you in good health.
I write to you from Diadveen. In Sampur I heard some of the freefolk refer to the southern heretic as “the lion of Diadveen,” and so after gathering what information I could there, I and my company rode here. It is a town of middling size, and stands at the cuff of the Shine, which is slowly swallowing it. I am told that in older times it was nearly twice the size it now is, but the desert has pushed in on it, “and yet the Shine grows,” as they say. Still, they are an enterprising people and composed largely of traders who frequent the harsh journey along the Sandpath.

Practically speaking, it seems that every person here is a follower of the lion. I have not revealed that we are confessors and am not wearing the black, for they outnumber us impossibly, and I doubt that we would survive if we started arresting and trying them. That task must be entrusted to you and to an able commander of armed men, who would need to storm this city as though it were an enemy army in order to root out its heresy. Some of them say he is a prophet from beyond the Shine, bringing a religion from the darklands to our Ordered World. Many say he is a god. All agree that he is a man, though not all agree on his appearance, which has lead me to believe some of his disciples may sometimes impersonate him in order to throw us off the trail and make him harder to find. Though I can not conduct many interviews without raising suspicion, I have been able to speak to a few about the so-called miracles, including one woman who swears she was dead, and now lives. I will not sully your eyes by writing out all the absurdities I have heard, but they number in the hundreds. At present an alchemist is riding to us from Parthad, Vettiver by name, to test the wells and determine if some kind of poisoning has lead to mass hysteria. I will write again when we have his results.

In the Light of the Proofs,
Confessor Enaso Martani