OOC: Heh, and I thought it was original...
When I think of Veritas, I'm imagining some Mediterranean style island, similar to Ithaca in The Odyssey. Is this appropriate?
The Building of Veritas
Stefan was a goatherd. He lived in a hut, as did most people. You couldn't say that he was happy with his lot, but he certainly was content.
Every day, he would walk down to the miller, buy feed for his animals, and take the goats out of their pen. He would sit in the shade, resting or chewing kalaka* seeds, and would make sure that no wolf or brigand picked off one of his flock.
He could sell the milk, which made nice crumbly cheese if you let it ferment a while, and also butchered the weakest animals for meat in winter. He didn't like killing any of his animals, but as the Elders always said, "Waste is a greater sin than hardship."
Stefan was going to town, this day. Thousands had lived in the ramshackle tent city for generations after the Diaspora, and few now remembered their voyages from Paradise, most relying on the spoken tales of others. People were only now adjusting to their new lives.
The goatherd walked down the path, his animals trailing behind him. He carried one on his shoulders, a tiny bleating infant that wouldn't make the journey alone. As they reached the hilltop, Veritas came into sight.
He gasped.
The city had changed in the past year. People were tearing down the wooden barricades that had enclosed the city in the past. Massive teams were hauling great white blocks from huge pits, and then smashing them with hammers. Overseers in the white togas of the Elders gave orders, gesturing with their hands.
"What do you think they're doing?" Stefan had, of course, never seen a proper wall before.
But the massive project went on. As the flock slowly made it's way down the hill, Stefan took a good look at the city, taking in every detail with his dark eyes. The wall, made of some white rock, had already encompassed half the city. It was fully 30 cubits high, and thick. No bandits or roving pirates would be able to sack the town at whim, now.
Some soldiers, most clothed in woolen tunics, patrolled the perimeters of the construction site. They brandished their flint spears confidently, and rightly so. For Veritas, as everyone knew, was the Center of the World.
Stefan walked through the archway leading into the city. This part of his journey was familiar. It was chaos. The Haggles, as the large market square near that gate was commonly known, was where Stefan did most of his business. Rapidly unloading milk, cheese, and other wares from his wagon, he made a brisk trade, especially in selling food to hungry workers and villagers.
Besides having recieved plenty of wine, fruit, and vegetables in return, several men paid in what they called, "barter tokens." While Stefan was mistrustful at first, they were made of shiny metal, and supposedly could be used to buy goods with.
So, Stefan continued his tour of the city, searching for something to purchase. He was rather new at this, but everyone was. It was, after all, the start of civilization. Several people muttered as the smelly goatherd pushed by with his flock, but no one told him to stop.
Eventually he came to the docks, or what passed for docks. Men were hastily putting together pieces of wood, bending them into U shaped and sealing them with some black liquid, probably pitch or tar. Big wooden things were floating in the water. After a few minutes of dumbfounded speculation, he realized that they were boats.
"Those must be the things that took our ancestors away from Paradise," he reasoned. "Maybe...they're going back!"
And so, the poor goatherd thought that the boats were going to Paradise. At least, noone corrected him. Needless to say, when he spent his last barter tokens paying for passage of him and his flock to the mainland along with the other colonists, he would be in for a rude surprise.
*kalaka-sunflower
----
Now, on an entirely different note:
Foundation of the Assemblum
After the Diaspora, there was a bickering among those who continued to follow the teachings of the One. By now most of the other human groups had gone their separate ways, drifting into heretic beliefs and systems. Those of Veritas knew that they were right...but weren't sure how to forge their new nation.
Many said that, since the people were ruled by The One in times past, and were created by him, the people of Veritas should be ruled by one man as well. After all, one ruler meant a strong, unified will. A single king would provide a unified purpose, and would keep the nation from breaking apart.
Some disagreed, though. They said that the people were naturally corrupt, though most held good intentions. A single king, if an unwise ruler, would have none to stop him from destroying Veritas. If there were more than one king, they would be able to make agreements and compromises. And it would prevent the great power of leadership from being abused.
Those in favor of many leaders finished their argument by recounting the actions of the past. If one man could lose them their paradise, and have them expelled by the One, then one king could make equally bad decisions. It would only take one Sinful man to destroy humanity.
And truly, none of them could decide who would be king...so it made natural sense that they would all rule. So out of this compromise, the Elders were born. And, to prevent them from becoming corrupt as Sin was, it was deemed that the people would choose an Assemblum Popularum...a Popular Assembly, to oversee the actions of the Elders, and approve them. Then in their time, the most senior members of the Assemblum would become the new Elders when they died.
So the basic system of the Republic was forged, and it would survive many of the Early Veritasan Crises.
