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the forces of Good have some cultural differences
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Diena and Aspex married in the spring when she was twenty two and he was twenty four. It was good, auspicious weather, and they liked each other greatly, enough that they both half expected the first child would arrive a little early, as first children sometimes do.

But they were unlucky, and no child came, not that year and not the next and not the next and not the one after that. They consulted a priest, who could only recommend prayer, and say that sometimes it was a curse but sometimes it was the way of things, the will of Heaven even, and they'd just better look out for what Heaven might have intended for them. 

In the sixth year of their marriage a travelling preacher came, who said he'd been all the way from the desert lands to the far south, and had gone through Andoran newly liberated from Hell's evil grip, and up the Sellen and through the forests full of horrors.

He was a good, vivid speaker, and he spoke of all kinds of things, but the one that stuck with Diena was that in Andoran the streets were full of abandoned children, because Cheliax had taught men to pledge themselves to no one and women to be whores and not demand a man's pledge, meaning to raise the children for Hell all the better with no example of love or virtue for them to witness. And of course now Andoran was free but the habits of Evil weren't easily broken.

 

"Well," she said to Aspex, that evening, when they'd given the preacher all the money for his travels and his missions that their village could afford, "that's where our children are, I suppose."

         "- hmmmm?"

"They're down in Andoran, with no one to raise them and show them love, and we'd better go and get them."

         "Do you think so?" he said. He did of course want children. They were short of hands on the farm, and people teased him, and you were supposed to bring children into a marriage. It was the one thing you could only do in the mortal world. But taking care of someone else's children you could in fact do from Heaven. Dead babies also needed raising. 

"Yes," she said. "Why, if we had four born of my body already, I would hear that and weep, for it would seem to me there was nothing to be done, but from my body they have been withheld, and it is clearly because we are supposed to go and get them."

        "It's a long way to Andoran," he says doubtfully. 

"I doubt it is even as long as the usual making of a child."

        "It is a dangerous trip."

"Well, so is the usual making of a child." If you have a priest on hand it's all right but this village is not so big it has a priest all the time, just on circuit, and babies sometimes come unexpectedly.

        "I suppose we could pick out some sons who'd be good on the farm, and good warriors."

"And some daughters," says Diena, "to raise the next generation, and to be warriors too if it suits them." Obviously it usually does not suit daughters to be warriors but the goddess herself was a daughter, once, and her parents presumably disappointed, and they fed her and taught her to read and fight and see how that turned out. 

        "What if we don't like them?"

"Well, sometimes you bear a child and don't like them, it's hardly a problem specific to going to rescue them."

       "What if they know nothing of virtue because of the terrible influence of Hell?"

"All children are born knowing nothing of virtue."

        "Do you think that you will love them like they are of your body?"

"Of course I will. I do already."

        So when the harvest is done they set out overland, to the distant grand city, and from there on a boat, to go to Andoran to rescue their children. 

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As promised, Andoran is a city of tall columns and high cupolas, strange smells and stranger races; and as promised there is a pack of dirty children in often-patched clothes, aged between about seven and about eighteen, as soon as the ship lands. The captain seems to know them and disembarks to have a discussion. 

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Diena and Aspex rather gawk. In Lastwall orphaned children are nearly always taken in by family, and in the cases where they have no family are taken in by the church and taught everything a person ought to know and often chosen for the service of the goddess. 

But in Andoran, all good things were shattered by Hell, in their Evil plans, and there are too many children for the church to take in, and so - of course they would end up running around like wild animals, and probably fighting with the wild animals for their food, too. 

"I don't expect our children we're meant to find are almost grown already," says Aspex. "As we've only been married six years."

        Diena puzzles over that until it makes even less sense than it started out making, and then abandons it. "Heaven's works are mysterious."

"I suppose. Well, then it's better to have older children, probably, since they can work; and we can't have babies, as you can't nurse them."

       "Maybe we can get a mix."

 

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The discussion concludes. The captain hands some money to one of the oldest children, and the children begin to unload the ship. 

The group has clearly done this a lot and divides up the work easily and without much discussion. The younger children carry very small loads; they're very clearly being given a task that they're less efficient at than adults in order to teach them how to do the work. 

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That seems like an entirely sensible form of social organization and how things work even if children have parents! And it's a good sign about the children not in fact having zero knowledge of any virtues, which is good because having zero knowledge of any virtues is less problematic in a baby than a child.

"Are the smaller children in the orphanages?" Aspex asks the captain.

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"Well, they'd all be at orphanages, wouldn't they?" the captain says. "A baby can't unload a ship."

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" - so these children also live at the orphanage, but come down to the docks in the day to learn to work?" 

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The captain says, "Nah, Eward"-- he gestures towards the youth whom most of the discussion had been with and who had been paid-- "wouldn't put up with that. The kids stay at his house unless they have another place to be. A good reliable young man. I keep telling him that if he wants to see the world there's a berth on my ship, and he says 'but who would take care of the littles?' and I do not have an answer."

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"Well, we could take some of them," says Diena dubiously. "Not more than four I don't think."

"We could probably take five or six if one of the older ones was a responsible girl," says Aspex. "But if these children have a brother looking after them already then there might be children who don't and those need parents more."

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"Eward is responsible," the captain says. "Makes sure the kids are fed, takes them to get a channel if they're sick, teaches them about Cayden and Shelyn and Erastil. You never see him in a bar while the kids don't have shoes. A lot of parents could learn a lesson from that boy, I say."

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"...do most parents not do those things?" Aspex asks incredulously. Those are in fact all good things to do but they're very basic things to do, like saying someone is a good farmer because he milks his cows and takes them to pasture.

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"Well, most parents do," the captain says judiciously. "But some parents, they just don't realize this isn't Cheliax anymore. Kids go out to play with their backs torn to ribbons. Makes you wonder if they want a Calistria cleric in the family."

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Aspex does not know anything about Calistria. He looks at Diene, who has a brother who is educated. 

 

Diene knows Calistria is the goddess of whores but can't quite piece together the connection between beating your children bloody and whores, except that both are Evil. "It is very terrible what Hell did," she offers after a moment. "Where are the orphanages?"

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The captain considers this. "I knew a woman who left hers at the church of Desna's?"

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"Well, all right, where's that?"

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As it happens, the captain does not remember where the Desnan orphanage is.

He does remember where the grove is, outside of Andoran, where you are most likely to find a cleric of Desna, should there be one who is visiting the city and who feels like they want to be near the grove. Probably there will be someone there who knows how to find the orphanage. 

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Maybe they'll instead look for the church of Iomedae. The Church of Iomedae is more reasonable and does not run off things like 'should the cleric feel like they want to be near the grove'. A priest should be findable so that people can get healing if they need it. 

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The captain knows exactly where the Church of Iomedae is. It's that-a-way. Very large. You can't miss it. 

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See, vastly more reasonable than 'in a grove somewhere'. They are glad that reason still governs in these foreign lands. They'll head straight for it.

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At a certain age, parents tend to shoo their children outside during the day, so they are not underfoot and disrupting other people's work. In Vellumis, children formed packs, playing tag and jumpsies, hand-clapping games and tip-cat, and so they did in Andoran.

In Andoran, there are somewhat more children on the streets, but it's nothing that couldn't be parents having particularly large families, until you looked closely. Many of the children in Andoran look too-thin, like a child six months after the crops failed. Some children's clothes are falling apart, and some of the children are naked, though they are old enough that their parents ought to have given them clothes however poor they are. And, in Vellumis, even if a family couldn't feed their children enough, they would wash their children's hands and face, and cut their hair, and make them look as presentable as they could. Even if you were poor, you could be respectable. But some of these children have ground-in grime like they'd never been bathed even on holy days, and hair that is wild and tangled like a savage's.

And every few streets, there is a beggar-child or two or three on the corner, asking passerby for coins. Most people don't even acknowledge the beggars as they walk past, but a few drop coins in front of them. 

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Diene stops in front of the first beggar-child she sees. "Do you have parents?" she asks.

 

Both Lastwall and Andoran technically speak Taldane, and in practice people can usually make themselves understood to one another with effort, but she's very obviously foreign.

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"No," the beggar-child says with a professionally pitiful expression. "I never had none, ma'am."

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"That's terrible! Well, we haven't any children, and want some, and will take good care of them and feed them and Aspex's father has some land, would you like to come home with us and be our child?"

 

Aspex looks slightly alarmed at the decisiveness here, but nods.

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... ... ...

The child stands up and tries to run away. 

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- well they're obviously not going to stop the child running away!

They look at each other, bewildered.

      "Maybe he thought you were a faery in disguise or something," says Aspex. "It's not a good idea to trust strangers promising nice things."

"I suppose not."

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The child, who has a firm yet vague understanding about Bad People who promise you food and then do Unspecified Bad Things that his older sister had declined to describe in much detail, notices two blocks away that the Bad People have not followed him, and then decides he can probably sell his parents on "I had to stop begging because Bad People were there" so he can take the rest of the day off and play hopscotch. 

And so they can continue to the church of Iomedae.

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