Philosophy | perfidia

Kentomirto’s Reply - The River

This is roughly the equivalent of Christ's Sermon On The Mount

The market square of Danfelgor grew still one evening as the philosopher Kentomirto, a dignified figure in simple robes, mounted the stone steps of the central fountain. A carpenter, flushed from the heat and work of the day, called out:

“Tell us, wise man, how should we live? Speak plainly, so everyone here can understand.”

Kentomirto smiled as he pointed towards the Danfel river, and spoke, in a calm yet resonant voice -

"Life is like the Danfel, my friend. It is wide and ever-flowing - it carries you from your first breath to your last, and you cannot halt its course. Some struggle against the current, exhausting themselves in futile defiance, whilst others surrender too completely, letting the water toss them around as they abdicate all agency. However, the wise steer with gentle hands, learning when to row and when to drift.

Do not grasp at the river’s treasures too tightly - they will slip through your fingers. Neither should you berate the stones beneath your feet - they shape your path as much as the waters do. Instead, strive to keep your balance, because in life you need to be in harmony with the flow, neither clinging nor recoiling, but accepting all that the current brings.

The heart of our troubles is not the river but us - ourselves - when we think the world must yield to our will and fortune must shape itself to our desires. But what is fortune but the turning of a millwheel? Sometimes it raises you high, other times, it casts you low. Do not chase the fleeting highs or dread the inevitable lows - rest in the center, where the wheel turns but you remain unmoved.

Do not try to conquer the world - it was not made for conquest. Do not seek to flee the world - it was not made to imprison you. Instead, try to understand that when you see the world without fear or longing, it reveals its quiet truths. A bird does not question the sky, nor does a tree resent the earth, so why would you wish to live in turmoil?

Happiness is not to be found in what you possess, or in the esteem of others, but in the acceptance of the nature of things. To act with virtue, to speak with honesty, to think with clarity—these are riches no thief can steal.

If you are angry, ask yourself why you are fighting the current, if you are sorrowful, ask yourself what you are unwilling to let go of, if you are lost, stop rowing and let the river guide you. Peace is not the absence of struggle; it is the wisdom to know which struggles are worth enduring.

So I say to you: Live simply, think deeply, act justly, and let the river carry you."

Kentomirto let his words settle over the crowd. Then he stepped down, and the people of Danfelgor, from merchant to beggar, stood in silence, contemplating the truths they had just heard.

Mirana of the Quiet Path

Before she became a revered sage and teacher to the great Prince Valubani, Mirana was known simply as a woman of quiet resolve, walking the uncertain paths of her life with grace and reflection. Her journey to becoming a nun and a Sage of the philosophy of Kentomirto was one of trials, loss, and ultimately profound understanding.

Early Life and Struggles

Mirana was born in a dusty, windswept village far from the grandeur of Danfelgor, in the bleak hills where the steppe and the forests met. Her father was a shepherd, her mother a healer, and from them she inherited both a love of the natural world and a deep respect for the cycles of life and death. She grew up reverring the old gods, especially the Storm Father, the deity most worshipped by her people, who saw strength in his thunder and the trials he placed before them. Life was hard, and faith in the gods was often the only solace her family had.

However, as Mirana grew older, she found herself questioning the way her people placed their fate solely in the hands of distant and fearsome deities. There was something about the old gods that seemed harsh and unforgiving, and she struggled with the idea that suffering and hardship were simply to be endured without reflection. These thoughts led to tension with her family and the villagers, who saw her questioning as a dangerous rejection of tradition.

When she was barely twenty, tragedy struck. A devastating storm, one her people attributed to the wrath of the Storm Father, swept through her village. Her parents were among the many who perished. Grief-stricken, Mirana set out on a journey, not only to escape the pain of her loss but to seek answers that the old gods had never given her.

The Wanderer’s Path

For years, Mirana wandered through distant lands, searching for meaning. She worked in small towns, offering her skills as a healer like her mother, and spent nights under the stars, pondering the questions that had haunted her since childhood. Why did people suffer? Was there a purpose to life’s hardships, or were they simply to be endured, as her people believed?

Her journey eventually brought her to the gates of Danfelgor, where she found herself in the midst of a city teeming with ideas, cultures, and philosophies. There, Mirana encountered something entirely new: the teachings of Kentomirto.

The philosophy of Kentomirto, offered an entirely different way of looking at the world and emphasised balance, the idea that one must align with the natural flow of life rather than resist it. The philosophy of Kentomirto spoke to her deeply: control of one’s emotions, the focus on inner virtue rather than external circumstances, and the understanding that suffering, when met with wisdom, could transform the soul. Other elements were equally powerful, teaching her to let go of rigid control, to find strength in softness, and to see life as a flowing river—one that could not be mastered but must be navigated with care.

Mirana sought out the teachers of Kentomirto, but none of them spoke to her as deeply as a sage named Erlon, a humble man who lived in a small monastery outside the city walls. Unlike many others, Erlon did not preach or seek to gather followers. He simply lived the philosophy, tending his garden, meditating by the river, and helping those who came to him.

Mirana became his student, not by formal declaration, but by her constant presence. She would sit in the garden as Erlon worked, asking him questions about life, fate, and the nature of suffering. His answers were often simple but profound: “The river does not ask why it flows. It simply moves, and in its movement, it carves the land.”

Over time, Mirana came to understand that the philosophy of Elios was not something to be memorised or mastered. It was a way of life, a practice of balance between action and stillness, between control and acceptance. Erlon taught her that the greatest strength came not from bending the world to one’s will but from aligning oneself with the natural flow of things.

Becoming the Sage

After years of study, Mirana felt called to share the wisdom she had gained, not in defiance of her past but in reconciliation with it. She returned to the city and took up residence in a small shrine near the river, where she began to teach the philosophy of Kentomirto to those who sought her counsel. Her shrine became a place of peace and reflection, where merchants, scholars, soldiers, and common folk alike came to listen to her words.

Her reputation as a sage grew over the years, not because she sought it but because her teachings resonated deeply with the people of Danfelgor. She was known for her compassion and her ability to speak with clarity about life’s most difficult challenges. Her teachings emphasised the importance of self-mastery and virtue, but also the necessity of flowing with life’s changes, accepting what could not be controlled while acting with wisdom and integrity where one could make a difference. She eventually moved to the House of Philosophers in the centre of Danfelgor at the invitation of Gorak Baldan.

When Prince Valubani arrived in Danfelgor, a man raised in the faith of the Storm Father, he was drawn to Mirana’s wisdom. Though a follower of the old gods, Valubani found himself questioning the harsh doctrines of his past, especially in a city as complex and vibrant as Danfelgor. His visits to Mirana began out of curiosity, but over time, they became more frequent, and the prince found in her teachings a path that spoke to the questions he had long carried. In time, the prince and the nun formed a deep bond and Valubani often asked her advice, seeking her counsel on a wide range of matters.

Mirana never sought to convert Valubani away from the old gods, for the philosophy of Kentomirto was not about rejecting one’s past. Instead, she helped him see that the strength he admired in the Storm Father could be found in quiet resilience, in mastering one’s mind and emotions, and in navigating life’s storms with wisdom rather than force. Under her guidance, Valubani learned that true power came from balance, not domination, and that even a prince could find peace in surrendering to life’s flow.

Mirana’s teachings influenced not only the people of Danfelgor but also powerful figures like Prince Valubani, helping them reconcile their past beliefs with the wisdom of Kentomirto. Through her, the philosophy of Kentomirto became even more revered in Danfelgor, offering a path of inner strength and balance in a city driven by ambition and power.

Religious synthesis in Dual Monarchy Danfelgard

Professor Renate Schoenbein, Universitaet Aarbergen-Panrod

1. Cultural and Social Stratification of Belief

Common Folk and Traditional Beliefs
Among the peasantry, riverfolk, craftspeople, and other rural or working-class communities, the old gods—Zania, Linadafur, the hill spirits, hearth gods, and the ancestors—continue to be honored in small rituals: offerings left by the river, protective charms over doorways, blessings murmured before planting or sailing. These practices are less about structured theology and more about lived tradition and a sense of rootedness in the land and its rhythms.
Elite and Philosophical Disciplines
Among merchants, scholars, aristocrats, and city dwellers—especially those with education and power—the philosophy of Kentomirto becomes more prominent. It offers discipline, reason, and an appealing ethical framework in a world where order, trade, and diplomacy are critical. It doesn’t deny the existence of the old gods but reinterprets them symbolically or allegorically, much like the Stoics did with the Greek pantheon.

2. Harmonization Through Public Practice

Festivals and Public Rites
Major festivals could blend elements of both systems. For example, a Spring River Blessing might include a symbolic invocation of Zania by the local fishermen, followed by a speech from a philosopher-priest extolling harmony and virtue, drawing on Kentomirto’s writings.
These hybrid events reinforce unity—everyone participates, but takes away different meanings.
Temples and Shrines
In cities, one might find combined sacred spaces: a shrine to an old deity like Linadafur in the courtyard of a hall where the teachings of Kentomirto are studied. The two aren’t in conflict—rather, they’re seen as addressing different aspects of life: the spiritual and the ethical.

3. Education and Philosophy

Kentomirto as a Bridge
Scholars and reformist priests might argue that Kentomirto’s teachings don’t contradict the old gods, but offer a lens to understand them. Zania, they might say, isn’t just a spirit of the river but a metaphor for flowing with the Path —embracing the way of nature.
The Dual Monarchy’s Role
The court—especially with Valubani’s heritage and Pellae’s symbolic role—might actively promote this blending, funding texts and schools that teach a dual heritage, and holding public ceremonies that emphasize unity. The ring of Queen Aria becomes a sacred artifact of this synthesis, symbolizing both bloodline and belief.

4. Personal Practices

Just like in modern-day Japan, where someone might visit a Shinto shrine for a blessing and then pray at a Buddhist temple for enlightenment, people in the Dual Monarchy might:
- Leave a token for Zania before a river journey
- Read Kentomirto’s sayings in the evening for reflection
- Consult a hill seer before planting, but
- Invite a philosopher-priest to speak at their daughter’s wedding

A Living Syncretism

Rather than erasing either system, the fusion becomes a living, evolving tradition, constantly negotiated in daily life. It lends spiritual depth to politics, stability to the peasantry, and purpose to philosophy.

1. A Wedding in the Hills

Setting: A hillside village near Greyfell, overlooking terraced fields and distant forests. The bride is the daughter of a shepherd family; the groom is the son of a merchant from Danfelgor.

As the sun dips low, the wedding procession winds its way to the Stone Ring, a sacred place since ancient times. The village elder, dressed in embroidered robes and a sash bearing the symbol of Zania—a stylized ripple—leads the couple in a slow walk around the stones.

The elder speaks:
“By Linadafur’s river and Zania’s blessing, you are bound in the sight of the old powers that move in root and stream.”

Then a younger man, a philosopher-priest of Kentomirto, steps forward. He wears plain blue robes and holds a reed scroll.
“By reason and harmony, may you balance one another’s will. May you walk together, as the way flows around rock and bends to wind.”

The guests nod. No one finds this strange—of course you ask Zania for blessing and of course you remind the couple to live with virtue and patience.

Later, as they dance beneath lanterns and a full moon, an old woman ties a braid of rivergrass around the bride’s wrist, whispering:
“It will keep your house from danger in flood or fire.”
Meanwhile, the bride’s father toasts the couple with a quote from Kentomirto:
“Let not joy run ahead of gratitude, nor grief outpace duty.”

2. A Market Day in Danfelgor

Setting: The Great Market Square. Stalls stretch under colored awnings, and the city is humming with commerce.

A fishmonger from the quayside, sleeves rolled and face windburned, sells freshly caught eels. A small wooden carving of Zania hangs beside her scales, and when a boatman buys a barrel of trout, she throws in a salted ribbonfish “for luck—Zania’s gift.”

Across the square, a man in grey robes sits beneath a banner reading:
“Wisdom from the Sayings of Kentomirto — Offered Freely”
A curious student pauses, and the philosopher recites:
“When you push against the world, it will push back. Flow like water.”

The student, noting a line of customers outside a nearby tavern, smirks. “And what does Kentomirto say about waiting for plum stew?”

The philosopher shrugs. “Be patient. Or eat something else.”

Not far away, a young mother ties a river-coin to her child’s wrist and then buys a copy of The Little Teachings from a street scribe—one to carry in her apron for luck, the other to read by candlelight.

Old and new pass hands like silver and bread.

3. A Visit to the Shrine-Temple

Setting: A combined sacred site in a riverside quarter of the city—a shrine to Zania stands under a weeping willow, with a hall of contemplation just beyond.

People leave flowers, shells, and ribbons at the river’s edge, whispering prayers for safe travels, healing, or good fortune. A fisherman kneels, touches the water, and thanks Zania for guiding his son’s boat home.

Up the slope, inside the low stone hall, a philosopher-priest chants gently as citizens sit in quiet reflection. There are no gods named here—only the Way and its flowing, the balance of will and circumstance.

One man, recently widowed, lights a candle in the shrine, and then moves to the hall to hear a reading. Another visitor does the reverse—they are not seen as contradictory acts, but complementary ones.

A mural behind the altar shows Zania herself offering a cup to Kentomirto, who accepts it not as a god, but as a teacher. They are both walking beside a river that disappears into the horizon.

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