In the earliest age of Dort, there was no justice—only power and its exercise. A ruler decreed a law, and it was enforced through fear or favor. A judge delivered judgment based on preference or payment. Truth was whatever the strong said it was. Rights did not exist; only might existed.

Into this chaos was born Themela, the child of Bethsia, goddess of justice and balance, and Caminus, god of clarity and revelation. From her mother, she inherited the absolute commitment to fair judgment and the understanding that true stability rests on equity. From her father, she took the gift of seeing clearly—the ability to perceive truth beneath layers of deception, to cut through rhetoric and reach the fact of things.

Themela's earliest gift to mortals was not a law, but a method: a way of determining truth that did not depend on the judge's mood or the litigant's wealth. Ask witnesses. Compare accounts. Look for the place where the accounts align, and where they diverge, look harder. Truth has a particular quality: it is consistent. Lies must be propped up with other lies, and eventually the structure collapses.

She did not condemn the rulers who administered law unjustly. Instead, she showed them something they had not seen: that a law administered fairly created its own stability. A population that knew the law would not be randomly applied, that understood the judges were bound by precedent and not whim—that population did not need as much force to hold in place. Justice became a tool of governance as much as a principle.

The other gods watched Themela with fascination and unease. Here was a deity who was not interested in worship, comfort, or the accumulation of power. She was interested in truth, which was a much more dangerous thing. But even the gods who opposed her had to acknowledge: a world in which law meant something, in which words could bind agreements, in which evidence mattered, was a world with rules that even the divine had to operate within.

As Themela's influence grew, the faithful began to represent her with two ravens—one representing truth, one representing justice—always facing each other. The symbolism captured something essential: truth without justice is mere documentation, a record of what happened without any obligation to make it right. Justice without truth is tyranny, a system of punishments applied to whoever is convenient. Only together, watching each other, keeping each other accountable, did they function.

This duality became the core of her theology. She did not teach that truth and justice were the same thing. She taught that they were locked in eternal conversation, and that the work of those who served her was to listen to both ravens speak and find the point where they agreed.

Themela's bargain is austere: serve truth and law, and she will ensure that judgment is fair and based on reality rather than power.

The faithful of Themela understand these tenets not as ideals but as descriptions of how a just society must function.

(See also: claw/Soul_Coins_and_Divine_Economy)

Themela accumulates power through just judgment and the pursuit of truth. Her economy is unlike the flashier deities—it grows slowly, steadily, from the small acts of integrity that happen every day in courtrooms and offices of law.

The temples of Themela are rarely grand. More often, they are courthouses, judgment halls, military justice chambers, or quiet alcoves within larger buildings where the symbol of the two ravens marks a place of truth-telling.

Judgment Halls (major temples) typically feature:

Truth Shrines (smaller temples) are minimal: a table, a copy of basic laws and precedents, a symbol of the two ravens, and a place where a truth-keeper can meet with someone seeking guidance on matters of law.

All Themela spaces maintain absolute silence about identifiable cases—no gossiping about trials, no speculation about verdicts. The role of the temple is to administer justice, not to trade in judicial gossip.

The clergy of Themela is embedded within the judicial systems they serve. A truth-keeper is often also a judge, magistrate, or court officer. There is no separate clerical hierarchy; authority comes from position within the law and demonstrated integrity.

Truth-keepers serve in courts and legal institutions, maintaining records, advising judges, and ensuring that proceedings adhere to Themela's principles of fair judgment and truth-seeking.

Senior Judges function as informal leadership, their authority based on decades of just decisions and deep knowledge of legal precedent. They mentor younger judges and sometimes arbitrate disputes about how the law should be interpreted.

Archives-keepers specialize in the preservation and maintenance of legal records. They are scholars as much as priests, and they function as a collective memory of how the law has been applied historically.

There is no high priestess of Themela. Instead, regional councils of judges meet to discuss difficult cases and ensure that the application of law remains consistent across different courts. A judge found to have deliberately misapplied the law, to have taken bribes, or to have failed to seek truth, can be removed from the council and their verdicts reopened for review.

Conversion to the faith of Themela is unusual—most who serve her do so because their positions demand it. But formal devotion is always possible.

Soft entry is common among those who live under law: appearing in court, accepting a judgment, respecting the authority of magistrates. Many people practice devotion to Themela's principles without formally converting.

Formal initiation involves taking an oath before a judge or truth-keeper: to seek truth, to respect law, to apply judgment fairly, to defend the innocent, and to challenge injustice through proper means. The initiate receives a token of the law: often a copy of the key laws of their region, or a mark indicating their commitment.

What makes an enemy rather than a convert: Deliberate corruption of courts, perjury, or the abuse of judicial authority. The Themelian faithful do not approach these people differently—they oppose them actively, seeking to expose and remove them from positions of power.

A devoted Themelian judge or lawyer is recognizable by habits of rigor and impartiality.

Date: Varies by jurisdiction (often the anniversary of the establishment of the current legal code or the ascension of the current ruler).

On this day, judges gather in their regional Judgment Halls to review significant verdicts from the year past. Cases are discussed, reasonings are examined, and the accumulated wisdom of the year's judging is celebrated. It is a solemn day, not celebratory—the focus is on whether justice was served, not on congratulating those who served it.

The rituals include the formal renewal of judicial oaths and the blessing of any new judges entering the system. There is often a moment of silence for those who died in service to the law.

Date: Bi-annually.

A ritual in which the symbolic scales and gavels used in legal proceedings are ritually cleansed and blessed. The ceremony emphasizes renewal of commitment to impartiality and justice. New judges often participate in this ceremony as part of their first formal entry into the judicial system.

Date: Annually, usually in the season of legal scholarship.

A gathering of truth-keepers and judges in major cities to read aloud and discuss significant cases from the past—the precedents that shaped how justice is understood. These readings include the reasoning of famous judges and the outcomes of cases that changed how law was interpreted. It is part history, part instruction, part prayer.

Performed when someone takes on a new role within the judicial system—a judge assuming the bench, a lawyer entering practice, a bailiff taking office. The person swears before an altar of Themela, pledging to uphold justice and seek truth in all proceedings.

The oath is traditionally long and specific, detailing the exact duties of the position being assumed. The repetition of specific duties is understood to bind the person to them in a way that general promises do not.

Before delivering a significant verdict, judges often perform a private ritual, asking Themela for wisdom and clarity. The ritual varies but typically involves reviewing the evidence one more time, stating aloud the reasoning that leads to the verdict, and asking for confirmation that the judgment aligns with truth and justice.

This is not understood as seeking Themela's direct intervention, but rather as a moment of centering—ensuring that the judge is making the decision based on proper reasoning rather than emotion or pressure.

The structure of trials in Themela's tradition is rigid and prescriptive: opening statements from both parties, presentation of evidence, examination and cross-examination of witnesses, closing arguments, and finally the judge's deliberation and verdict. The rigidity is intentional—it prevents shortcuts that might miss important facts and ensures that all parties have equal opportunity to present their case.

A formal robe in black or deep blue, embroidered with the symbol of the two ravens. These are worn by judges and senior truth-keepers during official proceedings and ceremonies. The darkness of the color is intentional—it communicates the seriousness and weight of justice.

A small set of scales, symbolizing the balance of justice and truth. These may be worn as jewelry (usually a pendant) by followers of Themela, or displayed prominently in courtrooms as a reminder of the virtue being pursued.

A ceremonial gavel used by judges, usually carved from oak or ash and sometimes bearing an engraving of the two ravens. The gavel is not decorative—it is used to maintain order in proceedings and to signal the delivery of verdicts. The sound of the gavel falling is understood as the seal of justice.

Worn by senior judges during the most formal proceedings. A simple circlet bearing the symbol of the two ravens, it represents the authority granted by the law and the responsibility to exercise that authority justly.

Eldrin was a judge in a small town, renowned for his unwavering commitment to fairness even in cases where pressure to decide otherwise was immense. When Themela first emerged as a deity, it was Eldrin who felt her presence most strongly.

During a particularly challenging case where evidence was muddled and testimonies contradicted one another, Eldrin found himself praying for clarity. That night, he dreamed of the two ravens, guiding his attention to the details he had overlooked. Upon waking, he examined the evidence again and found the thread that made everything else align. He delivered a verdict that, while unexpected, was so clearly grounded in the evidence that even those who lost the case recognized its truth.

The town celebrated him; Themela claimed him as her first devout follower. Eldrin spent the rest of his life spreading her teachings and ensuring that justice was pursued through rigorous attention to truth. He wrote a commentary on judicial reasoning that is still studied by judges today.

Varik was a lawyer with unmatched skill in navigating the intricacies of the law. He could exploit loopholes, manipulate the letter of the law to his advantage, and construct arguments of stunning cleverness. He was known as the Silver-Tongued because words flowing from his mouth seemed almost to have their own will.

Varik's methods were legally sound but often ethically questionable. He bent the law to its limits without quite breaking it. His clients—usually wealthy, often powerful—won cases that should have been lost. His opponents hated him, but they could rarely argue that he had violated the law.

Themela watched Varik with a complex mix of emotions. He demonstrated an almost supernatural knowledge of the law—how it worked, where its weaknesses were, how to navigate it. But he showed no interest in whether the law was being used justly, only in whether it could be used to benefit his clients. In Themela's eyes, Varik had mastered the law's mechanics without understanding its purpose.

The faith debates whether Varik should be honored or condemned. Some argue that his mastery of legal technicality proves the importance of clear writing and precise precedent. Others argue that he embodies the danger of law becoming a tool for those who can afford clever lawyers rather than a genuine instrument of justice.

Liora was a lawyer dedicated to defending the wrongfully accused and the powerless. She took cases that paid nothing and had no hope of success, because the people accused deserved a defense and Themela's principle demands that justice be available to all.

In her most famous case, Liora defended a young woman accused of murder by powerful figures who wanted a quick conviction. The evidence seemed overwhelming; public opinion was hostile; the judge appointed to hear the case had ties to the accusers. Yet Liora pursued every thread of investigation, found witnesses who had not come forward, and identified inconsistencies in the official narrative.

When the verdict came—acquittal—it was because Liora had forced the court to examine the actual evidence rather than accept the comfortable conclusion. She won not through legal cleverness but through relentless pursuit of truth.

Liora exemplifies the virtue that Themela most values: the willingness to do difficult, unpopular work in service to justice. She received little wealth and no fame beyond the immediate community, but the faith remembers her as a true servant of the goddess.

How they refer to themselves: the Keepers of Memory or the Precedent Scholars

This sect specializes in the preservation, study, and application of legal precedent. They maintain vast archives of past cases and judgments, and they argue that close study of precedent is the surest path to just judgment. They believe that the wisdom of past judges is encoded in how similar cases have been decided, and that departing from precedent without extraordinarily good reason is a form of judicial arrogance.

The Archivists are the scholarly heart of Themela's faith. They publish commentaries on important cases, maintain libraries of legal reasoning, and serve as advisors to judges facing novel situations. They tend to be conservative—resistant to change, insistent on consistency—but they provide crucial institutional memory.

How they refer to themselves: the Unequal Advocates or the Defenders

This sect focuses specifically on the defense of those wrongfully accused or powerless before the law. They operate legal aid practices, train lawyers in defense strategy, and volunteer their time for cases that serve justice rather than profit.

The Defenders believe that justice requires equality of representation—that the poor and powerless deserve defense as rigorous as the wealthy can afford. They are often in conflict with commercial lawyers and with judges who favor efficiency over thoroughness. But they embody Themela's principle that justice must serve everyone.

How they refer to themselves: the Perfectionists

This heresy argues that the law is absolutely perfect and should never be questioned or reformed. Followers believe that Themela's wisdom is already fully encapsulated in existing laws, and any attempt to change or question the law is an affront to the goddess.

This rigid interpretation contradicts Themela's tenet of "Continuous Learning" and her implicit recognition that laws must evolve to serve justice. The Infallible Law heresy produces stagnation and injustice when law becomes separated from the actual circumstances of people's lives.

How they refer to themselves: the Gray Interpreters

This heresy posits that truth is subjective and can be molded to fit one's interpretation of justice. Followers believe that as long as they think they are doing the right thing, it is the truth in Themela's eyes.

This directly contradicts Themela's unwavering commitment to objective truth and her principle that justice is blind to personal preference. If truth is subjective, then there is no basis for law—only power.

How they refer to themselves: the Illuminated

Founded by Seraphine the Wise, this cult claims that Themela has granted them knowledge of "hidden laws" that supersede the laws of the land. Members believe they are above the law as understood by ordinary courts and answer only to these supposedly higher laws.

In practice, this allows them to justify any action as serving "hidden justice." They reject Themela's principle to "Respect the Law" and replace it with anarchistic claims of personal revelation. The mainstream faith opposes them absolutely.

How they refer to themselves: the Final Judges

Founded by Lord Valthorn, a former judge, this cult believes that Themela grants the power to deliver "Final Justice"—an irrevocable, absolute judgment that cannot be appealed or questioned. Followers act as vigilantes, taking the law into their own hands and believing their actions are divinely sanctioned.

This violates Themela's principles of due process and fair representation. It produces mob justice wearing the mask of divine authority, and the faith opposes it unequivocally.

How they refer to themselves: the Gray Philosophers

Founded by Elara Shadowmind, a former lawyer, this cult argues that Themela's dual ravens actually represent the gray areas of the law—the spaces where truth and justice are not clear-cut. They deny the concept of absolute truth and advocate for moral relativism in legal matters.

This contradicts Themela's core tenets of "Unwavering Justice" and "Truth Above All." If truth is merely a matter of perspective, then justice becomes impossible.

(See: Cosmology/Physical Realms/The Shattered Domain)