As I sit here and write this I am at my desk and wondering where to start. The logical progression would be to talk about what happened next of course, along with the conversations that I had and what was talked about and when. But that seems unsatisfying to me somehow.

I am writing out of obligation. That much is clear. These are words that need to be written, although I suspect that not many people want to read about the things that I have to say at the moment. It is certainly true that I am not enjoying writing about this stuff. But, as I say, I think that it is also true that these things need to be written about. I am slowly coming round to that idea.

Now that people are getting the layout of where I currently am. The mail has started to arrive as well as various other, less welcome, intrusions.

For instance, there is a growing number of political and religious activists that have turned up to demand my summary arrest and execution. That's quite entertaining in a “Black humour” kind of way, in that they seem to be turning up on Ariadne's doorstep and demanding that I be produced for trial and execution for heresy. I have not seen any of this as I have been advised by the guardsmen of Angraal that I should stay indoors when these people arrive. But I'm told that the first time these people arrived, Ariadne went out to talk to them all. They were quite perterbued by this and were especially put off when she smiled sweetly at them.

Shortly after though, due to us still living in a feudal state and as Ariadne's law is paramount, official churchmen turned up and escorted the agitators firmly from Ariadne's lands and saw to it that they didn't come back. One man tried it and he was sent off to one of the quarries that the Duke of Angraal maintains.

There are other, less pleasant or entertaining visitors. I have been accused of blasphemy by several people now due to my “consorting with a Goddess”. That is less easy to dismiss as my own guilt over the incident is still taking some time to process. Worshippers of Melitele seem to think that I am insulting Melitele by saying that this woman was a Goddess at all. Men who are trying to prove to the Church of the Sun that the north can be just as holy as the south are calling me blasphemous for declaring that there is any God other than the sun. That thought is laughable and I think that they are coming after me because I am available and nearby to be honest.

And there are fanatics who are stating that my “consorting” makes me unclean and that I should be cleansed in the same way that the pyres of Novigrad once burnt many others. I don't like these people. Once, they might have made my fists itch. Now, they just make me sad.

To be honest though, I am beginning to wonder why all this excitement hasn't made the erstwhile Lord Robart de Radford emerge from whatever hole he is hiding in. I've not heard from him since back before we headed north to destroy the Cult of the First-Born. He was last seen accusing me of blasphemy and treason, being held back by the officials of Redania as Kerrass, Rickard, the bastards and I rode away. I remember him as being quite upset as he was led away, his ambitions and his hatred unfulfilled.

Kerrass is still here although we have yet to speak in person. I hear tales of him travelling this way and that way around the countryside. Hunting monsters, dismissing curses and getting rid of monster nests. He's spending the nights in ruined shepherd huts and old remains of houses. According to witnesses he looks deeply unhappy and pensive. The very image of the Witcher out of stories. A lone wanderer, travelling through the night, glittering sword on his back as he goes into caves to seek out the evil that exists in there. I'm sure that he's having the time of his life.

I do not know how I feel about Kerrass yet. I am left with the impression that we have treated each other unfairly but for the life of me I couldn't tell you what we did to each other. I am also still angry, extremely so and until that moves or comes to some kind of.... climax I suppose. I don't want to...

I still struggle when I think about Kerrass.

I don't know where to start here. Part of the problem is that I know that the next stage of things is that I have to write about myself and I don't like the idea of that. It feels self-indulgent. I have done this before where I have talked about the injuries that I have sustained, the torture that I have undergone and my periods of convalescence. I don't see the purpose in talking about those things. They don't seem that interesting to me. If anything, they seem kind of boring. Why would anyone want to read about my lying in bed, sobbing my heart out and literally having to rehydrate myself because, no matter how hard I try, I just cannot stop bursting into tears at a moments notice.

I've literally just had to put my quill down and stopped up my ink because otherwise my tears will have stained the very paper that I am writing on.

So why am I doing it? Because I have been told to. It is my penance and my hope that, in reading about it and learning about it, some people will realise that they are not alone when they are in the very depths of despair and others might see the results of everything that I have been through and maybe, just maybe, turn themselves away from a dangerous and destructive path.

When I started writing about what happened after Kerrass and I left Skellige, I was writing out of habit. That was just what was happening next. I made some notes on what Kerrass said to me about his Goddess. But after that, I stopped writing about our travels. I wrote about Jack. I wrote about Ice giants and Yukki-Onna and Vodyanoi. I talked about Skellige and all the vast thinkgs that take place in that great area and some of the stranger flora and fauna that can be found there. But I didn't write about what happened in that circle of fire. Nor did I write about what came afterwards when Kerrass and I rode and walked back to Angraal. Then I stopped writing altogether.

Why?

Because it was self-indulgant. I was feeling... I was frustrated with myself as well as our failure to get anything done when it comes to the situation with Francesca.

But now I'm under orders.

Mark's orders. This is my penance and it is he that has directed it.

He arrived, maybe a week after Emma first came south. Emma and Laurelen stayed a couple of days before heading off to speak to someone who's name I didn't catch. Emma spent a good amount of time with me. We chatted about small things, less weighty topics. We talked about Coulthard castle gossip and small anecdotes of life. It was awkward and uncomfortable in a way that neither of us enjoyed. We were both skirting round topics of conversation that neither of us wanted to go into. I was careful not to lead the conversation in towards matters of my problems and how I felt about Ariadne. Emma was doing the same but also not wanting to add any unnecessary pressure on me. I noticed that she didn't talk about Sam, or any of the trade issues that I might help her with.

We traded anecdotes. She told me about the siege engineers that she had found for Helfdan in order to help him build his castle. I told her a little bit about my interactions with Queen Cerys. I asked after the Elves and whether they had actually shown up on Coulthard lands. Which they had. Chireadean now owns and runs an inn in one of the small villages near the castle. Castle guardsmen get their first drink for free in gratitude for their service and as a result, Chireadean's inn is the safest place to drink in that area of countryside.

Especially for non-humans.

Sir Rickard's courtship of Shani was going well. As I wrote, she had accepted his betrothal and the pair had set a wedding date for a winter wedding after the date that was still set aside for Ariadne and my wedding. This date was set on the grounds that work for a Doctor and Surgeon falls off in the winter months. Same as it would for a military man.

The Skelligan Sergeant of the bastards had already married his Elven Hell-Cat (Emma's words). The pair had gone off and been married according to their own ways. Emma had not been invited although she understood that there had been a feast conducted in Chireadean's inn. A feast that Emma had arranged to pay for and ensure was fully stocked. Apparently, Sir Rickard performed the ceremony near a particular tree that the elven woman liked. They sent their best and a message to say that I would have been invited along with all of the other veterans of the Destruction of the Cult, but they didn't know where I was or what I was doing.

And the pair were not willing to wait for me to resurface.

But that was how we talked. Small anecdotes, small jokes and memories. Careful words and careful sentences so that we didn't hurt each other. The conversations left me tired, but I always struggled to sleep.

Then one day she left, coming to say goodbye and that she would be back soon.

Mark arrived a few days later by wheelhouse with an escort of forty church knights, their squires and attendants as well as the Cardinal's staff. There were so many of them that Ariadne was forced to turn many of them away. She had been warned however and the military forces were housed (I understand that the military term is “billeted”) with local residents that had volunteered their homes. But even then, that still left a considerable armed presence outside Ariadne's doors. Mark would later tell me that she took great delight in being a gracious host to all of the suspicious knights. She came out to bring them their Bread and Salt personally and took the time to talk to each of them.

Apparently it was funny watching men fighting the differences. Where at first, the beautiful, charming and approachable woman meant that they should be painstakingly polite. But then the realisation that she was both a monster and a magic user and therefore anathema to everything that they had been taught. But then she had been provably baptised into the cult of the Eternal Fire. So.... But she's a vampire. But the Cardinal of the Church was her friend. But...

But Mark had deliberately chosen older, more steady knights as well as younger knights that had come to the order more recently, since the overthrow of Radovid and therefore ensuring that the worst of the, still prevelant, Witch-hunter faction would remain at home.

In the meantime. The plan was that Mark would take over one of the bigger guest buildings that had smaller rooms for his staff and his servants. He would also later tell me that although he had worked hard to remove many of the more excessive extravagences of wealth that came with the office of Cardinal. He was struggling to justify getting rid of the servants and staff.

Apparently, it went like this. He declared that he didn't need that many servants and his adjutant asked him which of the servants he, Mark, would like to turf out onto the street. So Mark wanted to live simply but if he got rid of the servants, then that meant that he would be depriving men of their livelihood.

So he spent his time telling his, supposedly vast, kitchen staff to prepare banquets for the poor. That his household servents would go into the hospitals and poor houses of Novigrad and help there. They formed soup kitchens and the like. The practice was causing quite some consternation among the other cardinals who were being shown up by this “upstart Coulthard” but Mark reasoned that he had no ambitions to rise any higher, that the Hierarch himself had chosen Mark to serve, that his office was for life and that Mark wouldn't survive that much longer anyway. So what did he have to lose?

He also admitted that he hadn't been allowed to get a mage to transport him to Angraal. It seemed that such things “just weren't done” and although it would have been quicker, easier, cheaper and better for him personally if some mage just opened a gate so that he could come down here. There was still enough of an anti-magic bias in the Cult of the Eternal Flame that made that impossible.

So on the day that he arrived I was told to stay indoors so as not to upset too many things. Some people think I'm a saint for highlighting the heresy of the First-born Cult. Others think I am a heretic for killing Sansum and company. Along with Ariadne's presence and all and it just seemed wiser for me to stay indoors.

So after he was here, after all the ceremonies were done and people were getting settled and Mark could take his hat off. He came to see me.

He looked dreadful.

He was pale, sweaty and with dark rings under his eyes. But that was just the fatigue speaking. His eyes looked bright and feverish while there were unhealthy spots of colour on his cheeks. He looked.... sunken and saggy. As though his flesh and skin was hanging off his frame rather than actually being part of his body. He has a tremble in his hand now. It isn't always there and if he realises that it's there then he can banish the tremor with a small burst of concentration. But the worst thing about him was the sense of vacancy.

It was best summed up by his bottom lip.

Just every so often he would lose that sense of himself and he would stare off into space vacantly. This is not the same as being lost in thought. This is different. There is a lack of him when he is doing this as though there is no-one there. And all the energy and the intelligence and the drive of the man is missing and what I am looking at, is just a shell of a person who is standing there, trying to remember who and what he is. As I say, this was best demonstrated by his bottom lip.

When this kind of thing happened his bodttom lip seemed to retreat from the top lip. I don't know how else to describe it. But his jaw, and lips seemed to become weakened and he would just stand there, bottom lip being sucked into his mouth as he stared into distance.

He came into my little hut, still in his full priestly regalia which I know that he finds massively uncomfortable. He also walks with a cane now which he finds infuriating and I can absolutely understand why. But he walked in, the door opened by one of his associated hangers on and I could hear the crash of armour as guards came to attention outside.

He stood looking at me for a long moment.

And then he was my brother again and I saw him register how horrified I was at his appearance.

“Because you look the very fucking picture of health.” He yelled at me angrily.

I laughed, he laughed and we threw our arms round each other.

“You look awful.” I told him.

“Well you look worse. You've gone all pasty and pale. Like the white stuff that needs to be scraped from under my finger-nails.”

“Lovely. Thank you for that.”

“Well, you can't look at me as though I'm some kind of animated corpse and expect a warm welcome.”

He took a deep and shuddering breath. “You try travelling in a shitty coach surrounded by all the people, in the cold...”

“I've done that.”

“But you haven't done it while dying have you.”

“No.” I admitted, watching him carefully. “No I have not. Although it has felt like that a few times.”

Mark nodded. “I want to sit and talk with you Freddie.” He told me. “I do. I want to bring you the comfort that I can, both as your brother and as your priest. But right now, I feel damned awful and my doctors are going to yell at me if I stay here much longer before having a bath and getting some rest. And when those people say rest, they mean for several days.”

I nodded unhappily.

“So Freddie. Here's what I want you to do in the meantime. I understand that you have had contact with a Goddess and this is what is troubling you. Or at least part of what is troubling you. So, in the meantime, while you wait for me to be able to come and talk these things through with you....”

He gestured at my desk that was covered in papers.

“You are a writer Freddie. I want you to write down what happened. Be a scholar. Leave out your feelings and only enough thinking in order to justify why you did what you did. But after that, write down what happened.”

I nodded, jumping forward to help him back to his feet.

“Bless you brother.” Mark told me. “I understand it's going to get a lot worse, but I'm not dead yet. I'm looking forward to being a family man for a few weeks, if not months, but there's only so much of being a Cardinal that I can set aside.”

I nodded.

He left, I had a little cry to myself before turning back to my desk and pulling over the papers and began to get to work.

Those papers would then go onto form the basis of the first three articles that have since been published in the magazine since I came back from Skellige. The accounts of what has become clear were Kerrass' preperations for the ritual. The story of Kerrass' history with the Goddess and then my meeting with the Goddess herself. The published versions went into a bit more detail as I got them ready for publication as all that Mark wanted were the bare facts. But in that hut, I worked, quietly and calmly working through the words and setting them down onto paper. Mark's personal secretary came to me at the end of every day to see how I was getting on and to take any and all work that I had actually managed to do, away with him. Despite my protestations that they weren't ready.For his part, Mark spent a couple of days after his arrival in bed. He was desperately unhappy at the prospect but reasoned that he was not going to get away with it.

The only reason that he did finally climb out of his bed was because the Bishop of Angraal had been camped outside of his quarters since Mark's arrival. Camped in the rain. This, despite Ariadne's invitation to come and sleep indoors in one of the guest rooms.

But I kept writing the pages and they kept being sent off to Mark's desk and he kept reading them. Then Mark came to see me again.

“So.” He began.

“So.” I said, kind of squaring up my shoulders ready for what I was sure was about to happen. He looked down at me from where he stood frowning slightly and the longer he waited, the more I was preparing myself for the inevitable, patented Priest Mark penance.

He looked better though. More proper food, warm beds and warm baths as well as some proper sleep in a proper bed had worked wonders. The black bags under his eyes had retreated and it looked, increasingly, like there was a real human being in there after all. It was helped by the fact that he was just wearing his cassock. He still wore his ring of office, but beyond that, there was nothing to tell him apart from any other wandering priest.

He looked so much better for it. And happier too.

“So, do I pass inspection?” He wondered.

“Do I?” I asked in response. “You've been standing there for a while and I'm kind of waiting for the hammer to fall.”

He smiled gently before scratching his head. “Freddie, I've read your account of what happened and although I certainly have some things to say on the matter. As well as a penance to hand out. It is neither as bad as you think, or what you think. I think you were incredibly foolish, naive and stupid. These things are not always character flaws and they are certainly flaws that you have had since you were younger. Flaws that I seem to recall Father trying to force out of you. But you are not the only person that has these little problems in our family.”

He blew out his breath.

“Yes, I think we have a lot to talk about. But unfortunately, I rather do not have the time. I leave today for the Capital of Angraal where I am to give a sermon in the church there. Then I want to travel around a bit, to see and be seen. This is the first time that I've been able to get out and about since they made me Cardinal and I want to see what our ministry is doing out here.”

“It's getting cold and damp Mark, are you sure you're up to it? I don't want you to get worse out there.”

Mark waved his hands dismissively.

“Pssh,” He said. “The most optimistic forecast as to my health says that I will be sane and capable enough to be able to have a dance with Ariadne on your wedding night. The most pessimistic says that I'm going to be a gibbering shell of a man by this time next year.”

“Everyone still assuming that we are going to get married.” I muttered, a little bitterly.

“Yes.” He told me. “Because you are. Oh I know about your grand gesture and I know the drive that made you do it. But I don't, for a moment, think that you really want to break it off. I don't for a moment think she wants to either. I think that the two of you need to talk, and you will. But you are not strong enough for any of these talks yet.

“So I am going to go out ministering to the flock.”

He grinned. “You wanna come with me. It will be good for you and I need a guide.”

“Mark, There are better guides.”

“There might be. But you need to get to know your lands as well. And you were there in the most recent historical upheavel. My understanding is that you saved many lives here.”

“Ariadne saved many lives.” I argued.

“Yes she did.” Mark granted me the point, although his eyes glinted as he said it. “I wonder why she did that. Come with me. When was the last time you went for a proper church service and sat in the presence of the flame?”

“It's been a long time.” I admitted.

“Then it will do you good to remember some things, as well as getting you out of this little hut. Come along.”

And then he left. Not giving me time to argue back. So that was it. A decision had been made. I thought I would be angry but the truth was that I almost instantly felt better. I realised that in taking away the decision making process, Mark had wrapped me in a comfort blanket. That part of me that wanted someone to come in and make everything better again had been fulfilled and now I was there. Wrapped in swaddling clothes.

It felt amazing. To be told what to do. To be told how to behave.

My old life had not been left behind. During all of this, my spear had been propped up in the corner of the cottage that I was staying in. Samantha and her husband took it away when there was no-one present in case I used it to hurt myself. But other than that. That was where it lived.

At first, I wrapped up warm and tried to leave the cottage without my weapons. I tried to tell myself that I would be surrounded by church guards and that I was in no physical danger.

But Kerrass had been shown to be right. Over and over and over again. There was no guarentees and as I walked away I realised that I felt naked. Uncomfortable even without my weapons. I got out of the cottage and halfway to the guesthouse that was surrounded by church soldiers and knights and realised how unhappy I was. My feet were uncomfortable in my boots without my boot knife. My stomach felt wrong without my belly knife sat crosswise. And my arm felt.... It felt uncomfortable without the weight of the spear.

I tried to tell myself everything. I tried to tell myself that there was a time coming when I would need to set the spear aside. That I would need to put the knives away. I had thought before that I wouldn't be comfortable without them but I was genuinely astonished as to how uncomfortable and unhappy I was without those weights and that artificial comfort. That illusion of self-sufficiency and security.

And yes, I realise the irony of saying these things so soon after saying how relieved I was after Mark took away my decision making apparatus.

I even tried it in stages. A boot knife would not be out of place but I found that the presence of that comfort highlighted the other discomforts even further.

So then my belly-knife was attached to my belt and my spear was taken apart and put in it's scabbard before being slung on my back.

I instantly felt better. Even though the leader of Mark's escort didn't agree. Frowning at my appearance. I don't know what he thought I was trying to say. Whether I was trying to suggest that he couldn't look after us all, that I felt unsafe or what. But the truth is much simpler. That I didn't feel comfortable without my weapons to hand. That long ago made theory and prophecy was now made to be true. I didn't like it, but that was the truth.

For his part. Mark was dressed simply. He was wearing his family Cassock which meant that he didn't really consider himself “on duty”, but I saw that this was a front. When you are a man like that, you are always on duty and always have to be ready. He certainly showed me that over that couple of days that we spent riding round Angraal together.

As well as his Cassock, he was wearing a large, heavy, all purpose cloak in the same colours as his cassock. His holy symbol was the same old wooden one that he had had for years and he wore a simple, fur cap that kept the warmth in and the weather out.

We rode to the Capital of Angraal where we went to the church and filed in. I wanted to sit in the back somewhere but Mark wouldn't have it. So I was shepherded to the front and sat next to the Duke and Duchess of Angraal who greeted me warmly. I did the best I could, deflecting questions like “Have I recovered from my illness?” and “How long will I be staying?” as well as comments about how much the pair of them were looking forward to the wedding between myself and the Countess.

It seems that they are both more comfortable referring to Ariadne as “The Countess” rather than by her name. Certainly the Duchess is more comfortable with Ariadne than her husband is, but I had wondered how that relationship had progressed. At first it seemed that there was a firm friendship growing there but over time, it seemed as though that had fallen off.

But we sat there and gossipped a bit until the Bishop came in and began the service. It was a very traditional service, harking back to the older services of helping others. Of following the flame towards comfort and safety. There was a marked lack of demands and about how we should force people to come to the flame whether they wanted to or not.

The Bishop did a good job I thought. Relatively recently, I read through those early chapters about what happened when I first came through Angraal and I will admit to having been a bit dismissive towards the Bishop of Angraal. He is a firm and staunch man of Faith, a little bit too much towards the “purging fire” perspective of the flame than I am entirely comfortable with, but there was absolutely no denying his capabilities, the firmness of his belief and his compassion was beyond reproach.

He also showed that a lot of his argumentative pose was a front. He really did believe all of that stuff but he was also absolutely willing to put all of that aside in the face of a common enemy. Whether that be treachery, evil or anything else. He seemed to be the kind of person that liked a good argument. That he didn't know how to have a conversation with anyone unless it was a debate or an argument.

He was the kind of man that would argue that a blackbird is a dove just to get a rise out of someone and was just as capable of switching sides in an argument to bolster up the losing side if that meant that the argument would be prolonged. He was in charge of Ariadne's baptism to the faith and she claimed that he was a good teacher providing you could stomach his slightly confrontational style. He would not have been a good teacher for anyone who was lacking in personal confidence.

He stood and introduced Mark as a Cardinal of the faith and people turned to look at my brother as he emerged from somewhere.

Having heard of the arrival of a Cardinal, the church was full of people, old, young, rich, poor and of all possible professions. Other than the front pews, we were quite tightly packed in. Even several members of the Sisterhood of Melitele were here to hear what Mark had to say. After all, it is not often that people get to hear a Cardinal speak and folk were wondering what he was going to say. I had heard everything according to gossip. Some folks were looking forward to some good old fashioned fire and hate. While others were hoping that Mark was going to preach about some peace, love and understanding.

As it turns out, he did neither. What he did was to come into the church dressed as a clown. The full on thing. The baggy trousers, the grease paint, the absurdly coloured wig and the giant red nose that he could squeak. He had one of those flowers on that squirted water and his shoes had bells on. Wearing this ensemble he walked to the front of the church and didn't get up on the pulpit, instead he stood there with all the supposed majesty that a Cardinal can have, while also looking utterly ridiculous.

The entire congregation, including me, was frozen in shock, awe and surprise. Unsure as to what was happening, what was going to happen or what we were about to do here. Was this a joke? What point was being made here?

And then I saw the Bishop of Angraal stifling a laugh and I relaxed a tension that I had not known that I was holding in.

I turned back from watching the congregation's reaction, just in time to see Mark, Cardinal Mark no less, stick his tongue out towards his audience.

The congregation couldn't believe it. It was a child that laughed first. Then a parent tried to shush the child but the sheer ludicrousness of the entire thing was too funny for anyone to take into account and then the hilarity swept through the hall. Mark laughed with us.

One of his hangers on had moved to stand next to Mark with a large box while another carried a basin of water.

Mark waited for the laughter to die down before he smiled down at the congregation. “Absurd is it not?” He asked and people began to nod. “You are right to think so. It is absurd and it is alright to laugh. These things are funny. Laughter dismisses fear and helps us combat pain. I've met more than one Doctor who would talk about the healing power of laughter and I have seen it in my own life and in my own actions. So it is alright to laugh and if all I have done today is to make you laugh then this visit has been worthwhile. Then, in days, weeks, months or even years to come. You will be able to tell your friends, your family and your loved ones, that you saw a Cardinal of the church of the eternal Flame, dressed as a clown.”

There was more laughter as Sam pulled his wig off and tossed it into the box.

“There is another purpose behind my doing this of course.” He went on as he set aside the clothing of a clown. That is to show you that I am just a man underneath all of the garments, all of the vestements. Under the robes and the gowns and the truly absurdly sized hats that it is, for some reason, necessary for us to wear. We are just men who are here to do our best towards helping men and women towards the light of the eternal Fire. We are men, same as you, we fight, we lie, we cheat, we steal and we commit all the sins that you yourselves are guilty of. If I did not wear the clothes of the Cardinal, then would you even acknowledge me as we pass each other in the street?”

He shrugged.

“I am just a man. I love my siblings, even those who I sometimes get angry with.” I thought he did very well not to turn and look at me as he said that. “I am no more holy, no more special, no more... sacred than any of you.

“So why do I get to wear all of this stuff and you do not?” He gestured as his person laid out the Cardinal's regalia.

“There are answers to that. Some of you might be thinking of some of those answers even now. Some of you might be saying that I get to wear these things because of the money that I was born into. They might say that my position was purchased.”

His servant helped him to put the cassock on.

“And there is some truth to that. I won't lie. I was extraordinarily lucky to be born into the family that I was born into. Extraordinarily lucky that my Father had worked hard enough to ensure that I, and my other siblings, had all the money that we needed to pursue our interests and our goals. But if it was just the money that got me here, then are there not plenty of other people, richer than I am, that have got further than I have?

“There are. But the opposite is also true. There are many members of the Cardinal's council who have come from common backgrounds. Men who ran away from home with little more than the clothes on their backs while there are also priests from wealthy families that are still little more than lay preachers who sit around in various places, complaining about how the world would be a lot better if only they could be in charge.

“There is an inevitable truth to the use of money to climb the ranks of any organisation, including mine. Sooner or later you hit a ceiling that no amount of money can buy you any further up the ladder towards the top. Sooner or later you reach that point where people will be examining candidates for a position in the.... whatever, the nobility, the church, the army or guilds. And someone will say. “he's very rich” and someone else will say. “Yes, but he's an ass”,”

The congregation laughed at the expression of beaurocratic pain on Mark's face.

“And then, that group of people will move onto other, better candidates. So what else could contribute to why I wear all of this... frankly gaudy and heavy outfit and you do not? Another answer that you are all shouting out in your minds is rank. That I was born into a higher family than yours.”

His hangers on put on the surplice. The white outer garment that is meant to signify purity. This despite the wine stains that you so often see on this garment of the priesthood.

“This is also true.” Mark told us all. “I was born as the son of a Baron. But here's one of those truths that they never tell you about the Nobility. And that is that any single one of us can be removed from our position. We might be born into the nobility, but only the elder son gets to keep a title. The rest of us need to make our way in the world. It is true that that lineage can give us power, legitimacy and open doors that were otherwise closed. But there is also a truth that the title, the name, the lands and the wealth are just as subject to royal whim as your neighbours. My family is powerful at the moment. But all of us worked hard to get to that point. We have bled, and suffered and it has cost us blood, sweat, many tears and several lives.”

Mark seemed to drift off for a moment. I wondered what Mark was looking at in that moment. But then he shook himself and seemed to come back into the room.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“But that has made us just as many enemies as it has friends. There was a long period of my career where I was nothing more than a church priest. Far below what your Bishop of Angraal is now. And I was told that I would, by Flame, climb no higher because my father had upset and insulted their father and as a result.... Blah blah blah blah blah, moan moan, dribble,”

He grinned at the congregation. “I still have strong feelings about that man.”

We all laughed with him.

“But the other problem in saying that being part of the nobility guarentees progression is that a noble is only a noble on their monarch's sufferance. What the King, Queen or Empress awards, the King, Queen or Empress can take away at the edge of an axe, or at the point of a sword so that the estate, lands, coin, trading ventures, can be absorbed by the crown or given to a favourite.

“This can be shown in the fact that I used to be the Arch-bishop of Tretogor. Before that, I was a fairly small Bishop in that area of countryside. I ascended because the Arch-Bishop of Tretogor called the Empress Elect a harlot, deviant magic user. This shortly after the North had been conquered. As I had been more moderate in my views and had not expressed a political opinion on the matter, I was selected as a replacement. Even the church is not immune to politics.”

“So why else do I get to wear this, heavy robe?”

His servant put on the Cardinals golden over garment. I forget what it's called.

“Some might say luck. And if you happen to believe in luck then I would agree with you again. I was lucky, to be in the right place at the right time with the right training, knowledge and ethics to progress and improve in my chosen fields of excellence. There is certainly some truth in that. Certainly.

“But I do not believe in luck. I share a familial belief that a man makes their own luck. Luck happens if you are ready for the opportunity..

“I once heard someone claim that when the Emperor chose a general to put in charge of this army or that army, he would not ask whether or not a general was good at their jobs, but rather whether or not they were lucky.

“But I also heard that when asked, all the people that are called “lucky” said that they were just better able to see, and then take advantage of, the opportunities when they arose.

“So I do not believe in Luck. I think that I was better prepared than my immediate competition. That I was prepared and that I was ready. I believe that a man, or a woman, makes their own way in the world. They are only lucky in the basis of who they were born to and what they were given to make their start and then you have to make the most of that. History is replete with examples of men and women who have wasted everything that they were born with and given. I even believe that you have examples of such men in your own recent history.”

The Duke of Angraal led the laughter.

“So lets address the follow on from that.” Mark went on a bit further. “Let's say that I know more than you do. That I was trained better, that I have more knowledge and more experience in all of these things. That is also true and undeniable.”

The servant put his Cardinal's hat on. The one with the absurdly wide brim.

“But there are people in monastaries of the Flame all over the North that know more about Scripture than I do. Men and women who have made it their lives works to study this bit of scripture or that bit of scripture in order to discern some kind of meaning behind the words. They know far more than I do. Far, far more.

“Is it my work ethic?” Mark went on as someone passed him the staff. The symbolic staff of office that was supposed to be a lantern staff or to house a torch on the top so that the priests of the flame could light the way to wherever the priest was leading. “I like to think that this is part of it.” Mark admitted. “My pride drives me to work hard and my pride in the work that I have done and that my subordinates continue to perform in the name of the eternal Flame. Pride is a sin, I will admit to this and when I make my confession, my confessor regularly has to take me to task for my pride.”

He held his hand up to stop the other servants as they were about to fasten another badge of office round his frame.

“Yes, I have a confessor. Do I need to remind you about what I said earlier about my being a normal person underneath all of this.... dreafully heavy nonsense?”

People were a bit more nervous about this laughter as the scarf was draped around his neck.

“Besides, it was my father and other siblings that gave me this work Ethic. And if the ability to work hard was the thing that carried a man high, then every man and woman that struggles to scratch out a living from the dirt of their farms deserves to climb twice as high and twice as far as I ever have.”

He turned to me and I shrank in horror.

“My brother taught me that.” Mark said.

“So what else is there. Ah yes. Ambition? Ambition is a drive to succeed and yes. I have had a drive to succeed but not for the reason that you might think.”

The servant tied the sash around Mark's waist

“Raw ability” Mark said as they hung the weighty chain around his neck and arranged it so that it settled properly. “Talent, suitability for the task. In short, Did I do well because I like being a priest and all of the things that that entails? This is also part of it. Each of us plays our role and here is another place that I was lucky.”

He winked at the audience. “Another luck point that I forgot earlier. See, another exmple of my imperfections.”

“I was lucky. I was pushed into a role for which I was eminently suited and I am grateful to my father for putting me here. I did not have to fight to get the role that I wanted and for that I am grateful too. But after that? Yes, I like being a priest and that enjoyment meant that I was more.... driven to be a better one.

“So now we're getting to the final places. The final pieces.”

His servant handed him his huge symbol of the flame that Mark himself attached to the chain around his neck.

“Was it the Will of the Flame that put me where I am today? No it was not. The flame does not push or pull us into any particular place or pattern. The Flame is a guiding light. It is the lighthouse that keeps us from falling onto the rocks. It is the guiding lights that steer us into harbour. It is the beacon that tells us that help is needed. It is the warm fire that brings the weary traveller home and keeps our families warm on a cold winter's night. It does not push us around like game pieces.

“It can show us the path but we have to be the ones that follow that path. I love the flame for that. It means that I am not a slave to it's will and it means that neither is everyone else. I would struggle to follow a God that could force people into the right place and then did not. That could prevent the evil that men do and then did not. That I could not face.

“So then there is the last thing. The last symbol of being a Cardinal. What made me a Cardinal over all others?”

Mark held his hand out and the Bishop of Angraal passed Mark the Cardinal's ring. The badge of office. Mark took it and weighed it in his hand reflectively, holding it up and making it so that the light could shine through the hole.

“When they gave me my ring of office.” Mark began. “I could not believe what it was. It was a ring of Gold, in which was the most beautiful, flaming red ruby. I'm told that Jewellers call it a “Sun stone.” A jewel where, somewhere in the centre of the stone, there is a tiny speck of Gold. And as light shines onto the stone the gold reflects that light around the jewel that it is contained within which makes the stone itself seem to burn like fire, or glow like the sun if you prefer.

“I remember being astonished at the beauty of the thing and the weight of the Gold that held it. I asked how much the thing was worth. I won't tell you how much it was but it was a ridiculous sum. Using that amount of money, I do believe that I could have bought a significant chunk of Angraal. I remember being horrified. I was sat at the feet of the Holy Father, the Hierophant of the church at the time and I looked up and said. “Father, I cannot take this.”

“I remember that he seemed to become angry. “Why not?” He wondered.”

““Because with that money,” I began “the church could heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the poor and put roofs over the heads of the homeless. It is obscene that I should wear it on my finger while so many are poor, starving and suffering.”

“The Holy Father smiled at me and said. “And that is why we made you Cardinal.” He told me. He turned and gestured. The other Cardinals, who were also smiling, took their rings from their fingers. We replaced them with cheap steel rings with glass stones and they are now the badge of office. I wear it and it is a crime, punishable by being tortured to death to steal them or wear them if you are not a Cardinal. A law as approved by the Empress. But I think that you would struggle to get more than a couple of crowns for one of them in the Novigrad street market.

“So what did that mean? Why was I made a Cardinal? The answer is Service.

“Now I can see some of you already wincing, grunting and turning away from what I am saying. I know why this is as well. You are already thinking to yourself. “This is another sermon from a rich, entitled, noble man telling us why we should be grateful to our lords and masters for allowing us to serve them. I can see some nobles in the crowd sitting a little straighter, maybe a master of an apprentice or two thinking that I am supporting them.

“And yes, like so much in the words that I am saying to you today, this is partly correct. But that is not the reason that I was made Cardinal. I was made Cardinal because of my desire to serve. Not the Hierophant which is the kind of service that you are all thinking about. I was made Cardinal because of my desire to serve the common man on the street. The men and women.... and yes, the Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, Vampires, Trolls, Dopplers, Succubi, Inccubi and anyone else that lives in the continent that we all share. Any being that might stop, take a moment to sit, listen, talk, share a drink and otherwise spend some time in each other's company.

“I want to serve all of them. I want to help them all. I want to ensure that they have clothes and food and clean water to drink. I want to fulfill their spiritual needs and help them towards the light of warmth and safety. I want to help these people and I could no longer do that from my current position. I could do more of that from my position of Cardinal than I could from any other seat and that want, that need, to help people is why they made me a Cardinal.

“I was not always like this. I wasn't. I was exactly the kind of priest that you are all thinking about. I was the kind of man who wanted to achieve great office in the world. I wanted to stamp my own particular brand of “holy” onto the people in my parrish and the priests, monks and Lay-brothers that answered to me. Looking back, I weep for the arrogance that I displayed.

“From where I am now, I realised that I was there by virtue of all of the other things that we have already mentioned as well as several others. Money, Wealth, prestige, rank, ambition, training, knowledge, talent, ability, energy.... Luck. But I was not going to climb any higher than I already was. The fact that I made the jump to Arch-Bishop was purely a matter of luck. I was in the right place at the right time and my politics were not as controversial to the new world order as my immediate predecessor's were.

“But even that was a leap. But then I changed. Something happened to me and I was made to see the problems in my entitlement. I was made to see the flame that exists in the places that we had been taught to believe contained only darkness. I saw the flame in the caring eyes of someone who I had been taught to believe was a monster. More than one person for that matter and they would have done everything that they could to have helped me. They did not force me, they did not coerce me. They told me the problem and they offered to help.

“It was me that turned away. In my arrogance and stupidity....

“Remember, I am just as human as the rest of you.”

He grinned at them.

“But what they had told me was confirmed as true by men of learning, Flame fearing men and women who told me that if I had just listened to the monster who cared more for my well-being than I did, then I would have lived for a lot longer.

“Yes. I'm dying. I am angry and have still not come to terms with it, but what I insist upon is that my death will not be in vain. But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

“That event opened my eyes and then another man came along to show me all the things that I had missed. In all the time, while sat in my Arch-Bishop's palace, even though I had stripped that palace of wealth and luxury and donated the proceeds to the poor and dispossessed that had been made so by the war. I was shown that I had been doing these things in order to serve myself. I absolutely believed that it was the right thing to do. And it was. But I did it for the wrong reason. I did it to make a point. To play politics within my own particular faction within the church.

“In doing so, I was still blind to the people that I had helped. Even indirectly. I was shown that my view of the world was skewed. That I had been blind, biased, or however you want to describe it. I had.... I had lost my way.

“That realisation came slowly. It takes a long time to unlearn everything that I have been taught or learned for myself. A very long time but when I finally managed to open my eyes and to properly see what was going on around me. To really see the suffering that was being inflicted on the people of the continent. I was horrified that I hadn't seen it before.

“So I set out to help those people. I looked at what I could do with my position, my wealth, my rank and influence. I stopped serving my own ambition. I could even argue that I stopped serving my own feudal Lords and stopped serving my own masters in the church. I started to serve the people under me. I started to serve the people that I bumped into in the street. Whether by helping a man to his feet, helping a lady with her burdens or briefly comforting an unhappy child. I started to really serve the people around me.

“And they made me Cardinal for it. The Holy Father and the other Cardinals saw the changes in me and I was elevated.

“Now don't get me wrong. The Church has not always been so caring. Believe me I know and there might even be people in the congregation today that have suffered the scars and the injury that the.... hatred of Radovid and the church were labouring under, made possible. For that I am sorry and I beg for your forgiveness that I did not do more to try and stop that. That I did not do more to help you. I plead with you for your forgiveness.

“Had I served then, with hatred and anger, then I might have climbed higher. But I count myself fortunate that the world has moved on from that. That service and kindness is beginning to take a more active role in our society.”

He spent a bit of time looking out over the congregation. I was impressed with his speaking and gifts of oratory. People were listening to him, even though I had a niggling doubt at the pit of my stomach as to what this was all about.

“So how do we serve? You might be asking the same question. You might be saying that you are the lowest farmer in the area. So how can you serve other people. You might tell me that you are serving your masters. You might also be saying that you are the noble in charge and that it is your flame given right to take the service of these people for yourself. You might be a member of some other priesthood. I see my noble colleagues from the church of Melitele. I bow to you Ladies as there are few priesthoods that serve in the community quite as well as you do. You might be a bishop of the Flame, or a priest of the flame, or Kreve or any of the others, secure in your moral rightness and goodness that says that you are correct.

“The answer to some of that is simple. I am a Cardinal of the Cult of the Eternal Flame. I rose to the position I have due to the service of my fellow man. For the noble Lords. The duty of “A noble's obligation” is well known in these parts. That the way it is supposed to work is that a noble serves his people, almost as much as the people serve him while still serving the Lords above him.

“The Empress herself spends restless nights, unable to sleep and pacing her rooms because even one of her subjects is living in poverty while their bellies swell in starvation. She chastises herself every minute of every day for not being able to do better. You can believe that, she has admitted as much and I have seen her efforts for the betterment of her people in action. As have you if you think about it.

“So what can you do? What can any of us do? We work in the fields all day, hammer in the forge all day, wrestle with horses, hammer staves and do the rest of it with relentless.... relentless drive. After all, if we do not work, we do not earn and if we do not earn, we do not eat and our children cry themselves to sleep with hunger.

“I know this and I am not proposing some kind of revolution against our feudal masters. I am not. That's not what I am saying. I might suggest that some of those feudal masters need to spend some time examining their actions a little. I might say the same about some priests I know and have met on my journey as well. What I'm saying is this.”

He paused and looked over the congregation. His words became a little heavier, a little more carefully enunciated. Adding weight to what he was saying. I knew the method and why it worked. This was the bit he wanted us to really remember.

“The Continent is in a hell of a state. It has been for years. Decades even. You might look around and see that the crops are coming back, that people are no longer as hungry as they used to be and that people are starting to live with each other better than they have in a while. But I have found, that if you scratch the surface, even a little bit, you will see that neighbours are scared of neighbours. That their worst enemies are neighbours.

“ You will see that Banditry and stealing from your fellow human beings is considered a viable career choice. That Lords, Priests and Guildmasters are demanding the same amount of dues as they did in the height of wartime. That parents are still.... STILL to this day, sending their children out to the woods in order to collect mushrooms alone in order to lessen the burden on the rest of the village.

“The Continent is still in a hell of a state and people sit around in taverns, common rooms, court rooms and church halls and they moan about what the world is coming to. They sit around and complain about how life was better in the olden days. About how people knew their place and about how men, did not live in fear. About when food was plentiful and about how no-one lived in fear.

“The Continent is still in a hell of state and it is very easy to suppose that it has always been this way. There has always been hardship, there has always been poverty and war and hardship. There is even compelling evidence to say that there always will be.

“The Continent is still in a hell of a state. So how do we fix it?

“We serve each other. If a neighbour is fixing his roof, go and help him. If a woman is struggling to control the children then help her. Don't yell at them, help them. If a man is hungry, feed them. If someone is naked, clothe them. If someone needs medicine, then go and fetch it for them. If someone is ignorant of something, show them, teach them. And if someone has wronged you and shows remorse... Forgive them.

“The Continent is still in a hell of a state and it is not going to get better by us all wishing that it is going to get better. We have to make it get better. We need to be the change that we want to see. We need to be better people than how we have been.”

He scanned the room again.

“Some of you are uncomfortable with this. You, not incorrectly, suggest that there will be people who take advantage of generosity. They say that some people are lazy and will take advantage of those of us who are trying to make the Continent a better place to live. This is true. There are always people without shame. But let me put It like this. If they take advantage of you by stealing food from your mouths then that reflects badly on him. Both in the eyes of society and in the eyes of the Holy Flame, Melitele, Kreve, Freya, the Holy Sun and just about any other religion you care to name. Including more than one of the darker ones that I shall not utter here.

“If they take advantage of you. If they scam you? That reflects badly on them. But if you walk past a person in tears because they cannot afford to pay the farmer for the food for their family and you can afford that little bit extra. Then that reflects badly on you.

“And if you do that. You will find no respite within the warm comfort of the flame when the time of cold comes. And it will come. We all have a time of cold in our lives when we need a bit of help from the men nearby. Be the flame. Carry the flame, carry the warmth of it within your hearts and give freely of that light, that warmth and that love and between us all, we cam make the continent a place that is worth living in.”

He turned and bowed towards the alter.

“Hail the eternal Fire.” He cried and we all shouted with him.

You never applaud in church. I have never found out why. But it's just not done. I have never learned the purpose of it, but I wanted to and I thought I saw more than one person also wishing to applaud what my brother said.

He sat down and one of his assistants passed him what looked like a potion bottle to me. He leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. The Bishop of Angraal performed the rest of the service. Mark took part but he looked spent to me.

Afterwards, the Bishop and Mark stood together and Mark shook everyone's hand. He gave everyone a blessing that asked for one. He cuddled babies, blessed unions and spoke to old people. So I didn't get a chance to talk to him until later when he was taking his regalia off again and getting back into his older, more weatherbeaten cassock.

“Good sermon.” I told him. The feeling of earlier disquiet had grown in my stomach as the rest of the service had gone by.

“Thank you. Glad you liked it.”

“How much of that was aimed at me?” I wondered. “Some of those barbs hit a little close to home there Markymark.”

He straightened and looked at me with his piercing, Confessor's stare.

Then he laughed. For a long time.

“Konrad?” He called and one of his servants looked up.

“Eminence?”

“How often have I given that Sermon?”

“At least once in every church or area that you've been to Eminence.”

“Often enough that you can say it by heart back to me?”

The young man cleared his throat.

“Absurd is it not?” The young man began, his impression of Mark was a little uncanny. “You are right to think so. It is absurd and it is alright to laugh. These things are funny. Laughter dismisses fear and helps us combat pain. I've met more than one Doctor who would talk about the healing power of laughter and....”

“Ok, enough enough.” I laughed with Mark.

“I love you Freddie, I really do. But the purpose of the sermon was not directed at you. If you are made to feel uncomfortable by any of that stuff then that is because you brought that with you. I did not put that stuff in there to target you. I put that stuff in there to target the guilt of people who knew that they could do better. Could you do better Freddie?”

He didn't wait for an answer.

“Come along. We have a state dinner to attend.”

It occurred to me over the next several days that I had never really seen Mark being a priest. I had seen his youthful attempts to gather authority to himself that he didn't think he had earned. Back when he hid a lack of confidence behind an austere cassock and strict punishments for the small sins that Sam and I would confess to him on a daily basis. I had also seen him debate Theology before now and seen his “Proffessional outrage” when Kerrass had been asking questions and investigating, then, Edmund's death.

I am older and more experienced now, than I was then, even though it was only really a little over eigteen months ago that Father had died, and I am able to see certain things for what they were. His had been the kind of outrage where a man feels as though he should be outrage and therefore is outraged. Just to show everyone that he is outraged so that they don't ask questions about it later. Because no respectable churchman would ever allow himself to be questioned by a mutant monster such as this. Such things were simply not even to be questioned.

So he had thrown his toys out of the pram and stomped off to his rooms where Kerrass couldn't get at him. But beyond that, the closest that I had ever come to seeing Mark, actually being a priest was when he had sat down with Kerrass and I, several bits of string and some bits of debris as he had set out to show us how the world works.

So I had seen the part of him that a priest has to be a teacher. But now I was seeing the rest. Amplified up along an exponential curve given the rank that he had attained. I had seen and heard him speak. I had watched as he disarmed his audience with a couple of jokes. Then he had pointed out how he was just like them really, then he had separated himself from them without talking them down. And then he had given them an easy way to fix things. How they, not just their rulers but how each and every man, woman and child in that congregation. From the Duke and Duchess down to the lowliest, muddiest street urchin that was in attendance in the hope of getting some of the alms that are always handed out to the poor at the end of such things.

And then he had, as I think of what he did afterwards, gone to work with a vengeance.

We attended the state dinner that he told me about. Calling it a state dinner was a little bit ambitious really. It was a matter of the Duke, Duchess and their family along with those nobles and more well to do merchants that were living in the capital. The Duke spent most of the time apologising to Mark for their not being more people in attendance but that the majority of the local nobility were following Countess Ariadne's example and staying at home to help with the preparations for the coming winter storms.

Mark was accepting of this and made jokes about how people might guess how he felt about the matter given the topic of his most recent sermon. Mark was not the most popular person in the room but there was enough idealism there that made the things that he had been talking about seem attractive.

The worst I saw was a sense of internal conflict among some of the older people. The Younger sons and more than one younger daughter that had taken over estates that had been depopulated by wars and, later, Lord Dorme's attempts at rebellion, seemed all for the idea. But invoking Ariadne's name was not an automatic ticket for approval, that was plain. More than one older Lord politely enquired as to whether or not I would be making any efforts to instill more traditional values into my wife when the time came.

My return joke was not appreciated although I saw a few people having to hide laughter behind cups and coughing fits. I said that “more traditional” values in Ariadne's case meant that she ruled the countryside with absolute power over life and death and enquired whether that was the kind thing that he was interested in.

He didn't take it well.

Mark was too well trained in the courtly arts to succumb to anything as foolish as to allow his own amusement to show at such things but he did tell me later that he thought I was “wicked”.

After that, Mark was the life and soul of the party. There was a dance where he did remarkably well, dancing with many of the women present although I noticed that he only danced with the married ones. He did avoid the more energetic dances with a deft word and a complaint about his health, but other than appearing slightly red faced, he did well.

I did, however, see one of his attendants, there are three of them, pour something into a drink for him. At first I was worried, concerned about poison or something similar, but then I saw Mark checking over and seeing the attendant with the bottle in his hand, Mark nodded and drank it down.

When he danced, laughing, with the Abbess of Melitele though, that was his crowning acheivement. The woman, I forget her name at the time of writing, was clearly astonished twice. The first time was that she had been asked and then again when it turned out that my brother knew all the moves.

But Mark retired shortly after that.

The following day Mark went out into the town, travelling from tavern to tavern where he went in, had a pint, bought a meal at lunchtime and ate it with everyone in attendance. He talked with the stall holders and the travelling merchants. I watched him buy a charm from one of those travelling trinket salesmen. You know the kind. The people that sell “Teeth drom the Dragon that ate St Lebioda” and “The fingerbones of St Samuel” and, more believably, “The dried Faeces of St Terrence”. But Mark bought one after whispering something to the salesman who fled after the transaction was complete.

He walked with both the Abbess of Melitele and the Bishop of the Eternal Fire. He walked into those houses that contained the old and the infirm, visited with people that had been injured in the pursuit of this or that. He did, to be fair, avoid those houses where he was told that there was infection but more than once, he knelt next to the sick-bed and offered his prayers along with the families.

No child was turned away as Mark offered blessings to any that wished them and no young couple was safe from a gentle jest of encouragement. Molly-Anne, or at least I think that's what her name was, the Priestess of Melitele, was clearly flabbergasted at what she was seeing and spent most of her time in astonishment. Occasionally forgetting that she was one of the tour guides that was seeking to get everything done. The Bishop of Angraal was taking it all in his stride although I did wonder if some kind of crisis of faith was happening underneath the surface there. He had taken up the position of a student, was asking questions of Mark as to why the Cardinal was doing this or doing that and then nodding as he tried to take in the answering piece of wisdom.

Eventually though, one of the promised Rainstorms blew in and we all retreated back indoors where it was declared that Mark would be in the chruch for some time should any wish to come and see him.

I would have gone with him but I was chased off to one side by one of the attendants that told me “His Eminence says that you have some writing to do.” Which I did and I always found an office set aside for my purposes.

There was a smaller meal that night with just the Duke and his family where the Duke's wife, who was newly pregnant again, had a number of questions on Theology that, to my eyes at least, showed that she was more educated than some priests can have claim to. I was especially interested when she asked why women weren't allowed to be members of the priesthood of the eternal Fire.

“I'm afraid that my brother rather had the right of it on that subject Milady.” Mark said. “Have you read his chapters on the subject?”

“I have.” The Duchess astonished me by smiling at me. “He says that societal pressure as well as early church doctrine prevented women from attaining prominence.”

Mark grimaced. “He did and he is right. Also late church doctrine from the current Hierarch's predecessor, Hemmelfart. But in doing so he was trying to lessen the power of the Sorceresses of the continent. The honest answer milady is that there is no possible reason to keep women from serving in the priesthood. No reason save for dogmatic ones. Personally, I can't see it happening any time soon however as the church needs to change a little more completely to allow that to happen.”

The Duchess harrumphed to show her displeasure at the thought.

For my part of the evening I was left entertaining the children. The eldest was growing quickly into the spitting image of his mother. He was going to be taller than his father unless his growth slowed down, but he had his mother's intelligence. The Duke had long maintained a habit of having her consult on his more important decisions precisely for this reason and I rather thought that the young Duke would become a player in the relatively near future. Next few years or so.

Indeed, he would be my liege lord eventually so I did my best to form the beginnings of an alliance with him. Struggling with the fact that children are always a bit of a problem for me despite all the training and examples that Kerrass had given me on how to handle it all.

But we seemed to be getting on alright, mostly by virtue of the fact that I wasn't asking him how his studies were going. I think and the most basic trick that Kerrass ever taught me was to not talk down to children. Even when they are being children. “Kids can sense being patronised at from about the age of three.” He told me.

The Duke also had some words, enquiring about the wedding and whether it was still going ahead. He had taken me off to one side to discuss the matter and I don't think anyone heard us, but I was a little concerned.

“You came back and called it all off in public Lord Frederick.” He told me, a little more intensely than I thought the occasion warranted. “And yes, I have people watching the Countess. She was this close to subverting my position and ruling Angraal and although I trust her as much as I can, she is still.... well....”

“The Spider-Queen of Angraal?” I wondered.

“You may joke Lord Frederick but it is something else entirely when your childhood boogeyman turns up and smiles sweetly at you before asking after the health of your children.”

I took pity on him. “That conversation still needs to be had.” I told him. “Sometime soon I think but I am not ready for it yet. Her presence is....”

“Powerful?” The Duke wondered. “I don't need to imagine the effect that she can have, or could have if she put her mind to it. But do not underestimate her anger. Our storybooks are full of those stories about what happens if and when she gets angry.”

I nodded in gratitude for the warning but it was one of those things that I was trying not to think about, There was a conversation with Ariadne in the future and I was dreading it. No matter which way I tried to approach it in my head, I couldn't picture it. There was nothing there. If I went there with a view of begging her forgiveness for being an idiot and a moron.... How do you apologise for something like that? I had no idea, but the follow up was just as important. After that was done, there would then be a conversation about why I had behaved in such a way.

And I was definitely not ready for that.

After the time away from things I thought that this was closer to the direction that I was going to go. This, on the grounds that I was pretty confident that I still loved her. The way that I felt about her was unlike anything else that I had ever felt for anyone else. The closest was how I had felt with Marion on an autumn day in the Southern parts of the Empire. But there was a depth to the feeling with Ariadne. A tentativeness and a.... a fear of going too fast and too deep. I wanted to savour the getting to know each other part. I wanted to take my time with learning to love her.

I was ashamed. But I couldn't bring myself to just walk up to her and tell her that. There were still things that … I was still ashamed of what had happened. And I still felt as though I had betrayed both her and myself in behaving the way that I had and I no longer felt as though I deserved the love that Ariadne could and probably would give me.

So although, on one level, I could see which way I was leaning. My mind just refused to accept that that would be the way I would go.

So I gave the Duke something noncomittal. I told him that I still had a lot of thinking to do and that the decision was in Ariadne's hands as much as it was mine. He didn't look satisfied though but his wife dragged him away.

I also had time to talk with the Bishop of Angraal that night. He looked like a man that was having the world taken away from under his feet and was gently bemused by the entire process. Not quite able to decide what he would find underneath what had happened before.

“How are you holding up Your Grace?” I wondered gently.

He laughed for a long time.

“The thought has occurred that I should hate you Lord Frederick. That I should denounce you for the unclean heretic that you so clearly are.”

“Oh?”

He laughed again as he watched the Cardinal of the Eternal Flame telling a dirty joke.

“A year and a half ago, I would have cheerfully burnt you at the stake for consorting with darkness. That Witcher friend of yours and then the Vampire whore-bitch.”

I would have bridled at the insult but the way he said it made it sound like an automatic thing.

“But then a Witcher and a Vampire between them showed more care and more humanity than.... Than I had. I still struggle with that. I saw the Countess walk through fire to rescue a child. Now the part of me that knows about... excuse me.... That knows about Monsters knows that creatures....” He winced. “That people like her are immune to fire and that there was no risk to her at all. But the part of me that is a priest of the Eternal Flame. The romantic part of me. The part that listened to the stories of the saints as a young man and decided who he was going to be and what he was going to do as a result, That part of me looks at the symbolism of that and wonders.”

Mark was now holding court on a couple of the minor nobility of Angraal who had gotten up enough courage from the Duke's wine to challenge Mark on the sermon from earlier in the day.

“Your brother represents the new church I think.” The Bishop told me. “I think he's going to be a.... He's going to be a saint some day and I hold myself up next to him and I fall short. Desperately short. I read your tale about Sansum and the flaming sword crowd.”

“Oh?” I found myself sinking back into interview technique. The man was unhappy and I get the feeling that he wanted to say things. That he needed to say some things.

“This is really bad of me.” He said before pouring himself a cup of wine and downing it at a swallow. “I sympathised with those knights. If I had been a bit younger or a bit fitter then I could well have seen myself joining their ranks and doing some of the things that they had done. I wanted what they had so badly, their certainty..... but you were right to kill them... You were right and I would be wrong. When did I become the monster? When did we become the monster?”

I waited for a while to see if there was anything else to come from that. “There is no answer to that.” I told him when it became clear that he wasn't going to answer his own question.

“I know. Your brother is right of course.” He said. “Your brother is right. Service, serving our fellow man, serving our fellow... people is the only way to improve the world for the better. Part of me thinks that this is a lost cause and another part of me recoils at the prospect of feeding a hungry Elf, accepting women into the priesthood or accepting that the reason that a troll flattened a miner was because the miner mistook a sleeping troll for a rock-face.”

He winced automatically at the thought.

“I'm not sure I can do that. Which makes me part of the problem. I can absolutely see why it is necessary but I don't like the picture that your brother paints. I don't think I like what I'm seeing and I don't feel...”

He sighed. “I think it might be time for me to retire. Find a nice, out of the way monastary somewhere and get out of the way of good, flame-fearing men like your brother who want to change the continent for the better.”

I looked at him for a long time before filching another bottle of the Duke's wine stocks and topping up his cup with it.

“Doubt is good.” I told him after a moment's thought. “Doubt is not bad. Challenging the problems is good as it makes people take it seriously. But you can see that Mark and his people are right can't you. You can see that he is right.”

“Yes.”

“So you are exactly the kind of people that they need. Exactly the kind. Because you are the old people that see the new ways and have seen all the ways that the old kind are wrong. But doubts are good. They make us challenge what we believe to be true. Just as you doubt the new ways of the Cult of the Eternal Flame given everything that you have been taught to think before, so you must also doubt the old ways given everything that you have seen and experienced since. Doubt. Challenge, argue. That is not bad. It makes it stronger.”

He looked at me for a long time with a cynical, but also slightly amused glint in his eye. “Are you talking to me, or are you telling that to yourself Lord Frederick?”

I thought about that, and about what I had just said. As I thought those words back to myself it reminded me of the Goddess, I could almost hear her saying them. Could almost feel her putting words into my mouth.

“Could go either way.” I admitted.

“Lord Frederick, are you alright?”

I must have paled or something. I certainly felt a little light-headed for a moment. “I'm fine.” And I was, the little wobble lasted a fraction of a moment. “Have you talked to Mark about any of this?”

“No.”

“Why? Are you afraid that he will agree with you stepping down and retiring. Or are you concerned that he will push you further into higher office?”

The Bishop said nothing.

“You should talk to him.” I told him. “You should express your doubts and ask your questions. After all, when are you going to get another chance to make your confession to a Cardinal?”

I made myself scarce after that. I had been given a guest room given that the weather was beginning to close in and riding back to Angral was probably going to be difficult. There was a desk in my room and from the looks of it, it had recently been moved there. I took the hint and wrote up some more of my interactions with the Goddess. What had happened, what she had said and what I had said in return.

I didn't sleep well that night. I had a lot to think about.

And that was the pattern. From there we went to the convent of Melitele where Mark insisted on touring the infirmary. Spending time with all of the sick and injured and praying with them, blessing where the blessing would be welcomed and baptising more than one child. We ate a simple meal with the convent company. A some-what bemused group of ladies who were either in the latter parts of their life, many of them widows and Grandparents or even great grand-parents in their own right who had lost husbands and children to war, famine, disease, monster attack or Dorme's rebellion.

Or younger girls who had been given to the convent to be inducted into the convent in order for them to have somewhere to go. Unwanted daughters mostly, sent somewhere where they would, at least, have some form of education and have a roof over their heads. Apparently, most of them could be expected to run away at some point. Their eyes caught by this handsome man or that travelling troubadour. The rules were a little strict though. The Abbess Molly-Anne had a rule that she expected people to run away, but if they tried to come back, she would only take them back if they had good reason to come back. Being rejected by the man was not good enough reason as this meant that they would run awayagain, just as quickly.

But we ate and retired early. Something that I rather think Mark was grateful for although he hid it well.

And once again, I found a desk moved to my room and one of the Cardinal's attendants came to ask if I had any papers that I wanted the Cardinal to read.

We toured all of Angraal I think. Mark spent as much time staying in village halls and farm cottages as he did in castles and manor houses. Angraal is not large, a little smaller than Toussaint I think, for a Dukedom and it is made smaller by the fact that some of it is mountains that can't be used for anything other than, rahter optimistically, grazing cattle. But there were dozens of hidden valleys and things that I would not have guessed at their presence if a guide hadn't taken us there.

Mark continued to kiss babies and give blessings where he was wanted. He joined a druid in praying for a lenient winter. We were invited to a number of village weddings, one of which Mark presided over, much to the mortification of the young couple in question but to the pleasure of the girl's father, the village headman.

Many, many children were baptised into the cult of the Eternal Flame. Mark was a little annoyed by this as it went against his own beliefs on the grounds that he was no more or less holy than the next priest of the flame but there it was. People wanted their children to be baptised by him though and he felt that it was rude to turn these people down.

And every night. I would sit and do some writing and then the loose leaves of paper would be collected by one of Mark's people and taken off.

We were six days before we got back to Angral when I was done with what he had asked me to do.

“So Mark,” I began. “When are we going to talk about what I've told you?”

“What?” He was beginning to look tired.

“I've written down everything that happened. Have you read it yet?”

“I have. Many times in fact.”

“So when are we going to talk about it?”

His gaze was steady and a little forbidding. The stern priest of his youth looked out of his eyes for a moment. “When I am ready Frederick.”

And he said nothing more.