‘...the Queen and King Consort. Guide those lost to the safety of the Asylum and protect them from themselves and their kin. Blessings to this kingdom and all those who dwell within. Praise to the Goddess Aliza and her followers.’ finished Cris with his fresh clothing as he lay on the bed.
Prayers were accepted but the Goddess taught them that there was no need for ceremony in privacy. Only the action mattered.
He had cleaned himself thoroughly, pouring the now soiled water down a large pipe to be disposed of. His clothing and boots were another matter, even his undergarments had simply been worn for too long and he had only been provided with a sufficient amount of water to clean himself.
Despite his position as a minor noble, partially due to the lack of funds for additional servants and resources and the education of his Head Servant Alessandro and his refusal to raise a spoiled brat Cris had become largely self-sufficient in taking care of his own household duties.
He had been raised to be largely prudent and not to make unnecessary waste. His frugality had largely amused the other nobles in the Academy but was respected by his tutors and the Head Mistress for not wasting his clothing, nor expecting servants to do the work for him.
Sorry old man, can’t clean my own clothing in this place. I’ll be lazy just this once.
Cris recalled that he still had an amount of noble scrip which had been handed back to him. After counting out an amount he placed it on top of the small oak wardrobe underneath the now empty bowl of fruit and sweet meat breads.
If he’d had the means to write and parchment then he’d have written a personal thanks and apologised for leaving his worn and dirty clothes in a neat folded pile along with a pair of worn out boots.
Either the Spy Mistress was a highly intelligent woman who kept tabs on him or she had simply asked the members of his household his favourite fruit and snacks but the taste had been exactly what he had always preferred.
Cris had a sweet tooth on occasion but he preferred savoury style pastries. He’d need to thank her for the consideration and to Ren as well for guarding his room. He’d heard absolutely nothing, not a single knock on the door, not even the sound of movement.
After he had rested and recovered a little, cleaned himself up, changed clothes and finally relieved his bowels with what light magic hadn’t already removed he had tested his magical senses.
At first only on his own body, then the bed, the room before stretching it to the door and outside the room. The sensation was uncomfortable but he hadn’t detected any traces of corruption.
The only odd part had been that there was a blankness outside of the room, directly by the front door. Normally, he’d would be able to use his magical senses to identify if not a person than the outline of one. When he had tried to find Ren it had been as though there was nothing there.
Either the foreign construct was extremely good at hiding its presence or it had moved away from the doorway. He understood that the pair had hidden powers which made little sense to him but clearly they had more tricks than he knew of and he didn’t know much at all.
Ignorance was never a sin.
Giving the room a final check-over Cris decided to straighten the bed sheets and pillow cover before he cleaned up as best as he could. There was only so much he was willing to do, but he tried his best to leave the room in a presentable condition.
He had been educated by Alessandro to treat others with respect and the old man had beaten the mindset into him enough times that it had become a habit. He knew his household servants thought it was strange but it was what it was.
He dressed himself calmly, getting used to his new clothing, bright blue shirt with frills, red trousers and matching undergarments and blue socks with a pair of polished leather boots. A stylish combination which he hadn’t considered for quite some time.
Since he had joined the Academy, he had dropped any attempt at wearing fashionable outfits. In order to build both unity and a sense of belonging all students wore the same priest or priestess trainee robes or tunics, shirts and shoes. Individual styles of dress were discouraged.
Haven’t dressed like this for a few years.
Cris appreciated the thought, his previous noble garb which had become worn and torn, and filthy with sweat was a usual affair. Enough to make it clear of his status but nothing that matched his youth.
The last time he recalled caring about how he dressed had been when he had been close to twelve years old, shortly before he had been selected to join the Academy of Purity. He’d been trying to impress a girl of a similar age at one of the few noble events which his minor house had been invited to.
Alessandro had conjured up a similar outfit and complimented him. Cris had ended up being beaten up on the back steps by the older brothers of the girl who wanted him to back off and leave his foreign looks at the door.
Blood doesn’t wash out that easy.
Trying to ignore the sensation of remembering a memory of six years ago Cris turned his back on the room and walked over the bolted door, sliding up the bar which had locked it and turned the handle hearing the same click.
His mind and body were freshened up. Cris figured that at most he’d been in the room cleaning up for an hour or two at the most including lying on the bed and tidying up.
Not long enough to fully recover part of the damage done to his soul and body through his previous overdraw on light and purity magic but at least now he no longer felt like he was going to drop from sheer exhaustion.
As soon as he had opened the door he saw the immediate back of the construct Ren and his golden robes. The words and actions of the artificial humanoid were odd at times.
Not overly strange as Cris had been exposed to those who had been bathed in the powers of the Goddess Aliza for too long and heard enough rumours about the dangers of overdrawing of magical energies she provided.
Those who behave like automatons. Creatures without free will or ego. Angels. The folly of old man and women.
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[Welcome Young Master, you appear refreshed and prepared. Are you prepared to meet the others? A minor reunion of sorts. Also, we have a special guest apparently from your place of religion. I believe you have seen him if not met him before. He is...interesting in my opinion. Most interesting. Come. I have kept all away from your room as agreed, not many were inclined to enter but I was able to disarm them by words not force. We are both guests in this house of the Lady who owns it. Shall we?]
The construct gave a sweeping arm towards Cris and he was able to see the same empty corridor as before. There was an acrid smell which hadn’t been there before though. Following his senses Cris noticed a clear burn mark on the golden style robe which showed painted flesh underneath.
The construct showed no clear signs of discomfort or injury but he had showed Cris sufficient kindness that he was beginning to consider him as a friend and ally. They were both considered foreigners in their own ways and Cris would have felt bad if he didn’t at least ask.
The smell was familiar in a way and given how he had observed Maxton Ge consume a green liquid it was likely him, or one of the augmented who had wanted to see him. Agnes perhaps. Cris could see her try to force her way into his room to see him at all costs.
Or he was just feeling sorry for himself. He had been trust into this situation against his will, but overthinking and politics had never been one of his strong points. Even as a minor noble he simply tried to effect his own status and responsibilities.
‘Friend Ren, I sincerely thank you for your continued kindness for my own well-being. I need to ask though if you were hurt in your duties. Could I assist you in turn?’ said Cris as he gestured towards the acrid burn mark on the robes of the construct.
Given the spatial powers he had shown previously, Cris would not be surprised if he could simply make his golden robe disappear and a fresh one appear in its place. He wouldn’t ask for more details. He simply patted the blades fixed in the leather strap on his arm to make his point clear.
The construct simply smiled and ripped part of the golden robe letting it fall to the floor.
[No matter. A simple disagreement. I said you would not be disturbed and I kept my word. Come, we have both had our own time to rest. There is work to be done. I would appreciate if you shared with me your own thoughts on your grandfather. He is a wise man, surprisingly well read and travelled. I believe he has visited border trading posts of the Celestial Empire. Minor places but for him to reach that far is an achievement for most in my opinion. Please, follow me.] said the construct as he turned around, stepped on the torn piece of golden robe and walked onwards.
Leaving the tided up room behind them after closing the door Cris followed several turns and then met a different set of stairs heading down but this time there was no sign of the robed figured rushing between rooms who had been armed with daggers and parchment.
Alchemical lights illuminated the corridors but there was neither sight nor sound of anyone. As they began walking down the stairs Cris heard the hint of raised voices, a disagreement or an argument was taking place. The voices ceased as he walked down, or rather the sound of them had simply been cut off.
There was something about one of the voices, a bellowing sound which reminded him when he had been inside the Academy. When they had started the younger students had attended mandatory debates on the nature of gods, religion and the effects of power. The older students or tutorial priests and priestesses would lead discussions and expression of opinions within reason.
There had been a larger number of gods once, not long enough ago to be forgotten but their presence had entirely dimmed and their temples and places of worship had become forgotten places except by those few meagre believers who remained. Or those who had foreign gods and beliefs.
The teachings of the Goddess Aliza were simple, she had borrowed power from the other gods in order to counter the effects of corruption unleashed by the Dark Lord in one final act of revenge. They still existed but after boosting the Goddess Aliza they remained weak enough that they were unable to respond to prayer. There was no direct mandate through the Church of Purity that the Goddess was the only one to be worshipped, all faiths were to be treated equally in measure.
The fact that most of the Kingdom of Nurburg had been overrun with corruption magic and only the capital city remained pure after the Goddess Aliza had appeared above one of the mountain temples directly in the form of a figure made of pure energy meant that most of the population had simply turned to her faith.
Recalling his present situation, using his light senses Cris pushed outwards slowly at first and then boosting them as much as he dared. His weakened soul couldn’t take much at the moment. Either a side effect of the number of treated alchemical light sources in the building or it had been reinforced by a large number of priests but there was the barest traces of corruption inside this place.
There was something blocking him directly from using his magical senses inside this place. A will simply stronger and more experienced than his own, as though comparing a single candle to a fully lit chandelier.
For all he could channel the abilities of the Goddess Aliza, Cris was honest with himself that his own powers he could harness were limited and meagre at best. But not all trainee priests were born with innate gifts and faith, effort and the ability to make decisions to help those in need was also a factor.
Following Ren down the stairs Cris gave up on trying to use his light and purity magic as he still needed more time to allow the damage he had caused to himself trying to punish Maxton Ge back in the sewers to recover sufficiently.
Weak. Even as a trainee priest, my faith is strong but my magic is weak.
He decided to ignore the familiar voice in favour of increasing his pace to catch up with the golden robed construct. The tone of it nagged at him, debates and all. But there had been one lecturer priest in particular, one with sufficiently strong views.
Lost in his own thoughts although he was far better off than he had been inside the coach trip after having time to clean himself up, and pray a little Cris almost slammed face first into the construct Ren as it immediately stopped without a single moment’s hesitation.
The golden robed figure with the torn patch placed two hands on a pair of large wooden doors and shoved them open with sufficient strength sending them crashing backwards so they almost broke off the hinges.
Then it turned sideways and gestured for Cris to enter. As he walked past, Cris saw that the attention of the construct wasn’t on him but it had turned its entire head and neck to an odd angle and was simply looking past him down the hallway.
Always vigilant. I can see why Maxton Ge called Ren a bodyguard. But he still got beaten and physically punished for touching me. Odd.
Inside the room Cris heard voices, several in clear argument and tones which took him back to his studying days when both teachers and lecturers had led them in various debates and discussions on religion and protecting the just.
[The man who is your grandfather holds hidden dept-] began Ren as it spoke to Cris even though its face and neck were facing an opposite direction before a booming, deep male voice rang out.
A rotund man with a red face, bald entirely bald but with a beard that would put a wild man living on a mountain to shame stepped up with arms raised in greeting before he recognised Cris.
He gave a bright beaming smile of perfectly whitened teeth before sucking in a deep breath, behind him expensive clothing of one of the High Priests fluttered behind in unseen winds as light and purity magic crackled wildly over his body and exposed skin.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
‘BLESS THE FOREIGN HERETICS! ANOTHER VISITOR TO OUR FAIR KINGDOM! BLESS YOU FOR YOUR HEATHEN WAYS AND MAY THE GODDESS FORCE YOU TO HAVE FAITH IN HER! CRISTIANO! MY BOY, YOU KNOW THESE FOREIGN HERETICS! I AM NOT SURPRISED. WELCOME BOY! WELCOME TO MY LECTURE!’
High Priest Schmid. Great. My ears haven’t recovered since last time.
‘STOP STANDING THERE WITH YOUR GOLDEN FOREIGN STATUE AND GET IN HERE BOY. I HAVE A LECTURE TO GIVE AND YOUR OTHER FOREIGN HERETIC FRIEND WAS TELLING ME ABOUT ABOUT YOUR ADVENTURES TOGETHER. BLESS YOU ALL, BLESS THE FOREIGN HERETICS!’