Priest Sombec Martin, religious head of the Norport Church of Light spoke personally with the worshipers as they departed from his most recent service. He smiled jovially and shook hands with them, offering to pray for their good health and continued blessings. They departed through the large double doors of the imposing cathedral, one by one, until the last remaining parishioner had finally gone. He smiled warmly at them as the two holy attendants shut and barred the doors,marking an end to the service that day.

He turned away and walked down the large center aisle towards the great golden podium, slinging his large decorative hat to the floor with disgust. Gone was the warm smile and the joyful priest that loved his people and prayed for their salvation. Their gods were apparently dead or long gone, but they still desperately believed like a bunch of simpering fools. It was fantastic job security as long as they kept their faith.

“Manning,” he shouted loudly, as the attendants came from behind on either side. “Are there any of those Amory drops left?”

“No your grace,” he said. “You used the last of them a week ago and swore it off.”

“Well check again,” Sombec said, frustration mounting. “I’ve got needs damnit.”

The other attendant, disciple Garwin, interrupted him.“I do believe the council did say that your ‘needs’, have been getting out of hand.”

“As if those fools are any better than me.” he snapped, stepping down the stairs underneath the stage of the podium. He grabbed the large key from his belt and unlocked the thick door to his office.

It was Large and spacious, plushly decorated with red velvet and golden trim. Marbled floors shone bright with a recent polish, reflecting firelight on the floor. He nodded appreciatively at the diligence of the servants they sent to clean his private chambers. He always thought it was rather amusing that those poor sodden fools he preached to always sat so close to opulence and never realized it.

He sat upon a large padded chair, listening worriedly as it cracked beneath his weight. He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but he did enjoy gluttonous feasts when he had the chance. It seemed to hold for now at least, but he may need to consider having it reinforced some time in the future. He languidly began sorting through a stack of letters, throwing prayer requests directly into the fireplace nearby.

Manning busied himself looking through the cabinets for anything Sombec might be interested in. He was a weasel of a man, often doing whatever the priest wished of him without hesitation. Sombec eyed him suspiciously, suspecting that the wiry little rat was secretly trying to keep the best stuff for himself. He never trusted manning, but he did occasionally find him useful on occasion.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Garwin walked in carrying the donation box under one of his large muscled arms. A former mercenary hiding in the service of the church, he now worked for Sombec, making sure that no one dared mess with the priest. Of the two, Sombec placed his trust in Garwin, knowing that as long as the coin was good, the help would be loyal. He could respect that outlook more than that of a sniveling toady.

He went back to thumbing through the letters and came upon a missive from the Norport orphanage. It was rather odd to see anything coming from there as she knew better than to write to him. He opened it up and read the brief message.

“That bastard captain of the guard Landon took the elf girl. You still owe me.” - Stenhouse

“What in the hells does he want with her?” Sombec pondered. He wanted some answers, and he wanted them now. “Both of you get out and find me Amory drops, fire fungus, or anything that’ll take the edge off.”

He unceremoniously pushed Manning out the door with relative ease but didn’t dare to touch Garwin like that. Once the two men had left, he locked the door behind them just to make sure. He was already breathing harder by the time he got back to his desk. He wondered if it was because of his physical issues or if it was the adrenaline of the moment hitting so hard.

He filled a silver bowl with water and pulled a blue book from a hidden compartment of the desk. Its soft cover felt warm to his touch, while the metal clasps felt icy cold. Strange silver runes glittered ominously, even in the shadows. It was a form of power that few possessed and highly illegal in all of Andesty.

Though he had the spark of the mage innate within him, he lacked the discipline needed to fully develop his talents further than basic levels. He had no desire to slave away in austerity for bumbling wizards, begging for scraps of power to be given. He had an entire city groveling on its knees already with the power of his voice and they paid him handsomely for it.

He opened to the correct page and began the chant, power flowing through him. He pictured the intended results from his spell and let the flow of magic do the rest. A glow of bluish flame like tendrils surrounded his body and static crackled around him. Finally it all came together into a large ball of energy and then poured itself into the bowl.

He peered at the reflection of the young elf girl in the water, and saw her eating some cheese. “She was rather too thin anyways,” he mumbled, while trying to hold his concentration. The headache and fatigue were already starting to affect him and he knew that he’d need to hurry. He couldn’t help but to take a longer look at her and sighed, nearly breaking the spell with the distraction.

Snapping himself back to the moment, he flipped his hand across the bowl. The image changed to Captain Landon talking to a woman outside the barracks. The voices were somewhat difficult to hear so he concentrated harder, trying to put more power into his spell.

“...He told me she’d be a servant… Rowan doesn’t see… do more…” The pain was getting too much and Sombec was forced to break the spell. The headaches were temporary at least, but the fatigue always lasted longer. He rarely regretted not striving to become a better magic user, but right now he was cursing the truth of his weakness. Still he had managed to keep it together long enough to garner something from the exertion.

“Odd that,” he said, musing to himself. “Still, Rowan seemed to know something about it. I should ask him next time we meet.”

He reached out to a stack of coins nearby and began counting some out to send to that wretch Stenouse. He debated on if he should just pay Garwin to just kill the woman instead, but decided not to for now. She still had some uses, but another letter like that, and he’d have to seriously consider if it were worth it. Even the head of the church could be pulled down if the evidence against him were powerful enough.