I awoke with a smile to the sound of distant bells. Today was going to be excellent, just the absolute best day. It was Llyrsday, the holy day in the Brazian Triumvirate. And, far more importantly, it was my day off. The guild closed on Llyrsday, and I intended to make the most of it. The plan was simple: don’t talk to anyone except as absolutely necessary.

Climbing out of bed, I cleaned up and made my way into the common area of the apartment, and quickly sliced off a thick piece of bread, spreading some of the soft cheese I’d bought last week on it. Moving to the shutters at the front of the apartment, I muscled the stiff hinges open, letting in crisp spring air. Leaning against the frame, I gazed out at the dusty streets and enjoyed breakfast for a few quiet moments.

Down below, passersby quietly chatted in the street, or strode by on their way to errands or more likely the temple. There was only one in Balandor, and I could just glimpse the bell tower over the tops of the crowded streets, the red tiles of the roof catching the sun. Every temple had a red bell tower, a symbol of the spear that pierced Llyr and martyred the saint, and in so doing paved his ascension to the patron deity of the Brazian people, so they said. It could just be because it looked nice, though. While I wasn’t particularly fervent in the faith, I’d been educated by the priest back home in Parma and I could never forget the tenets of the faith, even if I didn’t care much to recall them. The priests had been exacting in their requirements, and I’d often wondered if they’d been more concerned about teaching how Llyr died than arithmetic and writing. Probably were.

I brushed the last of the bread crumbs off my fingers, savoring the final bite of the meal before stepping back from the window, shutting it firmly. Time to do a bit of shopping, maybe swing by the temple, then… who knew? Maybe go to a tavern. Probably not, I was far too likely to see someone I knew, but I did like to pretend it might be enjoyable. After tugging on my boots and grabbing the satchel I left hanging by the door, I rapped on Marum’s door. A groan echoed from within. “Yes yes, I know you need your ‘beauty rest’. I’m headed out for the day. Do try to get up before sundown, Mrs. Havers will have a fit if she finds the stew pot full again, and I can’t eat it all. Alright, see you.”

With that, I stepped out onto the stairs, careful to lock the door behind me. As I made it down to the street, I patted my chest, the reassuring feel of the coin pouch there soothing, before I started making my way to Market Street. The crowds had yet to fully bloom, likely still at the temple, which was just how I liked it. The low hum of quiet conversation pervaded the wide street, and I sucked in a lungful of air, savoring the bouquet of scents that always flooded the market on mornings like this. I spent some time perusing the stalls, picking out a nice ripe apple and several more dense breads and dried meats. Anything besides some cheap treats was beyond me normally, but on days like this, I liked to splurge a bit. Mrs. Havers provided a full stew pot twice a week as part of the rent, kept well by the preserving glyphs on the cauldron and Mrs. Haver’s own mana, but I liked to keep some options for snacking throughout the day as well as breakfasts.

After an hour spent perusing and my apple only a sliver of core, I finished up my shopping at the opposite end of Market Street, claiming a spot at the edge of the wide fountain dominating the main square below the gaze of the temple. Gazing up at the stone structure, I idly wondered if all of Balandor could fit within. Not comfortably, probably. I’d heard the lord’s manor had its own small temple, though I really couldn’t imagine why they’d gone to the expense. I shook my head at the foolish thought. Of course I knew why. Wouldn’t want little Tyrion to have to spend time with the regular folk. I took a calming breath, dismissing the irritating thought. Today was my day off, and dealing with all of that, was not what today was about. Though, if I was being honest with myself, I wasn’t spending the day entirely correctly either, glancing at the open doors of the temple guiltily.

Sigh. Might as well. Pocketing the apple core, I walked up to the temple doors, and slipped inside as quietly as I could, taking a seat along the stone benches. Far to the front, a priest was giving a sermon, insistent voice magnified and echoing from the glyph inscribed pulpit. “My friends, Llyr’s sacrifice was the greatest act of love we mortals shall ever know! After the horrors of the Dread War and the banishment of the old gods, Llyr freed all of our many peoples from servitude to the wicked Hollow! His sacrifice saved our people from the collapse of the Hollow Empire, saved us from the devastation of the dragons’ betrayal, and saved us from ourselves!” The priest took a moment to catch his breath, before resuming in a calmer, but no less powerful tone. “The loss of our greatest champion and leader in such a calamitous time, when the war was reaching its final, most destructive notes, should have destroyed us. It should have driven us all to despair and infighting. And for a moment, it might have. But lo! After his demise, Llyr reached out across the gulf of the abyss to his great generals, his closest friends and allies, and blessed them with his newly wrought divine might! We, the many diverse Brazian peoples witnessed this miracle at Sundermount, where those three bravest, most loyal followers of Llyr were empowered, ensconced in divine light as they shielded our people from the final moments of the Hollow War. Don’t you see, friends? We were saved by the light and love of Llyr! So each day when we love one another, when we care for those in need, when brave guilders defeat the evils that hunt we mortals in the night, our love praises and gratifies Llyr! That is why the Triumvirate decreed we shall have this holy day, so that we may come together in Llyr’s house and show our love to Him. Now come, come and deliver your love unto him!”

I had to admit, as the priest tapered off, that the man was fairly talented. The priest back home was much more… stick than carrot. Still, Llyr’s love only seemed to go so far. And in my experience, he only seemed to lavish blessings on those who were blessed already. Standing from the pew, I joined the line of the faithful up to the altar. This was always the worst part of going to temple, and the biggest reason I so infrequently attended. As I approached the altar, each person that left wore tired, blissful smiles. My turn soon arrived, and I knelt before the solid bronze spear tipped with red, rising out of the stone. Bowing my head, I silently prayed. Please, just let me get through another week. Please, if you can, I need some help. Anything to help me get back on the path I started here. As I finished the prayer, I placed a hand upon the spear, and a tingle of heat warmed me, followed by exhaustion spreading through me like a damp, oily chill. I huffed out a breath, then rose and left, feeling slightly lightheaded. How everyone could deal with it and even enjoy the feeling was beyond me. The priests said it was Llyr’s boundless love flowing through them, but I had never thought it felt like love. It made me feel wrung out, limp like I’d just run for hours, and it never seemed to get better.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

I shook my head to clear it as I exited the temple, moving to the side so others could pass and sitting down for a moment on the stone steps. I heaved a sigh, looking over the cheerful faces of the faithful as they left the temple. I supposed they must have felt more, had more to be thankful for. My mouth pulled into a tight frown. I hated coming to the temple, hated listening to the priests tell me to be thankful for scraps, so why did I? It never made me feel better, or loved, or more thankful afterwards. And that when it clicked. I didn’t have to come here. I didn’t have to pray to a god that never answered. Not that the other, forgotten gods ever did either. I resolved right then and there that I was done coming to the temple. Perhaps for some this place was a comfort, but not for me.

I stood, shaking off the lingering effects, and decided to just take a walk. The day wore on, my walk taking me nearly the breadth of the entire city. As the afternoon sun disappeared behind the tall, peaked roofs, I came to a stop as I realized where my meandering had taken me. A blooming daisy twisted across the signboard, a rough attempt at lines of movement somewhat clumsily painted alongside. I shrugged, a hint of a smile playing on my lips. Might as well get a drink.

Stepping inside I was immediately awash in sounds and smells, and boisterous conversations vied with a bard in the corner for control of the atmosphere. Stepping to the bar, I waved the barkeep down. “A pint and whatever you have for dinner,” I called over the din. The burly orc nodded, holding up two fingers. Sliding the copper coins across the counter, I then pointed at one of the few remaining empty tables. At the barkeep's thumbs up, I extricated myself from the confines of the crowded bar, plopping down into the small booth. My food and drink soon arrived, carried to me by a slender human lass, introducing herself as Ada. “Bram,” I said, answering the unspoken question. “Thanks for the food. Is the bard new? I’d not heard the Daisy had music.”

Ada smiled wide, glancing over at the spindly fellow strumming his lute like a lover. “No, Derrick’s new. He just arrived last week, he’s wonderful. You should hear him when it's not so crowded, he has a beautiful voice.” She sighed, trailing off as she stared at the bard. I waited a moment, grinning at the clearly smitten barmaid. Lucky bard, then. I cleared my throat. “Well, I’ll certainly have to stop by again then. Thanks for the food, Ada. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.” Ada flushed as she turned back, nodding and leaving without another word.

After she scurried off, I relaxed letting the music wash over me as I began to eat the admittedly delicious vegetable stew. So ensconced was I in the meal, that I failed to notice as a presence loomed closer, jolting up as it sat heavily in the seat opposite, nearly spilling my drink as the table jostled.

“Ha! Didn’t figure you’d be so jumpy, but that does look pretty good!” Vera’s wide grin greeted me as she absently motioned to a passing barmaid for a round for the table. I waffled, unsure. Eating alone had become a habit. Comfortable. But her smile seemed genuine, crinkling around eyes the color of sunlight that seemed to see straight through me. So I settled for a nod, adding “Yes, it's… uh, it's pretty good.”

Vera smiled wider, laying heavily muscled forearms on the table with an ominous creak. Her skin was a surprisingly deep red, reflecting pink on the polished table. “Better than that bard, I hope, eh?” She chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. I grinned, suddenly much more comfortable.

“I admit, I’ve heard better. There’s this cat that frequents the alley behind my apartment, could probably give this fellow a run for his money.” This got another hearty laugh out of Vera, her shoulders still shaking as she gratefully accepted the pint that had been delivered by a wide eyed Ada, desperately trying not to stare at the brawny adventurer.

She wiped a tear from her eye before downing a great gulp of the beer. “Ah, that’s the stuff. I knew I liked you, got quite a wit. And I expect a keen eye.” She leaned over the table, I quickly snagged my own drink as the surface wobbled again. “I’ve been looking for some new talent, someone to watch my back.” She waved a hand dismissively, “Not just for the kobolds, could take them out in my sleep, just have to track them down. No, I’m looking to take on some tougher game. You know anyone might fit?” she asked, a thick eyebrow raised over one of her glinting eyes.

I sat back, careful to keep the vague disappointment off my face. I’d thought for a moment… but no, Vera was a proper adventurer, looking for someone with experience and talent. I sighed. “Erm… I’m not sure. The guild around here is… a little thin on real talent. Tyrion Duchene is probably the most powerful caster around, but… I think you can do better.”

Vera’s nose crinkled with a smile as she leaned back. “That so? Well, I suppose I’ll just have to be on the lookout then. And I’ll avoid this Duchene. What about you? I meant what I said back at the hall, I bet you’re itching to get out there, eh?”

I looked down at his nearly empty tankard, thoughts abuzz. “Honestly, yeah.” I looked up into Vera’s eyes, matching her gaze as the spark of hope within me flared just a bit. “I’d love to try again. But… there was an… incident. And I’m now firmly off anyones list of potential party mates.” The smile had dropped from Vera’s face, and she watched me with a calculating look. I waved a hand, breaking her gaze. “I can’t really though. I’m making good money working at the guild, and I need to save. I, I don’t have a binding. So, I’m just another guy who’s just alright with a blade.” I finished lamely, shrugging.

“Hmmmm,” Vera considered, tapping a rust colored finger to her chin. “Well, ‘just another guy’, I think maybe you’re underselling yourself. Listen, I’m going to finish up this sewer job in the next week or so, but when I’m done, I think you should consider ditching the guild desk, coming with me. No better way to earn some coin than doing the tough jobs out there. And Iron Rank, let alone Steel, opens up some serious ones. Plus, I’ve got a good feeling about you. Think about it.” With that, the massive ogress downed the tankard in one huge gulp and stood, nodding before striding off through the crowd.

I sat back, leaning my head heavily against the solid wood paneling. A part of me soared at the thought of dropping everything, joining up with Vera and making some coin. But another shuddered, fear creeping through me, like oil in my veins. What if I froze again? Vera seemed genuine, but in the face of cowardice, she would be well within her rights to drop me at the first village. I could just stay here, make enough to finally afford a binding, and then… then I’d have the courage to face anything, surely. I was just weak, and power would solve it.

Right?

I sat at the table long into the night, before trudging back to the apartment in silence.