The abbot made his way back to his office, reflecting on the day’s activities and on the secret archives, in which Bernard had recorded so many of his thoughts (but never his full story, nor anything that would incriminate him). It was odd that the man that the people knew as a saint, whom all revered, and who did so much for this world, could call himself a villain.

What a burden he must have suffered under, to see himself that way! The abbot had a habit of reading Bernard’s private materials once a year, and believed beyond the shadow of a doubt that his death was a suicide. Even after years of this conviction, the thought still brought tears to his eyes.

Bernard had had everything. Why? The true reasons that their Lord and King had felt so about himself was a mystery that would never be solved. There may have been some darkness in Bernard’s past, the abbot knew - but as the head abbot, his job was to point the people toward Bernard’s light.

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

After all that Bernard had built, all that he had done, the way that he reshaped the world…nothing else could matter. There would be no reason for investigation into his history. It was best to keep the narrative under control. This was key to avoiding risk; why upset the cart?

Some people, however, didn’t understand this wisdom. On the abbot’s docket for this holy day was one final appointment; an eager young man, who fancied himself a biographer. The man believed he’d found some interesting information on Bernard’s life before Lenoran – he petitioned hard for a private audience with the abbot in which he could share what he found, and ask further questions. So far, his work had been shown to no one, but the man promised cryptically that the abbot would be more than a little interested in what he had found.

It was time. Placing a dagger into the sleeve of his robe, he stood, and showed the man in.