On tolerance – Excerpt from a sermon
...saryns, lycans, elves and dwarves are more monsters than man, subhuman. Yet we must always remember that the Eternals have spread their gift to them as they did to us. Though they may never reach our purity, we must welcome them as kin under the embrace of the eights...
Early spring / Mercy 782 ADM – Eternal Empire – Modona’s upper district – Merentah mansion
The room was well lit today, the sun had been up for some time now and the house was filled with voices muffled by the thick stone walls.
Ulysse hadn’t slept until late, preferring to hide beneath his blankets with his newly gifted book and his trusty magic lamp.
He’d always found it dumb that magic was evil while enchantments were somewhat okay.
He wasn’t complaining for the convenience since he would have likely burnt his blankets had he been forced to use a candle.
After staying up late and waking up later, he had elected to stay in his bed and kept on reading his new book of squiggles, trying to commit their shape and name to memory.
He'd tried to read on further, up to page 10, out of hundreds, only to discover a litany of grammatical rules, long, and short variations of the syllables, then a special rule that allowed certain characters to mesh together into a new one.
And to top it all off, every single one of these syllables had a different meaning, even accented or composed ones, he hadn’t gotten that far yet but he supposed you could form more complex words by chaining them together like letters.
His hopes of ‘learning this very fast’ were crumbling, he still made mistakes in his mother tongue that left his preceptors glaring, less than his sister though, and now he was supposed to learn, alone, a much more complex language.
However, this impromptu reading session would have to end soon, mid-day was approaching and his stomach was starting to protest from skipping breakfast today and lunch yesterday.
Thinking so much was hungry work but he didn’t always have the time to eat, that would stop him from doing other things!
Closing his book and shoving it inside one of the nightstand’s many drawers, he then proceeded to cover it with some of his toys and a few Tales & Legends books.
His secret now safe he got up looking for some clothes, yesterdays were on the ground, likely thrown here by his sister.
They were a bit too smelly so he threw them in with dirty laundry.
He almost opened his closet before his mind froze in alarm. What if Alice had put a trap here knowing he’d go for fresh clothes.
It was easy to prank her as she wasn’t very vigilant, but when she got back at him her traps were always viciously hidden, and sometimes pretty dangerous.
He’d never forget that one time her trap knocked off one of his baby teeth.
All the more fun to disarm them, at worst he’d earn more reasons for vengeance should he miss it.
That meant fully opening the curtains, then checking the closet.
It looked safe-ish so he opened it, picking the first clothes inside, they were made of very nice silk.
Then before he left his room, he took a look at the door, slightly ajar, and with the slight glint of a silver bowl on top of it.
Easy, his sister must have been busy this morning, usually her traps were much worse.
After dragging a ‘tall’ three-legged stool to the door he started climbing it, the wood producing a light groan.
Extending his right arm to grab at the bowl while on the tip of his toes, the boy heard the sudden snap of wood. The three-legged stool, now two-legged, suddenly tilting door-wise. The next instant Ulysse’s head is banging against the wall stunned still in the short time it took to hit the ground awkwardly on his side, another crack rang out, followed by a wave of acute pain.
He’d barely had time to blink, his face was flat on the hard marbled floor.
It hurt!
To add insult to injury he felt something hard and cold hitting him, before spilling water on him.
“Mamaaa!” He screamed, “Papaaa!”
No one was coming, he was going to die.
Where were they!
A few seconds after he started screaming, a door to an adjacent room was burst opened, not to the boy's father, but to the Merentah heir, his cousin Agrios, only wearing pants, the well-muscled blond man, a surprising hair color for a Merentah, soon followed by the head of a girl peeking from the frame.
“Hey, what happened to you lil’ guy.”
“I fell, my arm.”
He managed to whine between gritted teeth as Agrios went down on a knee next to him.
“Don’t worry yeah, you’ll be fine soon, a priest will take care of that in no time.”
The boy’s face paled at the mention of a priest, but Agrios saw none of it, his green eyes snapped towards the stairs where a pair of fast, clacking footsteps were approaching.
A brunet woman was sprinting towards them, at speeds far faster than anyone in heels and dress had right to reach, unless they were channeling Body.
At her side was a man in his thirties, same as her, running, hand on his shortsword's hilt, he seemed to share much of the same traits as Ulysse.
Agrios raised a hand, part in surprise, part placating gesture at both the woman’s drawn dagger and cold expression, as if she were ready to fight assassins.
“Calm down Od’, he fell and hurt his arm, he’ll be fine.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Gods, he’s hurt? Make place, oust.”
She got down next to her boy, shoving her dagger beneath her robe before she picked Ulysse in her arms making him yelp in pain at the sudden movement, his arm clearly had a bit of an extra joint.
“You’ll be okay baby.”
As Agrios was getting back up, a hand landed on his naked shoulder. It was Odelle’s husband.
“Thanks for helping the kid, Agrios, we’ve got the rest covered and...” He chuckled at the half clothed stated of his nephew.
“...and you might want to finish your business.” he finished.
“It was nothing really, I'll get to it then. And Mogens, I hope little Ul’ will be fine.”
Mogens went to his wife, knee to the ground and took a look at the boy’s wound while ruffling his hair.
“A Broken arm hey, and barely a few tears, that’s my strong boy.”
“Honey, you need to set his arm! What if learns to channel now in the panic.”
“I wouldn’t panic about him sudde…”
“Papa, I don’t want to go to the priest.” the boy yelled above his parents.
“None of that, now! We'll go and you’ll ask the Eternals with the priest for a miracle.”
“No, no, no. NO!”
“Od’, dear, we could let him heal naturally.”
“We shall not, it is about time the boy overcomes his phobia and learns that the Gods are there when you need them. Set. His. Arm.”
“Ok, ok. Listen to me Ulysse, I'm going to check your arm, it’s going to hurt a bit, but you’ll be brave, Yes?”
The boy nodded weakly and Mogens put his hands gently over the fracture, feeling for fragments or twists, making the boy grimace.
The man breathed out in relief.
“The break is clean, we just need to keep it that way, that means no sudden movements.”
“Good, now honey, lets go the church.”
The boy squirmed at that, and they both got a glare from the father, then a sigh.
“We are going to see the priest, Ulysse, your mother is right.”
“But...”
“No buts, do you want to spend the next month in pain, and your birthmonth in a cast? I promise you won't feel the miracle. Yes?”
“Ok...” The boy clearly did not agree, yet, could no argue.
“Dear, could you clear the way?”
“I certainly can.”
His mother getting up and waving away the curious bystanders was the last thing Ulysse saw as he slowly lost consciousness.
***
Some time later – Inside the Merentah’s church
He woke up for the second time today.
The pungent smell of incense wafted through the air inside the spring antechamber, carried from the burners next to the spring altar all the way to the boy sitting on a bench.
Ulysse had been leaning on his mother, her hands were linked in prayer, her eyes closed in contemplation.
In front of them stood two freshly lit candles and an artistic depiction of Mercy, one of the Eternals, or remnants if you fancied yourself heretic, realist really, Ulysse kind of did. Completely unlike his mother, who was likely thanking the Eternals to be in a season of healing.
He took a furtive look at his surrounding, careful not to move an alert his mother.
The church was a gaudy thing, even to him who grew up in a mansion, gold leaf had been generously applied to the embellishments, while towering frescos of finely chiseled white stone depicted holy events and saints.
They appeared to be in the spring chapel, judging by the surrounding iconography of both Life and Mercy.
If memory served him right, he could run out of the chapel, turn right as soon as he got to the crossing, then escape through the doors and hide into the estate’s woods.
He hoped his arm wouldn’t stop him from running, said arm appeared to have been set in a sling and smeared with some kind of green scratchy paste that made him loose feelings on his skin.
He’d just have to bear a little, or a lot, he realized nudging his right arm, of pain like his dad said.
Speaking of dad, he was a big hypocrite to make him go to church alone.
“Ho sweetheart you are awake, I prayed so that you would feel better, is your arm alright?”
Drat, he took too long thinking about his escape now he was doomed.
“It feels better already mom, a little numb. I don’t think I need healing, it might not even be broken.”
Either ignoring or not hearing, that second half. She rose to her feet and put a hand on his shoulder before hollering.
“Father Xavier, Ulysse is up.”
Ulysse’s visage was downcast as he steeled his mind to the well-known sense dread he felt every time he had to interact with the remnants.
“Coming.”
Soft measured footsteps followed the creaking of a door as father Xavier made his way to the spring chapel.
He was a gentle man of tan complexion, a testament to the hours he spent praying while basking in light, on his luxurious white robes hanged an 8-branched sun of gold, symbol of his status as a servant to the Gods.
Most surprising, he was from one of the branches, a Merentah by birth, not married into the name like Odelle, one of the very few devout among them.
The memory of his recently studied book made the boy smile at the coincidence, the man’s name first syllable,
“Well Ulysse, it gladdens me to see you smile in my presence, you seem to have readied yourself to the Eternals’ embrace.”
Ulysse was quite flustered at such a misunderstanding, yet did not deny it.
“I am ready... father... But it remains to be seen if I am able, you know of my history with channeling.”
“If it may reassure you, I will be the one wielding the Eternals’ power child, you will merely repeat my prayers after me.”
He was kind of relieved to hear that.
“You do know of the ‘May you’ prayer? The one we chant on the first day of spring.”
“I do.”
“Good, repeat after me then.
Father Xavier kneeled before the child applying his hands over the broken arm.
“May thy have health in Body and Mind.”
Ulysse repeated.
“May thy show Mercy to the innocent and Vengeance to the sinner.”
Again.
“May thy fear naught Ice nor Fire but channel them.”
And again.
“May thy Live and Die as they see fit.”
And again, he feared the inevitable dreadful feeling he got when channeling.
“Always.”
“Always.”
They had closed their eyes, the priest serenely, Ulysse in anticipation of pain. Instead, he felt the hands upon his arm beginning to heat up, gently.
Curious he opened his eyes to see soft light bleeding from Xavier’s hands into his arm, that very light could only be described as merciful, a compassionate force of forgiveness shown towards those it could as easily crush.
The world forgave the sorry state of state of his arm as it slowly heated up, he felt an itch deep inside as the bone was made whole one again.
Then the light stopped coming.
Ulysse was so shocked at what had happened he didn’t see the priest stagger back up, then down on a bench.
For the first time the divine had... helped him, it had shown mercy even to an heretic.
“Ulysse are you okay, are you there.”
He blinked, leaving his thoughts behind as his mother was waving her hand in front of him.
“Sorry mom I was surprised. Mercy, it... it healed me and I don’t understand.”
“This is faith son, the Eternals need not to be understood, only believed.”
“Well Odelle, it seems we might still make that one half as devout as you are.”
Father Xavier had a frail voice as if greatly weakened by the miracle he had just channeled.
“Why stop at that father, I dearly hope for him to become a holy man like yourself.”
Ugh. He tolerated faith for one second and Order talks were back on the table.
“Mom, I want to be a scholar like grandpa.”
“Good, Xavier happens to be quite a learned man himself, I see no issues with doing both.”
“Hahaha, Od’, why don’t you push those talks for another time, let the boy breathe for the time being, he has been brave enough for a day.”
“You are right father, and I believe dinner approaches. Aren’t you hungry dear? We skipped lunch and no one saw you at breakfast!”
His stomach grumbled at the promise of food and he look away.
“Let’s go home sweetheart.”
As they walk home hand in hand Ulysse’s thoughts churned away.
If the Remnants... maybe he should forget his grudges.
If the Eternals could heal him, then why did they not let him channel.
What differed between channeling and miracles.
Was He the issue?