Kint let out a low groan as he stood from his chair, walking over to the fireplace to tap the ash from his pipe. Nessa had called him twice already, eager for a bedtime story. But, as Kint had sat in that chair drinking deep of tobacco smoke, a wave of exhaustion came over him. The soreness that had infused itself into his neck and shoulders finally decided to make itself known. It had been a long day, and while he was younger than he looked, being rung by the neck a couple times would make anyone feel old.
The wizened Inspector moved from one corner of the room to the others, putting out candles and lamps as he did, before making his way to Nessa’s bedroom door. With how tired he felt, almost falling asleep before dinner, he’d decided not to do a bedtime story tonight. Pulling back the door a couple muscles in his neck twinged with pain, further reinforcing his decision.
He entered the room to see that Nessa was already in bed, blue and white sheets pulled up to her neck, held there by delicate fingers. A small smile appeared on Kint’s face at the sight of such a bright light in his life.
“Can you tuck me in Papa?” She asked.
“Of course, Sweetheart.” Kint responded, the soreness of seconds ago forgotten. He moved from the left side of her bed to her right, pulling the blankets under the mattress all the way around. He pulled the blankets taught like a wire mesh. Nessa giggled as the sheets tightened around her.
When he was done, Kint bent down and gave her a kiss on the forehead saying “Goodnight.” As he made his way to the door.
“Papa…” A disheartened voice came as he was about to close the door.
Kint paused, peeking his head through the opening in the door, not wanting to commit to going back inside.
“Aren’t you gonna tell a story?” Nessa asked, a diabolical innocence in her eyes. It was a hard look to ignore, but Kint stood fast, his tender neck urging him on. “Papa’s had a long day, Nessa. Can we skip the story tonight? I’ll do two stories tomorrow, ok?” Kint pleaded.
“Papa…” She cudgeled, voice dropping to a lower register. Again Kint felt a sense of guilt come over him. It felt like he would be losing something vital by not spending this time with her. His feelings of uncertainty from earlier manifested again. His serenity was stripped away like a warm blanket, exposing him to the cold of night.
He stepped back into the room.
“Of course…” He said in half a groan as he knelt down beside the bed. “But it’ll be a short one.” He bargained, already rubbing away another headache behind his forehead. “I’ve gotta get to bed soon or I’ll fall asleep on the floor.”
“Okay. Okay.” She said in quiet excitement.
“Sooo…” Kint began, transitioning his forehead massage into a rubbing his hands through his hair. “What story should we do tonight?”
“How about…” She started, a sheepish smile spreading on her face. “The Sixth.”
Kint frowned, watching as she brought her sheets up to her face, as if to protect herself from his response.
Kint gave her a flat look. “Nessa… come one. You know what I said.” He admonished.
Kint expected to feel another pang of guilt but none came. He really was tired, and this headache was not going away.
Still the girl pressed. “But it is another time…” She whispered, the corners of that mischievous grin making another appearance behind the cover of her sheets.
He stared at her for a moment, he wanted to be angry, he was prepared to put the hammer down on the conversation, but all his words fell away as he let out a full throated laugh. “Well I can’t argue with that.” He crowed. “I guess there is a bit of me in there.” He commented as he poked her chest, Nessa letting out a giggle of her own.
Kint was still hesitant to tell the story, but he also knew his daughter, and when she was this persistent, she would not settle until she had the answer. He’d best not make a big fuss, lest she start asking her teachers about it. Kint wasn’t sure how well that would go over.
So, as ill prepared as he was, he pressed on, preparing himself to thread the needle of satisfying his daughters curiosity, while avoiding any troubling subjects in the future.
“Well… It’s a short story anyway.” Kint grinned, moving to sit on the bedside as Nessa snuggled in for the story.
Kint rubbed a hand through his beard again, trying to think of a way to tell the tale that was both nuanced, and simple enough to mollify her curiosity. “Let’s see if I can even remember it…” He mumbled. Trying to think of all the parts of the Apostle’s narrative. Coming up with the proper story was proving a lot more difficult than it had been at he Syfeeli Mansion. His daughter gave him an impatient eyebrow. He sighed, unable to come up with anything that met his requirements. Instead, Kint decided that he would trust his daughter and tell her the truth… well… mostly the truth…as much of it as he could.
He took on a serious expression. “Nessa.” He began, “A lot of this story isn’t in the Priestess’ lessons.” His daughter’s brows knit together at Kint’s change in tone. “This story… is like a secret. A secret that many people know but nobody talks about.”
“But—” Nessa started, but Kint held up a hand to quiet her.
“You’ll understand why at the end of the story.” He said, “But before I begin, I need to tell you that many of your friends probably don’t know this story, or anything about the Sixth Apostle. They’re too young and immature to understand it, and keep it’s secrets. But, I’m choosing to tell you because of how mature you are. I’m trusting you with this knowledge.” He emphasized.
Nessa nodded at her fathers words, face taking on a look of overstated seriousness, eyes glistening with pride at her fathers trust in her.
“So I need you to promise me.” Kint continued. “That you won’t tell any of your friends or teachers about this. Because that’s not your job, it’s their parents' job, understand?”
Her face scrunched up in consternation, and she opened her mouth as if to object, but at a raised eyebrow from Kint, she grew serious again. “I promise.” She agreed.
Kint eyed her suspiciously before saying, “Good. Then I suppose the first thing you should know about the Sixth Apostle is his name… Koresh Ignus.” The girl’s eyes opened as big as dinner plates at the words, prompting a small grin from the old inspector.
“Ignus…” She whispered. “He’s related to the Prophet?”
Kint nodded in assent, saying “His brother.”
Nessa’s mouth dropped open slightly at the admission.
“But not by blood.” He qualified. “They both grew up as street urchins in a small town called Ignus. And in the Kingdom that was here before the Noveriat, it was common for orphan’s to take the last name of the city they were born in.” The more Kint spoke the wider his daughter’s eyes got, but he pressed on. “Growing up together on the streets of Ignus, the two played, fought, and protected each other as brothers would. But their stories split when Halvash was adopted by the first Apostle, leaving Koresh to struggle alone.” A mark of sadness tinged Nessa’s intense gaze as Kint continued. “Back in those days there was no Church to give shelter to the Orphan’s or help them find a path suited to them as they came of age, so many of them either joined the military or sold themselves into indentured servitude just to have a few meals and a roof over their heads.”
“Papa.” Nessa cut in. “What’s indentured servitude?” She asked.
“Well…” Kint thought before he answered, trying to find a proper analogue in their modern society. “Back before the Noveriat, there was no Church to do Aptitude testing, Skills training, or Job Assignment, and only the rich could afford to send their children to schools. So, poor people and Orphan’s would sell themselves to merchant’s, farmers, or lords either to pay off their debts or to pay for the food, housing, and the training the lords provided. We shun the practice today, but it was a common way to learn new skills back in the old Kingdom.”
Nessa nodded as if she understood, but her eyebrows still scrunched up a bit as she worked through the foreign concept.
“In Koresh Ignus’ case, he was indentured to a blacksmith, a pretty good position to be in at the time. Unfortunately, while things were looking up for the Sixth, the Govan Empire was Closing in on the city of Ignus and Emperor Vire did not believe in Indentured Servitude.” Nessa brought the blankets back up to the bridge of her nose at the mention of Emperor Vire, her brow rising in concern. “Emperor Vire believed that all those who were not native Govany, were lesser. So, as the Prophet was on the other side of the country doing his first Miracles, and putting together his team of Apostles, his home city was invaded, and Koresh was enslaved.” The concern grew on his daughter's forehead. She might not understand what Indentured Servitude was but the church taught about the evils of the Govan empire in great detail.
“Did the Apostles save him?” Nessa asked, searching for a hopeful resolution to the story.
“No…” Kint responded with a dramatic pause. “But the brother of the Halvash Ignus was not easily subdued.” Kint qualified. “He had grown up on the streets, surviving harsh winters and blistering summers on nothing but crumbs and sewer water. No matter how tough the labor camps were in the Empire, Koresh Ignus stood tall.” Nessa looked a little squeamish at Kint’s addition of ‘Sewer water’ to the story, but he could see she was completely wrapped in the tale. “And when you stand tall Nessa, no matter how bad the situation is, there will always be others who stand with you. So Koresh stood and he led a revolt… and he failed…” Kint raised a finger to allay his daughter's fears. “But he was not deterred.” He said.
“The Sixth led revolts many times. And Everytime he did, he was sold again, to a harsher, more dangerous master, doing dirtier work. And in every camp he went to, he would rebel against his enslavers once again. Until finally, he was transferred to the deep mines in the heart of the Empire, where there was no chance of escape. And it was there, with a little help from Jocinder Doene’s lie, that Koresh Ignus finally made his escape.” A small smile appeared on his entranced daughter's face as the Inspector continued. “Not only did he escape, but with the strength of their arms and the light in their hearts, he led all the slaves away from the mines, and out of the Govan Empire.”
“Amazing.” Nessa breathed, “That was his first deed?” She Questioned.
“Yes it was.” Replied the Inspector, “Some time after that, the two brothers met again and the Prophet named Koresh his Sixth Apostle.” Nessa brought the covers down from her face, and pushed herself back up to lean against the wall behind her bed. Her face, showing that she was unsatisfied with the conclusion of the story.
“But Papa, I don’t understand…” She started. “Why can’t I tell people at school about this story? It’s just like the other stories from the book.”
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“You’re right. The story is like the others you’ve heard about the other Apostles. And for a long time, Koresh Ignus was the same as the other Apostles. But at the end of the Prophet’s life, when he was preparing his Final Gift, he gave his brother a gift as well, something unique.” Nessa’s eyes widened in anticipation. Kint held up a hand and pointed to his ring finger. “A golden signet ring. With the Stalwart Tree, the Prophet’s Seal, emboldened on its head.” Kint paused for effect, his daughters astonished reaction exactly what he’d expected. “You see, the Prophet knew that there was something Koresh had that the other Apostles did not, something the Prophet himself possessed. Can you think of what that was, Nessa?” Kint looked at his daughter with expectant eyes. Her gaze moved up and to the left, while she bit her lip in thought.
After almost a minute of thinking, she admitted, “I don’t know…”
“They both had a connection to the people, the poor, and downtrodden, the Kadenites. A connection that the other Apostles did not have.” Kint answered.
Nessa looked even more confused. “But the Apostles help the people… isn’t that a connection?” She asked.
“Good point. And that’s probably what they’d tell you in your classes as well.” Kint praised. “But the Prophet, in his great wisdom, knew that it would be difficult for his Apostles to serve the needs of his people, when they did not actually know the people they were meant to serve.”
“I don’t understand.” Nessa professed. Kint raised a hand to allay further questions.
“What I mean to say is, that the other Apostles were all well educated, and wealthy. Some had even been aristocrats themselves. So, while they were devoted to the Prophet, his teachings, and their obligation to serve, none of them had actually felt what it was like to be poor and lacking the power to break out of a bad situation. This made it difficult for them to understand what the people really needed.” Kint explained, Seeing a hint of comprehension appear in his daughter's expression.
“The Prophet did not have to worry about this when he was alive, for in his lifetime the Apostles were tools to carry out his will. But once he was gone, they would have to meet their obligations by their own will, and he was not sure if he fully trusted that.”
“Wait…” Nessa cut in. “The Prophet didn’t trust his Apostles?” She asked, incredulity tingeing her voice.
“No… that’s not what I meant.” Kint stumbled. Trying to figure out a way to explain that that wouldn’t get them in trouble. “It’s just, sometimes people can do bad things, when they’re trying to do something good.” Kint said, flailing for an answer. “Ok… well… You know how last year you tried to do something nice for your friend Kaycee on her naming day by making her a carrot cake?” Kint asked, his daughter nodding slowly in assent. “But then when you gave it to her she got mad because she was allergic to carrots and she thought you were making fun of her?” Kint asked. Nessa nodded again, not fully understanding the analogy yet. “Well it’s like that… you tried to do something good for your friend but it turned out bad, because you didn’t know enough about her.” Kint felt his blood pressure drop a bit as he saw his daughter begin to understand.
“So, the Prophet was worried that because the Apostles didn’t know what normal people were like, they would do bad things by accident, when they were actually trying to do good things. And to keep that from happening, he gave his Brother the power to punish the Apostles if they did bad things. And the ring represents that power.” Kint finished. Enjoying the sight of his daughter’s jaw dropping at the confession. But growing a bit concerned as more confusion bloomed on her face.
“But what about his family?” Nessa asked. “Do they live in the Tree? Why haven’t I ever heard of them?”
All valid questions, with difficult answers.
“Ahhh… well that’s the secret, the Sixth Apostle couldn’t have a family because of his experiences in the mines.” Kint began, again deciding the truth was the best path. “Instead, he had a Brotherhood. The Brotherhood of Ignus. And The Brotherhood is a part of the Prophet’s church, which is why they don’t live in the Ignatium.”
“But wait…” Nessa cut in again, “if the Brotherhood of Ignus is the Family of the Sixth Apostle, how can they also be part of the Church?” She questioned. “Doesn’t that break the Balance of Powers?”
“Actually, by having the Brotherhood be a part of the Church, it reinforces the Balance of Powers.” Again the confusion was evident on his daughter's face. But he figured it was best to give her a fuller understanding now, so she didn’t go asking questions of the priestess’ at school later. He pressed on. “You see, by having the Brotherhood be part of the Church it makes them an even better balancing force for the Apostles, should they ever do those bad things we talked about.”
“Ohh…” Nessa began to understand. “I see… and because the Church is made up of Kadenites like you and me, they can help the Apostles understand us better.” She finished.
“Exactly.” Kint replied, relieved that she’d picked up on everything so quickly.
“Oh!” Nessa’s face lit up, an idea bursting into her mind. “Is that why there’s always Church people around the Lords and Ladys when they’re out in the Districts?” She asked, as if stumbling upon something hidden.
“Very good.” Kint said, careful to school his words. “It’s probably not a member of the Brotherhood though.” Kint qualified. “Since we don’t know who the members are. But, just by knowing the Brotherhood exists, it forces the Apostles to have Priests nearby.” He finished. Nothing he’d said was technically a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.
“Ok. I think I get it…” Nessa said, but there was obviously a question brewing behind her bright blue eyes. Kint braced himself for what he knew would come. “So Papa… Why are the people in the Brotherhood a secret… why don’t people talk about them?” She asked.
There it was. The hardest question to answer. There were two answers to it, really. The one that was widely accepted, and the one deeply known by every Kadenite of a certain age.
“The reason the members of the Brotherhood do not reveal themselves is because that would make the Apostles want to be friends with them, which would make it harder for the Brotherhood to judge those Apostles.” Kint began, “And we don’t talk about them or the Sixth Apostle because it is considered bad luck…” Kint said, eyes locked on his daughter's face, tracking her every twitch of it to gauge her reaction.
“Bad luck?” She said, disappointed.
“Yes, it is very bad luck to speak of the Brotherhood.” Kint repeated. “Because the Brotherhood do secret work and give secret punishments, if the Kadenites are talking about them, then that’s not good for the Noveriet.” Kint concluded.
But upon seeing his daughter's unconvinced look, he decided to clarify. “It’s like this.” Kint began again. “If things are going well in the District, then there’s no reason to think about the Sixth and his Brothers. But if things aren’t going well… then people start to talk.” Understanding began to bloom behind Nessa’s eyes. “So if you haven’t heard about this Sixth before…”
“It’s because things have been good for a long time.” She finished, putting a finger to her lip as she uncovered the deeper meaning. “And people don’t like to talk about the Brotherhood when things are good, because they think it might make things bad if they do.”
Kint let out a subtle sigh of relief. He hadn’t lied to her. He hadn’t told her the deeper truth either. She had accepted the story that many Citizens believed. And who was he to taint her innocent mind with his pessimism. He didn’t know for sure if his theories on the Sixth were correct. There was just no way to know. No one had heard from them in centuries.
“Alright.” Kint said, giving his daughter a kiss on the forehead. “Now remember our promise. The Sixth is a secret. Ok?” Kint asked. To which Nessa nodded in return. “Good.” He said, making his way to the exit. He frowned as he left. There was a small crease on Nessa’s forehead where he’d kissed it. He could tell there was another question brewing there.
But the story had taken much longer than expected, and the ache of his battered body was returning. He couldn’t help but grind his teeth as he opened the door, knowing what was coming.
“Papa…” Came the almost whiny voice.
“Nessa…” Kint sighed. Exasperation heavy in his voice. “No more questions, okay?” He could feel a headache coming on.
“But Papa…” She whined again. That festering guilt returning to his mind. Dredging up darkness and feeding the growing headache. He moved through the doorway.
“Papa Please… ” She begged. Kint flinched, The guilt was unbearable. He thought of the shortness of life, the darkness of the current days, how fleeting the happiness of the house was. His ears began to ring with the pressure of it. “I just–” She began.
“Stop it Nessa!” Kint Snapped. Spinning sharply to confront the surprised girl. He was surprised at the reaction himself. But he pushed on, “Enough… No more stories, no more questions… it’s time for bed.”
She opened again, but caught herself when Kint gave her the same raised eyebrow he’d given the Quarter Commander earlier in the day.
“Goodnight Papa.” Was all she said.
“Goodnight.” He responded. As he closed the door behind him.
Kint hesitated just outside the door after his outburst. He let out a ragged breath before wiping a bead of sweat from his temple and making his way to his bedroom on shaky legs.
Kint leaned back against the door as it shut behind him, he put his hand to his chest as his heart rate slowed. His brows were turned up and lips turned down in guilt. His shoulders moved as if to turn around and rush back into the room to apologize, but he held himself back. He was not used to caring so much for something, these feelings of guilt, disappointment, and anxiety were all so foreign to him. But as shaky as his footing was, he could sense he’d done the right thing.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Upon opening them, he found a small pool of blood on the hardwood floor below. Kint cupped his hand above the crimson puddle and watched a few drops spill from his nose to collect in his palm. His eyes glazed over as fought the dark thoughts that tried to crawl inside. After a moment of struggle, he let out a deep sigh, venturing back into the kitchen area to grab a rag, clean up the floor, and begin readying the house for sleep.
That done, Kint grabbed a glowing oil lamp from the kitchen table and made his way through the dark house towards his bedroom. The door creaked open at his touch, the light of the lamp revealing a sparsely ornamented space. There was a queen sized bed pushed into the corner of the room, and a dresser with a mirror hung above it to the left of the door. The only other item of note in the room was a small square piece of colored glass that stood upright on a table opposite Kint’s bed.
With practiced movements, Kint closed the door and made his way to sit on the side of the bed facing the square glass pane. He reached over and opened a drawer built into the table, pulling out two tall candles in silver holders, along with a thin wooden stick to light them. He placed the candles to either side of the glass piece and lit them both with the stick and the flame from his lamp. Putting the stick out with his fingertips, he threw it in a waste basket filled with a dozen identical sticks. That done, he straightened up again, facing the glass before him, the last image he had of his Wife Carolin.
A confusing mix of emotions stirred in Kint’s heart at the sight of his late wife. It was amazing how perfectly the Glass Shaper had captured her essence in the small piece, a true masterwork for the price. With the candle's light, he could see the sheen of her flowing dark hair, the freckles under her eyes and dotting the bridge of her upturned nose. The picture even managed to capture the stern sadness etched on her eyes and mouth, or maybe his subconscious was adding that part. He sat there, admiring the look of her, waiting for those uncomfortable feelings to abate. After the candles burned down another minute lower… he began to speak.
“I almost died today…” He began. “Man had me by the throat before I even realized… then when I did…” Kint trailed off again, looking down at his hands as silence spread, through the darkened room. The candles were not too bright, and with the lamps light extinguished, the picture was all that existed in the barren room. Kint looked up again to meet those piercing blue eyes.
“Maybe he caught me off guard…” Kint continued. “But maybe… maybe there’s a part of me that wanted it…” He had to look down again, trying to escape those disappointed eyes. “I know that’s not what you wanted for me… But you don’t know what I know…” Kint said, meeting those eyes again before finishing “Prophet help us if you did.”
The Inspector looked down at his hands again as they rubbed together, the silence stretching like old leather. There was a tension to these confessions that had never existed between him and Carolin while she was alive.
“Anyway…” Kint cleared his throat before continuing. “I missed you today… especially when it comes to raising our daughter.” Kint smiled wryly, “She looks more like you every day, she gives me these looks sometimes… It’s like you’re in the room with me all over again.”
“She’s got your stubbornness too.” He grimaced. “And a curiosity that’s going to get her into trouble… I don’t know where she gets that from.” Kint pondered. “Although I’m not helping much on that count…” He admitted. “You know they don’t even teach the sixth anymore… Can you believe that?”
“Not sure what you would’ve done in my shoes, though it probably wouldn’t have been what I just did…” Kint scratched his scruffy cheek again, thinking. “Or maybe you would have… a lot has changed in 7 years…” Kint trailed off. His mood souring a bit as his mind drifted through the changes he’d experienced. “A lot’s changed in the last few months.” He mumbled.
“Things are getting darker here. People are tired… They’re anxious… but nothing’s really wrong either.” Kint thought. “The people's needs are met, and the Lord is running the playbook to the letter, but things are still spinning in the wrong direction. Something is turning event’s I think… and I think…” Kint hesitated a moment, words hitching up as those red eyes and gleaming smile appeared in the darkness of his mind. He shut his eyes tight, face scrunching up as he shook his head to drive away the memory.
“Anyway…” Kint said, pushing past the intrusive thought. “It’s probably nothing…” He qualified. “But things are changing… and… and I wish I had your guidance…” Kint sighed, looking down again before whispering. “Though I dread what you might say.”
The old Inspector stood slowly, putting out the candles, and laying them back in the drawer. Darkness sealed the room. Silence followed quickly behind it. Then stillness. Kint sat, looking through the fingers of his calloused hands. Tonight's confession had brought him no comfort, it never did lately.
His mind was blank with the exhaustion of the day, his body in a far more ragged state. He needed rest above all else… Yet sleep was no solace to the grizzled inspector. Dreams, a battlefield of their own.
He beat back the weariness as long as he could… It was a losing battle. Eventually, the jaws of sleep pulled him under.