Slipping quickly into her father’s study, Celeste closed the door behind her and breathed heavily with her eyes locked on the door. Preparing herself, she spun on the spot and made her pronouncement.
“Father, I think it is time that we…” She trailed off, staring wide eyed in shock at the Bishop, sitting across from the Golden Hammer, both men staring back at her. The Golden Hammer, with his handsome aged features, looked back at her with his grey eyebrows raised in an amused expression. Her father, however, appeared significantly less entertained.
“Prophetess.” The Golden Hammer grinned. “How fortuitous for you to stop by. The Mother and Father above truly bless us with chance encounters every day, don’t they?” He grinned widely, the laugh lines on his face outlining a life well lived.
“Yes.” Her father spoke up now, his words tight and clipped. “How fortuitous indeed.”
“I, uh,” Celeste stammered, trying to figure out some way to pull her plans back into action. “I had not been made aware that you would be visiting the temple today, Your Grace.” She gave the Golden Hammer a bow. Normally only bishops and dukes were afforded the title of Grace, but the head of the Council of the Pantheon had long since been counted among their equals.
“I was not aware that I had to alert you to all my meetings, Prophetess.” The Bishop responded, his lowered brow locking her in place. “Perhaps it would be best if you were to return to your chambers, Your Radiance.”
Celeste swallowed, but stared right back at him. No, she was not about to be pushed away again. Not about to be ignored for several more weeks, not this time.
“Father I have important matters on which I need to speak with you.” She announced, trying to square her shoulders the way Gardinal did.
“This is hardly the time for such…”
“Shelezan, old friend.” The Golden Hammer chuckled, reaching across the small desk and placing a hand on the bishop’s shoulder. “I think it is time I make my exit.” He rose after that and gave Celeste a deep bow.
“Your Grace.” Celeste responded, dipping low for a respectful curtsy. Walking over, the Golden Hammer reached for Celeste’s proffered hand and gave it a gentle kiss.
“Always a pleasure Your Radiance. It is always a shock to see how much you are changing into a beautiful young lady.” He shone a gallant grin that made Celeste think of the handsome knights from Valleresa’s romance books.
As Celeste blushed, the Golden Hammer made his exit, slipping past her and out the door. As the heavy wooden entry thudded shut behind him, Celeste was left in a cold silence with her father.
“Prophetess.” The Bishop spoke through clenched teeth. “I think I have had enough of this impulsive streak of yours. You can not simply come marching into my office whenever you so please.”
Celeste stepped forward. She had been expecting this at least, had prepared herself for his anger. “Unfortunately Father, it seems this is the only way I can garner an audience with you.” She stood strong, staring back at him with conviction to match his own.
“I have been busy of late. There is still murderous heretics infesting our streets, unless you had forgotten.” He leaned back in his chair, and began sorting the dozens of parchments and ledgers that littered his desk. He always did that when he was frustrated, organizing.
“You are always busy Father, that was true even before I left the temple.” She looked at him, and for a moment she saw a flash of acknowledgement. She was right after all. “There are things I have been needing to speak with you on, and I have thought on them long and hard.”
There was a silence in the room again after that. A long silence that seemed to stretch until Celeste felt like wriggling out of her skin in nervousness. Her father’s deep sigh finally broke it.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Speak then.” He relented, putting his papers aside and giving her his full attention.
“Before I begin, I want you to know that I am happy to be back at the temple.” That was a technique she had learned from Vallerian, always open with a compliment. “But I can not simply forget my time outside these walls Father. The people suffer, and we the faith are not fulfilling our duty to them.
Her Father shook his head. “Prophetess, we have talked of this before already…”
“No.” she cut him off. “No we have not. Not enough.”
He narrowed his eyes at her, but she kept on.
“I can no longer sit idly by and watch as they languish, destitute and forgotten. I will not be carried past them on gilded litters while they beg and scrape for coppers any longer.”
“And what do you propose? You go rushing out there again so some crazed chaos sycophant can sever your head for their cult? All so that you might heal some peasant child’s cuts and bruises? Your Radiance you are so focused on the trees you forget the forest.”
“And you focus on the kingdom and forget the people Father.” She retorted, her jaw set and tears already beginning to form in her eyes as she avoided his gaze. He was right, somewhat at least. “I… I do not disagree you, Father. I know I can’t walk among them as I wish. But I can still make a difference in my own way.”
“And how do you propose to accomplish this?” He asked, and Celeste’s heart began to beat fast. This was it, finally her chance to fulfill her promise to Thelyra and all the other women of Southshore. The women of the Red Curtains.
“I want to found an order. The Order of the Handmaidens.” She explained. Long weeks now she had mused over this, had constructed this very conversation in her head. She would have this. No matter what she would not walk out of this room without the assurances she needed. “This order would be dedicated to helping the wayward daughters of the land, no matter high or low born.
Anyone may join this order, with no weight given to the status of one’s birth, and no fees shall ever be asked of them.” She saw her father set his jaw, but she carried on.
“Their duty is simple: To house, to feed, and to educate any daughter of Ethinia who needs such help.”
Her Father tapped the table with a constant, tense rhythm. His eyes burrowed into her, and she motioned that she was done.
“Well then.” He spoke. “How do you suppose we pay for such a… ambitious order?”
Celeste felt a tightening in her chest. All of that, and all he cared for was the cost?
“I do not care Father.” She nearly snapped, and lifting up a gilded statue of a crescent moon on the desk she waved it before him. “Sell the gold, the silver, and the marble. Bring the all the statues and silks and ornamentation to market for all I care. What good is any of it? What good does it do if we are not walking the First Mother’s path? If we are not helping her people? Healing her woeful children? Then are any of those statues really for her? Or for our own hubris?”
Breathing heavily, Celeste dropped the golden statue to the desk, only now realizing she had stood up during her speech. Celeste looked down at her Father then, still seated, and for a brief moment she thought she saw a look of admiration cross his face.
“Then it shall be so.” He finally stated, shuffling some papers and pulling up a quill to dip in his ink pot. “I will begin drawing up plans for this order then as soon as…”
“No.” Celeste cut him off again. “I did not come to you for your leadership Father. I only seek your permission, and the financing of the temple.” She swallowed before the next part, she knew this one might cause some issues with her Father but it had to be. “I have chosen Sister Valleresa to be the head of this order, with my guidance of course.”
The Bishop eyed her critically. “I had thought Lady Valleresa had left our ranks, unless I am misremembering.” He spoke sharply. The topic of Valleresa and her brother still seemed a sore spot with her Father.
“She will return if I ask her. I know this.”
Her father nodded at that, a quiet acceptance of her decision.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Your Radiance?” He asked, the tone of his voice implying that her answer would be better off as a no. Unfortunately, she was not done yet.
“From now on, during daily adoration, I would like a section carved out nearest to me to be left for the common folk, particularly those who are injured or weak.”
“Adoration is not the time for healing Prophetess.” He chided.
“But it can be.” She retorted. “It should be, and it will be.”
He eyed her critically.
“This is the Mother’s Will as I have interpreted it Father.”
Her Father studied her with that look of his that brooked no argument, but eventually nodded his acceptance. “It shall be so then.”
“Thank you, Father.” She responded, pushing away from her chair and moving toward the door.
“Since you seem to have so much energy these days.” He called after her, freezing her in place. “The perhaps it is time to expand upon your studies. I will have books brought to you in the coming days on the histories of the various high noble houses. I think it is far past time that we…”
He trailed off as muffled noises of conflict arose from outside the study. The air seemed to freeze in the room, Her Father standing up quickly and motioning for her to get away from the door. Celeste did as she was told.