The second woman seated before Ezril took a deep breath, a tired breath. “I believe the Fathers have been teaching you the history of this seminary,” she stated blandly.

This seminary, Ezril noted, wondering if there were others.

“Yes Ma’am,” he replied. His mind was present but not on his examiners. Something else held his cognitive ability. He could understand Father Talod’s presence in the room, but he could not fathom of what use Priestess Ellenel’ presence was. She had never been present in any of the tests, and had no direct connection with his brothers save her teachings of the bow.

His attention shifted to something else. He looked down.

The room felt surprisingly heavy, and the air humid. Mist covered the ground. Ezril wondered how it had taken him so long to realize this.

“What is your favorite story of this seminary’s history?” the second woman asked without preamble. She seemed bored of everything, pulling through from a sheer will of duty.

Again with the this, Ezril thought.

His mind ran through the different tales of the seminary he could remember. He thought of Tamaron Duret, the first monsignor, down to the present. Although, he knew he didn’t have to. He always found himself drawn to one tale in particular.

“The story of Father Don,” he said.

The woman looked at him, confused. “Which one is that?”

“The battle of Osun.”

The tale was not about Father Don, but he was mentioned a few times in it. In the brief period Father Don was mentioned in the story he had served under a sister of the church who went on to become the first priestess of the convent. It was by her that the sisters trained in the knowledge of wars, and underwent tests such as that which helped Ezril see Lenaria again.

In her last campaign in the name of the church, she had been captured by the Osuns. When she was presumed dead, Don broke rank. He stormed the Osun camp alone, slaughtering everyone who stood in his way to save her. The story tells that he struck down some of his fellow priests who tried to stop him and—upon his return with her—was executed by the church.

“How did you pass the test of the pathfinder?” the woman asked a quiet moment after.

The question took Ezril by surprise and he found himself contemplating the possible consequence of his answer. He opened his mouth to speak. The elderly man spoke first.

“I would advise you not to lie to us.”

Ezril closed his mouth.

He found himself gripped by a new fear. How much do they know?

He wondered if they knew what had happened during the test, or simply knew he was about to lie. He found himself worrying more about the old man than himself. If they knew enough he might fail. If they knew too much, the old man would be in trouble.

“I do not know, Father,” he answered. “I just kept walking.”

It was not the entire truth, but there was no lie in it.

The old woman grunted incomprehensibly. “Father Talod shows a certain disdain towards you,” she said, flicking an unconcerned hand towards Talod. “Do you hate him for how he has treated you?”

“He is required to teach children that he does not know,” Ezril answered, resisting the urge to give his true opinion on the matter. “I believe that would prove difficult for any man such as he under those circumstances.”

“So you know what kind of man he is?”

Ezril paused. “Yes.”

He’s a cunt.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

There was no point in calling back the error he had made. The test called for truth not accuracy.

“I see,” the old man mused.

“Let’s talk about brother Alric, then,” the woman came back to the questions.

They know, Ezril panicked. Monsignor Crowl said the discussion would not leave his chambers, but all of them know. Consciously he looked at Ellenel. She seemed puzzled by the question. Realization dawned on Ezril. She doesn’t know.

When he looked back to those who sat before him, he found himself regretting the action. They had noted it and were sure to use it against him.

“Tell us what became of brother Alric,” the elderly woman said casually.

Ezril turned to the Abbess. She looked bored, but calm, like she had better places to be. She turned to him, as if sensing his attention on her. Her eyes were a mildly bright green. In it he saw curiosity, but there was no recognition.

Odd.

Ezril’s memory found his final night with Alric. When he’d performed the act he had been disoriented. When he’d narrated it in the Monsignor’s room he had been calm. Now, he found himself unable to narrate the tale in the room. It only took him a moment to discover why. Sister Ellenel.

Like clockwork, the wheels in his head turned. It put everything in place. This is all part of their plan. They set this in motion. That’s why she’s here. That’s why she’s fucking here!

The guilt and his shame were weak and slowly his anger consumed them. Its rage was directed at those who sat before him. He did his best to keep it from his voice when he spoke. He narrated the events of what had transpired, making an effort not to look at Ellenel.

He didn’t believe he could handle the disappointment of his favorite instructor.

When he was done the Abbess turned to him, affording him attention for the first time. Her smile was mischievous, playful, impish. It reminded Ezril of a snake he’d seen once. It made him wary.

“Did you notice our friend by the door?” she asked cheerfully, the smile still on her face, as if she did not comprehend exactly what her colleague had just made him do.

Ezril hated her smile but found that, unlike the other two, he couldn’t hate her for it. He wondered what expression his face displayed to give him away when she said, “He’s nice if you get to know him. It’s not his fault he looks that way.”

The other woman spoke up, cutting the Abbess off. “Why did you do it?”

Ezril paused. It took his mind a moment to come back to the question asked before the Abbess’ interruption.

“Because I had to,” he answered after a while. “It was him or her.”

“Was it?” the old woman asked with a hint of insinuation in her voice. “Or was it simply an excuse to kill a brother, Brother Vi Antari.”

Ezril gave no response and was not pressed for one.

The old man spoke next. “Did you enjoy it?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was accusatory. “Did you take satisfaction in besting you brother; in killing him?”

“No!” Ezril said hotly. His rage had decided Alric suffer, but he had felt nothing in his actions, not even the satisfaction of watching Alric suffer. “He died with a smile. He died with a fucking smile!”

A profound silence fell. Ezril’s throat hurt, and he realized he’d been shouting.

The Abbess leaned forward. She seemed intrigued. “Did you dislike it?”

The surprising calm Ezril had felt then washed over him now. Did I dislike it? he wondered. “… No.”

“If you had the chance,” the Abbess continued, “what would you have done differently?”

Wasted less arrows, he thought, made him drown in his own blood… “I’m not sure,” he said honestly, “I know I would’ve done something differently. But I’m not sure if it would have been better or worse.”

It was all about how the truth was presented. Depending on how it was obscured, the relevant aspects could be comfortably hidden.

The old man sighed, as one would with wasted time. “You may leave.”

Ezril rose from his seat and the man pointed a finger at the door beside Ellenel. He made his way to it, making sure to keep his eyes away from her.

“Ezril Vi Antari.”

He stopped, compelled by the oddity of his full name. It had been years since he’d been addressed by it. To him it felt like a life time ago. It hardly felt like his name now, it felt like a name belonging to someone else. He turned, nonetheless. He stood right beside Ellenel but kept his gaze from her.

Is this the test? he asked himself. Is this why it is called the test of awareness? He spared the mist that covered the ground a glance. Then what was your purpose?

“Urden Antari is deathly ill,” the old man said, his voice betraying no emotion. “He is not long for this world.”

Ellenel stiffened beside Ezril.

Maybe she doesn’t hate me … too much.

Ezril remembered the lack of emotion on the Urden’s face during their journey. It had been a sharp contrast to the expression he had carried in front of Teneri. If he had gone through the same level of training Ezril found himself going through in the seminary, he had a good idea which of the man’s expressions was real. He understood now that there had been no peace in the man’s life.

In this moment Ezril remembered Urden’s words after he had asked him if he was ready years ago. “Most of us think we are, in the beginning… We are wrong.”

It was a while before he answered the old man. “Then may he find peace in Truth…” …A peace the seminary could not give him.

The old man gave no reaction. The old woman frowned. The Abbess’ smile widened, and her eyes grew brighter. Ezril wondered if he was the only one who saw them. They reminded him of Lenaria’s.

And with that, and his head held straight, Ezril walked through the door, refocusing his mind on what was now important. Food. As he walked the hallway back, the journey seemed to take forever.

It did not take him long to realize that something was wrong.