Lou woke the first morning on the outskirts of Oxby, smiling incessantly.

Sure, the house was drafty, musty, and the only furniture was the bed, wardrobe, and the table with six chairs by the kitchen, but it wasn’t a battlefield somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

He rose from his bed in nothing but his trousers, and was pleased to find that the room wasn’t stifling despite the rising heat of summer. The house’s location in the thick of the tall pine trees by the river kept the area pleasantly cool and comfortable, though a little darker than the monk preferred for reading and transcribing.

Lou stretched and idly reached up behind himself to scratch at Reckish’s mark on his spine.

It was how the people knew they’d been chosen by one of the gods. A symbol unique to each god would appear on a monk or nun’s back in black or brown. With each power of their god used, new lines and designs would further detail itself on the symbol.

Lou had fought off any and all urges he had felt in himself since the day of his choosing that didn’t seem like himself, and so his symbol remained as sparse as it was the day he had first awoken with it. The rudimentary symbol for Reckish consisted of a line down his spine with two triangles. One of the triangle outlines at the top pointed toward his right shoulder blade, and a small triangle at the bottom filled in with the mark’s brown pigment, pointed toward his left hip.

The monk didn’t want to know what the symbol would look like if he uncovered any of the abilities that a chosen priest of a god was given access to.

When Lou had first been basked in the ethereal warm glow on Imbolsic during the traditional rites, he had felt his heart pound, his blood sing, his mind enter realms no human could imagine… He had never deigned to dream about being chosen as a priest for a god, but he had felt something awaken in his heart that day.

When the light and divine blessing had all faded away, Lou had awaited to see the symbol upon his back. He had been so confident it would’ve been the goddess of peace: Heleka. If not Heleka, surely the goddess of nature, Vienn.

But no.

He and his two other brothers who had been chosen had stepped forward and removed their robes, and that was when Lou, in front of the entire abbey, discovered…

The blasted mark of Reckish.

A war god.

A god of violence, wrath, passion, bravery, justice…

His first night after the selection was supposed to bring a dream from the god that had chosen them that would offer guidance and inspiration on their journey of servitude and greatness…

Lou’s dream however, had filled him with nothing but frustration and resentment.

Abbott Carrey had managed to persuade the High Priestess not to send him to the battlefield at the very least, though a military town wasn’t ideal either.

Sighing, Lou clenched his hands into fists as he approached the railing to the loft that overlooked the main floor of his home. He would stay a peaceful monk, even if it killed him.

First thing’s first. Today, I set up the chapel. They at least stocked firewood for me here, so after I see the chapel I can buy food and cook a proper meal this evening. Perhaps tomorrow I can start work on the garden…

When he had fully dressed himself in his worn robes and an optimistic attitude, Lou descended the stairs and turned towards his kitchen.

For a moment, his smile faltered.

He was used to seeing his brothers gathered for meal times… The elderly Brother Juggins who was in charge of cooking for everyone would explain the ingredients that went into each meal while ladling simple yet fulfilling porridges, soups, or stews into their wooden bowls. He’d recount what a blessing it was to become whole with the earth, and how regardless of the measure of effort put in, he always felt fulfilled when cooking. Some of the younger monks would look uncomfortable, while the older monks would smile knowingly over Brother Juggins’s reverent speeches.

Rubbing his fingertips against his palm, Lou proceeded into the kitchen with the intention of freeing his mind of forlorn thoughts.

After a hasty breakfast of toast and tea, he took his leave of the house, not wanting to admit its emptiness was bringing an uncomfortable chill into his chest. He had lived in the Belhae Abbey for seven years, and before then with his family…

He had never truly been alone.

So when he had hitched his pony and hopped into his cart, he wasn’t entirely displeased with the notion of heading into town once more.

The morning was humid and hinted at the heat of the day, but despite the uncomfortable weather, when the town walls rose to greet him, Lou couldn’t help but feel his former exuberance return in full force. He would find people to listen to sing and praise the gods, to sit in meditative silence together… yes. Everything would be right as rain in no time.

Lou followed the road, nodding to the new guards that must have heard about him as they waved him through without a second look, and proceeded into the town that only had a few occupants meandering through the cobbled streets as they prepared for their days.

Upon pulling up to the chapel that he had seen the day before, Lou felt agitation momentarily surge forward, but quenched it the best he could.

Something about how the town had built the chapel to fit into the rest of the street instead of treating it as a place to draw in the lost souls of the world didn’t sit right with him.

After dismounting from the driver’s bench, and tying off his pony to the pole at the front, his hand clasped the iron handle of the chapel, the unmistakable smell of fresh paint making him grimace.

Before Lou, lay a small entryway. A slab of white marble beneath his feet, oak baseboards, and several rows of matching oak hooks to his left.

A second set of tall peaked doors ten feet past the entrance sat propped open to the chapel itself, where gleaming pews sat, with plush red carpet spread out until the step of the chancel, where the marble that shone in the entryway appeared once more.

As he strode further into the room, Lou noted the slight chill in the chapel despite the summer heat outside, and realized that it was because the only source of light came from the back wall.

Speaking of the back windows… it was the first time since entering the wretched structure that paid more homage to shallow cutesy aesthetics than the dignity of the gods that Lou stopped scowling.

For the windows were nothing less than a stained glass masterpiece.

All thirteen gods were displayed, with Zeviras at the top in his full glory, flanked by Reckish and Berra… then the following ten in order of their discovery and ascension in the world of men. The gods and goddess grew closer and closer together until the bottom of the windows that must have spanned over twenty feet into the air.

Lou marveled at its radiance in utter reverence.

It wasn’t until he felt something cool on his cheek that he realized the beautiful artwork had brought him to tears.

Wiping the tear away quickly, Lou felt his awe gradually become tainted with the sinking disappointment he had felt on Imbolsic when he’d been chosen by Reckish. He looked up to Zerivas’s face. The sandy colored beard, the golden eyes that shone with both peace and kindness…

How could you allow me to be forced onto such a path? I’ve never wanted greatness. I’ve never wanted to stand out. All I’ve wanted since choosing to walk the path of holiness, is to help the lost and wounded.

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Lou closed his eyes, wishing he could find solace in his faith as he had for seven years in prayer, but alas. It clung to his heart like fishing hooks in the lip of a fat trout.

Shaking his head, Lou took a slow breath in. “I will forge my path, and try to see this as a test of my devotion…”

“Oh Brother Lou! You’re here! I had hoped to come before you arrived to do a last minute cleaning!”

A woman’s cheery yet breathy voice broke Lou from his thoughts, and made a tremor of irritation flutter in his throat.

He took his time turning around as he heard the intruder behind him fumble with something by the door.

Lou rounded his toes back toward the entrance while forcing his shoulders to once again become straight.

Before him stood a middle-aged woman, her smart brown coat form fitting and buttoned to her throat, while her emerald green skirt fluttered with her every move. She was wealthy; that much was evident by the quality of her clothes, though it was strange she was dressed so warmly given the high temperature of the day outside.

Her white streaked brown hair was pulled back in a relaxed bun, and her cheeks were flushed with the heat from outside.

“Brother Lou, my name is Karen Hinterland. My husband is George Hinterland, the burgomaster. You two met yesterday?” she smiled warmly at the monk as she strode into the chapel, a basket on her arm that was covered with a snowy white handkerchief.

“A bright day to you, Karen Hinterland,” Lou inclined his chin downward respectfully as Karen stopped in front of him, her brown eyes twinkling from the light of the chapel window.

“I’m sure my husband was more than a little preoccupied when you arrived yesterday– you see Sergeant Ferrel wants to add additional offices to the barracks, and there is a dispute amongst the old and new residents about whose land it will be built upon. In other words, it’s a mess right now. I must say, a representative of the gods to bring us all some guidance and wisdom in my opinion is just what this town needs,” the woman carried on while clasping her hands together tightly.

Lou noted that while she was dressed as a woman of respectable birth, that her hands were rough and red, with puckering angry scars peeking out of the cuffs of her sleeves.

He smiled at her, politely ignoring his observation. She seemed a down-to-earth, kind woman.

“Thank you for your faith, Mrs. Hinterland. I shall do my best to offer assistance.”

Karen Hinterland beamed back happily. “I brought you some fresh bread and biscuits. I just about had a fit when I heard George hadn’t even sent you home with a hot meal! He’s a good man, but is forgetful when it comes to basic hospitality when he’s busy with work.” She offered the basket to Lou who accepted it with another bow of his head.

“When do you think a mass might be held, Brother Lou? Or is it Abbot? A holy man heading an entire congregation should be an abbott at the very least, right?”

The monk hesitated, an icy dread filling him.

He hated lying.

“I am just Brother Lou at this time, Mrs. Hinterland. As for when masses shall begin, I plan on beginning in less than a fortnight. I first wish to settle into the house and meet the people of Oxby to best learn how I can assist them.”

“Of course!” Karen practically glowed with earnest excitement. “If I can be of any assistance, Brother Lou, please let me know. I know everyone is looking forward to having sermons once again. Though if the military men give you any guff, you come tell me straight away! Some of them are troubled souls after the war you see, and while I understand the reason for their difficult natures, it doesn’t mean their behavior is right.”

Lou nodded sagely. “Pain is always allowed, abuse of the pain in any capacity, is not.”

Karen Hinterland’s smile looked pained as tears glimmered in her eyes and she tentatively reached out and clasped his left hand. “Thank you… Brother Lou… for coming here. I know I cannot speak for everyone here, but I, for one, am beyond grateful for your presence. You are… a gift from the gods.”

It was one of the times in Lou’s life that he felt truly humbled.

He had been selfishly agonizing over the unfair decisions of the gods, and yet, here was direct proof that their plans had led him to people that needed guidance.

“Mrs. Hinterland, thank you for your kind words and support. I only wish to be a positive influence here in Oxby.”

The woman sniffled before quickly wiping away an errant tear that escaped her eye, and gave another brave smile.

“Forgive my show here. Goodness, it must be the heat getting to me. Thank you for coming here, Brother Lou. You can expect my family here for the very first sermon you deliver. I promise.”

Lou decided then and there that Mrs. Karen Hinterland was a woman deserving of all the respect and love the gods could bestow a person.

When she gave his hand a final squeeze, the two didn’t need to share another word, as complete understanding passed between them.

“I will post a sermon schedule on the doors soon, Mrs. Hinterland.”

“I will make sure a proper glass box is installed beside the doors with a full board for the chapel announcements.”

Lou smiled. “Thank you.”

Karen turned from the monk and began striding towards the entrance.

The monk then blurted something he hadn’t intended to bring up quite so soon…

“You shouldn’t hide the scars on your arms. It could cause you to overheat and become unwell.”

Karen Hinterland halted in her tracks. A brief tremor appeared in her hand before she brought it to her front out of Lou’s sight.

“How did you see-”

“The gods willed it,” Lou interrupted gently.

Karen turned her chin over her shoulder, and was forced to swallow before being able to speak. “My scars… scare people. I don’t wish to burden them.”

“You are burdening them by refusing to teach them about suffering. How else will they learn tolerance and awareness without people like yourself?” the monk asked kindly. “If you need to protect yourself, I understand, but… do not feel you need to protect them as well. Not from your own lessons. Lessons need to be shared.”

With new tears welling up in her eyes, Karen turned back toward the doors.

She strode stiffly towards them, and Lou prepared himself to hear them slam shut. He shouldn’t have broached such a sensitive topic during their first meeting… But as she gripped the iron handle, its latch clacking under her palm, she once again addressed him over her shoulder.

“Your words frighten me but… you’ve only affirmed in my mind that the gods knew Oxby needed you.”

When the wife of the burgomaster disappeared into the sunny street, Lou felt the remaining reservations he carried dissolve.

Yes, helping the people of Oxby would in turn help him. He’d find a way to heal and avoid any kind of war… come hell or high water.