Lou stared furiously at Reckish, his hands curled into fists.

“What do you mean I’ve unlocked a few powers? I haven’t done anything!”

“You received a wound in battle that healed instantly, did you not?”

Lou stumbled back. “A-A thug punching me is hardly a battle wound!”

Reckish raised an eyebrow, but remained calm. “You also unlocked the power of superior strength.”

The monk stared at the god as though he were babbling about ducks in bonnets.

The god chuckled, a pleasant rumbling that filled the chapel space like the purr of a lion. “You threw that man down the hill. Did it not feel quite easy? He is a large fellow…”

Lou reached up toward his head as though about to grip his hair in exasperation but let it fall back away as he looked away from the god, trying to regain his calm.

“Now, you can still be harmed and scarred if it is a wound acquired outside of battle. My fourth priest sadly lost an arm when he failed to take care of a cut he received while righting a wagon on the side of the road. The wound became infected and well, the rest is history– but he was the indomitable type, didn’t slow him down much.”

“Yes, yes, Priest Brendan the first…” Lou recalled distractedly while closing his eyes and taking slow deep breaths.

“Ah, good. He hasn’t been forgotten.”

“I don’t want these gifts. Take them back.” Lou looked back at the god, his panic welling up to the point of nearly making him dizzy.

“Ah, my dear priest, you still have not embraced my glory?” Reckish smiled fondly at Lou who gripped his forehead and stared wildly about himself in response.

“I don’t want war! I can barely stand the sight of blood! If I could, I'd abstain from eating the flesh of animals! Choose someone else!”

“So why does your soul burn?”

Lou looked at the god, anger and fear swimming in his eyes.

“It doesn’t burn! I’m as peaceful as a…a…”

Reckish laughed again, shaking his head, making the light turn golden around him, illuminating his stubble and hair.

“I have informed you of your new abilities, my dear new priest, I don’t think I need to tell you to use them wisely. I will see you again when you unlock the next of my abilities,” Reckish bent down, reaching out to lay his hand on Lou’s head, only for the monk to leap back.

“No! Do not come see me again! Let me remain a monk! I do not wish to be a priest for you, please! I beg of you!”

Reckish only turned back around, and stared at the stained glass masterpiece of the chapel. The light glinting through becoming more vivid and bright until Lou had to close his eyes, and then…

He opened them, and he was laying back on the floor of his house in Oxby.

The rain crashing in waves down the glass of the small window above his pump sink and the air heavy with moisture, his lit fire had become nothing but red coals.

Sitting up he clasped his head in his hands, realizing that he was sticky with sweat.

“Gods… Why? Zeviras… why?” he begged quietly in the dark. “I was already lost. I only just found my way to a safety boat, why are you casting me back into the sea of uncertainty?”

Thunder rumbled outside, as though Zeviras was attempting to answer him.

But to Lou, it was an empty response.

He wept.

Dropping his face to his hand he succumbed to the anger, the loss, the frustration over being chosen for something he loathed…

Yet there was no solace.

No peace came with his hopelessness…

But was there a sound?

Frowning, as the salt from his tears stung his face, Lou stilled himself and listened.

There was the sound again.

The sound of… a purr?

He rose from the floor, and gingerly stepped over to his front door.

Listening attentively in the quiet, he waited. Had he imagined it amongst the sounds of the storm?

No… there it was again, but it was moving, and then he heard…

“Meoow!”

Throwing open his front door, Lou stared straight down into a pair of bright green eyes.

A tabby cat with a white chest peered up at him.

“Hello?” he greeted dumbly while they stared at each other.

The tabby meowed again and sauntered into the house.

“Uh… welcome?” Lou blinked in confusion as the animal meandered over to the stairs up to the loft, and promptly trotted up them, leaving the monk on the main floor in utter confusion.

Closing the door slowly behind himself, Lou wondered if he were still in a sort of strange dream.

He followed where the feline had retreated to, and found the animal curled up on his bed, already fast asleep.

“I… guess… you can stay here… You’re probably a barn cat?” Lou asked slowly.

The cat cracked open an eye and let out another ‘meow’ back.

“Right. Well… I’ll make some stew… if you’d like some… feel free to let me know.”

The tabby closed its eye and went back to sleep.

Blinking in bafflement, Lou gradually turned around and made his way back downstairs to his kitchen.

What had just happened?

He had to admit, as abrupt and odd the appearance of the cat was, it did somehow make him feel better. His previous anguished feelings felt smaller, and less important, as Lou pulled out the cast iron pot he had located the previous day, and set to adding a dollop of smooth soft butter to its bottom, before hanging it over the fireplace, and adding another handful of kindling to try and encourage the coals to ignite once more. Once he had coaxed the flames back to a fine crackle, he rewarded the fire with another thin pine log, and set about retrieving the bundle of meat he had purchased from the butcher earlier that day.

He pulled out a long link of smoked sausages, then bent down toward the sack he had left resting against the leg of his cooking table. Loosening the twine around its top, he squinted in the dull light of his kitchen at the potatoes, garlic bulbs, carrots, onions, and two herb bunches at the top.

The smell of the fresh parsley brought forth a deep breath of pleasure from the monk.

It smelled of fresh delicious greenery, and it made him all the more excited to begin planting his own herb beds in the future.

As he worked rinsing the vegetables, cutting them up and adding them to the pot with its butter that had turned to liquid gold, Lou hummed a gentle lilting tune.

After giving the pot a few stirs and waiting until the vegetables softened, he sprinkled a little flour in the bottom of his pot, then added a wooden cup full of water, another chopped clove of garlic, a sprinkle of salt, and last but not least, his sliced up sausage.

The entire house was filled with the comforting aroma of a hot meal as the thunder continued to growl its way over the earth outside.

When the stew had thickened, and steamed invitingly, Lou grasped his robe he had still not yet donned again, and used it to carry the pot over to his cooking table. He then set to locating one of two wooden bowls he found that the burgomaster of Oxby had arranged for him, a spoon, and the cup of water he had used that morning.

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Once the meal was ladled out, he sprinkled a handful of parsley and a tiny bit more salt over the fare.

He smiled, relief and satisfaction filling him.

Just because he had unlocked two measly gifts from Reckish didn’t mean he had to use them. He could continue as he was in that moment, enjoying the simple pleasures in life.

All he had to do was avoid the infuriating Kelly family, and all would be well.

“Cat! Dinner is ready if you would like a couple bites!”

An impressive purr could be heard from above Lou in the loft and a minute later, the small scruffy tabby had made its way back down, and sat politely a few feet from where Lou had begun eating while standing at the cooking table.

Looking into his pot, Lou spotted a sausage end and, using his ladle, fished it out, blew on it until he was certain it had cooled, then crouched down and set it on the floor.

The cat gave another small meow in thanks, then crouched down to enjoy the food.

“Perhaps you are a merciful being sent by Goddess Heleka who knows I am struggling.”

The feline’s purrs grew louder again as she ate, and Lou smiled once more.

The next day he would wash his robe, then as it dried, start constructing the wall around the garden beds he had dug up on the hill. Afterward, he’d start working on the first sermon he would deliver to the inhabitants of Oxby.

A peaceful day, one free of battle or strife.

Just the way he liked it.

***

Oliver strolled into the wooden two story home that had been in his family for five generations, sopping wet. His shirt clung to his skin, and his shoes spilled water with every step he took, but it didn’t matter much to him. He had just come from the peculiar new monk’s house, and he had seen something that he needed to investigate more thoroughly…

“OOollliiie! You said you’d play with me, but it’s raining now!” The drawn out whine of Oliver’s sister brought a smile to his face as he shook the residual water from his hair before sweeping it back out of his eyes. Once he did so, he found himself peering down at his second youngest sibling, his sister Franny. Her auburn hair had at one point been tidy with a small braid dropped over the side of her tiny head, but after a day of games and fun, it was its usual bird's nest.

“You know I had some business to check on, Franny-girl. I can’t take responsibility for the rain.”

The little girl pouted regardless of her brother’s sound reasoning.

“How about I read you a story tonight?”

The little girl perked up in his arms. “From the book of the gods?!”

Oliver grinned. “Franny, we only own one book. Of course it’s the book of the gods.”

“Can we read about Goddess Berra?!” the little girl asked, her voice rising in excitement.

The eldest of the Kelly brood bent down and scooped her up, making her squeal as her faded pink linen dress soaked up some of the rainwater from his shirt.

Blowing a raspberry on her cheek making Franny scream and giggle at the same time, Oliver was about to step farther into the single room that was half made up of a sitting room with plump couches in front of a large stone fireplace, and the other half a well stocked kitchen, when his mother looked up from the mixing bowl in her hand and shot her eldest son a warning glance.

Oliver froze, and carefully removed his boots without bothering to place his sister down as he did so.

“Actually Franny, I was thinking we could read about God Reckish tonight.”

“Aww! He’s no fun though!”

Oliver strode over to his mother as she cooked while his sister continued to pout in his arms.

“So, did you apologize to the monk like I told you?”

Maureen Kelly, in her youth and even to that day, was still the prettiest woman in all of Oxby according to her husband. Her strawberry blond hair, her fiery amber eyes, her heart shaped face… It didn’t matter that she had seven children. She was still a vision akin to the first streak of sunlight in the morning, even with flour dusting her cheek, and her hair wisping free of her own thick braid.

“I went to see him,” Oliver replied ambiguously.

Maureen put her batter bowl down and her hands on her hips, her eyebrows raised.

“You knocked that man to the ground in our barn and you didn’t apologize?”

“I honestly didn’t hit him that hard. I hit Brody harder when we tussle and he’s never fallen like that.”

“That’s because you hit a man of god who spends his days reading and in prayer! Gods above, Oliver!” Maureen’s voice had taken on a deathly edge, and Oliver could feel Franny tense in his arms, prompting him to set the little girl down so she didn’t have to be privy to his scolding.

“I know you’re still angry about the new residents and their disgusting behavior about how we were treated in the war, but he was not part of that. You will give a proper apology to this Brother Lou, or you will not be getting any of your meals from me!”

Oliver stared calmly back at his mother who was already growing red in her cheeks.

“He threw me down a hill today, I think we’re even. He didn’t even have a bruise from where I hit him! I’m sure he was just overreacting earlier-”

Maureen Kelly seized the spoon from her bowl and whacked the top of her son’s head smartly. “I’ve said my piece, Oliver Kelly. You give me your word. Tomorrow you will apologize to him.”

Oliver looked to the rafters and after letting out a long suffering sigh, hung his head. “Fine.”

His mother, still not fond of his reluctant attitude, continued glaring at him, her wooden spoon still in hand ready to distribute punishment if her eldest child attempted to argue with her.

“Go get your father and brothers from the barn for supper. I’m still going to be bending their ears about all of your conducts today.” Maureen turned toward her raised fireplace where a pan sat hot and waiting, and poured in the batter in her mixing bowl, making it pop and steam before she rounded back toward Oliver who eyed the pan hungrily. “I’ll be sending you back over to Brother Lou’s house with some loaves of my bread, and I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

“How is that you never make my father ever apologize?”

“He didn’t clock the monk in the head.”

“No, but he did con him.”

Maureen looked to the ceiling– much in the same manner her son had moments before before she dropped her angry gaze to her son once more. “What did my husband do?”

Oliver’s easy-going expression froze.

“Erm. Nothing. I’ll go let the lads know about dinner-” the eldest Kelly son moved with incredible speed back toward the front door.

“You will stay put exactly where you are,” Maureen shouted, but Oliver was already diving out eagerly back into the storm. “OLIVEEER!”

Despite the rising roar coming from his mother, Oliver didn’t turn back around. He’d rather risk being struck by lightning than face his mother’s wrath and interrogation.

Besides, she’d be distracted for a brief while when her husband and sons would return undoubtedly covered in mud and water.

Oliver didn’t hurry to reach the barn despite the night and rain bringing a chill along his skin. Alone with his thoughts, his mind cast back to the symbol he had seen burned across Brother Lou’s back earlier that day before he’d been spotted…

If that monk is who I think he is… then my mother might not be the most fearsome one in Oxby anymore.