As a master, he was no less gentle than those who taught him. Years ago, he followed to a tee the commands of his teachers, not once directly questioning their methods or the material that they provided to them.

Now that he looked back on it, there were obviously problems with such authoritarian teaching methods. Yet he would hold true to them, at least to a level where clear discipline could be formed. A priest ought to be disciplined and well-mannered, at least in the face of those who are of greater hierarchy.

One had to be modest yet truthful, polite but ready to question the methods and the creed of his or her master, lest evil be done in the name of goodness. Question everything and all, lest you become blind to lies and truths; question all, or be doomed to commit acts to which you don’t know all of the truths related.

Here, at this moment, Kanrel began forming the ways he saw how the Priesthood ought to teach its acolytes—how it should teach its disciplines to think.

Surely he used the ways his masters used when they had taught him, but for different reasons. If a priest never questions his or her deeds, nor the deeds of those before and after him, then perhaps there is nothing one has learned from those actions or from the deed of not making an action. Everything has a reason.

A murderer will not kill for the sake of murder; behind it, there must be a reason. Be it revenge, be it any other twisted psychological reason, be it done because of the perversion of one's body and mind. Either way, there must be a reason why a murderer commits his or her act of murder; there must be a reason why a murderer murders.

After all, there is a reason why someone doesn’t murder.

Of course, it was unlikely that Roslyn would ever have to think of such things; it was unlikely that most would ever have to think of anything like such. And if so, then the world is as it should be.

But a similar line of thought could be applied to most things. Why does a man eat? Because he has to. Why does he have to? And so forth...

Such unraveling of things and an analytical view of the world and the people that inhabit said world is, either way, something a priest ought to learn. It is something they go through during their seven or so years of study before the ritual.

To ingrain this way of looking at the world in a priest was useful, but to allow them the freedom to pursue any and all lines of thought, not limited by religious dogma, would be a blessing for any human.

Progress begins with a thought, and a thought is usually followed by an action, and that action will undeniably have a reaction. Or, at least, this was how Kanrel saw it. This was the conclusion he was brought to. Yet he could be wrong; he was just unable to find the incorrect line of reasoning in his “code”.

Thus, he would teach Roslyn many things, and one of those things was the way in which a priest ought to think. Then, perhaps, she could one day be the one who points out the incorrect parts of Kanrel’s conclusion. Perhaps she will be the one to rewrite the code, maybe from the very beginning.

It does not take long for a human to begin complaining about unnecessary suffering.

“I do understand your great passion for writing and how priests need it for their ‘great purpose’ or whatever, but I cannot, for the life of me, understand the usefulness of this when you have magic!” Roslyn voiced her grievances with the very idea of writing.

Indeed, what was the use of using your hands to write when, technically, you could do it with magic?

Kanrel scoffed. “Just keep writing; you’ll find out the reasons for your reasoning from the very first moment you use magic for yourself." He did not raise his eyes from the text that he was reading; there was no point; he knew that she would continue writing. After all, she was as stubborn, or perhaps even more stubborn, as he was.

He could hear her mumbling some very uncalled-for things about his mother, but soon after he could hear the pleasant sound of writing, though a slightly angrier version of it. Thus, he did not make a comment about her mumblings or make jest about her pains.

In the past few weeks, they have made considerable progress in her ability to write. Sure, there were often times when her penmanship was only readable by those who spent all of their lives solving and translating dead languages or codes that were created by sadistic bastards to be “unsolvable”.

In the winter, under the light of candles, they spent their time writing and reading, often bickering just for the sake of it and sometimes partaking in arguments that had some substance to them.

Roslyn had the great talent of being extremely annoying whenever she wanted to. Then again, this must have been an innate talent for most teenagers, especially when they were in the presence of adults. But Kanrel was no better, for he dove headfirst into every argument that they might have, but with the lack of emotional grace that would always lead to silent treatment by the pissed-off teenager.

When Kanrel was more or less happy with Roslyn’s ability to copy and write, he held a test to see how much information she had retained after nearly a month of copying the Book of the Heralds.

To his surprise, Roslyn seemed to have a great memory, and she could recount some of the important parts of the book; she also seemed to remember weird details that most would not notice or not pay much attention to.

Like how the only consistent word used to describe an angel was their grotesque outlook, their personality if ever described, seemed to be mostly a subjective understanding of a specific Herald of the time. This, of course, makes sense, but it is a minor detail that Kanrel has never paid much attention to.

She also found the newer additions to be more “exciting” and "enticing”. In her words, it seemed that the current Herald “didn’t seem to fear the Angels as much” and based on her surface-level analysis, this seemed like a “good thing”.

Kanrel felt that she was more or less familiar enough with the Book of the Heralds, and her penmanship was “passing”, thus they would delve deeper into other topics of interest, mostly the Priesthood, the Kingdom, and the hierarchies of these two entities and how they interacted with each other.

“A priest is the basic rank of any member of the Priesthood; you’re looking at one, and they do work similar to the work that I do—mostly in villages and towns as healers, teachers, and chroniclers. Our duty to knowledge is often seen as the one value and oath above all; this does, of course, depend on the priest whom you ask, as we all have our own views, and the oath that we all take is more lenient than one might think.“

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“The Priesthood is mostly formed out of priests, but there are other minor factions within the Priesthood, and all these factions perform a certain task within the Priesthood and the Kingdom.”

“There are the inquisitors, who work in law enforcement; their primary task is to capture dangerous criminals and bring them to justice. Of course, their methods are at times more brutal than one would think of a priest, but they see that all is accepted if it is done in the name of goodness.”

“There is also a more militaristic side to the Priesthood, the Order of War, which is a highly trained order of priests who call themselves ‘paladins’. They mostly work with the Kingdom and the military; they are an elite force of soldiers. The last time they were called to service was during the Revolution of the Nameless, and if one is to believe historical records, they are very effective and a force to be reckoned with.”

“Even with these three main bodies of the Priesthood, all priests are equal, and there is only one above all: the Herald, always a devout female priest selected by the Angels to serve them as their messenger. She is our voice, for she is the voice of the Angels. Her status is comparable to that of the King, though at times she has had greater power.”

Roslyn had to take notes during every lecture Kanrel gave her, and at times her boredom was apparent. And that was fine; not everyone would enjoy finding such details interesting, but the least he could do was sort of spice it up.

“All of the ‘orders’ or ‘creeds’ have their own training grounds, though they all have to begin their journey at the Academy of the Heavenly; from there they might get an invitation to the Order of Truth at Lo'Gran to serve the Inquisition under the Grand Inquisitor.”

“Or to the edge of the Kingdom, near the great desert south where the Wildkin invaded so long ago.”

Roslyn seemed to slightly spark up: “You’ve mentioned them multiple times by now, ‘Wildkin’… What even are they?”

“They were large beast-like men who invaded the many kingdoms of men; they came from the southern wastelands, desert where men have not lived since the beginning of time as we know of; they came in hordes which we could not defeat, with just mission as far as we know: devour, eat, consume.”

“Why?”

“We just don’t know; we might never know.”

“Then why would the Angels help humanity instead of the Wildkin? If all they wanted was to consume?”

Kanrel had to think for a moment, for there was no theory accepted by most scholars, so he had to present a thought he had had, “Perhaps out of pity, if one reads through even a small fraction of history that we have available to ourselves, we are presented with one simple fact: we are pitiful, yet somehow we remain.”

“Perhaps just by the grace of the Angels…” Kanrel furrowed his brows. “There is much we do not know... the Otherkind…”

He had an urge—a wish—to finish what he had come here for. To find answers to that which had none. The forests called for him, and they urged him to return to them. A whisper of sorts—one not heard outside but one heard within.

But such a wish could not be sated, for it would remain this feeling, and it would stay. It would gnaw at him even when he found out what he sought. The whisper would be there, this little voice beckoning him to know more and to never be happy with that which you have.

Kanrel shook his head and returned to matters at hand: “Either way, one could get an invitation to the Fortress at the edge of the Kingdom, where the Order of War resides and trains their new paladins.”

“With options like the Inquisition and the Order of War, why would you ever choose to remain just a normal priest? Why didn’t you pick any of the other options?”

“We don’t get to pick; we never had the option to. Sure, we can plead and ask, but that does not guarantee that we get to go where we wish to go... And at that point, none cares.”

With a slight smile, Kanrel added, “And if one wants the most time to hone their skills at magic in general, then this path, which I have, is perhaps the best.”

“Then I will ‘plead’ and beg that I might become a boring old priest and nothing more,” Roslyn muttered with a dry tone.

Throughout the end of winter, they had many such lectures where Kanrel spewed out as much raw information in as detailed a form that he could remember. Roslyn would sit through them while taking notes as he spoke, and after each week they would review how much she had written and how much she had learned. Based on that, Kanrel would try to plan how much time he would have to go over the same thing or how much they could advance.

And when spring arrived, she would follow him more around the village, helping people and seeing for herself what a true priest would do most of the time. Studying was only the first step in a priest's life—a theory of things they would have to do. The month she followed him around the village was more or less a reality. The only difference was her inability to use magic as of now, but less than ten years from now, she would be able to use it. And this time would hopefully give her a non-romantic view of magic and of the life of a priest.

After only a few months, Kanrel could not deny what the facts were. She was more than suitable to become a priest—perhaps with a few months she would be qualified enough to study at the Academy of the Heavenly.

And he was unable to talk her out of it; thus, there remained only one option for him: to draft a letter of recommendation to a certain Professor Oidus, whom he so closely knew. It was unlikely that she would hold much against him after all the time that had passed and the couple of letters that he had already sent her.

He should be proud of the young girl who had come to him because of a dream she had. But he could not, for he knew the many disappointments that would follow her. How her view of magic and the wonderful sides of it would disappear as she touched it for the very first time.

She would feel how unjust life was in a place that barely welcomed those who weren’t wealthy. At least, she had a name for herself. At least, she had someone to back her up.

And Kanrel hoped, from the bottom of his heart, that she would not come to bitterly regret the time that she would spend at the academy; he hoped that her dreams would not become soiled. He hoped that she would remain the person that she was and not become someone that she truly wasn't—just for the sake of a dream that could become just another nightmare.

Now that spring had again gone by and summer was in bloom, he had just one more week to give her as much as he could before she would leave with a caravan that had arrived a few weeks ago.