I slept for months, Knox said. After our time at Fairstep Monastery, I fell into a deep slumber. Wilbur had asked what was happening, fearing that a sleeping sickness had struck me, but Abbott Blake had silenced him, insisting that there was nothing wrong. I did not burn hot. I did not sweat. I did not feel cold. I simply did not open my eyes. They all watched over me, checking if I developed bruise-like markings on my skin. There were none. But Knox told me Wilbur never left my side until daybreak.

On the road to the next monastery, they had no choice but to bury me with them underground. Ealhstan had made a comfortable coffin for me; a small one with layers of wooly blankets. Swithin scouted ahead for forests or caves, anywhere that people were afraid to venture. Then come nighttime, he dug deep in the earth, the depth of a grave, and made sure to cover all of us within, leaving enough space for him to crawl upwards.

Then just as Ealhstan finished Saint Korbin monastery, I awoke.

The first face I saw was Knox's. I looked around, checking to see where Wilbur was. All around me were Knox's things; books and scrolls and quills. I remembered that he was our scholar, though what he studied was not clear to me. He waited for me to stumble outside my coffin and gather myself. That was when he told me what had transpired.

Knox accompanied me to walk around the grounds, just so I could get my bearings. “Where is Wilbur?” I asked him. Why was I in your tower?

“Predisposed,” he told me. “Walk on.”

We were ghosts haunting a soulless monastery. It wasn’t even built like the ones before, save for the church and monastic granges. I wasn’t even allowed outside. The cloister garth was so small, that I wasn't sure there was any division between the common herbarium and the physic garden. We passed by the kitchens, the door bolted from the outside. There was no sound, but our steps.

I hesitated when he walked me back to his tower.

“You’ll be staying here from now on,” Knox said. I did not reply, nor did I move. Knox made an impatient sound. “Get inside.” he made to pull me by the arm.

“Do not touch me,” I said and stepped back firmly. Knox bristled. He stared at me as if he was willing my body to move. There was something there: a commanding pull. I pushed back against the force and raised both my brows.

He seethed but released the force. “Fine,” he said. He snapped his fingers. “Capture him.” Swithin came from out of the shadows, looking uncertain. I was surprised to see him there when there was no sign or trace of the rest of my brothers. His eyes were wide, uncertain, looking at Knox and at me. Knox, impatient stomped his foot. “I said capture him, you daft mongrel.”

Swithin winced. He quickly dropped on all fours and leaped towards me. “I am sorry, little one.” Before I could say anything, he forced my arms behind my back and pushed me inside the cold tower. I wanted to punch Knox’s smug face as we passed him. Swithin softened his hold on me as we climbed the circular stairs. He released me inside and whispered, “Just do what he says. He knows what’s best for you.”

“Swithin, where is Wilbur? Where are the others?” He made me sit down gently.

“In the dungeons by my den. I sensed Ealhstan was at the far end of the cloisters and I smelled Woodrow at the kitchens. We are kept separated. We cannot break the commands from Abbott Blake.”

Knox barged in and Swithin withdrew. Knox jerked his thumb out the door. Before Swithin went away, he pleaded silently with his eyes. Knox shut the door and looked at me, curious. They cannot break the commands from Abbott Blake. So does that mean they can't break a command from Knox as well, seeing that he's directly below him in our hierarchy?

Knox locked the door and proceeded to a desk with a thick stack of books. His tower was spacious, bigger than Wilbur’s garden. I was glad. I did not want to be cooped up so close to him. There were no windows here, just a small hole, the size of my hand, near the ceiling. He kicked one book at me and said, “Read.”

I picked it up and read the passages he highlighted. “For humility under the night brothers ensures safe passage into the light.”... “One shall put their trust to the brothers of the night, they who preach the Saints’ teachings under the cover of moonlight”... “Be not afraid of the blood you shed, for it will ensure full bellies for your families”. I closed the book and scanned the cover, brow frowning.

“What is this? It’s like a twisted version against the Saints’ Scriptures.”

Knox smiled. “It’s the newest edition.” He took the book back and wiped the dust off its surface. “We will reshape its teachings to suit our lifestyle. We will preach it to the poor peasants that don’t know what to believe.”

"I do not follow."

"Abbott Blake feels that you might need further instructions on the deep reason why we do our great work," Knox said. His tone was light, but his face was impassive. "One of the deep reasons is that we are here to reshape the world by reshaping their beliefs. What efficient way to do that than already tying it to the Saints' Scriptures that they know by heart, passed through the generations? And look at us. We fit the part, yes?" He dismissively showed his monastic habit in the candlelight.

I stared at him. "Abbott Blake wants me... to listen to you... about how to trick people into believing a different version of the Saints' stories?" When Knox nodded, I said, "They would never believe us. Not with your illusions and Woodrow's charms."

“Who are they going to believe, Ryne? The Saints and their powerless religious sectors? Their own numbers are dwindling. They are at their wit’s end trying to come up with cures that don’t work against the new illness spreading around. The Saints can’t save them. I’m not even certain they truly have faith anymore, just believing for the sake of believing.” He saw me surprised. “Oh, yes, Wilbur may have saved one poor boy, but the symptoms have spread. There will be none to cure them but your Brother Wilbur. They will flock to our monasteries and beg us, just as we planned. They would abandon their towns and cities and their lords and pledge fealty to us.”

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“As I said, Abbott Blake stresses that you are to be trained and lectured to our ways, no matter how many times I express my concern that it is pointless,” he sighed.

“Why keep me in this tower like a prisoner? I can read this by myself or with the rest.”

“Distractions,” he said. “You’ve had more than enough time playing with plants and peasants. Abbott Blake seems to think that it is crucial that you move on to more serious matters in the long-term.”

“I need to know that my brothers are safe.”

Knox sounded exasperated. “They are fine. Every supper, I shall carry the food Wilbur has prepared. I will leave you here alone, and sleep in my own tower adjacent to yours. This door will always be locked.”

“Then what? What if I finish the revised book, what then?”

“Then there are other books to learn. Matters of trade and commerce, of authority and the general way of how the world works.”

I wanted to say something else, but Swithin’s voice warned me. Perhaps not this night.

___

I had to endure the brutality of Knox’s viewpoints. I now understood why he was so cruel. He thought himself better than everyone else. I had thought that Wilbur and Woodrow were the ones to reveal our ways. I much preferred it from them. Knox was matter-of-fact, tone curt, and cutting.

I learned from our lectures together that his main plan was for our monastery to be like its own city. With its own rules and brainwashed people.

He told me about the history of the region, how after the Four Holiest Saints came the rule of the region, the Saint-King, one descended from the bravest of them all, Saint Oswald of Goldborough. Though he was not gifted the greater miracles, he was still blessed with the Radiant Halo, an artifact, the crown he wears that can only be put by the other descendants of the Saints. Under his rule, all the clergy was considered part of the ruling class. Monks, nuns, and priests.

“Parading as monks was the perfect cover to fool them all,” Knox said. “The lands granted us power over the villagers, and they dependent on us for almost everything. Their homes, their food, their health. The plan was to construct monasteries and trick them into thinking that we are trustworthy, then do it all again across the region until our order is the most dominant one.”

“Then what?” I asked. Their plan, after all these years, was to live amongst them, take care of them for a while–in Knox’s case, tolerate them as he lounges about in this tower–then lord over them all.

“Then the rest of the world, small Ryne.”

“Let it not be said that you are impatient.”

“When you have all the time in the world, one can be lenient.” He fixed me with a funny-mocking look. “Besides, aren’t you hungry to be out there in the world instead of hiding? You have not seen the magnificent mountains of my land, nor the rolling hills and glen and kingdoms of your other brothers.”

I stared at him. “How do you know that?”

“My memory is more intact than the rest of you lot. We are the opposite, you and I. You are a blank slate with no life before, while I… well, there’s a reason I kept my memories whole. And it is to help Abbott Blake’s cause.”

“If Abbott Blake has such power, then why can’t he reshape the world by himself? And why haven’t we seen his face? While you’re at it, how about you start explaining what we are instead of the management of villagers.” He made a sound as I charged on. “Where did he come from? Why did he choose us? Why aren’t the Saints themselves intervening, or is this a part of a higher plan that you keep spouting every Sunday?”

He looked to the night sky, the clouds once again obscuring the moon and stars. He looked at me and kissed his teeth. “Well, I am glad that your brain can think after all. Our Abbott is powerful, yes, but his power is not infinite, or else he wouldn’t need us to make that future possible. We need people to believe in our story, to believe in Abbott Blake as part of that story. That is all you need to know. For now.”

Belief in religion or in something or someone powerful can spur action. It can inspire change. It can cause wars and end them before they happen. Does Abbott Blake get power from belief, then? From worship?

“We don’t know what we are,” Knox continued, “but preaching this nonsense and molding it into our own image, showing our miracles little by little, why would simple-minded peasants know if it’s true or not? So long as they’re mindlessly docile and content. The point of Wilbur isn’t to help heal. The point of Wilbur is that we are the only ones that can heal them. People will be clamoring for his little miracles, even the angry and distrustful ones.”

“And if people catch onto us, like they have done before?”

“Ealhstan and Swithin can dispatch them quickly enough.”

“What about the Saint-king? What about all the nobles who know better, those who you say are scholars and advisors? Won’t they see through our farce?”

“As Woodrow has demonstrated, we can grow our powers beyond simple parlor tricks. That’s why Abbott Blake and I approved your little projects in the first place. Do you not comprehend the power we could wield?" Knox suddenly became animated. “What if Ealhstan could do that on a grand scale? What if Woodrow can charm all the nobles even with the protection of the Saints? Or at least charm the important ones. Maybe he can influence the courts, the king’s soldiers, the king himself! Who knows what our powers can do?” He sucked in a breath, awed at the image he was imagining. “We will choose to be clean and careful, of course. But if things become bloody…? Well, whatever outcome, we come up on top.”

I wanted to say that Wilbur and Woodrow and Ealhstan won’t stand for this, but remembering how Swithin, physically stronger than Knox, ranked below Ealhstan, quivered at his mere words, I’m not so sure they have much say.

“The world is getting worse, Brother Knox. Even Wilbur isn’t sure if he can keep up with all the demands. You said it yourself, a new sickness is spreading, and it took a lot of us three just to make one cure.”

“Then we become wiser of your plans. Your mistake was charming the whole village, though I’ll allow that mistakes are part of any experiment. You could have used Brother Ealhstan or Swithin to put their powers to use. Assert dominance rather than become pathetic pacifists." Knox scoffed. “As for your other concern… the kingdoms are closing down, yes. And the villagers of this monastery seem the worst of the lot.” He made a disgusted face. “They look like scraps for the dogs. Victims of war and rebellion. But this is the best time to spread our own agenda. People want to be healed and fed, and if Wilbur can’t help feed and heal them all, then we follow nature’s way; survival of the fittest, and may the fittest survive.”

I processed what he said. I stared deep into his face and it unnerved him. At last, the road to truth. “I really thought that we were monks. All this time, I thought we were doing good. It’s just one big farce. Do the others know? Were they part of this from the start?”

“I am trying to inspire you, boy. Make you see things differently because whatever happens, it is that future you are on.”