As the first light of dawn filtered through the thatched roof of his small cottage, young Barliman stirred from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, yawning widely as he sat up in his bed. It was a crisp morning in the village of Radisale, and the sounds of birdsong and autumn air drifted in through the open window.

And suddenly, he was jolted into his senses as he hit a realization.

He was already late for his initiation into the temple priesthood. He quickly donned his simple tunic and leggings. He slipped his feet into his worn leather boots and rushed out the door, his long, golden hair flying behind him.

His heart was racing with excitement and nerve. As he made his way through the winding streets to the High Temple, Barliman couldn't help but think of his late grandfather, who had always dreamed of seeing him become a Sant Sihahi –  warrior-priest. His grandfather's words echoed in his mind, reminding him of the responsibility and prestige that came with being chosen by the temple elders.

A smile graced his countenance as he realized he was finally going to honor his grandfather’s dream.

Despite the hurry, the extraordinary beauty that defined his village did not escape his notice.

The land Barliman grew up in was of a most wondrous nature. The colorful houses, the bustling market square, and the peaceful stream that ran through the center of Radisale all brought back memories of his childhood. Beyond, the verdant valley cradled the settlement with its gentle slopes and lush greens stretching as far as the eye could see. The forests that bordered the valley were thick and ancient, with towering trees that seemed to reach up to the heavens themselves.

But even as he admired the ethereal splendor of his home, one aspect never escaped Barliman’s notice. Throughout the valley lingered the signs of a more advanced past. Immense statues and figures could be seen jutting out from the greens, mythical and mighty in their appearance, and the buildings around them constructed of a sturdy stone that seemed far beyond the skill of the current inhabitants. And all of these were laid out with a precision that spoke of careful planning. Even now mere ruins, they still emanated unsurpassable splendor.

Barliman had always been the inquisitive type. Whereas most village folks were content to accept things as they appeared to be, Barliman sought to delve deeper, often questioning why and how their age came to be the way it was. 

He knew enough to understand the past was different, that his village had a long and storied history, but much of it had been lost to the mists of time. His parents had told him that these great ruins were the works of giants, who in their arrogance were punished by the Gods and their cities destroyed as a result. Still, Barliman couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the legacy of those who had come before. He longed to delve deeper into the secrets of this mysterious past, to uncover the wisdom and knowledge that lay hidden within the ruins of the once-great civilization of the giants.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Finally, as he approached the temple, Barliman's mood shifted as arrived at the temple gates and found them closed. The guards, two stern-faced men, stood at attention, their spears at the ready. "Ruko!" one of them barked as Barliman approached. "No one is permitted to enter the temple once the initiation had begun!"

Barliman's mind raced. He couldn't let this be the end of his grandfather’s dream.

"I am here for the initiation ceremony. Let me in," he spoke, his voice feigning a tone of authority.

“Didn’t you hear? No one is allowed once the initiation has begun.”

Barliman smiled disarmingly. "Ah, I see there has been a misunderstanding. You see, I come from a far-off village where the sun rises later than it does here. We use a different time system.”

The guards looked at him skeptically but Barilman kept his charade.

“In consideration of this, the High Temple provided a special document granting me an exception to arrive later,” Barliman stated, showing them a random piece of paper with something written on it. Under his breath, he prayed these guards, too, were illiterate like most village folks.  

The guards hesitated for a moment, looking at each other for a cue then finally relented, unlocking the gates and allowing Barliman to pass.

 Barliman couldn't believe his luck as he made his way inside the temple. But then his thoughts turned to another worry. Would the High Priest scold him for being late?

Of course, he would.

There was no way Barliman could wit his way out of that.

Nevertheless, he was eager to begin his training as a priest, to learn the ancient rites and traditions that had been passed down through generations. What was a minor scolding to that?

With a deep breath, he stepped inside the temple. The dim interior was filled with the scent of incense, and the soft glow of candlelight illuminated the ornate carvings on the walls. Barliman’s eyes carefully scanned the area. Thank the Gods. He breathed a sigh of relief. The High Priest wasn’t here yet.

Barliman took his place among the other initiates, feeling a sense of excitement and trepidation building inside him. To be initiated into the priesthood was a great honor in the village and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the station.

And as he raised his voice in prayer, Barliman knew that he was part of something much greater than himself - a legacy that had endured for centuries, and would continue to do so for many more to come.

As Barliman finished his prayer and got up, he heard a stern voice behind him. “You were late, young one. Punctuality is a virtue that we value highly in our order.”

Barliman took a gulp and turned to face the High Priest, feeling a pang of shame. “I apologize, Your Eminence. I overslept,” he said truthfully.

The High Priest's eyes softened slightly. “Very well. I take note of your honesty. You may make up the time after the morning prayers. But remember, being a Sant Sihahi requires discipline and dedication. You must take your duties seriously if you wish to succeed in our order.”

Barliman nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. He knew that the road to mastery would be long and arduous, filled with many trials and tribulations, but he was undaunted. For he had been chosen to walk this path, and he would do so with courage and steadfast determination.