Now that he was putting an effort into it, it took him no time at all to slip away into the darkness of a nearby alley. When his pursuer finally made it past the last line of hanging clothes, he whipped his head so fast in search of Ren, that he might’ve gotten whiplash damage. Watching in quiet observation, as the man tried to decide which path to follow, Ren remained still. He had decided to let him live, but a small part of him terribly wished the man would choose to come into the alley he was hiding in. Afterall, no one could blame him if he had to defend himself, right?
It was with a disappointed sigh that he came out of the shadows minutes later, turning around and heading on a direct course to his residence building. In the day’s light, the damage to the streets from the assassin attack in the district was more impactful. But the Temple was well funded and run, because he saw carpenters hard at work, repairing doors and windows. On the streets, stonemasons worked with mages to repair the damaged sections and he watched as section after section returned to pristine condition in no time.
When he got back to his building, he nodded at the craftsmen working to replace the damaged front doors, stepping around them to enter the residence. During the confusion of last night, he had not paid great attention to the lobby, but he noticed several tiles had already been replaced, and some walls had suspiciously brighter paint than their neighbors. The Temple was doing its best to move past the inglorious night’s events.
The hallways looked deserted, save for the crisp sounds of metal meeting wood, as the carpenters worked to fix broken sections. Up the stairs he went and in no time he reached his floor without encountering other residents. He supposed the majority of the night’s survivors had already left the building, which suited him just fine—hopefully the showers would be free and he wouldn’t have to wait to use it.
When he reached his door, he spent a few seconds inspecting its handle and seams for unexpected poisons or traps. Finding nothing, he listened carefully, searching for any breaths or heartbeats on the other side. Still finding nothing, he opened the door a crack and stepped inside, rolling away at an angle in one fluid motion. When no attacks came, he still scanned the room intently for the next few breaths before walking up to shut the door.
With the room secured, he pulled off his clothes and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist before glancing across the room to his bandaged image in the mirror. By now, the wound was completely healed, but he left the bandages on to not raise unnecessary alarm. Everyone seemed to treat him as a mortal human, and Ren preferred it to stay that way. Better to be underestimated. He left his room for the shower, leaving a small sprinkling of salt behind the door. This way when he came back, it would be easy to tell if someone had been snooping in his room.
His shower was uneventful, and when he got back to his room everything was as it should be. So he quickly got changed in preparation for the Memorial. He had heard the toll of the Temple Bells while he was in the shower, so he knew he had less than an hour before the event began. A soft knock at the door drew his attention, but before he could wonder who was on the other side, he heard a familiar voice.
“Ren?” there was worry in her voice when he didn’t immediately answer. “Are you in there?” She pounded harder on the door, making him smile as he walked to open the door. He opened the door to see her with her fists raised to knock some more.
“Hi Kala. I was just on my way to the Memorial Ceremony. Wanna come with?” he asked with a smile, getting a dimpled one in return.
“Oho,” she grinned. “You look terrible! Why did you let someone use you as a pin cushion?”
He raised a brow. “You’re one to speak. Last time I saw you, I could’ve sworn you weren’t one-eyed.” She laughed at his joke, her smile was as enchanting as ever, despite the bandage above her right eye. She also had a slight limp that Ren didn't remember, but it looked like whatever injuries she received in last night’s fight were mostly healed.
“Ok, ok,” she giggled. “It’s good to see you too. And yes, I was just heading to the Main Temple myself.”
“Perfect. Give me a moment.” Before she could answer, he slammed the door so she wouldn’t see how he disabled the poisoned blades hidden within the slit in his mattress where he had stashed his loot. Grabbing the bag holding his coins, rings and assassin bracelets, he secured it to his waist and re-adjusted the mattress to hide any signs of the evidence.
He opened the door to an unamused Kala. “Bleeding stones! You are more wound up than a caged molerat!” Her raised eyebrow fixed on the jingling sac suspended from his waist. “And not to crush your dreams, but there’s hardly any room for bards and troubadours at a Temple memorial for the dead.”
“Really?” He shook his head, a touch of disappointment in his voice. “Well, that's a missed opportunity then.”
She threw her hands theatrically up into the air. “That’s what I say!” She leaned against the doorframe, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “All jest aside though, what’s in the bag and why are you bringing the rattling mess with you?”
“Just some knick-knacks I’m trying to sell.”
Kala only snorted at his response. “Fine, keep your secrets. But we better leave if we hope to get decent seats for the memorial.”
Together, they left the building, heading towards the Grand Central Temple. But first, they both agreed to stop at Zainab’s bakery for some food. They made small talk along the way, never quite broaching the previous night. Eventually, Kala bit her lips and decided to ask the questions on her mind.
“So … Ren, why did you sneak away from my room last night? I thought you were satisfied,” she said with a playful smirk.
“Oh it was fun,” he winked. “But I heard the sounds of battle and went to investigate what was going on. Plus seeing you put on your armor was very distracting. I left before I lost control and tried to pull you back into bed.”
“Next time, just do that instead. That way, I would only wake up sore the next morning, and not with a bandage over my damn eye,” she complained as they moved a step forward in the line at the bakery. “Seriously though, it was brave of you, but also very stupid. I was telling you to stay put in the room because I suspected the attackers would be using essence techniques and by the look of that bandage on your chest, you don’t currently have any.” She poked his bandaged chest to make her point and Ren played along, wincing slightly.
“I’ll keep that in mind for next time,” he replied, rubbing his chest as they finally reached the front of the line. Ren stepped forward and ordered multiple loaves of garlic-knots and watered wine from the store. He also got some fig cakes on Kala’s request, before leaving the store. They munched on their snacks in silence for a bit, occasionally stepping aside as a carriage rode past towards the central Temple. After drinking from her wine flask, Kala spoke up again.
“I also saw you try to fight your way towards me last night. That was sweet but unnecessary. I am an Acolyte of the Luminous Temple and I have been trained to perform my duty. It would have been annoying having to light a candle for you, especially if you died doing something so stupid,” she swept her bangs behind her ears, avoiding Ren’s face. “But thank you all the same.”
Ren was confused, having no idea what she was talking about. His memory of the previous night’s events was still spotty at best. However, he could not see any logical reason why he would have been trying to save her. That didn’t sound like him at all! Still, from the look she was giving him, he realized she was waiting for a response from him. Hmm, he figured his best bet was a noncommittal answer. Maybe sprinkled with some humor?
“No need to thank me, Kala,” he said mischievously. “I was just getting closer so I could be the first to grab your Saber, if you lost the fight.”
Kala stared at him incredulously for a few moments before bursting into a full belly laugh. She doubled over, laughing so hard that she had tears coming out of her eyes. Ren chuckled along, happy that she found his sense of humor hilarious. Kala shoved his shoulder playfully when she regained her bearing and shook her head as they continued on their way to the Temple. “You’re lucky you have a handsome face. I would have punched it in otherwise,” she giggled.
The streets were getting more crowded the closer they got to the Grand Temple and by the time they got past the Temple gates, Kala had to hold Ren’s hand to prevent them from being separated in the sea of people. Ren was very alert as they made their way deeper into the Temple complex. He had already spotted numerous enterprising pickpockets, and had broken a few curious hands that tried slipping into his pockets, eliciting yelps of pain from the startled cutpurses. By the time Kala glanced back to see what was happening, Ren had already shoved away from the petty thieves, sending a reassuring smile her way.
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Up ahead, Ren saw Acolytes directing the throng of people into different sections where seats were arranged facing a central stage. There was also a large presence of Temple guards patrolling the streets. The guards all wore stern expressions as they surveyed the bustling crowd for threats, breaking up the occasional fight and generally keeping the peace. Dressed in Temple colors of deep reds, yellow and white, they made a stark contrast to the smaller group of guards Ren noticed making separate patrols.
These guards wore chainmail armor with open faced helmets, and carried short spears and shields. One and all, they reminded Ren of the specialized military units he trained with back on Earth, with the thousand yard stare and calm confidence of seasoned warriors. The blue capes on their backs bore the image of a majestic Iroko tree surrounded by a ring of fire. Kala informed him that only the Village Lord and her people were allowed to use that symbol, indicating that these were her personal guards.
“We’d better go get our seats,” Kala said, speeding up as they were ushered by an Acolyte towards a section of chairs, after a quick search and registering their weapons. The Acolyte cast a spell, enveloping their weapons in a gray film, artificially dulling the blades and making them unwieldy. He explained that it was a temporary effect that would be removed automatically after the Memorial ended.
“Hurry up, I want to have a clear view of Village Lord Bethshe when she speaks,” Kala said excitedly, pulling Ren along. He smiled to himself, as he let her lead the way while he admired the diversity of the crowd. The seats were filled based on arrival, rather than social class it seemed. He saw men and women in the finest silks and robes, seated next to people dressed in rags. The former seemed uncomfortable and kept their distance as much as possible. The latter however, held their heads tall, enjoying the opportunity to rub elbows with the pretentious nobles.
When Ren mentioned this to Kala, she laughed and informed him that no noble worth their salt would ever allow commoners to fraternize with them. She pointed the real nobles in the crowd to him and he realized that they all had a perimeter of house guards seated around them to give an added layer of security and separation from the commoners. The “nobles” he previously pointed out were actually just rich merchants and businessmen.
“Now that I think of it, I bet the Grand High Priest’s office will be receiving lots of complaints after this ceremony.” Kala frowned a bit, scanning the noble’s she could see and discreetly pointing at a woman in a purple dress. “Lady Sif of House Kramos is notoriously impossible to deal with. She married into a minor noble house a few dozen years ago but she is quick to remind everyone that she is a Lady and should be treated as such. See the disgust on her face? There is zero chance she doesn’t complain about the ‘conditions’ she is being forced to endure”
Ren chuckled a bit too loudly, getting an elbow to his ribs from Kala reminding him to be discreet. The middle aged woman seated to Ren’s right chuckled along, seeing Kala’s reaction to Ren’s immaturity.
“The Acolyte’s right, you know.” the well dressed woman chimed in. “You do not want to be on Lady Sif’s bad side, I should know. My family had been providing House Kramos with exotic textiles and jewelry for years without any issue. A few months ago while delivering a package, an apprentice of mine returned with his back bloodied from being whipped at the post. She sent him back with a letter asking me to train my apprentices better. His offense being that he did not bow low enough when greeting her. I would have cut all ties with the Kramos family if not for the long standing business relationship and a family elder stepping in to smooth things over.”
“Hmm, I think I remember hearing about that story,” Kala’s eyes widened in recognition as she looked at the distinguished woman. “Mistress Yvonne of the Freewood Mercantile Family?”
“That would be me,” the woman chuckled with a tilt of her head. “Huh. It does feel good to be recognized. Maybe I was too harsh on Lady Sif” she joked, getting chuckles from both Kala and Ren.
Kala went on to excitedly chat with Mistress Yvonne about her business and the latest fashion trends coming into the Village. Ren, not having much to contribute to the discussion, leaned back in his chair to allow the two women to better converse with each other. A small smile appeared on his face as he noted the excited look on Kala’s face and the animated way she debated the pros and cons of the latest exotic cut of women’s combat clothing. Apparently, while it was marketed as fighting pants, she did not believe it was practical for anything more than light sparring. Who knew Acolyte Kala was a combat wear critique!
Ren glanced at the stage and noted that there were four rows of ornate chairs arranged facing the crowd. A marble podium stood proudly at center stage, facing the audience and directly behind the podium, stood two silver chairs, deceptively simple in their design but he appreciated their craftsmanship. The base of both chairs were raised so that sitting on either of them would allow a person to have an unobstructed view of the crowd and vice-versa.
One of the chairs had an image of a majestic blue tipped tree, surrounded by a burning inferno—the Village Lord’s insignia—proudly painted on its backrest. It was with mild amusement that Ren noted that the other chair had actually been modified to be inches taller than the Village Lord’s. Despite being made from the same material, the second chair seemed more like a throne with the additional intricate carvings of sutras painted in reds, yellows and white.
While the women chatted away like old friends around Ren, a Priest had taken the main stage to announce that the Memorial would be starting in the next few minutes. Ren was about to interrupt the women’s discussion to give them the update when he felt a pair of intense eyes staring at him. His head shot in the direction that he felt the stare coming from, and he was surprised to find himself staring towards the infamous Lady Sif. However, the person staring at him was a familiar young man seated a few seats away from the Lady. It was Ragnod, the first person he met in this world. The very same one who had punched him into a tree and stolen his dagger!
"Would you look at that?" he tittered in sadistic glee as he stared right back into Ragnod's surprised eyes. The cold amusement in his smile sent a shiver down Ragnod's spine, but he wasn't the only one affected by the sudden shift.
Mistress Yvonne jumped in her seat and Kala noted the sudden outburst of killing intent wafting off Ren. “What’s wrong?” she asked, following Ren’s line of sight and landing on Ragnod’s frowning face. “Do you know him?”
“...Yes, we are old friends. I lent him one of my daggers, he just hasn’t returned it yet.”
“Uh huh. Well, stop smiling like that. It’s really creepy,” Kala snorted, not buying his story for a second. “And you must apologize to Mistress Yvonne. We thought there was another attack.”
Ren turned to the merchant and bowed slightly in his seat. “Apologies Mistress Yvonne, I just got excited at seeing an old friend.”
Whatever response she would have given was interrupted as the Priest on the stage punched a fist into the air, sending a thick pillar of opalescent light into the sky. If that didn’t grab everyone’s attention, the kaleidoscope of colors it burst into sure did. On the stage, Ren noticed that everyone had taken their place. Apart from the two high chairs, the rest of the seats were taken by what he assumed were the Priests of Greendale’s branch of the Luminous Temple.
Ren had seen the belt on Priest Keta earlier in the day and it’d been dyed the customary Temple red, with two blue stripes at one end denoting her Qi cultivator level. From the few markings that he could see on the people seated up there, the highest rank on the stage were middle Qi Practitioners. He even spied Diviner Estrid conversing with a Priest who was a 6th Tier Qi cultivator. Ren’s attention was drawn back to the Priest at the Podium as he cast another spell on himself, allowing his voice to be heard far and wide. The spell was fascinating as it felt like the man was seated right next to Ren, speaking at normal volume, despite being dozens of meters away.
“Amitabha to the Sangha of the Luminous Temple,” the priest began, and waited for the crowd to send their greetings back. “I am Priest Thryban of the Temple, and I will be coordinating this Memorial event. We are all gathered here today to honor the lives of those we lost in the unprovoked attacks on Temple grounds. Before we begin, let us welcome Village Lord Bethshe”
There was mild applause as a poised woman in a gorgeous blue dress of brocade was escorted up the stage. She was of middling height and build, with luscious black hair cascading down her back. She had radiant pearls wrapped around her neck, and the diamonds in her hair glittered like stars on a dark night. Her every step was mesmerizing to Ren as he recognized the complete balance and grace she used in every movement. Her bright green eyes seemed to notice every single detail, yet she exuded a casual nobility with her posture and mere existence that put even the best dressed noble to shame. A muscular giant of a man walked a few steps behind her, a greatsword strapped to his back. The huge man’s neck swiveled constantly as he escorted her to their seats, his fingers twitching slightly as if they’d rather be wrapped around steel, than be paraded in front of everyone.
Walking right behind the huge man was another Priest and Ren’s eyes widened with interest as he noted that this man had 8 blue stripes on his red belt. So that's what the Grand High Priest looked like. The man was actually quite handsome with a square jaw and an athletic build. He sported a small goatee and mustache, trimmed to perfection. Ren’s eyes moved back to the Village Lord as she paused briefly before the two primary chairs, examining them both, before taking her assigned seat. For such a meticulous woman, he was sure that there was some political meaning to her hesitation no matter how brief, but Ren could not be bothered to read further into its meaning. The intrigue of politics never did excite him like blood and knowledge could. Next, the 7 foot hulk of a man who Ren assumed was her bodyguard, sat beside the Village Lord, placing his huge sword across his laps as he scowled into the crowd.
Ren was however very surprised to see the handsome Priest take a regular sized seat next to the huge bodyguard, ignoring the ostentatious chair obviously reserved for the Grand High Priest. This left the throne-like chair unoccupied, and Ren very confused. From all his conversations with Algor and other Acolytes he had met during his time here, he had been under the impression that apart from the Village Lord, the Grand High Priest was the only other Tier 8 Qi Cultivator in the Village. Who was this Priest then? A visiting dignitary from a settlement outside the Village? The enchanted voice of the announcer introducing the officials, drew him out of his musings.
“And now, please join me in welcoming our humble leader,” the moderating Priest at the podium paused in dramatic fashion before continuing. “Grand High Priest Harald!”