“Urberer, as a monk your responsibilities are very clear. I believe in your competence and have confidence that you can recite some of these responsibilities to me.”

“Yes sir.”

“Please do so.”

“Heal the sick. Listen to the cries of the weak. Listen to the torments of the lost. Provide guidance in the way. Help bring peace and joy. Serve with honor and fulfill our duties.” Urberer repeats the statement with all the expressiveness of an inanimate golem. His tone disconnected like a person simply reciting a laundry list of facts.

“Yes. Do you feel as if you’ve been successful in this work.”

“I serve the people high priest. Yes.” His overall demeanor was distant.

“The people don’t seem to think so.” He slides the paper over to Urberer. Urberer only glances down momentarily and then resumes to stare pass Arcbin’s shoulder.

“They are entitled to their opinions sir. I serve regularly.”

Arcbin closes his eyes and then beds his chin into the palms of his hands, covering his face. He lets out a sigh and then snaps his fingers and utters “divine heat.”

That was a prayer.

Urberer shoots up immediately and begins patting his rear. The chair he was sitting in has a small flame that burns onto of the cushion. Surprisingly, the chair itself does not burn.

“Arg, Arcbin why’d you do that.”

Looking up at Urberer now “I wasn’t going to spend the next hour with you giving me the over-used, cold controlled solider-in-trouble response. I’m too old and don’t have time for that.” Arcbin then snaps his fingers and the flames disperse.

Distraction technique. Time to distract him.

“You could have burned my whole robe with me in it.”

“Quiet. You and I both know divine heat doesn’t work that way. Now sit down and talk.” He points forcefully at the chair. “What is going on?”

The old man is always to good to get distracted.

Urberer complies, sitting down.

“Arcbin, I have been working. I heal people every day. I just make sure I get enough time for the “joy” part of our work. I’m spreading peace wherever I go. What else do you want me to do?”

“Urberer. When’s the last time you’ve done confessions here.”

“All the time-“

“In the Grand Temple, in Mid-town, and specifically in high-town.”

“Well. They’re on my rotation-“

“I have 40 requisitions for confessional times from nobles alone. I have another 32 requests for people with various illnesses. Once again, this is just from the nobles. As for the merchant clans, those number numbers double.”

Urberer winces at the word “double”.

“I uh-“

“You are one of the must trusted clergymen we have. And you’re just a monk. Not a cleric. Not a priest. Just a monk. If they want your services, you give them to it. You and I both know that these people get what they want.”

“They only want me because they know I’ve never slipped one of their confidential confessions out to a competitor. And they only come to confession for three reasons! One is to brag about the horrible things they’ve done, or stupid in many cases, and the other is to look pious in front of other nobles.” The anger in his voice unhidden.

“Urberer, lets not forget that they first came to you because they trusted that you could heal them. You healed sicknesses that people had never come in contact with before here. Is it so wrong for them want to believe you can heal their heart and souls too?” Arcbin arches a brow.

“I healed the people of low-town first. The people they chose to ignore. I healed so many darn people that word eventually caught wind up here. The congregants here could have donated funds to hire a healer to stay at the orphanage in low-town. But they chose not to. If you recall high priest, I was only tasked with helping in mid-town first. High-Mid town to be more specific, where the biggest worry for them is a skin rash from wearing gold. A skin rash!? While the people in low-town struggled to work with all sorts of sickness and injuries.”

These damn nobles and merchant clans. I can’t stand them. Filthy, everyone. Urberer thought to himself in the silence that came after his outburst.

“And who do you think helps pay for the orphanage?” Arcbin begins, going in a series of rapid questions.

The run down building that freezes at night and barely keeps rain out? Urberer thought.

“For the meals”?

Meals so sparse they almost moved to a life of thievery. Urberer thought.

“The clothes?”

Tattered, faded, and non-fitting. Urberer thought.

“The water, the right to use the space? The staffing? And don’t forget about that. What about that little school you proposed. I’d never even though the merchants and nobles would ever get behind that.”

They wouldn’t have given anything I had not tutored a number of their children who were as sharp as limestone and they felt that they owed me one. Or the point that I told the merchants more educated people could make errors less, thus increasing profits. Urberer thought.

“Sure.”

“Urberer, I’m sure you do not find this perfect. You have a good heart. But we do the best we can with what we have.”

“Sir you and I know this is just a game for them.”

Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.

Arcbin doesn’t respond for a while. In the silence Urberer begins to realize just how candid he had been. He sinks a bit in his chair, a far cry from his usual carefree self.

“Urberer. There are still a few who care. Think of the Hali family. “

Urberer does not respond, choosing to keep silent.

“Urberer, I know you are not one for the web of political games that happen here. But I would assume that you at least know that the Hali family has offered tremendous help over the years.”

“Sir, I have already spoken out of my station. I prefer not to embarrass myself anymore,” his language returning to that oddly formal tone.

“Urberer, speak. Openly.”

“I think they are just another trash merchant family that should be escorted out like every other piece of flotsam that hits this city. They may do some good. But many merchants and nobles do some good. How else can they get their prestige.” He does a swooping gesture to the space behind him. “That’s why ninety percent of them come here. But at least they don’t cause a huge wave about the whole thing. Look at what the Hali family is doing.”

“You speak of the potential marriage right?”

“I speak of the calculated position they’re taking. They’re the wealthiest merchant family in this city. They have some much financial clout and ties that a noble is considering marrying their daughter? Do you know how absurd that is. We can-t. Nobles can’t do that. They have to give up their noble line if they want to marry. You and I both know that. That is the way it has been and always will be. Nobles will keep their line sacred and commoners will not dare to subvert the lawful hierarchy.” Urberer finishes in a huff. His face is red, sweat dripping from his forehead.

Arcbin does not lose his composure. In fact he only drops his voice a few octaves and leans in closer. “You know, some nobles do in fact fall in love with a commoner. They even have children.”

“Yes. Their partner ends up being a mistress and their children grow up bastards with no stake to the family name and lucky if they receive any funding. Growing up scorn and disrespected in a household that is rightfully yours? I’d wish that on no one. They’d be better off growing up in an orphanage like a number of our half-noble bastards who live there now. At least there we treat them with kindness, if not riches.”

“Don’t you think this marriage could change that? Be the opening to a new era for our kingdom? Times are changing. Our king, bless his heart, is getting as old as I am and his son will soon come to rule. His son is quite the diplomat and learned individual given his age. The coming of his reign might allow changes. And this marriage, started all the way over here from the mainland could be one rung in some of the changes.”

Urberer lets out an exhausted sigh. His tone loses the sharpness and frustration and is replaced by simple acceptance. High priest Arcbin, I just don’t believe it. I wish I could. But I don’t. It’s all a game. A game I choose not play. I’ll serve the people of low-town and do my duties here to keep the peace. But I’m not going to hope in the goodness of the rich and the noble no matter who they are. Let them play their games, give their donations and say their false prayers. I’ll stick to the truth of the streets.”

“Your heart is weary. I am sorry,” the high priest says. He stands up and walks behind his desk, looking at the bookshelves. He continues his statements, almost as an aside versus a strong direct confrontation. “You know. We hear much in this work. We know much. We know the secrets often that those of power wish to hide or share. We see the ugly of people. ….”

Arcbin picks up a book and flips it open, scanning for something. He continues his train of thought “but life has taught me to watch. That over time true character will show. Because we can’t hide from who we are.”

Arcbin claps the book closed and returns it to his shelves and begins to look at others books. He continues, “The Hali family, especially their daughter * have a long history of consistency. Perfect? No. But they never have seemed to forget their humble roots. Did you know Urberer, that discreet donations can be earmarked for certain projects.”

“Sure. This is how people get things done that help them. What about it.”

“The Hali family has always, always, earmarked it for projects that helped the less fortunate. The maintenance of the cisterns; the major reason low-town has abduant water is because of the Hali family. The shipments of fertilizer to the fields on the south-east, the Hali family. The reason the orphanage remains open even, is because of the Hali family.”

“Well the orphanage -“

“Is a thing because of them. The other merchants and nobles wanted the space removed. A number of them didn’t want bastard children coming back for a claim of the family fortune. What better way to insure that -“

“Then by dropping them into low-town and letting them die in the streets.”

“I’m sure the Hali family had to grease many palms. And probably still does.”

“So what are you saying to me high priest? That the Hali family are saints to be venerated and that they’ve no political aim?”

“No. Don’t be preposterous young man. I’m saying to watch. Sometimes. Sometimes people prove to be better than we think.” He pauses, and looks Urberer over. “Like you. I know that you could take higher roles here if-“

“Nope, not interested.” Urberer says flatly.

The high priest sighs. “Of course. Regardless, some people can surprise you in ways you’d not expect … and it worry you.”. He then pulls a chair out from underneath his desk and takes a seat. Arcbin takes a moment to read over a letter on his desk.

Urberer studies Arcbin with a curious expression. “What do you mean?”

“Georgio Wyncrest, the younger brother to Leodade, wrote me a letter.”

“The Wyncrest is the family the merchant princess is supposed to marry into, right?”

“Yes. The word is that she’d marry Leodade. Now what is interesting is that Landel advised he’d like to build both a healers clinic and a better quality orphanage in Mid-Town. What do you think of that Urberer?”

“I don’t trust it. Why, what do you think?”

“I don’t think. I know that Leodade has never showed any interest in the affairs of anyone outside of nobles and the rich. I know that he is very exacting and has an air of superiority.”

“Not unheard of.”

“Yes. I suppose you’re right…” Arcbin trails off, reviewing the letter again and again.

“What do you think he wants?”

“I honestly don’t know. He even offered to provide additional supplies to the grand temple if I backed him in this project.”

“I could only imagine that he’s trying to make it clear that he supports his family. However, at the same time, gaining the protection of the temple in case their marriage ends up in political catastrophe. He’d have an out”.

“Yes. And he’d feel he would have the temple in his back pocket by getting us behind this project. Number three.”

“Number three?”

“The third reason people come to the temple and donate. They want to use us when they feel they need to. I believe that the comment you were going to say earlier.” A smile crosses the whisper thin lips of the old high priest.

“Yes. That is what I thought.”

“And that, is why I softly declined him. Or moreso postponed. I advised the good sir that I would have to think on it.”

“And how long will you think on it?

Arcbin simply smiles, “Long enough. Long enough. And that said. We’ve been speaking long enough. You’ve quite a day ahead of you.”

Urberer stands up, pulls out a heavy coin pouch from his robe and places it on the table. Arcbin takes the coins out, counts them, and then returns a portion of them to Urberer.

“Urberer, this is for the orphanage, supplies, and what left use it for that school venture. I’d like to give you more, but I am only allowed to give you a percentage of what was raised. Raise more and more will be given.”

Urberer nods. “Sorry for my out-“

“Don’t you worry about that. It’s hard for a person to hide their true self; even more so for the good-hearted. That’s why we listen. Confessions aren’t just to be absolved of one's wrongs. Nor is it simply a place to vent frustrations. It is a place to be heard. There are fewer gifts more precious to give than to know you’ve been truly heard and understood.”

Urberer gives a well-practiced, respectful bow.

“Thank you.”

“No. Thank you Urberer.”

Urberer walks out of the room and closes the door behind himself.

I see why he’s the high priest.

****

Roderick rushes to Urberer. Crinkles run across his brow and his eyebrows are arched downward. With a quickened voice “Are you done yet?”

“Yes Roderick, what’s the problem.”

“People are still waiting for you. They almost all refused for us to see them.”

“How seriously do they need healing? Is anyone struggling to breathe? A broken limb? What do we have?”

“Gout.”

“Gout?”

“Yes. A number of the nobles and merchants are suffering from gout. I think they’ve been in competition in terms of whose banquets have the best food. I think they’ve eaten one too many rich meals.”

“Gout. I’m here to heal gout.” Urberer rolls up his sleeves.

I best get this done quick. I still need to work in low-town. And then there is that meeting…”

He walks down the hall back to the main sanctuary area. The space is still lively and looks almost as full as it did when he went to speak to the high priest.

This is going to take all day. Be nice. Be nice.

“Distinguished congregants of this esteemed temple. Thank you for your patience. It is my pleasure to be your healer and confessionaire this afternoon!” He forces a smile and a pleasant tone. “Let’s get started then, shall we?”