Chapter 18
From the shadows of the cathedral’s stable, Marcus frowned out dubiously at the streets baking in the midday sun. Around him, the Paladins assigned to Corelyn County made their preparations, packing away additional supplies from the city and taking their horses back out. Many came to him with questions, and he could feel the tense undertones delivered with each one. It was not the same tension that they had held upon their entry to the Sorcerous Kingdom.
With their objectives in hand and life in the Sorcerous Kingdom awaiting them, none of them wished to be deemed unsuited for their duties. They did not voice their thoughts on the existence of the Sorcerer King, but a quiet sort of conviction had settled over the entire contingent, speaking volumes on its own. There were surely many odd customs and practices in this foreign land, but no one wished to leave. Rather than leaving, they would fight to remain a part of it.
Knowledge changed so much, yet so little at the same time. Their duties did not differ in light of potentially world-changing revelations, neither did the tenets of their faith or the routines that lay ahead of them. All that was to be done was to carry on as always.
“That look does not become you, Captain Marcus.”
“What look do you speak of, Captain Lorenzo?”
“You have become too introspective by far since coming here,” Lorenzo told him as he entered from the corridor. “There is much to think on, to be sure, but I do not believe that this brooding look will serve you well in your role as Captain in Corelyn County.”
Was there truly a need for two captains? If anything, it spoke of Bishop Austine’s plans for expanding the temple staff in the Sorcerous Kingdom. Not only would they have multiple Squires for every Temple Guard, but hundreds of Acolytes were being trained between all of the temple’s facilities across the duchy. Most of it was being done in Corelyn County, where the greatest population of the faithful resided.
The numbers presented in his assignment currently had a single ordained member of the clergy for every five thousand of their faithful, which was a dire ratio indeed. It was hoped that, at their projected rate of training, they would have a priest for every thousand of their present-day congregation within the next five years, then a new class of Acolytes graduating every year following. This was assuming that the Theocracy did not send any further assistance.
Like Acolytes, Squires took roughly the same amount of time to complete their training, but they required far more personal attention than their priestly counterparts. The new Paladin Order could only ordain one set of Squires every five years, but their ranks would still reach a respectable size within two generations. They didn’t even have a name for the Order yet, despite the ambitious undertaking.
“How much information was included in your assignment about Corelyn County?” Lorenzo asked.
“Not much, to be honest,” Marcus answered. “We learned more about the territory by travelling through it, which I suspect was the intent. It was a strange, yet eye-opening experience. They lack so much that we take for granted in the Theocracy, yet it appears that their faith shines all the brighter for it. There are none of the brash and audacious attitudes we might expect out of the insular common folk of the Theocracy; none of the aggression against heretics, infidels and inhuman races. It is strange – as if we have stepped through a mirror into another world, yet these people are undeniably our faithful.”
Lorenzo slowly nodded, stroking his moustache. Marcus did not know just how much his old friend had come to believe, but his response to the Bishop indicated that at least some of the thoughts that passed through Marcus’ mind had also gone through his.
“In that case,” Lorenzo said, “what will you do? I admit that I had a fairly good sense of what we would be doing in any event, but my approach to things feels so hollow now.”
“You too, eh? I only have rough ideas now, to be honest. Bringing the ideologies and attitudes from the seminaries and military academies of our home will probably not work very well here. In their daily lives, these people have learned to practice their faith in a way that is alien to us. Their culture…so much is familiar, yet it is not the same. It is probably best to stick to the simple things, else I might end up stumbling around like a fool.”
“That might be for the best,” Lorenzo smirked. “I will also be doing more watching and listening than anything else here in the city, relying on the experience and knowledge of the temple staff. You will have the advantage in this, I think – not only will there be temple staff to rely on, but you may be able to consult with Countess Corelyn on many things.”
His thoughts paused at the mention of their mysterious benefactor. Loved by all; respected by all; she was held up in the same way that a figure from legends might be. This was exceedingly rare considering that she was certainly no great warrior, magic caster, or leader of armies. Going by everything he had heard of her, she was simply a Noble whose rule had brought great prosperity to her lands and people.
“After our encounter with Baroness Gagnier,” Marcus said, “I am wary of meeting any other Nobles here – especially Countess Corelyn. Gagnier was no mere aristocrat; no simple bureaucratic functionary: she commanded impressive Skills and Abilities, as well.”
“Well, she seemed nice enough to me. You will also not be able to avoid meeting Countess Corelyn in your position. Tell me: what have you heard of her?”
“Not much. Despite the praise and respect of her people, she appears to be just as unassuming as her subjects. There are no statues or monuments raised in her honour. The development of her lands seems to be entirely for the sake of her people and their prosperity. Before coming here, I heard tales of the prideful, selfish and ignorant nobles of Re-Estize, yet I have noted nothing of the sort here. If not for the banners one occasionally sees in her territory, it would be easy to forget that Countess Corelyn exists.”
Like her people, Countess Corelyn seemed to live a life straight out of the scriptures. The wisdom and prudence of her rule were akin to a gently flowing river that nurtured the land.
“Unlike you,” Lorenzo told him, “I am far more curious. Did you know she already has an epithet? One earned by the time she turned fourteen.”
“I did not. What is it?”
“The Radiant Jewel of the Riverlands.”
Marcus frowned, unsure what to make of it. It was so lofty that it sounded sarcastic. The type of moniker one would attach to a willful brat born into wealth and privilege. A veiled insult.
“And just who came up with this name?” He asked, “Her subjects seem to adore her so much that anyone heard uttering this epithet would probably be set upon and beaten.”
“Usually, one would think so,” Lorenzo answered, “but it is a name spoken in earnest. She started helping with House Corelyn’s duties at the age of eight, and she was considered a blessing upon the land by the time she was fourteen.”
“If that is the case, then the Temples would have surely taken note of her. Did they have anything to say of her aptitudes? Her bloodline?”
“It does not seem to be anything outstanding,” Lorenzo said. “She is from merchant stock, her house founded during the time of the Great Seeding. Her father was an excellent administrator, and she received the best education possible from both her house and the Temples. Her family has worshipped The Six since before the time of the Demon Gods. Beyond her remarkable personal development, there is one other notable thing: her eyes.”
“Are they red?” Marcus was suddenly curious.
“No, but they are amethyst.”
Red eyes were one of the recognizable physical traits that suggested divine blood flowed through someone’s veins. There was a folk saying, however, that red eyes and amethyst eyes were caused by the same thing. Marcus wasn’t certain of the truth of this saying, but it would explain much about the mysterious noblewoman.
“If she were trained in some martial or caster vocation,” Marcus said, “we would know for sure.”
“If that were the case,” Lorenzo replied, “her accomplishments thus far would be nonexistent. Not everything is founded in strength.”
“Yet it is strength that allows one to maintain a hold on their accomplishments.”
“How convenient that the Sorcerer King with his mighty armies should show up, hm?”
It was convenient – convenient enough that it was probably not a coincidence. With so much to consider, Marcus couldn’t tell one piece of the puzzle from another, or what its completed form looked like. His heart ran in one direction while his mind raced everywhere over the possibilities that rose with their recent discoveries.
Lorenzo reached out to clap him hard on the shoulder. Armoured as he was, Marcus could barely feel it.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“You have that brooding look about you again,” Lorenzo told him. “Time to get busy so you have less time to think. I will be looking forward to your report at the end of the week.”
With a sigh, Marcus reached out for his horse’s reins. He scanned the cathedral grounds.
“Have you seen Alessia?” Marcus asked.
“I think she is preparing herself to greet the Vicar,” Lorenzo answered. “Will you be speaking with her before you leave?”
From an orphan girl to a Knight of Altamura. Now, she is adjutant to a Vicar. What happened to the time between?
“No,” Marcus shook his head. “It is as you said, old friend: all Squires must go their own way someday. Make sure she does not start a war before I come back to deliver my first report.”
He led his mount out to where his new subordinates awaited. Fortunately, leaving E-Rantel was much easier than getting in. Taking a deep breath of the fresh air outside the walls, he did not look up at the massive statues flanking the gate.
What was really going on here? His thoughts and feelings were still a tangle from the deluge of information they had taken in on their journey. If it was truly the case, how was it that only one of The Six had returned to the world? Had the others appeared elsewhere – perhaps in the Theocracy itself? Marcus hoped that this was the case, else there would be troubles brewing.
Though known as a single faith, the Faith of The Six was divided into sects for each of their gods. The High Council had one Cardinal that served as a representative for each sect, but beneath that, things were not so even. Surshana was known as the strongest of The Six: the one most revered…and feared. All worshipped him to some degree, for he was the one who stood at the end of life to render his judgement over their souls.
If Surshana had returned and the other gods had not, it would create an imbalance between the sects as more and more people shifted in their convictions to become his adherents. As for what it would look like, well, he supposed that Corelyn County would be the ideal image. It was peaceful, prosperous and the people appeared to live their lives happily…but Marcus couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the other sects. Those in the Theocracy would certainly not diminish quietly into nothingness.
His contingent passed the crossroads, making good time towards Corelyn Harbour. To both sides of the southern highway, vineyards laden with ripe fruit stretched out to the horizon. The harvest was already underway, with most of those at work being Human. Soul Eaters with wagons awaited their loads on the roads running through the landscape, while the occasional Death Knight patrol made its rounds.
The Paladins entered Corelyn Harbour early in the afternoon, their pace slowing as they made their way through the pedestrian traffic on the way to the temple complex. Chatter rose from the contingent behind him. The Paladins speculated over what sorts of homes they had been granted, the personalities of the youths who would become their new Squires, and how the locals would receive them.
It was a good sign – one that spoke of their focus shifting to the task ahead.
A thin man in a scapular with black trim greeted him in front of the temple.
“Welcome back, Brother Marcus,” he said. “Or should I be addressing you as ‘Captain Marcus’?”
“Brother Marcus is fine,” he replied. “I would rather not be seen as putting on airs. Those who seek me for my capacity here as Paladin Captain will know who I am.”
“Of course,” the Priest nodded. “Are you in need of any directions?”
“There is no specific order to our assignment,” Marcus said, “but I suppose we should get settled down first. The caravaneers took care of our mounts the last time we came through here – where should we be keeping them now?”
“A pasture has been set aside for them outside the city walls. Since you’re looking to get them taken care of first, we should introduce you to your new Squires.”
Marcus looked around the front of the temple grounds. The Priest motioned to one of the Acolytes nearby, who nodded at his instructions and left towards a nearby building.
“They’re in the seminary at the moment,” the Priest told him. “Classes have just resumed.”
“I was not aware that our Squires were already picked out for us.”
“Perhaps it is better to call them Squire candidates. While we cannot begin their martial training without you, we can still start on their temple education. It wouldn’t do to have a Squire that can’t read or write, or has not been properly grounded in the tenets of the faith.”
“A prudent course of action,” Marcus nodded, “though I half-wonder if we should be attending some classes as well. There are more than a few differences that I have noted in how things are done here.”
“I’m not sure how the instructors would feel about it,” the Priest’s lips curved into a thin smile. “Almost all of them are younger than anyone in your group here. It might be awkward, to say the least. Rest assured, we will do our best to help you with whatever we can, so please do not feel pressured to conform to our ways. I dare say that we’re curious about how our brethren from the Theocracy conduct themselves.”
To their north, the door to the seminary opened, unleashing a small crowd of boys and girls. Their eyes lit up at the sight of Marcus and his Paladins – he had forgotten they were still fully equipped. The group swarmed around them, and more than a few reached out to touch their pristine cloaks and gleaming armour.
This much is the same, at least.
He wondered how their training would go. Each of them would be taking on two or three Squires, but it seemed that their temple education was still ongoing. Traditionally, Squires learned how to read and write before beginning their martial training as a Paladin. Schooling was continued at the local temple where their Paladin was assigned. There were twenty-nine Paladins assigned to Corelyn County, with two assigned to each of its fourteen baronies. Marcus was permanently stationed in Corelyn Harbour in his role as captain.
As he sent his contingent and the gaggle of Squire hopefuls off to tend to their horses, the Head Priest came out of the Temple entrance.
“Did I–oh! Good, I didn’t miss you.”
“Is something the matter?”
“Lady Corelyn requested your presence upon your return from the city.”
Marcus froze. He knew he would have to see her at some point, but he felt woefully unprepared at this juncture.
“Right now?”
“It was a request, not a demand. Is there some pressing matter you must attend to?”
He glanced at the retreating figures of his contingent and the children surrounding them. If they were headed out of the town to some pasture, they wouldn’t be back for some time yet. He was woefully unaccustomed to the ways of the aristocracy, and it was said that those of the northern lands were steeped in customs and traditions that were either no longer practised in the Theocracy or new ones and unfamiliar ones that had independently developed since its founding.
A ‘request’ may as well have been a demand, for the nobility stood near the pinnacle of authority. They had already had a taste of this when encountering Baroness Gagnier. The young noblewoman did not wield her power with brute force, but with a soft hand and a silken voice. Despite this, her skill and charisma were unmistakable. He could only wonder what this veritable monster of a High Noble could bring to bear.
“Have you any idea what this request is about?” He asked.
“A greeting, I believe,” the Head Priest answered. “She wishes to make an acquaintance of the Captain of her County’s Paladins.”
“Then I suppose I should get it over with – with all due respect, of course.”
“Relax, Brother Marcus,” the Head Priest smirked. “I have known Countess Corelyn since she was a little girl. She won’t bite unless you do something reprehensible or exhibit gross incompetence.”
“Seeing all that she has accomplished here, I fear that my best would be considered incompetent.”
Marcus looked around, belatedly realizing that his horse had been taken away.
“We can call for a Soul Eater to deliver you to Castle Corelyn,” the Head Priest offered.
“Er…I believe I will walk,” Marcus replied. “I could use the time to collect my thoughts.”
He strode east across the plaza, past the town hall and up the stairs onto the highway. Gazing down at the port district as he walked along, Marcus attempted to put together some sort of coherent greeting.
What little experience he had escorting important persons involved little in the way of conversation. The rest of his service as a Paladin involved fighting Demihumans in various places and maintaining security along the Theocracy’s border with the Katze Plains. There was surely nothing interesting about that – at least not to a High Noble.
On the fortress island, two Death Knights and two Human footmen stood at the gate leading west to Corelyn Castle. After a thorough inspection of his credentials, he was allowed entry. Another footman met him inside the door, but rather than lead him through the gardens to the pristine white castle beyond, he bid Marcus follow him up the gatehouse. They walked south atop the wall until they entered a tower overlooking the river.
The footman stood aside, gesturing towards the stairwell.
“My lady awaits,” he said.
Marcus removed his gauntlets and his helm, tucking them under an arm. He tried flexing the tension from his cold fingers to no avail. Taking a deep breath, he mentally rehearsed his greeting, becoming increasingly dissatisfied over how insufficient it felt. His steps echoed up the tower as he made his way up the dim stairwell.
He squinted as he made his way back out into the sunlight, then his eyes widened and his steps ceased.
With a single glance at the figure awaiting him, Marcus’ greeting flew from his mind. His breath caught in his throat and his pulse started to hammer in his ears.
Before him stood a tall, slender woman adorned in rich cobalt silks. The silver lace lining her dress glimmered in the daylight, and a matching shawl ran trailed from her arms to trace the line of her hip. He followed the graceful curve of her pale neck to find a pair of brilliant amethyst eyes looking back warmly into his. The sun overhead played over her lustrous waves of blonde hair, crowning her in golden radiance.
This is no monster; no jewel – cold and hard and sharp. This is an Angel made flesh!
The woman took his fingers gently in hers, and her dulcet tones drifted through the wind.
“Welcome, Captain Marcus,” she smiled warmly. “I am Clara Odilia Dale Corelyn, Countess of Corelyn. It brings me joy beyond measure that our brothers and sisters in the faith have finally come to join us in our humble home. You are most welcome here, Brother, and I look forward to what the future holds in store for us.”
Marcus looked down at the soft fingers wrapped around his calloused ones, feeling the heat of her touch. His mind was still blank, mouth working silently as he failed to coax out a reply. Finally, he genuflected before her, hands still gripping hers.
“I am at your service, my lady.”
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