Jein sighed contently as he sank within the hot waters of the tub. The steaming waters rolled over the side of the tub and onto the floor. Some slipped into the drain in the middle of the room, but most came to rest within the grout-filled divots between the stone tiles. He then hissed as the water washed over the cuts on his fingers and palms. It had been three days since the High Priest had given him the task to enchant 5 twigs, and he had just completed his first one.
When the ink finally settled into the grooves of the twig, he felt a tingling on his back, and the Window of the World had opened up telling him that he had opened up the Sub-destiny of Novice Enchanter (0/10,000). He hadn't checked the goals for that one yet, so as he lay with his back against the rim of the tub and spoke out loud. "Goals."
Once more the Window opened up in front of him. It knew he wanted the Goals for Enchanter, so all he saw was the goals for that Sub-destiny.
[ENCHANT 5 INDIVIDUAL ITEMS
1/5
+30 XP ]
[ENCHANT YOUR SPELLS WITH 5 DIFFERENT EFFECTS
0/5
+40 XP]
[IMBUE AN ITEM WITH A SPELL
+200 XP]
[REACH APPRENTICE LEVEL
+1 FLOW]
If he just did it enough, he would be able to get an increase in Flow? It was almost impossible to raise one's stats. One could get stronger by working out their muscles every day, but that wouldn't make your Body increase a single point. One could learn to look at the smallest intricacies, but one's Sight would never increase from such rote work. He had heard it took great, and tragic ordeals to increase your stats: recovering from breaking every single bone in your body, might see the stat increase by one. Inching close to death, and one might see their Heart increase. To see a stat increase for a Sub-Destiny quest? Amazing. Were there similar awards to Alchemy?
He scrubbed with the soap, and dried with an itchy towel sat in a neat bundle near the door where none of the water could reach, and left it on the bathroom floor. As he exited, several acolytes were waiting to use it. They glanced back at him with a look of minor annoyance on their faces; but Jein didn't mind. As someone from the slums, he was used to such derision.
Before he could reach the stairs, a hand grabbed his shoulder from behind and spun him around. It was an acolyte: no older than Jein, but about a head or two taller. His hair was cropped short, and blond, and his hazel eyes gleamed with anger. A scar sat above his right eye, embedded in his thin brows. The boy pointed one of his large hands towards the bathing room.
"Clean up after yourself." The Boy demanded.
Jein looked where he was pointing, at the shimmering puddles of water on the floor. Slowly evaporating from the ground.
"Why? It'll be gone soon."
The boy rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh.
"It'll be gone because we're the ones to clean it."
Jein's eyes shot to the other acolytes waiting by the door; glaring at him. Was that the reason? He scoffed.
"Why? Water'll just be on the floor again when the next person takes a bath."
"So? We're all responsible for it's upkeep. That includes you."
Jein rolled his eyes and turned his back to walk back up the stairs. As soon as the other person sat in the tub, their waters would roll out onto the floor again, wouldn't it? What was the point of it?
The boy grabbed Jein's shoulder and tried to yank him back again. Jein spun on his heel, and shoved the boy away from him. Or tried to. Jein's arms slammed into the boy's chest as if it were a tree. The boy cocked his arm back and swung a haymaker into the side of Jein's face. The force felt like a stone had been slammed into his chin and cheek, and the smaller boy fell back onto the staircase, The larger boy stood above him and clenched his fist.
Jein let out a guttural growl, sprang to his feet and wrapped his arms around the waist of the young boy in a futile attempt to tackle him to the ground. The larger boy stood his ground and slammed his fists into the smaller's boy. All the wind was driven from Jein's lungs. The larger boy wrapped his arms over Jein's back and sat on the ground: dragging Jein with him, and slamming the top of his head on the stone ground,.
The sound of descending footsteps came from the direction of Jein's room.
"Kael!" Gillium's voice boomed down the stone hall. "Jein! Stop it at once."
"...yes, Advent." Kael said.
The pressure on Jein's ribs receded as Kael, the older boy, released his waist. Jein's legs came crashing down where Kael once stood in a kind of somersault. His head spun, and Gillium bent down and touched the crown of Jein's head. Small lights danced across his vision, as the pain in his head subsided.
"What caused this?"
"This boy…" Kael pointed at Jein, still laying on the ground. "Won't clean up after himself when he gets out of the bath."
"Is that true Jein?"
"I…" His eyes spun in his head. "I don't see the point! It'll go away eventually."
"That's not the point." Gillium said. "It shows a lack of respect for the next person to come in."
"How? I don't mind when it's a bit damp!"
" 'A bit damp?' It's practically flooded!" Kael shouted.
"It'll just be like that again when someone else goes in!"
Kael groaned and very nearly kicked Jein in the ribs. It was only after a sharp look from Gillium that he retracted his
"Jein. It's about upholding order. Without everyone doing their part, systems slowly fall apart. What would happen if no one dried the floor after themselves?"
"The water would go away."
"Water doesn't just go away." Gillium corrected. "It exists as either steam, or, more than likely, it will slip into the small cracks in the stones."
"So?"
"So...if enough water sinks into the floor, it starts eating away at the soil underneath. Do you know what happens then?"
"No."
"A hole appears, and the stone tiles start to break."
"But how long would that take!"
"It doesn't matter. The point is, that you get the future you work for. If you don't start upholding order and discipline for yourself here and now, when will you start? If you don't start cultivating good habits, you'll eventually become the kind of person who ends up becoming an apostate."
"It's just a bit of water…"
"It's just a bit of water...it's just a bit of trash on the side of the road….it's just a bit of petty theft…" Gillium said as he helped Jein stand. "It's always, 'it's just a little bit of…' until you fall into disorder."
Order? Disorder? Who cared. Jein didn't. His life was full of disorder before the Ceremony — crime was rampant, his parents would lash out at the smallest infraction, and he would have to step over at least one dead body laid out in the middle of the street a week; and still he was on the path to greatness according to the destiny laid out by the Gods. He scoffed.
"If you don't believe me, fine. But as long as you're under the Cathedral's roof, you will be following the Cathedral's rules. So clean up after yourself. Take your own laundry to the rooms, and don't have other people live your life for you."
"It's not like I want to be here."
"Well, do you want food every day?"
Jein grumbled, and stomped back into the bathroom, grabbed the towel and tossed it in the middle of the puddle of water. He stepped on it, and swiped it through several times until the towel was soaked. He kicked it into the corner and began to leave the room.
"Pick up the towel as well." Gillium ordered.
He grumbled, picked up the towel and stomped out. The acolytes waiting their turn chuckled. Jein felt his blood rush to his cheek and ears.
"Take it to the hamper."
"I don't know where that is."
"Kael, you will show him."
"What? Advent I was ne—"
"We don't resort to violence as a first resort. This is one of the teachings you should have been receiving."
Kael scoffed, stomped past Jein and down the hall. As he was a few steps away he glanced back.
"Well? Are you coming?" Kael called.
Jein sighed and followed after the larger boy. Aside from the walk up to his room, the walk to the hexagonal room from it, and the bathing room, Jein hadn't seen uch of the Cathedral's living quarters. Most of it seemed to be built up, and around the temple's nave: stained glass windows hid the interior from site from the outside world — all those on the other side would see would be passing shadows.
From this side, however, one could clearly make out the figures looking up at the temple. Artists in the square, painting its beautiful visage. Men and women leading their children to the services being provided at any of the Three's temples upon the Divine Peak. Beastkin, dwarves, elves and humans each. How many people lived in Astaire? Jein had often wondered that. No matter where one went; there was no escaping people. Even on the roofs, one was bound to run into the intrepid philosopher seeking solitude.
Within these walls there were rooms carved where young adults sat, learning their trade. Men and women sitting grinding herbs together, and forming bright tinctures of red and violet, that would heal or harm. Or cause one to grow taller or shorter: he had seen these used occasionally by street performers during festivals and carnivals, and he snuck past the gates after the slum's curfew had ended.
There was a room where those destined to be Paladins — the military arm of the Church, trained with wooden swords, shields and spears. They ran drills where one attacked, and the other blocked. On and on and on this went; for who knew how many hours a day. After they were finished there, they would go learn either alchemy or enchanting, or how to channel their inner energies outward in what martial artists called Aura or Ki; depending on which part of the Seven Kingdoms one was native to.
Kael led him down another set of stairs on the opposite side of the long hallway. There they passed by acolytes and advents running up and down: carrying books, papers, empty and full vials both. How many thousands of people lived lives behind the walls of these three Cathedarals that stood upon the Divine Hill? It was impossible to say now. Jein had thought that these massive buildings stood almost empty for most of the time; but full lives were being lead just a few inches of stone from the eyes of the public. Young men and women cast longing glances at one another; they learned professions until they could set out on their own to fulfill whatever destiny the Gods had made for them. Some would raise children; some would die. All was dictated by the Father's will.
Was this not just a broader view of society? Jein was uneasy with it. Destiny was a wick, and man was the candle's flame. Once more the Warlock's words echoed in his head. Freedom. Freedom from the pull of destiny against his reins.
"Here." Kael motioned towards a pile of laundry in the middle of a room. Women were gathering up basinfuls of dirty linens. "Toss it in there."
Jein tossed the soaked towel on top of the pile.
"I would have beat you if I had been trained."
"Oh yeah?" Kael shoved Jein. "I can beat you with anything."
"Oh yeah? You only won because you're bigger. If it were a real fi—"
"It was a real fight." Kael shoved Jein, and he stumbled backward into the pile of laundry.
"Boys! No fighting outside of the sparring hall."
"Now that's a good idea…"
Kael bent down and grabbed Jein's tunic and dragged him to his feet.
"Come on." The larger boy motioned with his head. "I'll beat your ass properly."
Jein stomped after the older boy. The Cathedral was set up in an H shaped: with the top of it opening up into the divine hill where the cathedral's visitors would enter. The backside of it, however, pressed against the slope of the hill. This is where a vast majority of the living quarters were, and the ground's herb garden. Overall, the temple grounds covered more ground space than even the entire Bauder estate: most of it hidden from view behind the thick walls, and sloping hill. It was the largest of the Three temples, as it was the main hub for worship of the Father in the world.
Within the living space behind the Cathedral, was an open circle where people gathered to do combat with one another. A few were there already: Paladins in training having friendly matches with one another: their feet scuffling against the mosaic of the Seven Lights. Around this stone circle were wooden weapons of all kinds: swords, shields, daggers, spears, cudgels, and the like . Each meant for light training.
Kael walked up to the weapon rack and pulled out a wooden knife from a small pile on a table sat out specifically for throwing weapons.
"Pick whatever weapon you want, and I'll beat you with this."
Heat once more flooded Jein's vision. He wants to be like that, huh? He stomped over to the sword and shield section and took a sword off of the rack, and picked up one of the shields from the crate beside it.
The shield was a bit heavy, and he was only able to hold it up to his his chin: but it was enough to form a kind of defense. The sword wasn't heavy at all in comparison. He gave it a few practice swings. By the time he had picked out his weapons, Kael was already in the sparring ring: flipping the knife over and over in his hand.
Jein stepped into the ring.
"Is that what you choose?"
"Yes!"
"Good, then we'll start."
Candlelight burned to life beside Kael's head. He chanted something and a beam of light blared out of it, and shot into Jein's eyes. Colors danced in his vision very briefly before black overwhelmed him, and he felt his legs collapse from underneath him with a solid swipe to the side of his ankles. He crashed hard against the stone, and felt his shield be ripped from his arm. His vision returned just ever briefly before Kael's fist came slamming down into his face.