The straw at the end of the broom sticks scraped at the almost non existent dust particles of the marble staircase, the street worker let out a deep breath as the summer sun baked his skin. Turning an eye to the Kappadosian docks at the edge of the city, he took in the scenery of his home. Sixty seven years of service to the various lords, celates and militants that call the regional capital home. To gaze at the city from the highest point, the Temple of Tzarvin whose marble frame stuck proudly on the hill. Higher than the remaining flatlands of which the city was built, even higher than the castle which housed the vassals to the Emperor himself. To clean here, to properly serve here was a privilege not fit for a lowley slave or a serf but a true believer such as himself. It was his burden to carry for the Great Way. Lost in the thought of days passed the worker remained until the sound of the sabatons smacked into the marble staircase. With a bow of his torso, he greeted the duo, "May he watch over you, Honorable Masters and Seras." The men-at-arms did not offer the man a single glance as they stepped past, "Until the time of paradise." They replied.
The Celate gazed upon himself from the sparkle of the fitting room. The young man preacher of gospel stood idly as Altalar slaves applied his robes and took his fit. A recent graduate of the college of Etosil, recently appointed to the task of serving the capital of Kappados. It did not come without any burden, as he quickly learned. "Enough, enough. Adorn my vestment, I am out of time." He barked out. The master scoffed, his first real appointment, his first real challenge and he was late. Dressed in white robes of the homeland, with a crimson vestment as the season dictated, the celate placed the gray veil of prayer upon his brow as he stepped into the incense hall. The odor was almost blinding, stinking his nostrils as he took a deep inhale and began to pace through the walkway.
A passing glance to the crowd, to those who have come in mourning offering prayers and offerings to departed or ill relatives, the boastful who have made this haji in thanks of their success, and the faithful who sit quietly at the marble altars. "Lively today." he thought, while expected at any Aetosian temple today was not the day to have a flock present. From the afternoon sunlight descented two men, covered in plate armor with the Eye of the Everwatcher marked into their chest pieces. Their Burgundy capes flapped in the wind, "Good celate, we have heard the summons." The man approached the two and offered a dip of his person. "Thank you for your quick arrival, please follow me. It is this way."
The riddled man hunched over in his dark room, despite the summer heat aroding everything he was shivering. The elder stretched and flexed his fingers before curling them inward as a ball of fire erupted between his hands. "Yes, yes, yes! I can feel it, this warth, this love!" The hunched man collapsed on the floor as tears fell down his face, his sunken eyes latched onto the fruit of his labor. "They say- They say, oh they say but I was right. I am- I have perfection in me oh yes, oh yes." He rattled off, "I have the key to the sky and earth, not even-" he was cut off as the heavy metal door swung open. The creaking of its iron frame echoed to and fro in the dungeon cell. It was almost maddening to the elder as he screamed, scratching at the floor and then his scalp. "Stop, stop, stop it! Stop it!" He trembled, shaking on the stone floor for what seemed like an eternity before he finally gained the strength to crane his head to the door. "Ah! Good Seras', you've come. I knew they would listen, I knew, I knew!" he babbled as he brought himself to his knees. "I… I told them I had perfected it, Sebastian had spoken to me! The hand of the divine itself!" he echoed out to the two men at arms, their vague silhouette only being illuminated by the torch light held by the second man in the doorway. It did not matter to the elder, as he scrambled out and flexed his fingers. "See, see I told them all-" Another ball of flames erupted at his fingertips as he ran it across the wall. "The new one, the new celate. He destroyed my notes but I recorded it all here. Every transaction."
The ball of flames skidded across the wall, exercising the pure darkness and revealing entire books of writings etched into the stone. He began to turn around, a smile on his decrepit, wald twisted face. "It's all here, together we can save-" he was silenced as the crippling pressure dove into his chest. He hunched inwards more as his gaze lowered to the Knight's sword planted half way into his chest. He moved without missing a single second, the Sera yanked the sword backwards and re-took his position. "Until Paradise, Celate." he muttered with a look of cold determination which bled through the sparse torch light. Without offering a chance of recovery the Sera re took his stance and the last thing the decrepit, old celate saw was the blade arching towards his neck before he fell into the pool of darkness.
The Sera stepped away, offering one last glance at sin before leaving. "Without hesitation, nothing I would expect less from a freshly veteraned Knight, Lord Spathous." The young celate offered to the first knight as the group went to depart.
"We all carry our burdens for the Great Way."
The Celate gazed upon himself from the sparkle of the fitting room. The young man preacher of gospel stood idly as Altalar slaves applied his robes and took his fit. A recent graduate of the college of Etosil, recently appointed to the task of serving the capital of Kappados. It did not come without any burden, as he quickly learned. "Enough, enough. Adorn my vestment, I am out of time." He barked out. The master scoffed, his first real appointment, his first real challenge and he was late. Dressed in white robes of the homeland, with a crimson vestment as the season dictated, the celate placed the gray veil of prayer upon his brow as he stepped into the incense hall. The odor was almost blinding, stinking his nostrils as he took a deep inhale and began to pace through the walkway.
A passing glance to the crowd, to those who have come in mourning offering prayers and offerings to departed or ill relatives, the boastful who have made this haji in thanks of their success, and the faithful who sit quietly at the marble altars. "Lively today." he thought, while expected at any Aetosian temple today was not the day to have a flock present. From the afternoon sunlight descented two men, covered in plate armor with the Eye of the Everwatcher marked into their chest pieces. Their Burgundy capes flapped in the wind, "Good celate, we have heard the summons." The man approached the two and offered a dip of his person. "Thank you for your quick arrival, please follow me. It is this way."
The riddled man hunched over in his dark room, despite the summer heat aroding everything he was shivering. The elder stretched and flexed his fingers before curling them inward as a ball of fire erupted between his hands. "Yes, yes, yes! I can feel it, this warth, this love!" The hunched man collapsed on the floor as tears fell down his face, his sunken eyes latched onto the fruit of his labor. "They say- They say, oh they say but I was right. I am- I have perfection in me oh yes, oh yes." He rattled off, "I have the key to the sky and earth, not even-" he was cut off as the heavy metal door swung open. The creaking of its iron frame echoed to and fro in the dungeon cell. It was almost maddening to the elder as he screamed, scratching at the floor and then his scalp. "Stop, stop, stop it! Stop it!" He trembled, shaking on the stone floor for what seemed like an eternity before he finally gained the strength to crane his head to the door. "Ah! Good Seras', you've come. I knew they would listen, I knew, I knew!" he babbled as he brought himself to his knees. "I… I told them I had perfected it, Sebastian had spoken to me! The hand of the divine itself!" he echoed out to the two men at arms, their vague silhouette only being illuminated by the torch light held by the second man in the doorway. It did not matter to the elder, as he scrambled out and flexed his fingers. "See, see I told them all-" Another ball of flames erupted at his fingertips as he ran it across the wall. "The new one, the new celate. He destroyed my notes but I recorded it all here. Every transaction."
The ball of flames skidded across the wall, exercising the pure darkness and revealing entire books of writings etched into the stone. He began to turn around, a smile on his decrepit, wald twisted face. "It's all here, together we can save-" he was silenced as the crippling pressure dove into his chest. He hunched inwards more as his gaze lowered to the Knight's sword planted half way into his chest. He moved without missing a single second, the Sera yanked the sword backwards and re-took his position. "Until Paradise, Celate." he muttered with a look of cold determination which bled through the sparse torch light. Without offering a chance of recovery the Sera re took his stance and the last thing the decrepit, old celate saw was the blade arching towards his neck before he fell into the pool of darkness.
The Sera stepped away, offering one last glance at sin before leaving. "Without hesitation, nothing I would expect less from a freshly veteraned Knight, Lord Spathous." The young celate offered to the first knight as the group went to depart.
"We all carry our burdens for the Great Way."
