'Though Iasion had allowed the very core of his power to spread amongst the land through his sacrifice, to let it flourish and the natural world thrive, man soon began to revert to their more base nature. They grew to once more compete with one another, to covet that which their neighbor had built, to edge into bloody conflict. Mortal man was bereft of the counsel and wisdom of their Divinity, they did not realize their innate need for a guiding hand.
As though to exhibit just how boundless Iasion's mercy truly was, a miraculous birth took place in a village but a stone's throw from God's Fall. A child was born with small stubs upon their brow, they were the beginnings of pristine white antlers. It was clear then, that Iasion's power had come to rest within them, their very blood was blessed with the grace of the Ascended One. His name was Kalopael, silver haired and elegant, his skin a mimic of Iasion's own deep brown and eyes of sparkling emerald. When Kalopael grew old enough for speech, he spoke of hearing the voice of the divine. That self same voice they heard within the whispers of the wind, led to the youth unlocking the ability to manipulate nature, to mend injury and quell disease. It was as though they were being taught by Iasion himself. To hear the wisdom of the Ascended One so clearly, to be entrusted with Iasion's word and but a drop of his power, was a miracle.
After Kalopael, others were born, scattered like leaves across the land. Each with antlers upon their heads, each hearing the echoes of their fallen God, each possessing his power to aid their people. Their lives were then that of service to mankind as healers, mediators, and the guiding hand so sorely needed.
The individuals born of such grace were henceforth known as 'Seers of the Blessed Blood'.
At first, they remained in the villages or settlements of their birth, surrounded by kith and kin. After a time, however, it became necessary for Seers to be brought together at God's Fall to better communicate with the divine. Beneath the flourishing boughs of the towering oak tree, ever in bloom, the Citadel was established. The sacred site of God's Fall became where children of blessed blood would be brought, no matter their origin, to be instructed by other Seers and cultivated into proper guides for mankind.
Iasion's power was the mantle placed upon the shoulders of the Seers, his wisdom the crown of antlers upon their brow.
-Chronicles of the Ascended, Children of the Divine
A moment of adjusting a formerly pristine-white glove over one hand, fingers meticulously tugging the edges to straighten it. It was dirty now, wrinkled, the cloth stiff. How could it not be, considering both trudging along the open roads and the now dried blood staining it. There was no time to stop and try to wash them, though it mattered little since Pyrede would not be caught dead doing such mundane things where others could see. Not before at the Citadel and especially not now with so many eyes fixated on him. Even after specifically saying Ayleth and himself would keep watch throughout the night, there was still activity amongst those in the caravan. That too, was to be expected when one considered the trials and ordeals of both their journey thus far and the gruesome day on the road.
As he traversed the loose perimeter of the makeshift camp, he went over every detail in his head over and over. It was not only the combat that was mulled over, his own 'performance' dissected and analyzed for improvements and errors alike, though. The scrap of cloth they'd cut from one of the men, that emblem of a yellow sun against pitch black, was tucked securely into a pouch at Pyrede's side. This, this was something worth reporting and the implications made the youth's mind go wild. He and Ayleth had been sent out to check the status of outlying settlements based on rumors. The various humble little places that dotted Vrokruin's borders consisted of fishing villages, farmland and specifically sanctioned lumber yards. Hard working places, simple, but necessary. Detached from the larger towns and even more so spaced away from Aiseryn proper, regrettably news traveled at a slow pace.
Ayleth and Pyrede hadn't been the only ones on this mission. Other groups of novices their age had been dispatched in turn, for most of them it was their first foray outside not only the Capital, but the Citadel itself. Ayleth and Pyrede, however, were the only duo, which was significant. It meant, the Council recognized their skill, they were considered adept enough at their young ages to be sent on their own without additional support.
Pyrede, for one, would not forget that.
Walking along, his posture straight and looking alert, the youth would occasionally make eye contact with one of the restless villagers. He would incline his head just so, politely, and watch as they hurriedly avoided his gaze. No matter the age, it was the same. He knew they were drawn back to looking at him once more the moment he turned his attention away.
Staring, always staring.
Ayleth approached him from the opposite direction of the range they'd established to take watch in this makeshift patrol. Slowing to a stop, he clasped his hands behind his back, looking off into the darkness of the night. The moon was waning, it provided a little illumination, sure, but it also made shadows hang and stretch in almost unnatural shapes. Night could feel sinister, under the right light, or lack thereof. The other Seer came to stand alongside Pyrede, folding her arms over her chest. A long moment of silence stretched between them, just this side of uncomfortable. That was always how it was, Pyrede noticed. Any time he was alone with her now, there was that strange hint of imbalance, the odd, lingering reverberation of something 'other' around them. It had not always been thus, but Pyrede would be hard pressed to pinpoint exactly when things had changed.
A soft sigh, before Ayleth deigned to speak.
"It's such a joke." She stated, voice absent and airy even when saying something abrupt like this.
Pyrede didn't look at her, he kept his eyes toward the distance.
"Not a very humorous one, I would think." He answered, flatly.
Ayleth turned to cast a look at her comrade, going as far as to lift a hand and pull down the mask that covered half her face. She had soft, round features and deep brown skin that only made the green of her eyes all the more striking. Pyrede caught the motion out of the corner of his eye, Ayleth lowering her mask, but did not respond in kind. His mask remained firmly obscuring his facade, even if he would have welcomed the feel of the night's air on his skin.
"There were the attacks on the roads leading into the border weeks ago, before those villages were ransacked. Had we been mobilized immediately, then we wouldn't have been trekking through ruins and over bodies before finding this group." Her voice was still so soft, despite the subject being spoken of.
"You know the Council wasn't going to send any of us out for a few attacks on the road that could have just as easily been bandits crossing over from Caizar." Pyrede's tone was dry. "Don't be dense, Ayleth."
"I am not being 'dense', I am being practical. Stopping this brutality before it gained traction would've been akin to cutting the head off the serpent. But, no, instead we wait until the damnable snake has-"
"...has begun to gorge itself on all the little field mice." Pyrede interrupted her sharply, his eyes half lidded. While he looked off into the darkened wilderness, he wasn't really focused on anything in particular out there. He was simply avoiding her eyes for a little bit longer. "I know. I know, and you know. despite your hand-wringing, exactly why they waited."
Finally, he looked at her, his gaze mirroring her own, that faintly glowing green of his eyes almost reflective in the dark. "The ones we put down, you saw, didn't you? The sun emblem. That obviously means they've begun to gather themselves, enough to have an insignia and possibly even ranks, judging by the mix of those on foot and those on horseback. They're stepping in the direction of being recognized as an organized threat which fits the criteria for the Council to act in truth."
Ayleth turned to face him fully, her hands dropped to her sides in exasperation. "Oh, well as long as they fit the official writ of criteria, right?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "We could've made a difference before now, we could've smothered the flame of this carnage before those villages were caught underfoot."
Her brow was knit with a combination of worry and frustration, her lips pressed to a tight line. All of this, the little tweaks of her expression, were visible to Pyrede. For a moment, it almost felt too intimate. For a moment, he almost wanted to look away, but something in the pit of him, something slightly greedy, made him keep watching her instead.
"You're thinking too small scale, Ayleth." His words were slow, deliberate. Inwardly, he felt an odd delight at the sudden flash of incredulousness in her eyes. "Aiseryn, within its walls, nestled alongside the Citadel, lingering beneath the Bough of the Divine, will never be concerned with a few faceless attacks on a handful of common folk. You'd do better to reel in your bleeding heart and think objectively if you have aspirations to ever ascend the ranks. The Council will not lift a hand to give the order, unless it is something...grand. What makes for a better tale to bolster the noble families to pledge their resources and coin to the Council? To entice bright eyed, would-be soldiers to enlist into the military forces? What sounds more like glory waiting to be seized, putting down a few nameless rebels, or uniting against a gathering force of heretics that may as well be spitting on the will of the Ascended One?"
Pyrede held his hands outstretched, then. He was smiling behind his mask, but only sharp, fox-like eyes were readily visible. Oration was quickly becoming his strong suit.
"Chances are, we will not be the only novices returning to the Citadel to present a scrap of cloth emblazoned with that sun. These attacks may have just been to test Vrokruin and the Council's readiness to act. I must say, if you stop and think about it, sending us novices out is a warning more heavy-handed than a legion of soldiers from the Citadel."
The last part, he said with a slight, mirthful laugh.
Ayleth stared at him and there was something in her gaze that gave him pause. He couldn't quite place what it was, but suddenly, she looked at him as if she knew something he didn't. Pyrede hated that. Lowering his arms, he quieted almost awkwardly, and once more silence spread between the pair. Only the sound of rustling leaves or chirping insects was audible for a moment.
Her expression shifted, Ayleth sneered at him, just a little.
"Ascended One be good, you really are letting Aradis put his exact ideas into your hollow head wholesale, aren't you?" Ayleth scoffed.
Pyrede flashed a glare, abruptly sneering in turn, though it remained mostly hidden by his face mask.
"Is it a crime to be attentive to the Voice of the Ascended and the Council? To be aware of the bigger picture, of the position of Aiseryn, of OUR position?" He scoffed openly. "Are you jealous that I've clearly got a better head for this than you, Ayleth?"
The girl rolled her eyes, looking away. She took a moment to tug her facemask back up over her mouth and nose, as if reinstating a barrier between them. In a way, it was akin to walking several feet away from him.
"You're like a bloody echo, only repeating." Ayleth seethed.
There was an edge of anger prickling up the back of Pyrede's neck, like some insect poised to sting him crawled against his skin. He wanted to shout at her, and deep down, maybe even lash out and strike her for this overt trespass. She was jealous, she had to be. Aradis, the current Voice of the Ascended, the representative of the Citadel and all Seers at the Council, had taken time to discuss various things with Pyrede. The man had taken special interest in him, to devote any time outside of his duty to speak on theory and theology alike was a definite sign of favoritism. This had to mean the man saw potential in him, that perhaps in time Pyrede himself might rise to the seat of power Aradis currently held. And why not? Pyrede was skilled, he was clever, and he had a mind ready for all the strategy and politics such a position would ask of him.
He was, of course, also all of sixteen.
Youth often made one feel invincible as much as it made one feel that all the possibilities of the world were open to them, ripe for the taking.
An exhale of breath as Pyrede rolled his shoulders, forcing himself to look away from her. He still wanted to yell at her, he still wanted to hit her, but he would not do either of these things. He was disciplined. He was disciplined and he was in complete, utter control of himself. Ayleth was the one being emotional, being rash and too soft hearted. She was the one missing the bigger picture, not him.
Thus, it fell to him. Pyrede would be the bigger person, the better person, he decided.
"Ayleth, I apologize. That was uncalled for." Pyrede lied, smoothly. "Forget I said anything, we should...focus on what must be done going forward, not stomp about on ground that's already been tread."
The dark haired girl hesitated a moment, before inclining her head just a touch.
"It's fine."
It wasn't, most likely, but if the pair knew anything it was that Seers did not have the luxury to wallow in their emotions when their duty needed rational thinking from them.
"We'll get these people to the Serpent Run, and from then onward they should be able to follow the outposts as far as they need. I can't rightly imagine they'll make it into the Capital proper, but perhaps the outer settlements will have a place for them."
That was Ayleth being optimistic. Escorting the caravan was one thing, but novices like herself and Pyrede couldn't do much else for them. The Capital ran on coin, and these people had very little of it, most having abandoned all but what they could grab in haste and the clothes on their backs. The best they could hope for, was starting anew in the outlying peasant settlements closest to the walls of Aiseryn.
Pyrede looked over his shoulder, back at the caravan's little camp. Most of them were sleeping, others sat up and talked in low voices, too spooked from the day to rest. The children were gathered up together on one of the wagons. Just a small pile of them huddled up like stray pups curled together for warmth and comfort. Absently, he had to wonder if this might be the last time they slept so soundly, under the watchful eye of Seers.
"They worked together quite well, certainly they'll manage." Pyrede mentioned gently, before turning to Ayleth again. He took a step closer to her, gingerly moving to grasp one of her hands. She hesitated only a moment, before relaxing and allowing the motion. The two locked eyes in silence, Pyrede gently squeezed her hand.
"It's only going to get more complicated from here, Ayleth. We've got to trust in Aradis and the Council. We are the blood of the Ascended, we are honed weapons meant to maintain peace for mankind. Everyone knows that. They need only a proper strategy to wield us to defend our people and return them to harmony. Steel your heart, so the people take strength from your poise and grace, the way they did today."
Ayleth's expression softened, if only by a barely-there degree. He felt her grasp his hand a bit more tightly, before she slipped it free of the hold.
"Right." Ayleth sighed, straightening her posture. "Right. It won't be long until sunrise, we should get them moving before then. Their supplies are dwindling from what I noticed, the more distance we cover with them the better."
Their conversation turned then to logistics of continuing the trek rather than of security. The closer they all got to the Serpent Run, the more they could relax. As these people had all lived on the outskirts, nearly to the border between Vrokruin and Caizar, the risk had always been underlying whether they'd chosen to acknowledge it or not. The difference had been, that Caizar hadn't had a history of being hostile. The two Seers now on relatively better terms, had once more thrown themselves entirely into the task of leadership for the villagers. Ayleth was better with wrangling the children, comforting them and the adults alike with recitation of prayer as they walked. Pyrede lingered with some of the more able bodied men, giving them instruction, keeping a close eye on a rough headcount and making sure no one fell behind.
The mood of the caravan had certainly shifted, everyone seemed equal parts more calm and there was the aura of hope settled on the lot. With each mile marker put behind them, things finally felt like they were looking up. They all carried their grief and loss with them still, but they knew the world did not stop for such things. They had to carry on. Once they settled, then perhaps they could unpack that sorrow they'd shouldered the whole way on the road from their respective home villages.
Pyrede found himself looking to Ayleth constantly, as if he somehow feared she'd decide to follow her flighty emotions and stay with these people until they reached the Capital. His fears, irrational as they were, had been put to rest however the moment the caravan came upon the telltale bridge that ran over a rushing river. The Serpent Run had been named for the serpentine shape of that particular body of water, the numerous bends making it look as though it were a slithering snake. Upon reaching the bridge, Pyrede called the caravan to a slow halt. Standing before them, he clasped his hands together, tilting his head. In the midday sun, the light seemed to make his antlers reflect a glow. Despite the dirt and the blood, he appeared to them regal and stalwart.
"This is where we must leave you good people." He began, sounding every bit remorseful while in truth, his mind was already back in the Citadel. "We have regrets, of course, if only we had found you all sooner. Had we been swifter, stronger..."
Ayleth alongside him, bowed her head gently, clearly in agreement.
The villagers however, were quick to try and offer their own comfort to the young Seers. They practically spoke over one another, to voice their gratitude. They thanked the pair for bringing them this far, for coming to them, peasants as they were, and guiding them to safety. The small group of children were the loudest, trying to be heard amid all the chattering adults. The children who now looked to the Seers with such awe on their round faces, such a shine to their eyes at having been rescued by those whom they had only heard about in sermons or seen in reliefs at their lowly temples. They would remember them for their whole lives, perhaps. They would remember these Seers, blessed with the grace and power of the Ascended, mirroring their God with pristine white antlers cresting their heads and how they had come to them in a dire situation.
The two gently hushed the group, bowing to them briefly in acceptance of this gratitude they insisted was not needed. It was but the duty of the Seers, after all. When Ayleth and Pyrede stood upright again, it was with a softness to their eyes, the rest of their expressions hidden away by their masks. They looked upon the faces of these people who now, because of them, had hope and possibly a future. It would not be easy, it was likely to be incredibly difficult to carve out a new life in the outer settlements bordering the Capital, but at least they had a chance.
Ayleth looked fondly at the children, who couldn't resist running to her and clinging for a moment at least. She had been so kind to them, after all, a beacon in the darkness that had become their lives at so young an age. Holding to her most tightly were Luka and Hyuna, to whom she gently breathed a soft, whispered prayer atop their hair. Ayleth did not rush any of them, she allowed the children to cling and hold to her until the other adults finally ushered them back. It was difficult to say what might become of them, all the same. If they were lucky, someone amid the adults in the caravan would take them in, if they weren't, the settlements often had orphanages.
After all, one of the oldest stories in the world, was children orphaned through tragedy.
"Go with the guidance and grace of the Ascended One. Please know the Seers of the Citadel, and the Council of Aiseryn will do all possible to make sure such travesties such as that which befell you and yours not be repeated. That the guilty be hunted and put down for the Ascended's judgment, I pledge to you. We ask only for your patience. We ask you to have us in your prayers, for you all will certainly be in ours." Pyrede spoke clearly and with determination in his voice. The fervor and passion was projected exquisitely to these people.
Pyrede, for a moment, was sure he could've convinced them they could walk on water, if he'd tried.
With one final look to the group, Pyrede and Ayleth took their leave, veering off in a different direction following the river where as the caravan continued forward. The villagers could use the outposts as markers, now, more frequently they would come across patrols of soldiers from Aiseryn. Likely, that would be a comfort but maybe not as much comfort as a Seer escort had been.
Being novices, Ayleth and Pyrede had not been given the luxury of horses. Being sent out as they had, well, it was a test. No fully fledged Seers had been dispatched, only those similar to the pair had been sent out to assess the situation along Vrokruin's borders. The journey itself had proven useful as a grueling bit of training, as the two had traveled on foot the whole way. Unlike normal people, they set to utilizing their Ascended-given blessings to quell their own exhaustion, their hunger, and their thirst. In such a manner, they could be sent out on 'missions' that lasted months without pause.
Of course, it didn't mean it was particularly pleasant at times. Their legs still ached, their bodies still throbbed with exhaustion that was only numbed in intervals through use of their incantations. A strong will, however, was the key and neither Ayleth or Pyrede voiced a complaint to one another.
To cut down on their own travel time, Ayleth and Pyrede chose to continue onward even after nightfall, resting only when absolutely necessary and at very sparse intervals. The discipline of the Seers, their in-depth training, meant having utmost control over their bodies, their will like iron. It had been said Iasion had made pilgrimages that lasted full years, so well honed were his abilities and control over his physical body. It was only expected the Seers would be able to manage a few weeks even as novices.
When the walls of Aiseryn were finally within reach, Pyrede couldn't help smoothing his clothing and adjusting his gloves as they crossed the threshold into the bustling streets. Without thinking, Ayleth was doing the same, it was drilled into their minds that at any given moment, and from any angle, they would be regarded by the eyes of the common folk. They needed to present themselves as perfectly as they could. They had an image to uphold, a dignity, even when road weary and with dried blood upon them they must look strong. Seers were rarely out in the Capital proper, the civilians were bound to stare. Despite how covered up they were, there was no hiding the antlers upon their brows, the most obvious sign of their blessed blood and the prestige they carried because of it. The two could hear the whispering, the excitable, hushed voices.
While they had been dispatched in secret, their return was not as clandestine by design. Aradis had specified they should be seen returning, they would take advantage of the subtle spectacle. They would let the common folk talk amongst themselves and wait with bated breath for proper word from the Council. Let them see these young Seers, novices of the faith, speckled with dried blood and white traveling clothing covered in dust from the road.
Upon spotting the duo, Aiseryn's city guards immediately came to them. Deep green tabards with a stylized depiction of a white stag's head at the center, their armor was engraved with twisting ivy details. Swords at their hip and shields upon their backs, they were as regal as they were formidable a presence. Flanking Ayleth and Pyrede, they wordlessly provided official escort, lest the people crowd them overmuch.
Or, Ascended forbid, touch them in desperate need of a miracle or healing. Such things were not so freely given, there were rules, there were traditions strictly followed.
Head held high, Pyrede felt at ease again, the closer they came to the Citadel. As they walked, he could see the towering oak, the 'Bough of the Divine', that gorgeous focal point of the Capital, flourishing and in eternal bloom. He would've loved being ushered into a carriage to be taken the rest of the way, but as a novice, he could not expect such courtesy, he knew. He and Ayleth would be humble, they would walk up the cobblestone streets to their destination. The atmosphere and buildings got more ornate, cleaner, richer, but in the same instance, the trees and flowering vines increased in turn. Lush gardens and flourishing trees, blooming flowers nestled amid the more stately looking homes and buildings. The closer they got to numerous steps and wrought iron gates of the Citadel, the more the mixture of stonework and greenery was readily seen. The city guards stopped at the bottom of the stairs, dropping to a kneel, bowing their heads as Pyrede and Ayleth walked up the steps.
Waiting for them at the gates, an elder Seer.
Whereas Pyrede and Ayleth were clad in traveling clothes, faces covered by their masks and hair covered by a coif, the woman before them wore robes that looked as if they were made of the finest white gossamer. Silken and iridescent, she wore a heavy silver choker with emerald gemstones embedded in the finely carved metalwork. From her antlers, numerous dangling chains with small white stones amid filigree flowers hanging from them. She wore a veil, it served to obscure her features just enough, giving a ghost of an impression of her facade. Long, chestnut brown hair was pulled back in an ornate braided hairstyle, pinned with various jeweled combs in the shape of ivy leaves. Elegant and near otherworldly, she nodded gently to them. The decorations on her antlers moved when she did, making a sound like soft, tinkling bells as the pair approached.
They bowed deeply to her, keeping the pose until she spoke. The woman was Sister Myren. She was in charge of most of the novices' studies when it came to their etiquette and prayer, acting as something of a matron to them.
"Rise, novices." Sister Myren said softly, voice a near whisper. "Pyrede, Ayleth. It seems you are the first to return to us." A smile to her features. "As if there were ever any doubt. Ah, you two have ever been exceptional."
Pyrede couldn't help the slight swelling of pride he felt, though he managed to keep his expression neutral. It wouldn't do for a Seer to act arrogant. The two simply stood before her, listening, waiting.
"Your journey has been a long one. I trust you have much to report, but I would not ask it of you before you've had time to rest and refresh yourselves." Turning from them, she began walking past the gates, the duo finally moving to follow her. "In the coming days, your peers will return as well. While I am certain you are eager to share your findings, I must ask you to be patient. The Voice of the Ascended would like to devote enough time to each of you, and assess the situation before speaking to the Council. I would suggest you pen your thoughts and any information that will prove useful, lest it slip your mind."
Past the tall iron gates, the stonework on the ground only got more elaborate. There were statues lining the lush gardens of the courtyard leading into the high double doors of the Citadel. Carved upon those heavy wooden doors, a relief from one of the many miracles Iasion had performed, captured in woodwork. These fine works of carpentry were summarily pulled open by Citadel guards, letting the Seers enter. The narrow corridor gave way to a large common area, a central fountain was positioned amid various plants and hanging vines. There were small, floating flowers in wall basins of water, there were marble benches situated around near high arched windows of delicate stained glass. The statues of the Ascended One, his venerated followers and the first Seers, all had candles lit and offerings left in bowls before them.
The scent of incense was heavy in the air, the sound of gently running water from the fountains, it all made Pyrede feel calmer. Typically, their peers would be here and there, tending to the plants, praying, studying, practicing their magics. For now, however, with how many had been dispatched, it was downright barren outside of the occasional servants rushing through to accomplish this or that chore. Fully realized Seers often kept to the inner chambers and courtyards, busy with their own duties to the faith.
Sister Myren came to a stop before one of the largest statues of Iasion. This one had fresh flowers twined around the stonework antlers on his head, the Ascended One seated in a meditative pose, his kind, but beautiful face with a serene expression. Gingerly, she moved her robes so she could sink to a kneel. A servant girl standing at ready rushed to set a cushion down for the Seer before she stepped back and out of the way once more.
Shutting her eyes, Sister Myren brought her hands together. "You are dismissed, dear ones. Rest."
Again, Pyrede and Ayleth bowed deeply though she could not see it, now beginning another session of prayers until more of the novices returned. She would be there to greet them, Sister Myren had a precise count of who had been sent out and would keep this vigil until they all were safely at the Citadel. The kind eyed woman had been the one to see them off, and thus she was the first face the novices would see upon coming back.
The two started walking down one of the long corridors. Without much thought, Ayleth pulled her mask down from her face, exhaling heavily. The coif covering her head was next, revealing long dark hair coiled in a loose bun at the base of her neck.
"I need a bath. Several of them, maybe." She uttered, rubbing one shoulder.
Pyrede agreed, but did not say it aloud. He didn't like being seen as someone who complained or like much of anything bothered him.
"At least with so many out, the bathhouse won't be crowded." He mused, absently. Digging into the pouch at his side, he retrieved the scrap of cloth, that yellow sun on a field of black. He slowed to a stop, Ayleth continuing a few steps before stopping in turn.
"You heard Sister Myren, there's time yet before Aradis will even hear anyone's report." She reminded him. To her, Pyrede looked about a moment from heading straight for the inner sanctum and demanding to speak with the Voice of the Ascended. She quite honestly wouldn't have put it past him.
A scoff. "I know that." He looked to Ayleth. "I simply...I should take Sister Myren's advice, I think. Pen it down, I don't want to be ill prepared."
Ayleth made a face at him. "You're really going to sit and play scribe before even taking a bath? We've been on the road for how long? We're half dirt at this point." She said, gesturing at the state of herself, and him as well. "We'll start sprouting seedlings soon at this rate."
As if realizing he might not be fully listening to her, she moved to step closer to him, putting her hands on his shoulders. The physical contact was so sudden, Pyrede's eyes shot wide and he stared at her.
"Pyrede." She started, speaking slow and stern. "Wash up. Take a damn bath first, would you? Hot water is good for sore bodies as much as it is cleansing the filth of the road. You're not doing yourself or anyone else a favor by neglecting such simple things. Weren't you the one speaking before of patience?"
He watched her, noting the slightest concern in the other Seer's eyes. Again, he wasn't sure what to make of that, the way she looked at him. Everything between them kept feeling so imbalanced, off in a way that still nagged him. He couldn't explain it, and therefore, he couldn't even hope to distinguish why things felt as they did. Part of him wanted to shrug off her hands, another part of him wanted her to keep that slight semblance of physical touch.
He quieted both of these thoughts immediately, brushing them aside like fallen leaves.
"Fine." He relented, with a sigh. "Fine, I'll write it all down later. Besides, Sister Myren did say we were the first to return."
This, this was said with pride and Ayleth suddenly smiled at him. A full on, broad smile which he found himself fascinated by in that instant.
"That's right, we are." Ayleth let go of his shoulders. "I think the others struggle with the incantations over the body, so it's no wonder they might've had to take more time to travel. Well, their tardiness is our enjoyment of empty baths."
She stepped away from him. "We'll speak later." A little wave at Pyrede, before she turned down another corridor.
He stood there a moment, just watching her go, before finally turning toward the opposite direction.
It wasn't like he could deny what a world of good a long, hot bath did for his body and mind. Aching muscles slowly relaxed, even his head felt clearer. The youth's wavy dark hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail, pale skin clean of dirt and blood. Traveling clothing had been traded for the simplicity of plain trousers and white linen shirt. Most freeing, of course, was not having to cover his face or hair while within the Citadel. Despite having spent weeks on the road, outdoors, Pyrede still found himself drawn to being outside. Fortunately, such peace was never in short supply, the Citadel had various gardens and courtyards. Neither the shade of a tree nor the scent of flowers was ever far.
Stepping barefoot onto the grass, Pyrede lifted his gaze upward. The sunlight was peeking through the leaves of the trees, shadows speckled across the ground. There was a serenity to it, to being around the natural world. In these quiet moments, was when Seers were supposed to be able to discern most clearly the whispers of the Ascended One. As of now, he'd only heard bits and pieces when he meditated, but that was standard for any Seer his age. When he grew older, when he grew more skilled, when no longer a novice he would be able to go into the inner sanctum with the other Seers. To meditate there, closer to the center of God's Fall, to listen for Iasion's words and wisdom. To ask of their Divinity his guidance and actually hear a proper response. It would not be like when those without the blessing, people of common blood, prayed. No, not at all. They were more children of the divine than they were children of men, so it would be different. It would be something more, something spectacular, to have the Ascended hear him and speak to him in turn.
It was all he ever wanted.
Before he could let his thoughts drift further into the concepts of his future and destiny, footsteps. Light, hurried footsteps on the stone floors. He waited a moment, until the sound came to a halt, then as unassuming as possible, slowly turned to glance at the threshold between the building and the open courtyard.
Standing there was a young girl, perhaps not yet ten years old. Her blonde hair was pale, washed out, her skin nearly as colorless as Pyrede's own fair complexion. Her eyes were like that of any Seer, bright and green and glowing faintly. Her antlers were small and delicate, she wore a long, shapeless linen smock. Cautiously, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, standing there as if undecided if she wanted to cross into the courtyard or not, watching Pyrede intently.
It wasn't until Pyrede smiled at her, that she seemed to immediately relax.
"Estrid." He said her name gently, turning to her, arms outstretched.
At ease now, a weak smile surfaced on her features before it faded off just as quickly. An anxious little expression. She was unused to smiling much, Pyrede knew. Like a shy fawn, Estrid lingered, toying with the edge of her sleeve before one slow step gave way to a more hurried pace, bridging the distance between them. Instantly, the girl ran into him, bumping against the other Seer and clinging. A slight laugh escaped him as he gently lowered arms to pat her back. He allowed this clumsy embrace, letting her hold onto him.
After a moment, she tilted her head back, looking up at Pyrede with those wide, curious eyes.
"Signe and Vidar said they saw Ayleth but they didn't see you so..." A hesitation, looking off. She pressed her cheek against him, quieting.
A raise of brows, before gently coaxing her back so he could shift to kneel down and be at slightly more eye-level with her. He smiled at Estrid, knuckles tucking under her chin to guide her into looking at him. Reluctantly, she did, and he could tell she was avidly struggling to hold back tears. He could point this out, he could, if he wanted to be cruel. But, he chose to pretend he didn't notice. Her efforts to keep her emotions at bay should be applauded rather than mocked.
"Oh, come now. Do you really think Ayleth could've made it all the way back on her own?" He teased. "She has a strong grasp on incantations, yes, but you know I'm better at navigating, and planning. I'm much more practical, her head is so often in the clouds."
Estrid nodded, blinking back tears and grasping his hand with both her own. Smiling at him again, weakly, but reassured by both his words and presence.
"That's what I said! That's what I said, but they weren't listening to me. They never want to listen to me." Estrid proclaimed, lips pursed in frustration. "They only like Ayleth because she lets them play with her hair anyway...and I don't care about that kind of stuff."
Absently, Pyrede lifted his free hand to push some of those errant strands of cornsilk hair from her face, tucking them behind one of the girl's slightly pointed ears. Bright eyes were set on him again, still slightly wet from unshed tears.
"What was it like? Outside the Citadel." She asked as Pyrede moved to get to his feet. Estrid had to let go of his hand so he could do so, but that didn't last long. Almost immediately, again, she sidled closer to him, sneaking her small hand into his. "When you left you didn't even take weapons, weren't you scared? What if you got attacked?"
Estrid gestured with her free hand as if mimicking a sword-strike. From her fingertips, little sparks of pale green light trailed in the air. Estrid's capacity for incantation, Pyrede thought, might rival Ayleth's current ability though the little girl was not yet fully trained. Even passively, Estrid seemed to command their gift with a sort of ease that no one realized.
Well, no one but Pyrede himself, anyway.
Pyrede began to lead Estrid now, farther into the courtyard, amid the greenery and pleasant scent of flowers.
"We are of the Blessed Blood, Estrid. We carry in us the legacy and strength of the Ascended One himself. We are his Divine will made manifest." Pyrede said, confidently. As they stood before one of the large, old trees in the courtyard, he looked up at the canopy the boughs of it made above them.
"You can be scared and still enact our sacred duty, what matters is pushing on despite it. What matters, is none who hold ill intent against peace, against us, will see even a flicker of fear span our faces. The Ascended One faced heretics and enemies from all sides in his time, even when he only wished to help his fellows and keep the peace. If he felt fear, he never showed it, he allowed his actions to speak where words failed."
Estrid was looking up at Pyrede, even though the other Seer kept his gaze upward at the tree. She listened, because she always did. Everything Pyrede said settled within her mind and stuck there. She said nothing, but held his hand tightly. It was like she feared loosening her grasp, lest he disappear somehow.
"Out there, outside the Citadel and outside of Aiseryn, is a different world. There are those who endure hardships, and it's for them we pray. It is for them, that we learn to wield our skills, learn to fight, so those who cannot, have hope for tomorrow." Now, he turned his gaze down at her. A slight, soft smile even if the topic was so somber. "I took no weapons, because novices are not allowed to when tested as we were, Estrid. However, not having a blade in hand does not mean we are without power. When you're old enough to be a novice, you'll learn all the combat skills passed down from the Ascended and his followers. Just as I did."
Estrid pursed her lips in thought, before piping up finally.
"You'll teach me?" She asked, those big, bright eyes turned up at him with all the blind faith of a child.
When Pyrede regarded her, it was difficult not to think in terms of the future. She was so young still, but he'd already noted her propensity for incantations, the raw power she held which was not yet honed. Estrid was such a shy girl, easily lost in the bunch of other children her age that it was no wonder the other Seers hadn't noticed it. In that moment, he felt like Aradis seeking out that potential in Pyrede himself.
It would be like sharpening a blade.
Smiling, he gave her hand a little squeeze.
"Of course I will. When we're through, you'll even be able to disable fully armored, blade wielding warriors without a weapon in hand just like I did on this mission." He said, nonchalant but amused at how saucer wide Estrid's eyes got.
"You did that?" She asked, gasping, her free hand coming to her mouth in brief shock. Slowly, she lowered it, furrowing. "How did you do that? Can you show me? How many were there? Did you get hurt at all?"
Various little questions as she held to Pyrede's hand, looking up at him with excitable interest. Another laugh from the young Seer, he gently led Estrid along. "Come, I'll tell you all about it as I write up notes for Aradis."
As the two settled down in the courtyard, seated on the soft grass, Estrid kept Pyrede company as he told her the more exciting parts of both the journey and the battle on the roadside. She didn't need to know the larger implications, the ransacking of the villages or the insignia of the yellow sun against pitch black. Not yet, anyway. She was small still, and it would be some time before she was to be introduced into the way the wider world worked, and their place within it as Seers.
Big things were coming and Pyrede intended to be ready for them.
