The nervous rustle of fabric and the acrid scent of sweat brought me back from my thoughts. Glancing up from my gauntlets, I eyed the acolyte.
“Do I scare you?” My voice came out a bit more low and gravely than I’d intended. Oh well.
The acolyte flinched at my words, answering my question without him saying a thing. I snorted and turned to look out the window at the passing scenery. Rundown, dilapidated buildings, a few lean-tos, and a city of tents met my gaze. From the people milling about or leaning against buildings, their bone-thin frames and patch-work clothing spoke volumes.
The slums.
No matter how many welfare projects and proclamations the Emperor put in place, if the nobles and the wealthy don’t help out, there would always be places like this in the empire.
The acolyte moved to pull the curtains, to remove the sight from my eyes. Before they could get too far, I grabbed their wrist and pushed them back into their seat.
“There’s no need. I see it every time I leave the capital. There’s no point in trying to hide it now,” I told the young acolyte. Slowly, my eyes turned toward my escort, an eyebrow raised in their direction. “Do you think me sympathetic to their plight? Or that I would be offended by the very sight?”
The acolyte shuffled on the seat, their fingers curling into the smock they wore. “I … I’m not sure what to think about you, Ser. I wasn’t told much.”
I snorted and leaned back into the bench seat again. “Mortal races are all the same. Humans, elves, gnomes, dwarves, beastkin - it doesn’t matter what race you are, since every single one of them treats their less fortunate the same. With blind eyes, deaf ears, and silent tongue.”
“I’m… not sure I understand, Ser Knight,” the acolyte murmured, keeping their eyes pointedly on their hands.
“I’m sure you do. Even up in that Temple, cloistered away, anyone who didn’t come with a large donation to the Temple is treated as less,” I continued. “My kind don’t have such behaviors. There are our elders and the clan. No one is lesser. No one is left to rot like this.” As emphasis, I waved my hand at the slums around us.
Even as we left the gates of the Capitol and entered into the farmland beside the city, lean-tos and tents shoved themselves up against the city walls, creating yet more slums.
“What… about orphans?” the acolyte asked quietly.
“They’re raised by the clan,” I said simply, “as with all hatchlings. Revering one's parental status is a uniquely mortal concern. While my kin are grateful for our parents, mating is not like marriage for mortals. We mate during the season, stay with our chosen mate and eggs until they hatch, then the hatchlings join the clan and we move on. Having the same mate multiple times isn’t unheard of, but changing mates often is also quite common.”
Except when it came to claiming. That’s… a different concern. But this mortal didn’t need to know that.
“I… have a question… if you’ll allow,” the acolyte started, glancing briefly at me before lowering their eyes again.
“I’ll choose to answer once I hear the question.”
“You… keep calling the rest of us mortal races… but mortal means you can die, right? I thought… all creatures are mortal?”
I let out another snort. “My kin do die, certainly, but not of old age. We do not get diseased or ill. It takes special weapons to kill one of my kin. Mortals, on the other hand, are fragile creatures that die from a simple cut. Though elves and dwarves are long-lived, they still grow old and die. Humans may be the most short-lived of the mortal races, but all of you are of the mortal races.”
The acolyte fell silent for a time, and I hoped he was done. Alas, not to be.
“Uhm. Ser Knight. Are there … many races that aren’t mortal?”
Slowly, I turned my eyes away from the acolyte. “There are quite a number, yes. Though there are many immortal races, each tend to be few in number… low birthrates are the burden of immortal lives.”
“Are the Holy Knights immortal?”
This acolyte was becoming far too bold.
Frowning deeply, I leveled my gaze back onto the acolyte, making them shrink back into themselves and drop their eyes once more.
“That’s enough questions. I have no more energy to indulge your curiosity. You’ll be dead in a few decades, anyway, like all the other curious ones before you.” With that, I focused my eyes back on the view beyond the windows, watching the crops of the year sway in the breeze. Farmland turned to hills and forest before long, and the carriage turned off the road, beginning the climb towards the Temple.
The rhythmic rattle of the carriage was all that broke the silence between us as the forest slipped by. The ride to the Temple continued peacefully until the rocking motion staggered to a stop before the gates. The carriage door opened quickly afterward, several more acolytes awaiting our arrival.
Releasing a breath, I shouldered my way out of the carriage, internally cursing standardized doors. Once I stood before the acolytes, and the other had exited the carriage, the closest acolyte came forward.
“Ser Zeydrick, we’re pleased you came,” the acolyte began, “the Oracle-”
“Is waiting, I know,” I interrupted, holding up a hand. “Is she in the inner sanctum?”
“Ah - yes, ser-”
“Great. I’ll see myself there.” I didn’t wait for them to finish, or to protest, and started off, my boots thunking loudly as soon as I stepped up onto the marble steps leading into the Temple. The acolytes I passed in the halls quickly ducked out the way, pressing themselves against the Temple walls.
My escorts caught up to me in the courtyard, breathing heavily. “S-Ser! Please, you know the rules, you cannot wander around without-”
“I’m hardly wandering, pup,” I replied, cutting the acolyte off. “I’ve been here enough to know my way around. As you said, the Oracle is waiting for me, why should I waste time on idle chit-chat or pleasantries?”
My steps did not slow or stop, my long strides quickly outpacing the acolytes as they tried keeping up. When I reached the inner sanctum doors, I glanced at them over my shoulder, narrowing my eyes.
“And if I recall, none of you are allowed inside here. Only the Oracle, myself, and the Emperor may enter, yes?”
The acolytes sheepishly nodded, keeping their distance.
“Great. Beat it.” I pulled open one side of the doors and strode in, pulling it solidly shut behind me.
Barely contained laughter met my ears and I searched about in the dim lighting till I found her. The Oracle sat upon the stone basin of a fountain, her curvy, ebony frame clothed in little more than a sheer, long dress. Dark pointed ears poked out of her long white hair, which served to at least create a curtain of modesty for her chest, but everything else was out of luck. Her pale, milky eyes creased in pleasure, the curl of her lips telling me clearly that she’d found my rudeness to her acolytes amusing.
“Really, Zeydrick, is it so bad to have them escort you?” came her bell-like voice.
Her? Dying? Yeah right. Even now, she looked no older than her 20s.
“I didn’t come here to make nice with your followers, Gwen,” I said with a sigh, striding forward. On my way over, I grabbed a chair sitting by the wall and plopped it - and myself - near her. “Do you know what the Spirits told me last night?”
“While you were bathing, you mean?” Again, her laughter bubbled up. When I growled, she laughed harder, before she regained a bit of composure and turned towards the water. “Yes, I’m aware. The new Oracle… the spirits chose someone finally.”
“About that… are you really dying? You look fit as the day we found you.”
She gave me a radiant smile, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Captain, have you forgotten how long I’ve been here?” At my shrug, she continued, turning back to the water and dipping her fingers in. “As a half-elf, I’ve enjoyed a longer life than most people, but my time is coming to an end. The spirits and the blessings of the gods keep my body young until the day when it just … won’t. Don’t you remember my predecessor?”
“Celia… yes, I remember her. She just… crumbled to dust one day,” I said, thinking back. It had only been a few decades since I’d come to the Holy Empire, and just after Gwen was named her successor. According to Temple records and the Spirits, such a thing was normal.
Normal. Sure.
“Just because I remember that doesn’t mean I want to see it happen to you,” I finally said, studying her profile as she played with the water - and the lesser spirits who lived there.
“That almost sounds like you care,” Gwen said, smiling over her shoulder. “Don’t get too attached to me, Captain. You know as well as I that my time is almost done. It’s up to you to find my successor. The spirits gave the duty to you.”
“Which is a horrible decision, really,” I replied, trying to distract myself - and her. The one mortal who actually understood me - and I had to leave, while she was close to death? The spirits are cruel.
“Did the spirits give you any clues?” she said, ignoring my jab.
“I asked for a name or a direction, or really anything, and the only thing I got was a word… Kirin,” I said with a sigh, leaning forward, my elbows on my knees. “I don’t have to tell you that the spirits don’t deal in names… but kirins are extinct. They were extinct before I came here, long before.”
“Are you sure they’re extinct?” Gwen asked, drying her fingers on a nearby hand towel. “Or have they hidden themselves, perhaps, away from the eyes of the world?”
I shook my head. “No, when the last of them died, I felt their power vanish from the world. I felt the power vacuum. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’re gone.”
“Then it must be a name,” she said, meeting my eyes. “If ‘kirin’ is all the spirits gave you, and the race is gone, then… there can only be one answer. Someone named Kirin exists and that is my successor.”
Doubts rushed through my head at a dizzying speed and I took a steadying breath. Here, near the Spirit’s Fount, at the heart of the Holy Lands, the presence of the Spirits and Gods pressed against me, suffocating, clawing at my throat, clouding my eyes.
With all my will, I shoved them away from my throat, sucking in a deep breath.
“Zeydrick?” came Gwen’s voice, shaking with concern. My eyes finally cleared and I saw her there, kneeling before me, her delicate fingers covering my gauntlets. “Are you back? What happened?”
“Those things you serve,” I growled out, my throat sore and voice coming out through gravel. “I don’t think it’s a name. They seemed pretty insistent.”
“But… that doesn’t make sense.”
“I know. Fuck, I know.”
Gwen withdrew, sitting back on the stone of the basin. “Do you want me to force a vision?”
I shook my head. “No. Don’t you dare. Last time, you were comatose for days. I’ll - I’ll figure something out.”
“Maybe we can at least ask the spirits for a direction?”
“I tried that, remember? They were exceedingly unhelpful.” Grumbling, I stood and stretched my tense muscles. Dealing with the gods and spirits caused more damage to my muscles than war, I swear.
“I’ll figure it out,” I told her again, seeing the frown on her lips and how she hung her head.
“I’m supposed to be the Oracle,” she murmured, “so how can I not help you when you need it?”
Shit. Damnable spirits.
I placed my hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed, brief so as not to cause harm. She was so fragile.
“The spirits are fickle. They only talk to me when they want something. Besides, I don’t hear the gods and I certainly don’t get godly visitors while I’m trying to bathe.” I glanced around the sanctum, glaring into the shadows, willing them to hear my thoughts. Don’t you dare.
“I need to get back to the palace. I’m leaving tomorrow at dawn and there’s a lot to do to prepare,” I told her, stepping back. I replaced the chair by the wall, then glanced back to her. She hadn’t looked up yet, stubbornly staring at her hands.
“Don’t die before I get back,” I said, projecting my voice to ensure she heard. “If you do, I swear I’ll drag you back to the land of the living myself.”
A half-hearted bark of a laugh came from her and she put her hand to her mouth.
When it didn’t appear I would get a reply, I turned and reached for the door. If my ears weren’t as sensitive as they were, I might have missed her parting words.
“I don’t know if I can promise that.”
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