Order will likely be locked away in prayer and contemplation during the Festival—as is their tradition. We've nothing to do but to wait these few days until the Order is open to receive outside guests."
Tael followed the Bishop through the wine-soaked streets, certain that no knight could ever spot him sneaking out of the Order. His days of wasting away in the mountains with no entertainment other than a fisherman's daughter were gone. He caught the flirting eyes of girls and young women alike as he strode through the streets, and their warm, wondering glances at his rugged, leather leggings and coarse clothing made him feel out of place in the refined city. But his style of dress seemed to somehow invite more stares, so perhaps it wasn't a bad thing that he stood out.
In front of a finely crafted store with grapes etched on a wooden sign, Tael spotted a particularly striking girl his age with long, wavy hair who giggled with her friends as she dared a longing glance at Tael. He would definitely be returning here at night.
After a time they left the merchant quarter and snaked through canal-lined streets with gondoliers pressing long poles into the green, murky water, their thin, curved boats laden with goods gliding gracefully. Darker here, figures as shadows hobbled and stumbled about as if drunk. In this district the faces were haggard, with gaunt, hungry eyes staring after Tael. He even noticed the Bishop hurrying his pace as if wanting to leave the area without being waylaid by criminals.
A grumbling in his stomach reminded Tael he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He wished the Bishop had stopped to eat at one of the food stalls back in the merchant quarter. The lack of food was making him irritated and jumpy, and even more nervous as groups of men huddling around fires pointed at Tael and the Bishop as they rushed past. A beggar's hand held Tael's arm and he brushed it aside, catching a glimpse of disappointment in the shriveled man's eyes. Were there as many poor and unfortunate souls in Trikar the last time he'd visited? It seemed significantly changed for the worse. Usually his grandfather stayed in the common areas of Trikar to avoid the suspicious stares of the city guard, disguising themselves as traveling merchants or tinkers. At the time there was an acceptance of poverty on people's faces, but now either defiance or drug-induced indifference filled the eyes around him. And yet the ever-present filthy cloud of hopelessness still left its stain everywhere.
They reached an inner wall with a band of soldiers guarding the entrance into the city's artisan quarter. The soldiers tensed as Bishop Draven and Tael approached.
"Your Excellency!" The leader of the group stiffened, grazing fingers over forehead in the formal salute.
"Yes, yes..." Bishop Draven waved away the soldier and motioned for them to move aside. The men obeyed and without even a glance let them both pass. After they were out of earshot, the priest spoke again. "We will dine in civility up ahead. I shun the Calathian Church's sense of minimalism...little reason I should suffer for fine food and a decent bath after traveling for weeks in cramped quarters."
Tael was a bit surprised at the priest's change in propriety. Especially considering his previous weeks of meditation and plain countenance in Perinith. In the capitol, a different side of the Bishop appeared: arrogant, pampered, and selfish. Although what did he expect from a Bishop of the Calathian Church? The very institution that allied itself with the corrupt King and did its best to bring down the Arcanum. It was a vivid reminder for Tael to stay alert and focused, and to not trust a soul other than his grandfather—and even with him Tael was uncertain of his motives in the politics of the world around. But did Tael even really care other than exacting revenge against the King for his parent's death?
Ahead gaslit lanterns illuminated the wood-plank-and-stone facade of a very
Tael followed the Bishop through the wine-soaked streets, certain that no knight could ever spot him sneaking out of the Order. His days of wasting away in the mountains with no entertainment other than a fisherman's daughter were gone. He caught the flirting eyes of girls and young women alike as he strode through the streets, and their warm, wondering glances at his rugged, leather leggings and coarse clothing made him feel out of place in the refined city. But his style of dress seemed to somehow invite more stares, so perhaps it wasn't a bad thing that he stood out.
In front of a finely crafted store with grapes etched on a wooden sign, Tael spotted a particularly striking girl his age with long, wavy hair who giggled with her friends as she dared a longing glance at Tael. He would definitely be returning here at night.
After a time they left the merchant quarter and snaked through canal-lined streets with gondoliers pressing long poles into the green, murky water, their thin, curved boats laden with goods gliding gracefully. Darker here, figures as shadows hobbled and stumbled about as if drunk. In this district the faces were haggard, with gaunt, hungry eyes staring after Tael. He even noticed the Bishop hurrying his pace as if wanting to leave the area without being waylaid by criminals.
A grumbling in his stomach reminded Tael he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He wished the Bishop had stopped to eat at one of the food stalls back in the merchant quarter. The lack of food was making him irritated and jumpy, and even more nervous as groups of men huddling around fires pointed at Tael and the Bishop as they rushed past. A beggar's hand held Tael's arm and he brushed it aside, catching a glimpse of disappointment in the shriveled man's eyes. Were there as many poor and unfortunate souls in Trikar the last time he'd visited? It seemed significantly changed for the worse. Usually his grandfather stayed in the common areas of Trikar to avoid the suspicious stares of the city guard, disguising themselves as traveling merchants or tinkers. At the time there was an acceptance of poverty on people's faces, but now either defiance or drug-induced indifference filled the eyes around him. And yet the ever-present filthy cloud of hopelessness still left its stain everywhere.
They reached an inner wall with a band of soldiers guarding the entrance into the city's artisan quarter. The soldiers tensed as Bishop Draven and Tael approached.
"Your Excellency!" The leader of the group stiffened, grazing fingers over forehead in the formal salute.
"Yes, yes..." Bishop Draven waved away the soldier and motioned for them to move aside. The men obeyed and without even a glance let them both pass. After they were out of earshot, the priest spoke again. "We will dine in civility up ahead. I shun the Calathian Church's sense of minimalism...little reason I should suffer for fine food and a decent bath after traveling for weeks in cramped quarters."
Tael was a bit surprised at the priest's change in propriety. Especially considering his previous weeks of meditation and plain countenance in Perinith. In the capitol, a different side of the Bishop appeared: arrogant, pampered, and selfish. Although what did he expect from a Bishop of the Calathian Church? The very institution that allied itself with the corrupt King and did its best to bring down the Arcanum. It was a vivid reminder for Tael to stay alert and focused, and to not trust a soul other than his grandfather—and even with him Tael was uncertain of his motives in the politics of the world around. But did Tael even really care other than exacting revenge against the King for his parent's death?
Ahead gaslit lanterns illuminated the wood-plank-and-stone facade of a very
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