tale of the godslayer | ze_kraken x moffnat

[ze_kraken]

TALE OF THE GODSLAYER

​

Bells clamored through the village, piercing the veil of silence the early dawn hours had built throughout the night and ushering forth a new host of cacophonous sounds as shutters opened, wagons creaked into motion, and the sounds of idle conversation began. Elwyn awoke to the clamor as she had every day for the last decade, atop the same mattress of straw lined in cotton sheeting she had, dressing herself in the same yellow dress and pulling on the same yellow cowl. Her morning began as it always did, with a prayer whispered to Dreara as she braided her brunette hair into its usual thick braid and tucked it so that it rested along the right side of her torso free of the cowl. As had become her custom, she allowed herself the briefest indulgence of vanity as she inspected herself in a hand mirror she had been gifted from home, the last material remnants of her life as a noble's daughter, and hid it beneath her bed from the probing eyes of any sister superior who might stumble upon it.

The rest of her morning went on as it had the morning before, the week before, and indeed perhaps the year before. She broke her fast with her fellow novitiates in thoughtful silence, one maintained by the keen glare and ever-ready switch of one of the elder sisters. After breakfast, the novitiates reported to the elders of the temple for the day's tasks. Some were sent to assist the midwives for the day's births, others to tend to the sick or injured, and others still to oversee the scheduling of weddings for the province. Where matters of the family and motherly care were concerned, the sisters of Dreara were there to lend a tender hand. Elwyn stood in line with the other novitiates, expecting that today would be like any other day and she would be sent to tend to the medical needs of the village as she so often had. She had a knack for bedside care, and when a sister had a knack, it was exploited to its fullest. Elwyn wore her talent like a badge of pride, another indulgence unbecoming of a sister of Dreara, but then the others did not need to know in so great a detail the list of her enumerated sins.

"Sister Elwyn," sister superior Adrianna said with a bow of her head at her approach. "Dreara's grace upon you."

"Mother's mercy to you, Sister Adrianna," Elwyn said with a deeper bow to acknowledge their difference in station.

"Archives," Adrianna said. "Reorganization."

The departure from Elwyn's routine froze the rehearsed response in her throat, and she choked on it for a moment as her mind worked to come up with original words to say.

"Something the matter, Sister Elwyn?"

It was an empty question, for there was only one acceptable answer.

"None, Sister Adrianna. I shall go right away."

Elwyn gave another bow of her head, braid swaying as she brought her head back up and hurried away as fast as she could without hiking up her skirts. Behind her, the line of novitiates going to receive their own tasks continued in its normal rhythmic motion but for Elwyn the day no longer felt rote. The archives? Had she done something to offend one of the elder sisters? Had her performance treating the sick slackened? Thoughts of inadequacy and doubt flooded her mind as she stepped through the temple, avoiding the elder sisters where she could - a novitiate never interfered with the work of an elder, even for the slightest delay by standing in their way.

The stain glass tiles that flooded the temple's main floor with a blend of colors and hues that normally occupied Elwyn's attention on a morning such as this went ignored beholden to the thoughts bubbling in her mind. The echo of her footsteps were lost to the scrape of dozens of feet upon the cool stone floors, and the voices of sisters as they walked past simultaneously filled and were dwarfed by the wide arches and tall ceilings of the temple.

Off the eastern-facing wall rested a plain doorway meant to look inconspicuous and disinteresting to the uninformed passerby. Elwyn slid through the door and rushed down the stairs into the bowels of the temple, cursing the immediate change in moisture and temperature. The pleasant, open air of the temple floor above was swiftly replaced with damp, oppressive, chilly air with the dank and dark scents of mold and wet stone.

At the bottom of the stairs, Elwyn was met with sister superior Katherine, to whom she offered a deep bow of her head and a small courtesy. Katherine barely inclined her head, tutting. Narrow, milky eyes looked over Elwyn's shoulder, and the elder sister adjusted her silver braid to rest more comfortably over her left shoulder.

"You're all I'm getting today, are you?"

"As far as I understand it, Sister Katherine. There may be others."

"Well, blessed are the hands too busy to stray from Dreara's light. There's work enough for a dozen novitiates, but you'll have to do for now. Come along, then."

Without checking to see if Elwyn would follow, Katherine turned on the spot and with an intimate familiarity of the space about her navigated past stacks of books and scrolls and through to a maze of wooden shelves that dominated the damp chamber. Where the wood was not rotted or strained with the weight of ages, it was matted in dust or covered in grime whose variety was as boundless as it was disgusting to view. Books and tomes and scrolls flooded the shelves in a disorganized mess or paper and leather binding. Like the shelves upon which they rested, the books were marred and molded in a plethora of ways, and Elwyn had to fight the urge to grin. How could she handle the smells and discomforts of dealing with the sick and infirm, but the thought of touching a moldy book filled her mind with horror?

"Something funny?"

"No, sister superior."

"Good. I thought I'd heard a chuckle. Now here, we'll start you here. Sister superior Ilana noted we had been harboring a number of heretical texts alongside holy texts and records, and that simply will not do. Here you will find religious texts, edicts, stories, and legends of false idols of years gone by - either stricken from the heavens, or else from past kingdoms whose gods are antithetical to our Lady's being. Only, if it were so well organized, I would have no need of you. You are to find the records to do with such matters and set them aside to be put to their own section, and maintain clear distinction from our holy texts."

"Why keep them at all, sister superior?"

"Because while we might live in the realm of the godly, we still exist in the realm of the mortal. Kings and queens and idiot men with white beards and scribes to pen their self-proclaimed great words like to keep things for the sake of future generations."

Katherine spat.

"Nonsense, all of it, but then I am a servant. I serve. Without question."

She prodded Elwyn in the chest with a bony finger.

"Now step-to, novitiate, or I'll have you switched for wasting my time."

"At once, sister superior."

Katherine huffed with a satisfactory nod and left Elwyn to her work, hobbling back to her seat by the front of the archive. Elwyn fought the urge to audible exhale, and began rummaging through the shelf, recoiling as her hands ran through grime and muck. Most of the texts were too damaged to read properly, so she consigned them to the pile to leave the temple. Without the sun to track the progress of time, it felt as though she had spent hours combing through books and scrolls, though she was sure it had been mere minutes.

The day went on in the shadow of boredom, and Elwyn allowed her mind to wander as she sorted. She thought of what she might do with her day of rest this week, if Martaniar would be free to give her more singing lessons in the village inn. Maybe she would wear the golden pin he had given her in her hair if she could get away with it. Suddenly her hand wrapped around a book sturdier than the rest, and with curiosity piqued she pulled it from the shelf and stifled a gasp. It was a luxoriously dyed book of red leather binding, whose pages were fringed with gold at their edges and pressed from fine pulp. The text had been done in rich ink and colors on its cover, looking more like the story books her mother had read to her as a girl than the kinds of books she had seen in the temple.

Still, it was doubtless one of the books she had been told to consign to oblivion in some scholar's collection a hundred leagues away or more. Elwyn knew she should not open it for fear Katherine might notice, but something about the illustrious cover spoke to her. She gnawed at her lip and with a brief moment of hesitation opened the book. The title was written on the first page in flowing script, and Elwyn followed it with the tip of her finger, mouthing it under her breath.

"Radagon," she muttered, and the word sent a shudder down her spine.

The shudder became a cool heat that blossomed in her chest and spread outward. Elwyn's scream caught in her throat - if sister Katherine heard her, she would know she had dug around in things she should not have. Had she invoked some slumbering god's name, and cursed herself? Would she be cast from the temple? Would she grow horns? Would she-

The sensation faded as swiftly as it had come and Elwyn stood quivering, gooseflesh prickling her arms. Without another thought, she shut the book with more force than she had intended but fortunately sister Katherine had not heard.

"What happened," she whispered under bated breath. "What did I just do?"​

​

 

[moffnat]

In the expanse of eternal slumber, a voice was heard. Soft, like a whisper, floating on the back of a supernatural wind to reach him. It resonated in his chest and rippled across the very fabric that separated god from man.​

​

Radagon.

He was fractured, broken, a shadow of his former self, yet still certain that his name was Radagon. Chained to a stone wall in the belly of an unknown place, his eyes opened in response to the call. A great iron stake was buried in his side, and it twisted as he tried to move. Whoever had trapped him here had not made escape easy. Radagon was weary after eons of confinement and content to return to slumber, if only to save him the pain that freeing himself would require.

But someone had summoned him.

Like a wounded lion, he bared his teeth. With a great roar, Radagon yanked the chains from the wall behind him, breaking the half-tended magical seal that had held him there. He ripped the iron stake from his ribs, golden blood trickling from the gaping wound left behind, and he collapsed to the floor, a heaping mass of godly flesh rendered asunder in a battle he could not recall. He clutched his side and heaved. The rush of power left him staggered, and he struggled to catch his breath in its wake.

Radagon knew not where he was. His surroundings were unfamiliar, as was the burning fire in his chest that drove him to anger. He yearned to crush the very skull of something, or perhaps someone, but without answers his rage was felled. He managed to stand. The weight of uncertainty was heavy on his shoulders. Determined to leave this prison and seek the truth, he trudged from the black nothingness that was his cave and into the bright, oppressive light of day.

For now, his goal was simple: find the person who'd spoken his name.​

 

[ze_kraken]

The rest of the week followed the mundane pace of life Elwyn had come to expect. With each dawn she awoke to the temple bells ringing through the village before dawn, dressed herself, broke her fast, accepted work, and ate supper after prayer time with her convocation. Though she still frequented the archive throughout the day under the milky but no less watchful eyes of Sister Katherine, she made sure to stay clear of the shelf with the book marked "Radagon" for fear of what reading the words had made her feel. She had kept the book on the shelf, not wishing to touch it or stay in its vicinity any longer than she had to. Fortunately, between Sister Katherine's aged eyesight and the plethora of work to do, the omission went unnoticed.

Unnoticed, but not unforgotten.

During hours of solitude - her walks through the courtyard of the temple, her time getting dressed in the mornings, and while she lay trying to sleep at night - the thought nagged at her. What had that book been? Why was it here? Had she imagined the whole thing? She supposed the answers would have been obvious had she read more than just the first words, but if one name - if it even had been a name - was enough to send heat flaring through her then would more words cast her aflame? Not having others to talk through her discovery with heightened the curiosity and dread. She trusted her friends in the temple well enough, but if word of her transgression regarding a heretical text ever reached the wrong ears even by mistaken or malice then her punishment would be more than a simple taste of a sister superior's switch.

So it was that upon the eve of her final day of work before all the sisters would be given a day of rest, as she sat in her chambers alongside Tatiana, they spoke of anything but the book. Tatiana teased Elwyn, asking if she planned to see Martaniar and demanding to see the golden pin he had given her upon their last meeting. Elwyn, flush with embarrassment, pulled it from beneath a loose stone in the floors and showed it to Tatiana. It was a small thing, barely wider than Elwyn's pinky, but exceedingly lovely to look upon nonetheless. It was set with a small, shimmering ruby - or, at least, Martaniar had claimed it to be one - and refracted the light it caught into a dazzling array of red like a miniature torch.

"A shame you'll never be able to marry him," Tatiana said, admiring the pin absently as she spoke. "He certainly knows how to treat a woman."

"That is exactly my problem with him," Elwyn said. "He knows how to treat a woman, and he knows that he knows. It would not surprise me if there are a dozen girls with similar trinkets all about the village and farmsteads around us. He only sees me once a week, after all, and a man like that certainly lacks the patience for that."

"If that were true, I'd expect we'd see dozens more blonde haired bastards about the village, and complaints of women growing fat with child out of wedlock," Tatiana retorted, though she nodded in agreement all the same.

Elwyn recoiled, recalling one such child she had helped deliver a month after meeting Martaniar for the first time. That had been nearly a year ago, and now the child was old enough that the resemblances were more certain that coincidence. Whether a dozen or just one, it was a reminder that Elwyn was just a play thing of his.

But oh, to be his play thing is better than you will ever get, I suppose, she thought, mirroring Tatiana's nod.

"It's not like we are exactly able to compete with those farm girls with nothing better to offer than what's between their legs," Elwyn said after a pause. "Men are not known to think with their heads."

"No, I suppose not, but then, perhaps he has thought with his head and that's why he's so fond of seeing you on the days he can. Might be he sees the worth in a woman like you."

"Or he knows he can have his fun with me in one way, and fun with the others in another way," Elwyn sighed. "Still, it is a pretty thing, isn't it?"

She fetched the pin from Tatiana's hands, admiring it for a moment before sliding it beneath her bed once more.

Elwyn awoke the next morning to find that Tatiana had not, true to her promise, made her way back to her bedchambers before passing out in a pile of spare blankets on the floor of Elwyn's bedchamber. She sighed, shaking her head as she readied herself for the day, tucking the pin between her breasts. Once she had made herself presentable, she left the temple and followed the trodden dirt path into the village below. Already smoke from cookfires were billowing pleasantly scented smoke, casting their smells of cooking meat and stews aloft on the air. Often on rest days, it was custom for working families to prepare a small feast in celebration of the week's end, and that was work that began early. Elwyn recalled working in the tavern on such a day two years back, and fingered a burn scar on her palm from where she had clutched a still-burning-hot kettle with bare hands. The memory brought a small smile to her face, and she ventured on down into the village below.

Mud houses framed in wooden crossbeams lined either side of a main street paved in irregular paving stones, atop which the hooves of donkeys and cattle and horses rang out like miniature hammers at a smithy's forge. Men and women walked about, greeting friends as they passed, offering Elwyn small bows of respect at seeing her yellow robes. She smiled and returned their greetings in turn, wandering through the village without much of an objective in mind. She stopped by the open market, fetching an apple from Jasius. The farmer declined her offer of payment, citing her help in curing his boy a month past as payment enough. She shook her head and slipped the coins to his wife instead before continuing on.

Come midday, Elwyn had grown bored of her wanderings and ventured out of the village through a patch of woods that lined its eastern flank. There, she slipped past a pair of gnarled oaks and through to a narrow path trod flat in the undergrowth by similar curious souls down to the river. She lifted her skirts and robe to keep them clear from the mud and grass stains as she walked, coming to a clearing that rested upon the shore of the river at a ford. Elwyn muttered thanks to the gods that the clearing was empty today and seated herself upon one of the larger rocks dotting the river shore, closing her eyes and basking in the noon sun with a content sigh.

The sounds of rustling leaves and underbrush some time later disturbed her from her quiet reflection, but so close to home she doubted it was little more than another villager come to do the same.

"Come, friend," she called out cheerfully. "There is space enough for two!"

 

[moffnat]

He walked for days, barefoot and cold among open fields and unruly forest trails. Radagon did not feel pain in his feet nor soreness in his legs, and he did not stop to eat or rest, for he did not need to. He was guided through quaint farms with carrots and rutabagas ripe for harvest, through tiny countryside towns and atop seaside cliffs. Ocean breezes threaded through his flame-red hair and made his skin prickle with goosebumps. Spring had clearly bloomed upon the land, though winter had not yet entirely wilted.

There were no thoughts in Radagon's mind beyond locating his savior. He didn't ponder who they would be, what they would want, or whether or not he was chasing a trap. Something urged him forward like a wheel that never stopped turning; a star that never stopped burning. He owed this human his very life. He must meet them and profess his undying protection if they were worthy, and if they were not... well, no man could refuse a celestial favor. This, he knew without doubt.

In the blink of an eye -- or perhaps time had passed, who could tell? -- Radagon came upon a meadow at high noon. He kept near the forest edge as he stopped for the first time since he'd embarked from his prison. The meadow was kissed by the grace of spring, dotted with blooming wildflowers and bathing in sunshine, nestled against the crook of a quiet river. Baby rabbits hopped about with their families and male songbirds chirped their sweetest songs in hopes of winning a mate.

Among it all, a woman sat perched atop the rocks, basking in a moment of peace.

Warmth spread through the center of Radagon's chest and rippled down to his fingertips. What a fitting place to find his savior.

Foolishly, Radagon leaned forward in attempt to get a closer look at the girl, but the branch beneath his foot snapped. A giveaway. The woman did not flee, but instead called out in invitation. "Come, friend," her lovely voice spoke. "There is space enough for two!"

She was a spectacular beauty from what Radagon could see, and he could not refuse such an amiable plea. He stepped from the shadows of the forest and into the sun. His skin, fair and flawless despite his travels, soaked in the heat and seemed to glow in the light of day. His flowing hair came to rest against his back, reaching down to the base of his spine, and his face, handsome and sharp as if sculpted from marble, wore a look of awe.

"It is you," he said softly. "Isn't it?"​

 

[ze_kraken]

Blood flushed Elwyn's cheeks as the man stepped into view. He was simultaneously the most beautiful man she had ever seen and horrifying to behold all the same. His physique rivaled that of ancient demigods, though there was a haunted quality to it. Perhaps that of a night's sleep lost or more. Perhaps that of dirtied feet and skin. Half dressed as he was, Elwyn supposed he could have been a beggar but then no beggar looked half as lovely and carried himself with such pride.

Fool girl, she chided herself, realizing she was staring with eyes flickering progressively further and further down the man's chiseled frame. You're being indecent.

"Pardon me," she said, rushing to her feet. "If you wish to bathe, do not let me keep you from it - the day is lovely, the water cool. I-"

Wait. What was it he said?

"It's me? Why, what do you mean? Are you in need of-"

Elwyn's flush paled, and her mouth fell agape. She raised a hand to cover it, and stifled a gasp. No, it could not be. The name felt right upon her lips, and she felt it slip past without a second thought.

"Radagon."

 

[moffnat]

It was not common, nor perhaps appropriate, for a human girl to let a man bathe in her presence. Such was her kindness. Radagon did not sense that this girl was vulgar; no, she intended to let a stranger bathe and nothing more, despite the supposed indecency. She would sacrifice her own enjoyment of the meadow so that he may clean himself. That alone marked her as worthy.

Even still, Radagon could not speak before the sound of his name fell from her lips. Its power trickled down his spine and his eyes fluttered closed, reveling in the thrill. Radagon, she said, as she'd said before. This girl was undoubtedly the one who had summoned him. The golden core at the center of his being thrummed in her presence.

He came forward. "You know me," he said, "but it seems you did not expect me. Such is the way of things. I have been dormant for far too long."

Stopping within a few feet from her, Radagon cocked his head to the side and studied her visage. Such beauty and grace in her youthful form. There was purity in her, and it stirred something within him that latched in an instant.

Yes, oh yes, she was worthy indeed.

"Tell me, child," he said in a low voice. "What is the current year?"

 

[ze_kraken]

Elwyn pursed her lips and placed firm hands on her hips, eyes meeting this man's - Radagon's, if her intuition was not leading her astray - at least in part to avoid lingering on his near nakedness. She supposed that feeling, bordering on dread, in the pit of her stomach might have been some tug of destiny or a higher power, or else merely nerves, or indeed simple embarrassment. Yet, he had responded to the name.

But what god would need to know what year it was? She thought. Too long? Dormant? And what is this business calling me child? He cannot be much older than me from the looks of it!

Taking this man at his word for now, though some part of her still wondered if either he or she had simply been hit on the head too hard without realizing it, Elwyn nodded at nothing in particular. Her mind puzzled with his question for a moment as a million more of her own questions buzzed about her brain, and her flush renewed at the realization he had not been asking her for a yes or a no.

"It is the seventy second year of Alerandro," Elwyn said, and at Radagon's puzzled look she bit her lip. "That is to say, perhaps to give more context, about six hundred years since the ascension of the God-King Pareldor and the Holy Empire of Obraista."

 

[moffnat]

"Pareldor," Radagon muttered, looking to the distance as though the mountains held the answer. "That name is familiar to me, but also not. Pareldor, Alerandro, Obraista..."

He shook his head with a sigh. It was no use struggling to unearth these memories, for either Radagon had forgotten them, or they never existed at all. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "It appears as though I can't remember a thing. I awoke imprisoned and heard a call, so soft and sweet on the wind, yet all else before or after is lost to me. How very odd."

But perhaps that could wait until later. Radagon turned to the girl again and replaced his look of concern with an expression of utmost gratitude. "No matter. My lady, it is because of you that I am free. Surely you are the pure soul who spoke my name, no?" He placed his hand over his chest and bowed to her. "From this moment onward, I am indebted to you. You have earned my eternal and unwavering protection. I will remain with you until I can recall my purpose, and after that, should you wish to give yourself to me in service, I will embellish you with all the sacred arts that a god can offer man. Might I have the honor of learning your name?"

 

[ze_kraken]

"Imprisoned?"

Was this man dangerous? Had he been taken by the Duke's watchmen and imprisoned, and grown mad in some dungeon cell? The clothing, or lack thereof, certainly matched that assumption but Elwyn was still uncertain. If he was a mad man, how would he have made it so far dressed so? Or respond to the very same name she had read just days before? She bit her lip, shaking her head at her own uncertainty as she cleared her throat.

"My name's Elwyn," she said, voice trailing off. "And I'm no lady, I am just a humble servant of Dreara. Why, I don't even know what I could offer to anyone, let alone a god."

She said the words carefully, keeping them clear of doubt and keeping a polite smile on her face. God or no, he was a well-muscled man and he would be more than capable of drowning her or whisking her away before her cries for help elicited a response from the village.

"Tell me, Radagon," she said, and she was not sure if the shudder that fluttered down her spine came from a source other than her own mind. "Are you in need of a place to stay?'

 

[moffnat]

Elwyn. What a beautiful name, a delicious name, so much that he wanted to test it on his tongue. "Elwyn. Yes, a fitting name." He managed a little smile. Rare, but not impossible. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Elwyn, and I must thank you for freeing me from my chains. If you will allow it, I would follow you until my purpose is remembered, for I am lost and aimless without it. I only hope that my presence will not be a nuisance to you."

Radagon had not a clue where Elwyn would take him. Indeed, she could be an agent of the very force that imprisoned him, and her goal could be sinister. But Radagon prided himself as a good judge of character. For some reason, he felt inclined toward judgment in any form, and he used this ability to assess Elwyn with a glanceover.

Yes. Pure of heart, pure of body, pure of mind.

A worthy companion. He had been lucky.

 

[ze_kraken]

Elwyn's reply caught dead in her throat, that same caution nagging her as she settled for a nod and a half-hearted curtsy. A silence hung in the air between them for a moment, and Elwyn shuddered as she felt Radagon's eyes rake over her. Was it merely the sudden intensity with which he gazed at her? Or had the sudden void of privacy and concealment been some representation of whatever powers this self-proclaimed god possessed? It would have been poor form to assume the gods did not exist, she supposed - after all, she had been given plentiful reason to believe her own Dreara did truly exist. But this man?

You're running in circles, the voice in her mind huffed.

She hesitated for a moment. Did she take this man to the inn? She doubted he had even a copper coin to spare, and purchasing a room for a man in a village of perhaps 150 souls would raise too many questions. She doubted any of the families in the area would extend the right of hospitality to a stranger as odd as this Radagon was, and there was no guarantee he would not leave at first opportunity to come seek her out again. Following her until his presence was realized did not sound like the words of a man so easily disuaded.

Draera, please forgive me.

"Hardly a nuisance," Elwyn said, unsure whether or not it was a lie. "There is ample space in the temple - you are not in need of medicine or injured, so you may not take a bed in the public quarters, but there is space enough in the private quarters."

She paused, biting her lower lip.

"Problem being, men are not permitted past the public halls, so should you accept this offer it will be of paramount importance that you stay hidden as best you can while we sort our more permanent accommodations less liable to see me flogged. Is this agreeable?"

At Radagon's agreement, Elwyn nodded and planted her hands on her hips, giving him a look-over. She was surprised he'd made it as far as he had dressed like that, and getting him into the village like that would be no easy task without raising questions. To say nothing of the fact they would need to wait until nightfall to even have a chance at sneaking Radagon into the private quarters of the temple. Lying did not come easily to Elwyn - nothing dishonest did.

"We will need to get you a cloak at least," she said. "Something to keep you vague and forgettable."

She'd seen plenty of travelers make through their village and cloaks, and more of the villagers knew to avoid them. She only hoped the same could be said for Radagon.

"I can go nab one from the village inn, in the meanwhile can I trust your discretion while I procure it? You needn't wait here the entire time - it might look suspicious if I returned to town and left so quickly anyways - but I don't want any undue attention drawn to myself if you are to share my chambers for the foreseeable future. Once I have the cloak for you, we will need to wait until dark to get you into the temple."

Elwyn nodded half to herself in affirmation, and hiked up her skirt to her ankles and made for the path towards the village. She glanced over her shoulder and nodded for Radagon to follow as she pressed on. By the time they arrived in the village once more, the sun had peaked and begun its slow descent back into the horizon. The villagers had largely returned to their homes for the midday meal, or flocked to the tavern for the afternoon performances and stories. That would be where she would take a cloak from the peg on the wall while the patrons were distracted.

"Alright," Elwyn said, stopping at the line of trees before the main road. "Discretion, remember. I'm going to go get you a cloak, I will be right back."

 

[moffnat]

Cloak. Darkness. Discretion. Radagon nodded his understanding with a small grin. She was quite precious, this Elwyn, to go through such lengths for him. She needn't know that if anyone raised a hand against her, he would level the very ground with the force of his rage. No matter. She would learn in time; so long as she was with him, whoever harmed her would meet a swift and righteous end.

While he awaited Elwyn's return, Radagon observed the state of the town. So much had changed among the human populace when compared to his deepest memories. They flocked in smaller groups and appeared less communicative, less open to strangers, less friendly. He frowned as a husband scolded his wife for wearing her hair in an "inappropriate" fashion. A child begged for money beside a sewage drain, and nearby, an old man drenched in filth babbled to his own reflection in a puddle. Such sights stirred anger within Radagon's chest. Where was the justice here? The order?

When Elwyn returned with a cloak, Radagon accepted, but his expression was twisted with disdain. "Elwyn," he asked, "why do these people suffer so greatly? Is there no god here to protect them? I see no justice or order. Should you know the name or location of the deity that watches over these lands, I would like to speak with them."​

 

[ze_kraken]

Elwyn paused at Radagon's question, hands gripping in reflex at the folds of the grey-green traveler's cloak draped across her forearms she had pilfered from the tavern. She had half-expected the strange man to have wandered off and caused trouble. Perhaps he would stray too close to the village and be seen openly, or strike up conversation and spread more tales of his godhood. It was a possibility she had toiled with as she had walked the lonely trail to the tavern and prepared for, as much as she could with her general disdain for dishonesty and lack of experience besides.

This, however, was not what she had expected.

"That is quite the question," Elwyn said, keeping her tone pleasant even as confusion muddled her words between her brain and her tongue. "As far as I know the world has always been a place full of suffering, big and small. The gods seem content on preserving a modicum of suffering - Sister Agatha says it is to ensure we value what good times we have. There is no light without the dark."

She pursed her lips.

"As for gods... well, surely you must know the current pantheon? I can find you some texts in the temple for you to read. Scholars and scribes write far more eloquently than I might ever speak."

 

[moffnat]

Radagon outright scoffed at Elwyn's outdated notion. "Suffering and joy must have a balance?" he posed. "To suffer is the nature of the world. It is not something given or taken away by the gods. Even if it were, there is no balance here, my dear. Do you not see it? Boundless suffering, unchecked, unchallenged. It must be put to rights."

He realized too late that he was raising his voice. To their left, a small number of people had turned their heads toward him, no doubt to question his sanity. Radagon quieted in an instant. He leaned in close to Elwyn and whispered, so he might better honor his promise of discretion. "Apologies, Elwyn. Please understand, I... this is simply something I cannot ignore." He accepted the cloak and thanked her, and though he towered over everyone in the village by at least a head, he did his best to stay hidden beneath the cloak and follow Elwyn's lead.

Not long after their walk began, they came upon a humble stone building that Radagon recognized as a temple. The decorations were modest and the attire of the nuns, plain. From the details alone, Radagon could not decipher to whom the temple was dedicated, but there was an odd comfort he felt in his chest upon reading the name etched on the sign by the door: TEMPLE OF DREARA.

"Dreara," he said under his breath. He knew this word, this deity. A woman, by the sound of it. "This is your goddess, dear Elwyn? Does she reside within?"​

 

[ze_kraken]

"No, as far as I can tell no one has seen our Lady Most Kind in living memory," Elwyn said. "Least of all in a village temple such as this. Many claim to hear her words, and perhaps they have, but see her in the flesh? No."

At the courtyard, Elwyn waved for Radagon to follow her left behind a line of trees. The majority of the attendants of the temple would still be taking their leisure in the village, but it would do neither of them any good to strut so carelessly through the front doors. Elwyn pursed her lips and gazed ahead at the temple, the spring heat distracting her thoughts like buzzing flies. Was it the heat or her nervousness that led the sweat to form along her brow? She shook her head and pointed to the western-facing wall of the temple.

"There, there is a servant's entrance," she explained. "I will head into the temple, and meet me there in two minutes. Knock twice, and I'll open it up."

At Radagon's confirmation, Elwyn hurried off through the courtyard. She counted her blessings that none of the sisters who would recognize her at a passing glance walked by her in the courtyard, and that the temple was left with sister novitiates whose noses were buried in their work. She made no move to draw undue attention to herself and continued at her brisk pace to the servant's corridor.

The servant's corridor was a dark, dank hallway. The ceiling hung low enough that even Elwyn felt the instinctive urge to hunch, and the walls smelt of mildew and errant moisture. Cracks in the walls spoke of the hallway's age, and if the older sisters were to be believed this particular portion of the temple dated back to its original construction centuries ago. The younger sisters knew it merely as the moldway, and many a mischievous novitiate had been sent to scrub this hall or ferry goods unseen from the public eye, as if the practical realities of feeding and sustaining human life made the appearance of the temple any less holy.

Elwyn arrived at the doorway and waited. Despite expecting them, the knocks still frightened her half to death. Hurriedly she opened the door and ushered Radagon inside, giving him an apologetic glance at the low-hanging ceiling.

"Did anyone notice you on your way in?"

 

[moffnat]

"No," Radagon offered, keeping his head bowed low so as not to strike the stone above him. "To my knowledge, no one saw me, though I am quite tall and easily noticeable in a crowd. It is difficult to be sure."

He glanced around. The tunnel was old and certainly not made for gods, or barely even humans. Radagon's typically neutral expression turned sour with distaste. The damp air reminded him of confinement, of the loneliness that imprisonment had left him fearful of. "Elwyn," he said warily, "please guide me from this place. I... I do not like the way I feel here."

Following close at her heels, Radagon considered reaching for the girl's hand to ensure she stayed near, but ultimately decided against it. Humans were not as open about physical touch as he was. The last thing he wanted to do was frighten off the only connection he'd formed, condemning himself to suffer alone.

It was with great relief that Radagon stepped into the temple halls at Elwyn's lead. She guided him further into an open doorway, and once she'd shut a door behind them both, Radagon exhaled, allowing his shoulders to slack.

Elwyn had led him to a bedchamber. Her bedchamber, no doubt. He was eager to explore the room, but his nerves were still tense, and he clenched his fists at his sides to try to ease the tension in his body.

"I apologize," he offered with a sad smile. "I am deeply disturbed by close quarters. Thank you for leading me here, dear Elwyn. I will be myself again soon enough."

 

[ze_kraken]

"I supposed I've just grown used to how cramped it can be here," Elwyn said, seating herself at the edge of her bed. "Apologies are not needed in the slightest, though we will need to find more, ah, suitable accommodations in the long-run, I think."

Frowning, she peered about her bedchamber, small as it was, and folded her arms across her chest. That she had her own room at all was a blessing when space was so limited for an order even as meager as her own in this village, but that it should fit more than her bed and her small chest of belongings at its foot was never to be questioned. Radagon seemed to fill the rest of the space, and Elwyn was made truly aware of his physique now given the chance to view it so closely and without the initial shock of their first encounter.

She had seen burlier men, the sort with bodies like oxen all bulging muscle and fat beholden their financial means. The smiths in the village, some of the higher-up watchmen. Radagon was neither wiry like a farmer tilling his fields on half an empty stomach nor burdened with layers of fat to encase his muscles. It was, she supposed, a god's physique - idealized to strength and beauty, with none of the practical concerns of human diet or environment to muddy its purity.

When she realized the silence had stretched into discomfort and that her stare had been lingering, Elwyn blushed and hoped the pause had been as short as she'd felt it and not a second longer.

"Now that we have a moment to breath, I have to ask - why seek me out, of all people? Where did you come from, and what are you going to do now? It's all just... so strange, I don't know if I fully believe you yet to be completely honest, but I'm incline to hear you out."

 

[moffnat]

Radagon had failed to notice Elwyn's staring. He was lost in his own mind, calming himself from the dread that claustrophobia had instilled in him. Elwyn's chambers were small, but not nearly as small as the tunnel she'd led him through, and there was a window to his right that guided moonlight across the floor. His fear had fled. Radagon exhaled, allowing himself to re-center.

"No doubt you have many questions," said Radagon, trailing his long fingers along the stone wall, delicate in his every move. "I will answer to the best of my ability. My memory is hazy at best, but there are some things I still know to be true."

He came to her then, sitting beside Elwyn atop her single bed. The mattress dipped greatly with his weight. "I know not where I come from. When I woke from whatever had incapacitated me, I was chained to a wall in a pit of stone and darkness. I would like to recover my memory first and foremost. I believe there may be a temple I can seek in times of need, if you will join me in venturing there. As for why I found you..." Radagon turned to her with a soft smile, his long auburn braid falling over his shoulder. "Who else would I seek? It was your voice that called to me. I meant what I said. I am devoted to you now. Should you wish to follow me on my journey, I would take you under my wing and grant you the abilities of my greatest acolytes. Magic."

To prove his point, or perhaps to prove to himself that his words were true, Radagon held out his left hand. With barely a flinch, he conjured a golden ring of light that hovered and swirled just above his palm, its sounds mimicking the twinkle of a star.

 

[ze_kraken]

"Magic?"

The words slipped past Elwyn's lips on bated breath, and for a moment she wondered if she had said them aloud at all. At Radagon's flicker of excitement of the word, the realization dawned that she had and her flushed renewed. How many coincidences did it take until the truth of his words was beyond reproach? What was it Sister Luhan had always said?

Skepticism breeds itself.

She had, of course, said the words as a reaffirmation of taking the Order's religious texts and prescriptions at face-value and without question, but Elwyn now saw the greater truth in them. Were she to sit here, she could pick apart any scrap of evidence to Radagon's story indefinitely and none of that would change her reality. She had taken this man into her temple, into her bedchamber, and there could be little done now to refill that spilled pitcher.

Her hand brushed Radagon's palm, the sudden contact sending a jolt of surprise down her spine and she had to suppress a yelp of surprise. Lost in her own thoughts, she had not been aware of her arm reaching out to grasp at the ring. More surprising yet was that where the ring had been now shimmered like lantern light in mist before reforming back into an object resembling something solid.

"I... Well. Where..." She shook her head, withdrawing her hand.

"Where would we even begin to go about teaching me? These bedchambers are rather poor accommodations, and I can't just shirk my duties while staying in this village besides. Too many know my face, and talk would spread!"

 

[moffnat]

Radagon chuckled. "One does not need a grand space to learn magic. I can do it here without issue. Although, I believe if we sought the temple, we would have better luck. There are books there, if I recall. Dozens and dozens of books about me and the power I hold within." He furrowed his brow, and his mirth-like grin faded into a somber frown. "Perhaps... I might remember how to use it."

Radagon did not wish to sour the mood. He was here, in relative safety, with Elwyn. He would protect her at all cost. She had accepted him as he was, even if she still held reservations, and there was no eminent danger on the horizon for either of them. Those things alone were enough to be at ease.

"Well. I remember that humans need rest, at least." Radagon stood from Elwyn's bed and returned to her small pile of books, sitting down beside it. "I will leave you be and spend the night studying tomes. If you agree to it, perhaps we might leave for the temple by the end of the week? That will give you enough time to finish your obligations here, yes?"