Asitun Tiller lounged in the loft of the chapel, wishing he was asleep, while someone below him droned on.
It was too damn bright. His right hand, which held an apple core he’d finished gnawing on an hour ago, was slung over his eyes to shield them. His left hand was toying with a knife.
He always technically attended the Day of Sun Enlightenings, and so was beyond criticism—even if it earned him a good deal of reproachful looks, and exasperated questions about why he felt the need to snub the services. For all the answers (and non-answers) he’d given, the truth was very simple: it was sweaty in the pews, and he couldn’t get away with taking a nap down there.
Today of all days, however, sleep wasn’t an option. He endured the droning.
Merciful forbearance, peace and justice, yadda yadda…oh, humility! Because Humility is your name, I see, very clever. Why do so many Highland folk insist on naming themselves after virtues anyway? You’re just setting yourself up for it to be hilariously inappropriate.
…And he’s onto co-operation, which he talked about already. Wrath and Patience, he does go on, doesn’t he? Mum’s given an Enlightening every week for years, and all of them had a point. Whereas this git can’t string one speech together without getting completely lost…
Asitun stretched himself out with a groan, repositioning to maximise comfort and minimise religious nonsense.
Honestly. Some stuff you don’t have to go over three times per speech. We know the Almighty Virtue’s real. It’s not like They’ll poof out of existence if you forget to talk about Them.
“…Together, Amen!”
“Amen.”
The people below echoed the word, and Asitun pulled his arm down as his blue eyes cracked open. Finally. He pushed off his makeshift bed and stood, brushing down his farming slacks. The loft he’d converted into a nap-room was one of two, on either side of the stage. Stairs led down into the backrooms and up to the roof, and there was one opening out onto the support beams criss-crossing the top of the building. That opening provided an excellent (if slightly nauseating) view down to the stage—without letting the folk sweltering in the pews see in.
Revealed was the marble angel that carried the centrepiece of the chapel and symbol of the Church as a whole: a fist-sized, solid gold statue of a flame. On a dais before it was a pristine steel war hammer (shining just a little too brilliantly in the midday sun) and to one side was the font of holy water.
Oh, and the visiting preacher, he was there too. Humility was a tall, well-built man, with a shiny bald head and a sheepskin robe. His voice was loud the same way the creak on Asitun’s landing was loud: in that Asitun really wished it wasn’t.
“Your oracle, Brunhild Darkstar!” Humility finally finished, bowing out and allowing the chapel’s usual oracle to take the stage. She was even taller and better built than him (to Asitun’s great delight), contrasting him with her dark skin and long hair. She also contrasted him by being awesome, which made sense, given that she was Asitun’s mother.
Brunhild’s eyes drifted upwards, passing over Asitun, and he stuck his tongue out at her.
She blanked him entirely. The usual greeting.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, addressing the crowd. “I shan’t waste any more of your time with fancy speeches. You all know why we’re here.”
Asitun grinned. Hah! She was bored of Humility too!
“Today is an auspicious one. We are blessed that a Day of Sun falls upon the summer solstice; a fitting day for the ascension of one of our own. May I invite June Tiller to join me.”
And here it was, the main event.
Just as the pews couldn’t see Asitun, Asitun couldn’t see the pews. But under the din of applause, he could hear the clacks of footfalls and jangle of metal growing gradually louder, until their source finally stepped up onto the stage.
June was…magnificent. Lush red hair, bright green eyes, a light dusting of freckles over her nose; the works. A year Asitun’s senior at seventeen, but a stranger would have guessed she was much older. Her ceremonial half-plate armour (plus arming sword and heater shield) might have had something to do with that. The especially lovestruck or especially unoriginal might have compared her to an angel like the statue behind her, but Asitun firmly disagreed. Angels only appeared to stop demons. June had once ran twenty kilometres to the nearest alchemist to help a sick dog.
She looked upwards once she climbed the steps to the stage, and her eyes drifted to the head of the angel statue—
Then widened and darted left, locking onto Asitun’s face two floors above.
He grinned back, waving down at her.
“June was not born in Goldengrove.” Brunhild put a hand on June’s shoulder to draw her attention back down. “But she was welcomed here as a small child, and has lived here all her life.”
June blinked, then (as Asitun made a circular gesture to her) jolted, and turned back to face the congregation.
Brunhild continued speaking, her audience unaware of Asitun’s interruption. “June was raised as a ward of this chapel, raised in my home, and a finer daughter we could not have asked for. She learned. She grew. And, this year, she decided to undergo one of the hardest challenges anybody can.”
Brunhild stepped back, leaving June central on the stage with (presumably) dozens of eyes trained on her. Her shoulders rose and fell from the deep breaths she was taking, and her hands fidgeted behind her back.
“June Tiller. Do you swear that between this summer solstice and the last, you have never once told a lie?” Brunhild asked.
“I—do.” June’s voice cracked as she spoke up for the first time. Her cheeks flushed red immediately.
“Do you swear that in that time, you have never once stolen that which was not yours?” Brunhild continued.
“I do.” This time the words came out properly.
“That in that time, you have never once cheated one of your peers?”
“I do.” Louder, more assured.
“That for a full year, you have never once done physical harm to one you deemed an innocent?”
“I do so swear!” June finished. Her voice echoed throughout the chamber.
Brunhild smiled. “Then prove to us the fruits of your promises! Show, in the home of the Virtue you serve, what gift They have granted you for your goodness and honesty.”
June breathed in, and raised her arms in front of herself.
In the loft, Asitun tensed. Please, please, please, please…
For a moment—a dangerous moment—nothing happened. Then June’s hands began to glow. A golden hue suffused her fingers, lighting up her face and making her armour shine.
She cupped her hands, and the light grew. Its source moved up from her skin to float in the air, forming a sphere between her palms that was larger than her head. It became brighter, brighter still, growing more solid until it completely outshone the morning light falling through the chapel’s great glass roof. June held a miniature sun between her palms.
She threw it. What else could she really have done? The sphere flew up into the air, coming to its apex at Asitun’s head height. He took a moment to admire its shine…but couldn’t help but note that despite how warm it looked, he couldn’t feel a shred of heat from it.
And then it exploded outwards, sending sparkling lights flying all throughout the chapel.
The crowd exploded along with it—applause, whoops and cheers breaking out over the din.
“Congratulations, June!” Brunhild announced, cutting over even the cheering. “It is an honour to receive you into the Church. I look forward to seeing what you accomplish, paladin.”
Up in the rafters, Asitun winced at the lightshow and turned away. He was grinning, but his elation couldn’t calm his rapidly beating heart. There had always been that small chance that—
Oh, relax. It’s June. Now come on, the lightshow’s over. He shook himself, took a deep breath, then jogged to the stairs.
._.
“I do so swear!” were the first words out of Asitun’s mouth after he got down. He matched June’s alto with ease, catching her attention, and she started running the moment she spotted him. “Going off-script, I liked it, very—Oof!”
She crashed into him in the middle of the aisle and wrapped her arms around his torso. He laughed, hugging her back, as the people packed into the rows of pews began to spill out around them. Many offered further congratulations to June (or coos at the display of affection), but the priority was clearly to get out into the fresh air.
Having your ceremonies peak at midday, under a glass roof. Great for religious significance, not so much for comfort.
“Congratulations,” Asitun said, holding June’s shoulders after pulling back from the hug. “I knew you could do it.”
“Well I’m glad you did,” June said. “I was terrified!”
He laughed, and she scowled at him. “I mean it! I haven’t slept properly in days! I kept dreaming that I’d accidentally told one small lie months ago, or pushed a child out of my way too hard, and the year would come to nothing!”
“Trust me, I know that paranoia,” Asitun said. “But you checked this morning, right? You got your powers at dawn.”
“Well yes, I did,” June huffed. “But what if something went wrong anyway?”
Asitun raised an eyebrow. June maintained a pout for about three seconds before her expression cracked. Then they both laughed, and started walking along with the crowd.
“And where were you hiding that whole time?” June asked, looking back up towards the stage. “I can’t even see up there, what—”
Asitun snickered. “The loft space. I promised you I wouldn’t miss your empowerment ceremony, didn’t I?”
“You did, but you never attend Enlightening anymore! You’re rarely even awake before midday, and—” June’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Are you always up there?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I always thought you were asleep!”
“For some of it, I was.”
“Is that…allowed?”
“Sleeping, or hiding in the loft?”
“Asitun!” June hissed.
“Well, so long as the visiting pair of lungs doesn’t learn of it, we’ll never need to find out.” Asitun glanced backwards, trying to spot the speaker from earlier. “He does go on, doesn’t he? I was bored. Were you bored?”
“Asitun,” June repeated, “Humility is an Enlightened! Not counting the Arisen, he’s one of the four most powerful people in the Church!”
“Which means his job is looking after Virtue’s fragile little mortal form,” Asitun said. “So if the Arisen is in Amen High Cathedral, what’s this guy doing all the way out in Goldengrove, boring us all stiff? Did he tell you? I asked mum and she didn’t know.”
“No…” June looked away, biting her lip. “They do occasionally go out and preach across the kingdom, though. Maybe because the week’s end lined up so well with the Summer Solstice, and the full moon? Goldengrove is significant to the Church, after all.”
“Maybe. But did he have to bring his entourage?” Asitun sidestepped another sweating man in city clothes. “I mean, why does a man called Humility need a—”
“His ‘entourage’ is two paladins and two carriage drivers,” June corrected. “The rest are just people who wanted to follow him when they heard he was making the trip. And I, for one, am happy that he came.” She gave Asitun her ‘sick of your nonsense’ look, turning up her nose. “It was an honour to have my empowerment presided over by an Enlightened, whatever you thought of his speech. And it means that the solstice festival is twice its usual size!”
“Oh, you’re right.” Asitun widened his eyes. “It means we get to play Scam The Tourists! I’ll go tell Joy, Fletch and Carter, we’re gonna make so much money—”
“That would be cheating them, Asitun.”
“Charging someone too much for a round of apple bobbing isn’t cheating, cheating is defined as…”
The bickering continued, as the pair walked out the doors and into the village of Goldengrove.
._.
Asitun was more than a little proud of his home village. He supposed most folks were, really; his mother had taught him about people’s tendency to take pride in Their Community even if there was nothing particularly special about it. But then, most of those people couldn’t say, ‘Yeah, the trees in our village have leaves that reflect the sunlight, and we contribute more than a third of all goldenseeds used in the kingdom.’
Goldengrove had been named by the Church about three hundred and seventy years ago—rather unimaginatively, which was a trend for them—because of the grove of goldenglow trees that grew there. They closely resembled ordinary oak trees, with the obvious exception of the shimmering golden light reflecting from the canopy they created. There were dozens of them in a central glade, and dozens more scattered throughout the village—which was absolutely absurd considering that most chapels could only cultivate one or two on their lands.
Absurd, until you remember that Goldengrove is where the Arisen first planted the things.
The crowd that had arrived alongside Humility were very impressed by the flora, just as expected. Pilgrims, journeymen, tourists; Virtue’s Second Miracle always drew stares. But for the residents of the village, they were just another fact of life. Annoying when there was a bright light shining right outside your window in the morning, but beneficial when you wanted a quick source of money from selling off the leaves.
The atmosphere in the village centre was one of celebration, excitement, and plain old fun. Children were splashing about in the river that arced through the middle of the glade. A bonfire had been carefully built up in an area with a clear sky above it, and some of the year’s best pigs had been slaughtered for roasting, filling the area with their mouth-watering smell. Stalls had been set up selling the two staples of festivals everywhere: food, and useless knick-knacks you’d throw out within the week.
Asitun and June walked out into the bustle…and immediately found people staring at them.
“Oh, here we go,” Asitun muttered, for June’s ears only. “Congratulations, June, you’re a paladin now. That means everyone is going to stare at you everywhere you go. Look, there’s a gremlin approaching from your right.”
“That’s called a child, Asitun,” June muttered back, “and I believe it wants to talk to you.”
“Oh, dear, why would it want to do that. Bet you a crown it says something racist.”
“Asitun, that’s two weeks’ income. Also, racist? She can’t be more than six!”
“Yes, but see her clothes? City girl. What do you think her parents have taught her about people that look like me?”
“She’ll be curious at worst. Not everyone is out to get you, Asitun.”
“They don’t have to be out to get me, they just have to be stupid or have stupid teachers, and that’s much more—you know what? Let’s ask.”
Asitun bent down in front of the well-dressed girl that had been slowly approaching them, and put on his ‘interacting with children’ demeanour.
“Hey there, how’s it going!” he said. “Something to say?”
“Um. Does…” The gremlin crossed its legs and arms, barely meeting his gaze. “...Do you get extra hot because you’re that colour? Because when mum makes me wear dark clothes they always make me too hot. Also why is your hair white?”
June burst out laughing.
Asitun turned around and glared at her, which just made her laugh harder, and then waved dismissively. “Oh, get lost. Go talk to the Enlightened or something.”
“Do I get my crown?”
“Later. Shoo!”
He turned back to the gremlin (now trying to hide behind its hair), and immediately had his smile back in place. “What a great question! Actually, I don’t get extra hot. Down in Clearsky Desert, there’s a lot of people that look like me. I hardly ever get sunburnt.”
“Ooh.” The child’s eyes widened. “Does everyone from the desert have white hair too?”
“Nope, just me.” Asitun leaned in closer. “Do you want to know why?”
The child nodded, silently.
“You see…” Asitun paused. Half a dozen entertaining stories passed through his head. Half a dozen lies.
But.
“I have absolutely no idea,” he said.
The gremlin gave him a horribly betrayed look. He smiled, patted her on the head, and walked off to find June again.
._.
June found Humility and Brunhild walking side by side out of the chapel. They were talking to each other, and followed at a respectful distance by two others in armour, a man and a woman.
“I of course do not mean to imply anything, only, the word is that people are wondering—ah! If it isn’t the paladin of the day!” Humility spotted June on approach, and his eyes lit up as he raised his arm in greeting.
Not for the first time, June was struck by his presence. The man was easily six feet tall, with thick limbs and a stomach that his loose robe didn’t do much to hide. Enlightened are supposed to keep to a simple diet, aren’t they? The others I saw in Amen looked almost emaciated, but him…
Of course, that size only further accentuated Brunhild, who still had a couple of inches on him. Why didn’t Asitun get any of that?
“June.” Brunhild beckoned her over. “Come, it’s high time you were introduced properly. As I imagine you already know, this is Humility.” She gestured to him, and then the two following behind them. “And these are his bodyguards, Uther and Mercy.”
“Lord Enlightened. Sir and Dame paladin. Ah, oracle.” June hastily bowed to all of them.
