The Warlord and The Priestess

[Morigan]

The whispers tugged at the corners of her mind, taunting her with unknowable secrets and truths. She realized that lying there, listening to the faint words just out of reach for too long could drive someone to madness.


She stood gratefully when she heard the voice of the Mother. As she rose she felt rivulets of blood streaming off her skin back into the pool. She exited the pool, being careful to maintain her balance on the now slick floors and awaited the next stage of the ritual: the contribution of her own blood to the pool.

 

[4Chiri]

The Archbishop, tall, old and wise stared down at her, stepping slowly to Melia. "Hold your wrist over the pool." he said.


The Mother watched carefully.

 

[Morigan]

Melia did as instructed, holding her arm straight out in front of her, over the edge of the pool. The Archbishop stared down at her and she looked up as she returned his gaze steadily, never wavering.

 

[4Chiri]

He removed a slender knife from his sleeve and held her wrist tenderly.


Without hesitation he sliced into her skin, the shape of a crescent moon and it's ring. Red blood trickled immediately from


her arm dripping down her fingers into the pool until a substantial amount had been lost.


One of the oracles rushed over at the second of a command and wrapped her arm in a clean bandage.


Without a word the Archbishop left.


The Mother sighed.


"Get dressed, you are free to explore the church and city as you please until tomorrow. I suspect a guard will be waiting outside if you should need him." she said and left Melia alone as the Oracles rinsed her down with warm, damp cloths - oiled her skin, and helped her get dressed.

 

[Morigan]

She watches the blood drip slowly at first, then faster and faster into the pool until the Archbishop signals they are finished. Someone rushes to her and bandages her arm while the Archbishop left silently.


The Mother also left after the informed her of the guard stationed nearby if she required him.


Once she was clean and fully redressed, the Oracles departed and she was alone once more. This time she was fully initiated as Priestess- no one would ever speak her name again. A single tear escaped before she could control herself. Annoyed by her own weakness once again, Melia swiped the tear away as though it had never been.


Perhaps no one else will remember my name, but I always shall, she thought to herself resolutely.


She exited the chamber and addressed the guard stationed nearby: "Can you tell me where I might find Warlord Moganthe at this hour?"

 

[4Chiri]

He nodded and bowed.


"Yes, milady. He left to the barrack office, just over there not long ago. I will escort you milady." he said. and allowed her to follow


close behind.


The city was mostly dark with ample street lamps. It wasn't much for sightseeing at night. The bitter cold would breeze past them.


"Just here, milady," he said.


They stopped in front of a tall wooden and stone building. Around the other end sounded noisy, as this was where most of the soldiers were stationed. But on this end, was a private entrance, leading up to an office specifically for the Warlord, should he ever visit.


"He's just up the stairs milady."

 

[Morigan]

Melia was thankful the soldier offered to escort her since she really hadn't looked forward to wandering about an unknown city in the near-dark and chill of the night. It was not long before they arrived at the destination and the soldier motioned her towards the private entrance.


"Thank you, Blessings upon you this night," she said as she began to climb the stairs. When she reached the small landing at the top she crossed immediately to the door to the private office. She knocked softly upon the wood and stood immobile and silent as she waited for a response.

 

[4Chiri]

Footsteps moved across the floor closer to the door and it opened, swiftly.


Moganthe stood there, his face clearly surprised. He had removed his chestplate and shirt, but wore his greaves


and boots still.


"...Priestess...?" he took a step back and bowed. "I didn't expect to see you...here." he said and moved back over to the desk where a few bandages lay and stitching needles.


His hand was wrapped up tightly, his hair in a braid and scars all about his chest arms and face. From many years of hard training and warring.


Just recently a few years ago a war ended...and he was at the front of the militia.


"I apologize for earlier...in the carriage. The Mother was right...I should be more...attentive." He bowed again.


"had I paid better attention, it would not have happened."

 

[Morigan]

Melia stuttered in shock at his sudden appearance. "I-I-I am sorry to, uh, intrude at this l-late hour..." She tried her best not to stare, her eyes darting nervously around the room. Since she had been an Oracle from a very early age she had been sheltered from men in anything less than a formal situation. She found herself at a complete loss for any appropriate response immediately and a deep blush heated her neck and cheeks, thankfully hidden by her veil.


Once her eyes landed on his bandaged hand and the medical implements she lost her shyness and in it's place a righteous anger burned hotly. "Did no Healer attend you? I specifically stated, twice, that one should be sent to you."


When he apologized again for what he considered his failings earlier with the bandits, Melia stomped one foot impatiently. "Enough of that! I say you did exemplary, better than anyone else would have for certain. You are only one man Warlord Moganthe, though you appear to have survived fighting an entire army alone," she said speculatively eyeing his scars. She knew she was speaking in a way unbecoming the Priestess but at the moment she did not care. They had been attacked, hurried through ceremonies, she'd been submerged in holy blood and she was done with standing on ceremony this night.


She turned around and shouted down the stairs, "You there!" As a soldier peered up from the ground floor she said loudly, "Fetch a Healer here at once! If any question you, tell them your Priestess commands it!" As he hurried off to fulfill her request she returned to the office.

 

[4Chiri]

Immediately the guard ran off at her command. Moganthe stood there. This was completely unexpected. Was she allowed to do this? He suddenly felt as if he should cover himself somehow...or someway.


"Priestess...this is all unnecessary, I am fine, no need to fuss." he explained once again, but in a less than stoic tone, more comforting this time. Which was hard for him to do. A lifetime of barking orders and yelling at the top of his lungs left his voice quite...gruff. "It's expected of me to go through such pains. My duties consist of nothing less, especially to keep you safe."


He sighed. He could see the urgency in her eyes...green. Beautiful. He shook the thought immediately, when the healer rushed to the door.


"I'm here Priestess, I will heal him at once!"


Reluctantly he let the young healer mage take his hand and tend to the broken knuckles. He winced a little. It only took a few moments and quickly they ran away again.


"...Priestess, you should go to bed, apparently....the Archbishop sent a note ahead of you. He said I should perhaps let the horse rest a day and detail the carriage. I have to restock our -- your supplies...and...among other things, escort you around the city. He says the people would be honored if you would also hold a sermon for them tomorrow evening after lunch." he explained.

 

[Morigan]

Melia relaxed a bit as the Healer arrived and tended to Moganthe's hand. "Nothing that I deem important is unnecessary, and I declare you, and your health, important. If you say it is your duty to be injured for my sake, I say it is my duty to make sure you are properly tended to afterwards." She watched carefully as the mage efficiently healed his hand and then scurried off once more.


"That is all very well and good about the Archbishop's note. A sermon will be fine and I'm sure your horse will appreciate a day of rest, as the rest of us will. Though one might think he'd discuss it with me as I am supposedly one of the most powerful people in the land," she waved her hand in a small gesture of acceptance. "Forgive my outburst, that was unking of me to speak so of the Archbishop." She paused for a moment to clear the unkind thoughts from her mind. She knew people were directing her simply because she was newly installed in this position. As she tried to refocus her thoughts her eyes strayed to Moganthe's bare arms and chest and a tendril of purely female appreciation crept up within her. When the direction her thoughts were turning dawned on her she quickly looked away again and cleared her throat. "How is your hand?

 

[4Chiri]

"To be honest, milady, if I may..." he started "I've never met the Archbishop. Whatever you say of him, is of no concern to me."


He thought for a moment and looked down at his hand, stretching it a bit. It felt better.


"It's better. I've been through worse..." he stated and looked up at her eyes again. "and...your shoulder?" he took in a breath. He felt another pang of guilt rise within him. If only he were faster...or had been more aware. But he knew stating his regrets would only cause her to disregard them again, and follow with forgiveness and praise.


If he really had done an exemplary job, she wouldn't of been harmed....perhaps if he were allowed to sleep the day before, it wouldn't of happened either. In the end he always came back to blaming himself -- she was his responsibility after all. He would've thanked her personally for the call of the healer, if he didn't feel as though he'd be smited by the gods immediately afterward...that's what all the books and rules said would happen anyway.

 

[Morigan]

"I suppose I may trust you not to repeat my careless words then," she replied with a smile behind her veil. "I am glad it is better, though regret it took so long to get someone here to see to you. "


She shrugged her left shoulder up and down for a moment, testing it. "Seems to be as good as new. Nothing to fret over any longer, thank the gods. And nothing for you to feel guilt over any longer, either. I know I cannot command your feelings...but I would ask that you do not dwell on this incident any longer." She held his gaze, as if trying to impart the seriousness of her request.

 

[4Chiri]

It was hard to tell her emotions aside from the tone of her voice, which was muffled. But he could sense the seriousness in her glare, which he returned. It was like he could get sucked into her eyes, deep and crystal clear, the only thing visible. They do say the eyes are the window to the soul...perhaps that is why the only thing the gods require to see of her, is her eyes. He could never understand all the rules within her practice...it was much easier being a soldier. Only rule being not to die.


It was particularly why he found himself in such an awkward position, unsure what to say and what not to say. He found it easier to talk to her as little as possible, as to not overstep some boundary he didn't know existed.


He looked away with a cough, holding his composure lest his face redden in front of the woman...that would not be acceptable..surely she would chastise him for it too, or have him replaced all together.


"I will try Priestess...but if we are to get an early start...I suppose we should both get some rest..." he said and stepped slowly past her to the door, sure as not to touch even the thinnest strand of fabric from her long robes.


"Should I walk you back to the chapel?" he asked.

 

[Morigan]

She held his gaze until he looked away suddenly and coughed. Melia realized she was making him uncomfortable and immediately felt guilty. She looked down at the floor as he passed, careful as always not to touch even her clothing. Suddenly the restriction and weight of the many rules by which she was bound felt heavier than the many robes she wore.


"Yes, you are right. We should rest, though we need not start too terribly early. It has been a long couple days most assuredly." She followed him back to the door leading to the hall. "It is not necessary for you to walk me back, you have not slept in many hours. I can call for one of the guards to guide me back." Melia knew this was the most appropriate response and turned to call down the stairs once more, before she stopped. A selfish thought permeated her mind and she turned back to face Moganthe. "Though I would certainly be more comfortable with someone I knew," she said very softly.


She sighed again, as her human weakness showed itself again. "Forgive me, that is unkind to ask. Ceru forgive my self-centeredness." Melia turned once more to call for a guide from the soldiers downstairs.

 

[4Chiri]

He could tell, sometimes -- though it was hard-- that she would occasionally punish herself, the slight pain in her eyes. It made his chest ache all but slightly. He hated it, but it was all he could do to help as much as he could, to walk her...at least down the road a few blocks back to the Chapel. Perhaps the Mother would be disappointed if he didn't...she'd say he put his needs before her own and decided to sleep rather than to protect her.


"I will walk you, I wouldn't feel comfortable if someone else did it." he said and grabbed a torch from the wall, the staircase was quite narrow, so he travelled ahead of her. Not bothering to redress himself, at this point of exhaustion...he cared little. Though he may regret the chastising glares later...who cares...he's the warlord. He could glare anyone into submission if he wanted. And if the Bishops or Mothers had anything to say about it, they could take it to the Emperor, he was the only one he really answered to. For The Emperor was the one who ordered him on this mission in the first place, to protect her until further notice. Perhaps when she was permanently stationed at her own Basilica in some faraway town.


Until then, which would probably be months from now, or even years...then he thought more. As the cold touched his bare skin...he regretted not putting a shirt on first...at least the torch was warming his shoulder.


He thought even more...maybe too much thinking as the reached the doors to the chapel.


"Priestess, I have a request," he said nervously with a very quiet voice, looking down to his feet. "I am perhaps ahead of myself...but...one day you will have your own Basilica...your own Oracles and such. Though it may be years from now...if you ever need protection, on a trip across the country, or simply across the road...I will be available for you, milady." he said.


Mentally he immediately bit off his tongue, so to say...but he felt better that it was said. At least she knew that he was loyal to her, for as long as his life would let him.

 

[Morigan]

She was deeply pleased that he would not allow any one else to escort her back to the chapel, though it was tempered by her awareness of her own selfishness. She would need to spend extra time at her prayers this evening. As he grabbed the torch and led her out into the night once more she was a bit surprised that he did not pause to grab a shirt, but if she was honest with herself she definitely did not mind.


They walked the moderate distance to the chapel in silence, though for once it did not feel tense. A companionable silence while they walked was pleasant, though it was chilly out. Moganthe appeared to be deep in thought as the walked, and Melia kept glancing at him from the corner of her eyes.


When they reached the doors he addressed her nervously, which was surprising. Melia was under the impression that nothing made him nervous. He was staring intently at his feet while he made his request of her, or an offer, depending on the point of view. His loyalty moved her deeply and she reached out to him with her hand. She realized what she was doing right before she touched him and hurriedly dropped her hand back to her side.


"When that day arrives, Warlord Moganthe, I will gladly call upon you. Your offer is a generous one," she answered quietly.

 

[4Chiri]

There was a pause from him. What was there to say? He glanced up into her eyes again, the light from the fire refracting from the ocean blue of his eyes. it was a strange reflection, as his eyes seemed deep and unending.


He looked away again and quickly opened the door.


He wanted to tell her goodnight, sleep well, dream softly, have a thorough rest....but instead....


"I will be here to retrieve you in the morning, milady."


He said, again with his unemotional stare and tone.


Ithet peeked from the window upstairs, where her room and the Priestess' would be until they left.


"Milady!" she called down in a whisper, "W-warlord...how fares your hand?"


He looked up with a simple nod, and walked off, sure not to look back.


"Hurry and come in milady," Ithet whispered, "'tis cold!"

 

[Morigan]

"Very well, Warlord Moganthe. We will be ready," she replied, adopting her Priestess tone again as he slipped back into his stoic expression.


When Ithet appeared suddenly in the window above them, Melia was glad they had already returned to the usual stiff formality. Showing her human side to one person was bad enough, but to let multiple people see her that way would be inexcusable. As her hand maid urged her to come in from the cold night air, Melia paused to look over her shoulder at Moganthe's retreating form, highlighted in the night by his torch. Wistfulness washed over her and she resolved to triple her prayers this night. Simply doubling them would not be enough to erase this tendency towards emotion away.


She arrived upstairs and bolted the door to the room and ensured the windows were closed and covered. As Ithet helped her undress for the night Melia began her silent recitation of the prayers. When she had finished the two women went to sleep for the evening.


In the morning Melia woke refreshed and quickly went through her morning routine with Ithet's help. After a simple breakfast the descended to the main area of the chapel.

 

[4Chiri]

Heated voices and a raised argument consumed the place, though there was no height in volume.


Prophetess Liotysa and Archbishop Verodaius stood in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by the ecclesiastical decor and rough lighting of snowy morning.


Though all three factions of the Canticles, The Magus, The Prophets and The Scholars, were under the same Religion, Artechism (under the Architect, the main god) they argued of how the first recordings of the very first words of preach were spoken. The Magus believe the Architect might've been a living man.


The Prophets believe he descended from the red skies as four dragons and


the Scholars, believe none of these things, perhaps it was never explained, as suspicion that the canticles were recorded incorrectly, therefore; each bible incorrect.


The Prophetess from the School of Wisdom in Oracnica held her head high as she tried to exact her point to the Archbishop.


Priestesses' and Archbishops being the highest of all three factions, therefore the ultimate authority, directly under the Emperor.


"The Scholars in the Province of Raxis claim someone had a sighting of the dragons, which is atrocious! Dragons do not exist as if they ever did." She raved. She didn't wear many ornate robes as the Priestess did.


The Archbishop sighed, "Then what is the problem?"


"I demand you call your silver knights to keep those prophets OUT of oranica! Either that or they keep their lies away from those good hearers of wisdom! The gods would be disappointed!"


"You do not speak for the gods, Liotysa, our new Priestess does!" he scolded. She paused for a moment...angrily. She noticed this new priestess and immediately...the day began...


"Priestess, I would have you know that those self proclaimed 'prophets' dirty your words with each falsified sermon they give to those good people under you, milady!" she bowed. "you should travel to Raxis and let them feel the wrath of punishment that the gods so gave you!" she demanded.


The Archbishop stood in front of the priestess in a flash.


"You will keep your tongue! Do not speak to the priestess in that manner! You are in no position to demand things from her!" he snapped.


Moganthe stepped then into view, however far from the discussion, across the main chamber at the entrance. He didn't look in however, just stood patiently, facing outward...listening.


Ithet stood idly behind the Priestess also. There would be many nay-sayers...and those who would doubt the priestess. It was a perfect chance for her to exact her new power on those below her.

 

[Morigan]

The bickering in the foyer caught her ear immediately and Melia strode purposefully towards the group.


"Bright Blessings on you all this day," she said as greeting and to hopefully ease the tension. She turned to face the Archbishop slightly. "I thank you for your loyal support Archbishop," she began. "Do you not think it would be grand if more people possessed the fervor and passion for the faith like Prophetess Liotysa?" she asked. Without waiting for a response she faces the Prophetess and continued. "And the Archbishop speaks the truth, Prophetess, as all faithful know. I do indeed speak for the gods," she intentionally glossed over the harsh words the two had spoken to each other, determined to quell this argument.


Speaking to both of them now she said, "Of course we must punish those who bear false witness and lead our faithful astray. And yet, we must not rush to judgment on any who have been cleverly deceived and seek only true worship. To bear out the truth to the gods and ourselves, we must travel to Raxis, and speak with the ones who claim to have such an improbable sighting. From there the gods will guide us as to the best course of action. Though my judgement must be true, it must not be rushed."


"Moganthe," she raised her voice slightly so it might carry to him clearly. "Please make us ready to travel to Raxis as soon as our obligations here are fulfilled." She trusted him to know what needed to be done and so turned once more to face the Archbishop and Prophetess. "I thank you both for your concern, and for bringing this to my attention. The gods smile upon your devotion to our people," she inclined her head slightly to each of them.

 

[4Chiri]

"o-of course...milady." the prophetess bowed deeply.


"I thank you for your understanding, you have Ceru's tongue..." she said and bowed.


The Arch then turned towards Moganthe.


"So you've been given the warlord, a fine gift from the emperor, yet I assume he will be called back eventually for the warring far south yes?"

 

[Morigan]

Melia returned the Prophetess's bow with a slight nod and turned to the Archbishop. "No time limits have been discussed. We will simply have to take each day as it comes, and face the changes and challenges when they arise before us. But I believe the Emperor has provided us with a great blessing, indeed."


She turned to look at Moganthe, standing firm and resolute. He was the epitome of propriety and protocol as he stood guard.

 

[4Chiri]

The Archbishop nodded, "then I should let you go then...you've got a heavy schedule ahead yes? I heard the people want a speech this evening. I suppose you want a tour before hand, do you have an escort?" he asked.


Moganthé then stepped forwards.


"I am her escort my lord. I will be giving her a tour of the city then bring her back here." he said sternly.


The archbishop nodded.


"Then good day, priestess."

 

[Morigan]

"Good day to you as well, Archbishop," she said as he departed.


Melia looked at her hand maid and gestured for her to step forward now. "Come Ithet, Warlord Moganthe is to give us a tour of this city before lunch."


Melia stepped forward as well, "Are we ready, Warlord?" she asked him as she looked up at his stern face.