Chapter 11: The Keepers

Subject: Keeper Virgil Location: Laberin - The Gravegreen Bar

The Gravegreen Bar was a nowhere place in a nowhere part of Laberin, a nowhere city. Technically, it was one of Shroud’s major cities, but that didn’t mean much when there were six of them, not including the capital.

“You need to know no more than what I’ve already told you, citizen. By the authority of our own Paragon of Mercy, this establishment will be under our watch today,” Virgil explained, struggling to keep the boredom out of his voice.

The bar’s name was probably the only mildly fascinating thing about it, but Virgil doubted whoever named it appreciated why that might be.

A Gravegreen was a type of “flourishflora” plant that will only grow where most other plant life has been exterminated. It appears to feed off the nutrients found in the cracked cores of different plants and fauna, breathing new life into a region.

Virgil watched the bar’s owner nervously fidget with his dirty brown belt while he struggled to grasp the sudden intrusion.

The owner and the two bar attendants wore the same plain white button-down shirts, but each of their pants was a slightly different shade of black, and their shoes were all different colors.

The stylistic sense of the uncultured, Virgil couldn’t help but think, despite trying to temper his judgments by acknowledging that these were impoverished people.

Why would someone name a bar something with this connotation? Did that person have ambitions to see it thrive and breathe life back to this ghetto? Why would a bar in a seedy district attract anyone but the wrong kind of person?

Something else Virgil happened to know about the Gravegreen plant was that it had a short life. As if by the tick of an unseen clock, the plant would wither, leaving the space around it much more green and alive than it was before.

If the person who named the bar this knew anything about the flourishflora, Virgil would have liked to ask them about it to find out why they did this. But if it was the result of ignorance, asking the question would produce more annoyance than not knowing at all.

What does Galarious want with a dingy place like this? This poor fool should be confused by our unannounced visit.

“Anything for the knights of our holy Paragon. I do not mean to cause any problems for you. I am just tryin’ to wrap my head around this,” the sweaty owner nervously confessed.

The owner’s eyes darted around the room at Virgil’s lightly-armored compatriots shuffling around to comply with their superior’s demands.

Their squad, “The Keepers”, were unconventional Temple Guardians. Virgil had been with the other knights a short six and a half weeks. Not once had The Keepers been stationed to defend a holy site nor venture out to acquire an artifact of divine significance.

Instead of doing what Temple Guard knights were supposed to do, they acted like highly trained and well-decorated babysitters. But it wasn’t Virgil’s place to question orders just because his ego was a little bruised.

“Your faithful cooperation is noted and appreciated,” Virgil said dismissively before leaving the owner to his undoubtedly disoriented thoughts.

A commoner’s bar was no place for knights to be unless they had a specific reason.

The soles of Virgil’s expensive shoes collected dirt on the stained and uneven wood floor as he made his way to Colten, a fellow Knight of Mercy. While he walked, he took in the layout of the one-room establishment.

The bar table was an alcove on the left. Behind a row of stools of different heights, a vast open area contained far fewer tables and chairs than the space could have efficiently managed. Some of the tables had arranged haphazardly. Some Keepers had been rearranging them, but they had been ordered to leave them be.

The tables were different types of wood and inexpensive metal, with substantial damage to their surfaces. The walls of the bar were undecorated.

Colten was seated at a table before a clean deck of cards. Virgil recognized the style of the deck. It was the Shroud standard: Thirds.

“You’re playing Thirds at a time like this?” Virgil asked.

“We’re playing Thirds,” Colten corrected, motioning for Virgil to sit down. “Galar’s orders.”

Colten spoke the name of their commander with a level of loyalty that bordered on reverence.

Virgil looked around at the other four knights in their squad. None were playing cards. Leaning against the far wall, a knight crossed his arms and stared off into space. Two more knights were seated at a corner table, trying to act casual, with little success. The last knight sat across a boy closer to the middle of the bar.

The boy had asymmetrically cut, delicately wavy black hair that fell to just below his eyes on the right side and to his chin on the left. His eyes were unnaturally silver in color, and he had long eyelashes. He was thin, lacking in muscles, but it was not because the knights weren’t making sure he was adequately fed.

The boy’s attire only accentuated his androgynous features. Instead of the full colors of Shroud, he wore only black and silver. The Keepers were this boy’s escorts, as far as Virgil could tell. Dressed in finery to conceal what they were.

A black arrow-cut vest narrowed at the waist and then expanded to cover black belt pouches. The garment had modest silver trim, a decorative pattern of chain links. Small silver clasps lined the center of the shirt. Underneath the vest, the boy wore his standard silver metal and thread shirt. It was a curious lightweight metal, interspersed throughout the silver thread. His black bell-bottom pants had many large pockets. What the boy needed all these pockets for, Virgil couldn’t say.

A snug black collar hugged the boy’s neck, a willing fashion choice Virgil had never seen anywhere before. On the front of this collar was a silver metal teardrop. His left ear was pierced with another of these teardrops, clamped tightly on his lobe. This jewelry was surprisingly modest for a person of his stature.

Even dressed as curiously as he was, Virgil still couldn’t think of this person as anything but a boy. He was close to being a man. If the stories were to be believed, he simultaneously already was one and would never become one.

The knight seated with this boy appeared to be the most vigilant, no matter how much he tried to hide it. The Keeper didn’t have a line of sight to the door, right arm casually drifting down toward his waist, where his solblade was concealed.

“Virgil? Did you hear me?” Colten’s voice pulled his attention back. He quickly remembered the conversation he’d drifted off during.

“What orders? I was just told to secure the bar,” Virgil asked.

“Galar says that we are to play the part of patrons for the time being. He gave me these cards. Even said I could keep them,” Colten declared, his dark brown eyes lighting up.

Colten was in his late thirties. His tall stature and gruff exterior clashed with the way he sometimes acted when talking about the Hexaline Knight. Or, maybe, it was because he was this old that he treated Galarious this way. Virgil was about half a decade younger than his friend.

Virgil tapped his shoe, unsatisfied with his explanation for Colten’s behavior, and watched as his friend began to deal. Three cards each, as was standard.

“If we are always going to be wandering the city’s most wretched establishments, I wish Galarious would at least let us wear something a little more protective,” Virgil joked.

Making a face, Virgil ran a hand down the silver trim of his black dress coat.

Colten chuckled slightly, eyes darting around to the table where the knight and the boy were seated.

They were out of earshot. Virgil was positive.

“It’s unconventional, I give you that,” Colten agreed, “but The Keepers don’t need conventional when we have his blessing.”

Virgil couldn’t argue with that sentiment. Galarious’s Keepers were certainly not lacking in defense.

The fashionable Keeper uniform was more armored than it appeared. Spun from a delicate purple thread enclosing a protective metal alloy mesh, it was adorned with black metal studs. These studs provide added protection, but more than that, they projected an imposing impression of dangerous luxury.

Knowing nothing of the material makeup of the uniform, or the enchantments that protected it, the average ignorant onlooker would still get the message that this group was something special.

Even so, Virgil wished Galarious didn’t have such a preference for strange fashion.

They got to playing Thirds. It may have been a luxury deck, but the faces of the cards were the same as any other.

There were 18 cards with grey symbols, 18 with black symbols, and 18 with violet symbols. Within each color, 6 cards were “Blossoms”, 6 were “Towers”, and 6 were “Gods”. The symbols for each variety of Blossom, Tower, and God varied from deck to deck, but they were named and labeled on the face of the card to lessen confusion.

The objective of a standard Thirds game was to establish an orderly arrangement of cards while, at the same time, disrupting the patterns of one’s opponent.

“Don’t you think it this game is a little improper for Shroud’s knights to be playing?” Virgil asked, looking at his weak starting hand.

“You know the Channeler’s stance. As long as you pray regularly, donate to the temple, and keep in mind that it is just a game… you’re your soul tethers will remain untarnished.”

Virgil made his first play and immediately regretted it when he drew a God card. Each God card favored different patterns of play, and he would now need to change his playstyle.

“The Strangers spread disorder. My objective is to act in kind toward you and the same for you toward me. Pretty blasphemous stuff,” Virgil tried again to get them to stop playing.

Virgil was bad at Thirds.

At least we aren’t betting anything...

Subject: Keeper Virgil Location: Laberin - The Gravegreen Bar

“You’re in a tough spot, my friend,” Colten goaded playfully.

“Is there any benefit to being good at them?” Virgil countered, desperately trying to formulate a strategy to close the gap.

Currently, Colten had an orderly row of Tower cards and a Blossom on the table.

No God cards, yet, Virgil observed. Is he cautious about making a mistake like mine? Or is his plan more extensive?

“To better understand the sinful degenerates gambling their tithes away? Who knows?” Colten shrugged.

At that moment, a distinctively high-pitched voice called out. The Keepers had all been waiting for this moment, but they couldn’t let it show. They needed to keep acting like they were enjoying themselves. In Colten’s case, it didn’t seem like he needed to put much effort in. But even he couldn’t help but look over briefly before forcing his attention back to the game.

“A round of drinks for my friends,” the boy called out. “And open this place up to your regulars. I’m sure they are eager to enjoy their evening.”

The owner rushed over to where the boy and his knight attendant were seated. Virgil watched, both curious how the owner would treat the request and worried about the fallout.

Virgil was new to the life of attending a Hexaline Knight. He didn’t know what to expect from the one they called the “Nosk’s Vessel”.

“I’m sorry, young man, I cannot serve someone as young as you,” the owner explained, subconsciously taking on the tone of someone talking to a child.

“Why not?” The boy politely asked. “We have coin.”

“Oh, it isn’t about money, young man. I don’t serve minors, and you are too young to drink.”

“Why did you allow me in the door?” the boy asked innocently, and Virgil felt his stomach tighten.

Keeper Virgil listened while the owner tried to explain the obvious in the most polite way possible, very obviously searching for information he was lacking without being disrespectful.

“That is because of these fine adults with you, my young friend. I won’t question the business of the Paragon’s own knights.”

“You won’t question the knights, but you won’t serve me alcohol?” the boy asked politely. “You know the knights are here with me, right?”

It was illegal for bars like these to serve minors anything, regardless of whether or not it had alcohol in it. The owner was trying to obey the law, even though the knights had forced him to play host to a minor.

The boy looked up at the knight in front of him. Without needing to speak the words, the knight sprung into action.

“A round of drinks for us adults, and some juice,” he requested in an authoritative tone. “Now, open this bar for business, please.”

The owner bowed respectfully and turned to his staff, who had been frozen stiff behind the drink counter. They sprung into action, making the drinks and set up to open the bar.

Returning his gaze to the section of the table where his active cards lay, Virgil saw some semblance of order, a state he had been struggling to build. But, like the Gravegreen Bar, he predicted that it would devolve into chaos.

“We should be out on an acquisition mission,” Virgil whispered. “Somewhere where our efforts will be more meaningful.”

“You are a faithful knight of Shroud,” Colten began in a respectful tone. “But you don’t believe he is the living miracle people say he is, do you,” Colten stated more than asked.

Even though he trusted his friend wouldn’t report him on a “breach of faith” charge, Virgil kept his mouth shut. He didn’t know what to believe. It sounded like madness, but Virgil had considered many times that he simply lacked faith. If it was a personal failing, he would correct it. He just needed to know where to start.

“You don’t believe because you haven’t seen,” Virgil’s friend continued, pausing to put his cards down on the table and adopt a solemn expression. “I was in the deadzone when they found him.”

A noisy patron burst his way into the bar and called out for a drink, but Virgil couldn’t force his eyes away from his friend. He saw the man in a new light. Having been within such close proximity to the incident. The very event that rippled through the holy cloisters of the capital city like the clusterpulse tremors originating down in the subterranean darksprawl.

“I’m sorry I never told you,” Colten apologized. “I never meant to deceive you, my friend, but I had hoped you would be able to form an opinion on your own. And there is still time for that, so I won’t say any more.”

“I- It just stings a little,” Virgil admitted. “You’ve listened to me share my opinions for this long without saying anything.”

People who saw Galar on the day of his “birth” were the most fanatical advocates of his supposed divinity. Three years ago, he had appeared within the deadzone, the neutral zone between Shroud’s border and the southern shores of the continent.

Virgil wanted to ask Colten what it was like, but he held back.

“I only say it now because you’re going to get the opportunity to see it for the first time yourself today, I suspect. Oh, I guess I can say one more thing before we drop the subject.”

“Yeah?”

“There is a reason we don’t let Galarious use his talents that much. Orders from the Paragon himself.”

Colten leaned in closer, and Virgil found himself automatically doing the same, hanging on every word.

“Galar pays a price for using his miraculous power. That much we’ve gathered. The Paragon doesn’t want him taking to the frontlines without more evidence of what that price is.”

“A price…” Virgil mumbled while he tried to guess what that could mean.

“They call Galarious the ‘empty vessel’ for a reason. He doesn’t know why this happens, but using his power seems to freeze time for him. It deprives his body of nutrients and more. It seems there is a lot he doesn’t know, so he is learning from us while we are learning from him.”

It looks like I’ll finally get to see why the Paragon entertains this kind of behavior from their Hexaline Knight. I just hope none of us have to die.