Eric didn’t know why, but he’d expected a temple to be quieter. Sure, this was one of the greater gods, but shouldn’t there be a… respectful sort of silence to it? But no, there was a great deal of noise within the building. Families were gathered in the large open area of worship, conversing loudly, talking, laughing with each other. And there, in the far corner from Eric, yet still quite audible, were four young warriors, laughing uproariously at a joke one of them had just told. He could see Anya sitting beside them, grinning widely and speaking animatedly.

He was lost for a moment as he watched her. She moved her hands a lot when she talked, and the four warriors she spoke to responded well to her energy. Even those around her seemed more energetic, as if her presence brightened their day considerable. It must help to have such a light, cheerful presence in the temple, to speed along the recovery of those who stayed here. It was certainly better than the well-versed, but grim healer who had bound his shoulder.

There were more serious, focused types around the temple as well, Eric noticed. The followers of Shigeru seemed to be split into two types. The first, and most common inside the building, were the stern-faced, pious followers in comfortable white robes. They went between those who were sick or injured, administering care and attending to those with more serious or chronic injuries. Then there were the warriors and monks. Like the priests, they too wore the heraldry of the wolf’s head, but they stood out among the crowd. There were quite a few as if placed there for security.

Did Shigeru have a sense that the culprit was hidden in his temple too? It would make sense, Eric thought. Then again, as one of the greater gods of Milagre, those warriors might just be necessary to keep order with so many people gathered. Or yet again, he realized, they might just be here to worship their god, like the others. It was Temple Day, the last day of the week, after all. Whatever the reason, they seemed highly alert, scanning every member of the crowd, and they were clearly armed, even those that carried no weapons.

“How are you feeling, sir?” The grim-faced healer that had tended to him appeared from deeper inside the building and approached. “It’s good to see you awake. Does the shoulder hurt much?”

Eric glanced up at the man, and offered a painful sort of smile. “It still hurts like the devil, but that’s only to be expected. Thank you very much for your help.”

“I did what any healer of my class would do,” He said with a tired smile. “What is your name, young man? I don’t believe I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m still pretty new to Milagre,” Eric replied, gently massaging the area around his bandages. “My name is Eric.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Eric. I am Healer Moran.” The old healer stared at him intently. “I must say, it is rare, since the war, to see one injured as badly as you. How did you come to receive these wounds?”

Eric hesitated at first, his eyes upon Anya, who, glancing over, was grinning warmly at him, clearly pleased to see him awake and alert. “I was attacked not far from here, Master Moran. I tried to fight off my attacker, but they got the better of me, so I fled. I was lucky enough to reach this place before I passed out. I must thank miss Anya for her help.”

He rose as if to walk across the temple, but the healer put a hand on his good shoulder, keeping him on the bed. “I’m sure she will be grateful for your thanks. But in the meantime, you should rest. Master Tokugawa will be most aggrieved if you injure yourself just to express your gratitude.”

There was Ehran’s name mentioned again, he thought. “Where is he? I remember you mentioning him while you were healing me.”

“Him?” Healer Moran blinked at him in confusion, looking over to where the four young warriors were sitting. “I was referring to Anya. Did you not know she was of the Tokugawa clan?”

Now it was Eric’s turn to assume a look of confusion as he looked over to Anya. The young woman, who definitely looked anything but Nihon-Jan in descent, was lounging in a casual posture as she continued her conversation with her new friends. She looked lithe and agile enough, Eric thought, but she definitely didn’t have the appearance of a warrior. He’d met quite a few strong women in his life, both on Earth and Ahya, but she didn’t seem to match the image of any Masters that Eric had met so far.

As if his thoughts had drifted over on the still air, Anya looked around again, and her eyes locked onto Eric’s. Even from this distance he could imagine the warmth in them, and he immediately relaxed a fraction. She clambered gracefully to her feet, dusting off her black breeches, and made her way over. As she approached, her eyes took in Eric’s injuries, then flicked to the healer, asking a silent question.

“He seems fine after a few nights’ rest, Master Tokugawa,” the healer said. “The shoulder seems stiff, but that is to be expected.”

“A few nights?” Eric said, a little louder than he’d intended to. What if his quarry had escaped in that time? “Have I really been out that long?”

“We had to keep you sedated while we mended your shoulder,” Anya said. “It was a nasty break, and it took time to heal. The process was bound to be… painful. It was best that you remain unconscious while we worked.”

“Are you a healer too, then?” Eric asked her, having to look up to watch her face. She was quite tall, and would have stood a head or two above Eric if both of them were standing. “Thank you for bringing me in here, Master Tokugawa.”

“I lend my hand when I come to visit,” She said, waving her hand casually in reply to his thanks. “But please, call me Anya. I’m not in my robes today, so the Master title isn’t needed.”

“You’re Master Ehran’s sister?” Eric queried, shivering slightly as she came closer. Now that he wasn’t delirious with pain, he felt the poten mana that radiated from her. “He didn’t mention you when I spoke to him.”

“You know Ehran?” She asked, brightening slightly. “It’s still odd to hear my little brother called a Master. Yes, we are siblings. I was adopted by old Shiora when I was a little girl. Were you surprised that I don’t match the, err, family face?”

“Family face?” Eric replied numbly, still trying to catch up to the conversation. “Oh, you mean- err, right. Sorry, yes, I was confused. All the Tokugawa’s i’ve met have been Nihon-Jan.”

“Your confusion is understandable,” Anya said lightly, settling herself down on a soft cushion near Eric’s cot. “But Ehran is as much of a brother as it is possible to be. That’s the Tokugawa clan’s way, you know. They adopt strong-willed children, and raise and train them to be Masters in their own right.”

That sounded cool, Eric thought. An entire family of skilled people, who lived a comfortable life under the generosity of their divine ancestor, trained to be capable, then sent into the world to do good. His mental image of Shigeru Tokugawa was improving more and more as he met those who were touched by his influence. He seemed like a great guy, whether in his mortal time or now, as a distant but loving being.

“Would it be alright if I sat before the statue?” Eric asked, gesturing towards the center of the large open room. “I’d like to offer my gratitude there as well. I don’t have any tribute, though.”

“That’s perfectly acceptable,” Anya said, getting up to help him. “And don’t worry, my great-grandfather doesn’t worry about tributes. As long as your intent is good, he’ll receive you well.”

Anya slipped under Eric’s good shoulder and helped him find his feet. The injured shoulder twinged with the movement and he grunted in pain, but bore it willingly. It was better to have this pain than to have died at that random attacker’s hands, he thought. Slowly, leaning heavily on Anya for support, he made his way over to the altar. There were only a few people gathered there, sitting in quiet meditation, their faces tranquil. One man, a few years younger than Eric, sneaked a peek at them through one eyelid, before going back to his assumed peaceful stance. Eric grinned slightly at him.

Anya settled him on one of the thick and comfortable cushions, and he folded his legs. Then she backed away to give him privacy, and he looked up at the statue looming over him. A wise old man, sitting in an almost identical pose, with a long thin blade resting across his knees gazed peacefully over his head. Even in statue form, the God of War radiated an aura of calm and purposeful strength, much like when he’d appeared before Eric in that tumultuous meeting.

Eric bowed as low as he could in the awkward position, then assumed a meditative stance like the others. He took in a long, deep breath, pushing aside the pain of his wound and forcing his stiff muscles and joints to relax. Meditation was something he was familiar with, and, assuming it worked in the same way here in Ahya, he thought he knew how to open himself to the spirit of the God without too much trouble. He took a few minutes to manage it.

As if commanded to, he opened his eyes. But what sat before him was not the statue of Shigeru. Instead, the actual man, many years younger in appearance, sat before him. A warm smile spread across the seasoned face, and Shigeru bowed deeply, his head touching the soft matted floor between them. Eric copied the gesture hurriedly. When they rose, Shigeru spoke.

“I am pleased to see you visit me at last, young Eric,” The god said. His voice was deep and amused, as if Eric’s presence was a delight. “I regret that it had to take you being attacked to achieve it, however.”

“Thank you for welcoming me, Lord Tokugawa,” Eric replied. Even his own speech seemed smoother, more refined, in his presence. “I apologize that it took me so long. I’ve been very busy.”

“I can tell,” Shigeru agreed, his eyes lingering on Eric’s injured shoulder. “You have suffered much pain since you arrived in Ahya, have you not?”

Eric shrugged diffidently, then immediately wished he hadn’t. Even in this isolated space, the pain from his would was intense. Shigeru’s face switched to one of kind concern, and he reached out a hand. “Please, allow me to help you.”

Eric held perfectly still as the god reached out and gently touched the bandaged shoulder. It suddenly struck him that, as a God, Shigeru’s power could easily reduce him to ash. But he had a kind, benevolent feeling to him that relaxed any who felt it, and Eric relaxed considerably. Then the god’s hand touched his shoulder, and a warm sensation began to build, spreading throughout the shattered bone and down his spine. In an instant, the pain was gone, and the shoulder was healed.

“Thank you,” Eric said, embarrassed, rolling the shoulder back and forth. It was as if the injury had never happened. “I wish I was as good a healer.”

Shigeru smiled in amusement. “We all have our own talents, young Eric. As a mortal man, I was no healer either. I was a good fighter, but magic was beyond me.”

“A lot of your family are masters of one kind or another,” Eric commented. “I’ve met two of your descendants, and they are very impressive folk.”

“Yes, they are growing nicely,” Shigeru agreed, smiling wider at the thought of them. Then his face grew serious, and Eric felt a thrill of foreboding. “But I must give you a warning. I’m sure you know I cannot directly interfere in mortal affairs.”

Eric nodded. “Yes. I know there is an Ancient law preventing it.”

“Quite so. But I can give omens, advice, and warning,” Shigeru explained. “And I have such a warning for you.”

“Oh?” Eric queried, the feeling of foreboding intensifying. “Is it about whoever murdered Hammerbrewer?”

“No,” Shigeru replied sadly. “It is…. I cannot be too specific. I will only say this. Be wary of my followers, young Eric. Especially be wary of my family. I try my best to be a good influence, but not all children can be led to goodness.”