ARC 3 - HALLOWED

CHAPTER 2 - THE ORDER

“Name.”

Caelan frowned. It was more a statement than a question. The man before him sat at a small desk in the middle of a large entryway made of white stone. The man’s clothes were a simple gray and he didn’t bother to raise his head.

“Caelan.”

“Family name?” the man asked, his quill hovering over the parchment.

“I don’t have one.”

The man looked up at him from beneath his brow. “How do you not have...nevermind. Choose one.”

“Ermm…” Caelan fidgeted, attempting to come up with a name at random. Why were the only ones that came to mind those he had known from his home? “Fair...tree?” he said, quite sure that it sounded ridiculous.

“Good enough. Proceed into the second room on the left.” The man gestured over his shoulder with the quill, ignorant of the small drops of ink he flung onto the floor. The parchment was shoved into Caelan’s hands and he walked past the table in the direction the man indicated. The floors, the halls, even the next room were all made of the same immaculately white stone. Upon his entry, Caelan was greeted by another man sitting behind another desk.

“Close the door behind you, please,” the man said politely. Caelan complied, pulling on the handle until it gave a soft click. “Please, have a seat.”

Again, Caelan obeyed. He strode to the chair positioned opposite the desk and the man reached out with an open palm. There was an awkward moment while Caelan stared at the hand before realizing the man probably wanted the piece of parchment. He offered it and the man deftly snatched the sheet, then spun it upright onto the desk in a smooth motion.

The man spoke quickly, but clearly, as he recited a series of information from memory. “This is the first portion of your entrance evaluation for joining the Templar Order. You may leave at any portion of the evaluation with no penalty. Once the evaluation is complete, you will be offered a final opportunity to leave with no consequence. Upon passing the evaluation and accepting a position as an Initiate, you will no longer have the option to quit the Order without repercussions. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Caelan answered.

“Good.” The man smiled briefly, then picked up his quill from a small pot of ink. “I will be asking you several questions about your past. This information is largely for record keeping, however, some items may result in our inability to accept you into the Order.” The man barely paused before continuing, “Do you have any living family?”

“No.” A common occurrence, Caelan presumed, given that the man made no special note of it.

“Where were you born?”

“Bastion.”

“What was your occupation?”

“Sentinel.” Caelan watched the man write ‘soldier’ and thought about correcting him, but didn’t have the heart to argue semantics.

“Have you ever committed any crimes? Please state even those that you were not caught and/or punished for.”

“No.”

“Do you have an affinity with the Light?”

“Yes.”

“Why do you wish to join the Order?”

Caelan paused, breaking the rhythm of rapid question and answer. He briefly considered saying he believed an Archangel wanted him to, but being branded mad was probably one of the criteria for being denied entry. Some considered the Church to be filled with fanatics, but somehow Caelan doubted they actually wanted the insane to join. The man peered upward across the table without raising his head, quill held in position for the awaited response.

“Common answers include a desire for an education, learning a trade skill, earning an income, or having outgrown an orphanage,” the man offered.

“To protect the Realm,” Caelan stated.

“Very well. That concludes the questions. This document will be the start of your record within the Order, should you join,” the man said and handed the piece of parchment back to Caelan. “Please head out of this room and continue down the hall until you reach a courtyard. Another member will direct you from there.”

Caelan rose, expecting the man to do the same. Instead, the man remained seated, making a note on another piece of paper and resetting his desk for the next person. Caelan turned and left the room, glancing back toward the first desk to see if anyone else would be along shortly. A family stood, hugging a young boy barely in his mid-teenage years. The boy broke away and strode over confidently to the desk. It was somewhat encouraging that not everyone here was going to be an orphan. It made the Order seem more…human, as opposed to the two bland personalities Caelan had interacted with so far today. He turned and headed to the courtyard where a pair, one male one female, wore matching gray and white outfits with a crimson sash.

“Candidate,” the man said. “Step this way.”

The man had spoken with a certain authority in his voice and instinct took over. Caelan followed the order and stopped in front of the pair, waiting for the next instruction. His posture became more rigid as his muscles fell back into the familiar form of military training.

“We will be performing the final two portions of your evaluation.” The man held out his hand and Caelan instinctively handed over the piece of paper. The woman was the next to speak while her partner looked over the form.

“The first is a basic test of physical ability. You will complete one lap around the training yard. At the far end are ten sacks of grain. You will carry them to the other end after completing your lap.”

Caelan waited for more instruction but neither of the pair offered any further detail. He turned from them with a crisp pivot on his heel and began to jog along the exterior wall of the courtyard. The middle was mostly empty, little more than a few scattered benches and ropes left in parallel lines or circles on the packed dirt. He completed the lap quickly and hauled the sacks of grain across the yard two at a time atop his shoulders. Once he finished Caelan returned to a spot in front of the pair, his breathing labored, but controlled. They had watched him, but it didn’t seem to be with a critical eye. Boredom, then? Caelan wondered. He was the only thing moving, after all, and there didn’t seem to be many others seeking entry today.

“Very good,” the woman said. “Now, for the final portion of your evaluation. You have indicated you have an affinity with the Light—please demonstrate this.”

Caelan scowled. “What kind of demonstration?”

“Anything will suffice,” the man replied. “We simply need to see that you do indeed have affinity.”

Caelan sighed and shook his head. This evaluation was far simpler than he had imagined. Even if the Order had arrived to help Bastion, if this was the requirement for entry they would have been little help. As fodder for the Void, though, they might have allowed Bastion’s warriors time to rest and recover…

He pushed the thought from his mind. None of it made a difference now. He raised his hand, palm up, and formed a small white flame that danced on his fingers. It was no larger than if it were from a candle, but they hadn’t asked for a grand display. Even so, he fought to suppress the wince that came from opening the himself to the Light. Whatever Camael had done to him, he’d be unable to fully recover.

From the testing he had done when he found some time alone in the caravan he felt like he could still summon just as much power as he ever could, yet each time the Light came to him from the aether instead of the heat he’d become accustomed to all he felt was burning—no matter the amount. Nevermind that his fingertips were discolored from when he’d cauterized himself or that the grip in his off-hand still felt weak from the beams he’d summoned in Joyce’s rescue. Caelan let the flame die and sighed softly. This was how things were to be now. It wasn’t that the pain was intolerable, it was just…frustrating. Power that had once come so naturally now punished him each time he called for it.

“Very good,” the woman said. “Please enter through the doorway over there,” she gestured across the courtyard, “where you will end your evaluation.”

The man handed back the piece of paper. Caelan glanced at it and noticed two small marks under the writing from the previous man. He rolled the parchment as he walked across the courtyard and through the door on the other side. This hallway had a woman with a stern face and neat bun of brown hair posted outside of one of two doors about halfway down. She kept her gaze straight ahead as he approached. Caelan attempted to hand her the piece of paper, but her arm instead moved to push against the door to hold it open. Once again he entered a room with a man sitting at a desk, however, this time there was no place for him to sit.

“Please surrender your document, candidate,” the man said. Caelan approached the table and handed the man the piece of paper, then took up a stiff posture in front of the desk. The man gave a huff as he unrolled the parchment and scanned the neat ink across the page.

“Caelan Fairtree, you have completed the evaluation and are eligible to join the Order as an Initiate. Please remember that even as an Initiate you are still being evaluated and you may be removed from the Order if deemed necessary. If you decide to join, you will have up to five years to attain the rank of Templar or else be excommunicated from the Order. If you wish to join, please state so now.”

“I wish to join.”

The words came easily. When Kai had told him of the commitment last night, five years had seemed an eternity. Yet this morning, when he stood in front of the enormous gatehouse that separated the rest of Elysium from the Order, he had felt a sense familiarity. The towering buildings of white stone nestled away on a large island at the edge of the city seemed to call to him. The Order was the militant representation of the Light and he was a Sentinel—a barrier against the Void. There was nothing else he was more fit to do.

“Very well,” the man said and placed a large stamp across the bottom of the form. “The Order will keep this record. Please exit the room and follow whoever is outside.”

The man placed the document in a large box that, from where Caelan stood, didn’t seem to have many others inside. The man laid his arms on the desk, hands clasped together and eyes staring blankly ahead. Caelan spun on his heel and strode out the door, which was once again held open for him. As he crossed the threshold, the stern woman let the door swing shut and began to walk down the hall.

“Please follow me,” she said once there was some distance between them. Caelan took several long strides to catch up and trailed the woman as they made their way through a seemingly endless amount of hallways. There weren’t any signs either and he had no idea how the woman knew where they were going. They rounded another corner and she stopped in front of three people on a bench. All were dressed in various shades of tan or brown clothes and each had a white sash around their waist. They stood quickly upon noticing the woman’s presence.

“Initiate…” she trailed off, waiting for the first person’s input.

“Wait!” A voice called from behind them. Caelan spun quickly, recognizing the speaker. Kai approached, slowing from his jog as he drew closer. “I’ll take him. The other Initiates can take the next one.”

The woman clicked her tongue, but acquiesced. “Very well. Initiate Caelan, your first class is tomorrow. History. I trust your guide will inform you of the location and times?” she said with a glare in Kai’s direction.

“Of course,” the islander replied.

“Very good.” The woman walked back the way they had come, disappearing around the corner. Once her footsteps faded, the other Initiates sat back down in silence.

“They’re normal people, I promise,” Kai said. “They’re just told to act like that during the evaluation for some reason. Glad to see you decided to join though! I’ll show you around and get you the standard issue clothing.” Kai turned and gestured for Caelan to follow.

“They’re Initiates too?” Caelan asked as they walked.

“No, Templar,” Kai corrected.

“There are enough Templar to spare that they can stand around and give basic tests?”

“More than enough,” Kai said with a roll of his eyes, “but the people at the desks are normally Oracles. You probably couldn’t tell the difference. Templar do make up most of the Order, though. Nearly four times as many of them as there are any other rank.”

The day turned into a lot of walking as Kai escorted him around the Order’s vast grounds. As they headed towards the central building, Kai explained that the entirety of the facility was known as the Citadel, despite the towering building at the center being similarly named. The main structure and the wings immediately branching off it it were all the same white stone, but as the distance grew the structures turned into normal grays and earth tones.

They toured the Great Hall where meals were served, the baths, the kitchens, several locations where Caelan’s presence would be expected for class, and multiple courtyards that were used for various types of training. It had been early morning when Caelan had arrived, yet by the time he had seen the quartermaster to receive his issue of clothing and other supplies the sun had begun to fall from its daily climb. Kai led him to his quarters, a barracks-style room within the Initiates Wing that all new arrivals were placed in.

“I’ll go and report that I’ve finished escorting you, but I’ve also got to check if I’ve got a guard shift tomorrow. I’ll see you for supper?” Kai asked.

“Sure,” Caelan answered, placing the clothes, some of the only items he could call his own, on the bed. Kai left and though he was thankful for the welcome from someone he at least vaguely knew, Caelan was equally as glad for the time alone. The night prior still lingered in his mind—the way Tera had politely, yet firmly, implied for him to leave. He wasn’t sure why he expected to stay the entire night, she had never explicitly said that he would, but it felt wrong. She spoke little more than a small thank you while they had gotten dressed. Then she showed him out, giving quick directions back to the inn and closing the door while he stood on the porch.

Caelan rubbed his hands across his face, taking in the blanched walls that surrounded him. The room was a simple rectangle occupied by several beds barely wide enough for one person. Small desks, each with its own stool, and dressers lined the opposite wall. He began packing away the sets of issued clothing into several drawers, saving one set to change into. They outfit fit well and the fabric was softer than what he had received from the caravan. The boots, too, were made of strong but malleable leather. Caelan wondered how large the Order truly was and how they could afford to equip all of their members with this quality of clothing, especially since the new arrivals like him were, technically speaking, useless.

He made the bed with the sheets and blanket he’d been given before stepping into the hall, taking a moment to remember which stairwell led down to the bathhouse. There were several other Initiates there, but the baths were large enough that he found an area to himself to wash and let the heat work its way through his body. The water flowed gently through the interconnected baths, slow enough that it was possible to miss the current entirely without looking closely.

Caelan leaned forward, curious, to observe the opposite end of the room. The water entered into the bath from a wide porthole in one wall and out through another at the far end. How do they keep the water hot if it constantly flows out? he wondered. There aren’t any natural hot springs, not this close to the rivers around the city. He resigned himself to ignorance and tried to let his body relax, but his mind had other ideas. Thoughts of Tera permeated his consciousness and he only became more tense. He forced the images out in frustration and gathered his things to leave.

The evening meal, surprisingly, turned out to be the best part of the day. It was nothing like the bland, dense food the warriors-in-training received in Bastion. The bread was fresh, the stew filled with meats and vegetables, and the broth well spiced. Kai laughed and informed him that he would tire of it eventually, but Caelan doubted the warning, informing his new friend of what he had dealt with for years in Bastion.

Not only was the food good, but there was an enormous amount. All of it was necessary to feed the hundreds that filled the long rows of tables that lined the great hall. Initiates and Templar shared the same eating spaces, Kai explained, but their living and training areas were separated so that the Initiates could stay together. For many Initiates, this was their first taste of life outside their home or away from family. The Order wanted to offer them comfort in numbers.

The meal finished, Kai showed him some of the lesser visited spots throughout the grounds. There was a patch of woods near the back corner of the island with an off-limits glade that housed a small lake and an abandoned manor. It was supposedly the residence of every Highlord until the current one, who preferred to stay within the Citadel. One of the courtyards was a garden was full of plants, both local and exotic, and neat rows of raised beds overflowed with various herbs.

“Are these used in the food?” Caelan asked.

“Curious as to how we feed ourselves?” Kai chuckled. “No, everything here is just for looks. All our food is brought in from elsewhere.”

“So the Order is entirely reliant on things that aren’t on this island.” Caelan confirmed his suspicion. Being reliant on imports seemed ill-advised. With the massive bridge the only way in or out besides the harbor the Order could be defeated were it cut off.

“Yes, but we’ve got enough in our stores to outlast any siege, not that there’d ever be one,” Kai said. “We only bring in raw goods, though. Everything else you see has been crafted by our members. Or members of the Church, at least. The Acolytes do nearly all the linen work. Your bedsheets and clothes and such, mostly.”

They continued walking and Caelan noticed the small smithy nestled in the northeast corner of the grounds, no more than ten bellows in a row. “Is that all you have to make armor and weapons?”

“No,” Kai replied with a shake of his head. “Look again.”

Caelan did, searching for his mistake, and noticed the tops of stairwells in each corner of the stone ground. “There’s more underneath?”

Kai grinned. “Much more. What you see here is only for basic smithing. Nails, horseshoes, and the like. The armorers and weaponsmiths work in secret below. There’s lots of things below ground on this island, in fact. When the Citadel was built they even diverted a portion of the river through the island to use down there for cooling the metal. That water continues on below each of the Citadel’s wings to be used in the baths, pre-heated for your enjoyment.”

So that was how they did it. Caelan marveled at the grandeur of it all. In Bastion water was heated by coals under each bath, something that took a lot of preparation. Nearly every farling had become accustomed to bathing in cold or lukewarm water as a result. It was a wonder that the line for those wishing to join the Order didn’t surpass the length of the bridge each day. The privileged life here was certainly alluring.

With the unofficial portion of the tour finished, Caelan attempted to lead them back to his quarters, each of the numerous incorrect turns met with a laugh from Kai and a mocking finger pointing a different direction.

The days passed slowly as Caelan became more familiar with the grounds, navigating to and from his quarters, finding classes held in buildings around the complex, and locating the training courtyard and Great Hall for meals. Each morning the Initiates were taken through several hours of drills, though the instructors allowed Caelan to move over to the group performing unit movements and group-based attacks after three days.

The training was tedious, but afterward most in attendance left the grounds and Caelan enjoyed the relative freedom to train as he saw fit, drilling sequences with wooden weapons and running laps around the island before the midday meal. It was the classes that bored him most, each of the lessons covering what he had already been taught as a child. Every afternoon brought the same order of instruction: reading, writing, basic mathematics, and the history of their world. Kai wouldn’t hear his complaints, reminding him that the Order accepted everyone, to include the young and those that were too poor to afford any sort of education. The scolding did nothing to alleviate Caelan’s boredom.

His history instructor, old enough that his hair had lost even the faint color of gray, finished another long-winded story and came to rest behind the desk at the front of the room. “Now, can any of you name the seven Archangels that comprise the Seraphic Council?” the old man asked. One young Initiate in the middle of the room bravely raised his hand. “Go ahead.”

“There’s Netzach, the Archangel of Eternity, Jophiel, the Archangel of Wisdom--”

“Please, just the name and aspect, if you will,” the instructor interrupted.

“Right. Well, Camael of War, Raguel of Justice, Sachiel of Mercy, Sabriel of Miracles, and…” The Initiate struggled to remember the last.

“Phan…” the instructor offered.

“Phanuel! Archangel of Repentance,” the Initiate finished.

“Good. Now, the Archangels...”

Caelan sighed in the back of the room and slumped deeper in his seat as the instructor droned on about the first appearances of the Archangel’s on the grounds the Citadel was built on. The Archangel’s had apparently worked alongside the Church and what would later become the Order, too. Caelan’s thoughts turned to that of the next meal, wondering if there might be more fruit pies from the previous evening. He was startled out of the memory of the sweet jam-like insides by a question from the boy sitting immediately to his right.

“What about the other Angels?” the boy asked in a timid voice.

“Ah, you mean the eight Ascended, I assume?” The instructor perked up at the sudden participation. “Yes, in the midst of the Void War all seven Archangels, who were known as the Seraphic Council mind you, raised eight humans as Angels. They were each given their own Aspect by the Archangel that raised them and they represented humanity in the Void War, fighting alongside the Lightborne from the High Heavens.”

“Where did they go?” the boy asked.

The instructor frowned. “We know very little about them, admittedly. It seems that not even our archives list their Aspects. As for where they are now, there are many theories: that they were permitted entry into the Heavens after the war, that they returned to being normal humans, or that they all perished, but the short of it is that no one truly knows.” The question satisfied, the old instructor quickly returned to the lesson with a tiring explanation of how the Kingdom of Elysia had once spanned the entire Realm prior to the rebellions.

Caelan sat through the rest of the class, painstakingly retold the lessons from his youth. He remembered Ulrich quizzing him as a young boy on names, places, and years of major events throughout history. Every wrong answer had meant another round through the training course. Covered in mud, scratched from splintered wood, and freezing from the bitter wind, he would attempt to recall information that simply would not come. Ulrich would shake his head and nod towards the beginning of the course. Upon completing another round, Caelan had complained that the information didn’t matter, a statement that Ulrich took as an incorrect answer to a question that hadn’t been asked, and sent the boy through again. As Caelan aged, the questions changed, requiring more specific answers, and so too did the physical demands escalate in turn. The process, over years, was one of several methods Ulrich had used to hone both body and mind.

The flashback was interrupted by the class rising to leave, the day’s lecture complete. Caelan stood, stretching his legs and back that had gone stiff from the wooden chair before heading out to the training ground. Kai leaned against the courtyard wall with two wooden poles, waiting. The two had made it a daily routine to spar prior to supper, a habit Caelan was all too happy to indulge.

“How was class?” Kai asked, white teeth from his wide smile contrasting dark lips.

“Were I a decade younger it would’ve been interesting, I’m sure,” Caelan replied. “Shall we?”

Kai chuckled and tossed him the extra wooden pole. The islander was stronger by a decent margin, but Caelan was faster. They warmed up with basic sequences, yet when the short bouts began in earnest so too did Caelan’s enjoyment. It was a race, a test of skills—could he break through Kai’s guard faster than the islander could wear him down with powerful strikes? Several clacks of wood later and he held his weapon against Kai’s neck, having closed the distance between them faster than Kai could counter. They went again and this time Kai pulled him off-balance before giving him a playful jab in the ribs.

“Come on Kaikoa, you’re only feeding the Initiate’s ego.”

Caelan and Kai separated at the end of their round and turned to face the critical voice.

“Why are you here, Eligor?” Kai asked. “I’ve never seen you on the mixed grounds.”

“I’m free to observe, am I not?” The stranger, Eligor, was about Caelan’s height and strikingly handsome. Blonde hair was painstakingly combed into holding its shape and the newcomer carried himself with shoulders raised and head held high despite the arms crossed over his chest. It was the air of arrogance, Caelan realized, that gave him the instantaneous feeling of hatred towards Eligor.

“Of course,” Kai admitted. There was something off in the tone, Caelan noted. The islander always had a hint of joy that came from the permanent smile plastered on his face, yet it was absent now. “Caelan, this is Templar Eligor Belestram. His family financed Joyce’s caravan over a decade ago when she was first starting out. They’ve fallen on some hard times since then.”

Eligor cleared his throat. “It’s of no consequence. Nalani asked me to tell you if I saw you to find her at supper.”

“I will. Thank you,” Kai replied. The three stood, Caelan eyeing both parties. Eligor remained motionless, arms folded on his chest while Kai gently tapped his pole against his boot to knock away some dust.

“Please, continue training,” Eligor said exasperatedly and waved a hand toward them.

“I think I’ve had enough for the day,” Kai replied.

“Well your friend here has hardly worked up a sweat,” Eligor declared. “Come on, Caelan, was it? What do you say?”

Caelan looked to Kai for some sort of sign, but the islander simply shrugged and handed over his pole to the blonde Templar before stepping away. Eligor assumed a wide stance, off-shoulder leading the rest of his frame. Caelan tightened his grip on his own weapon.

The two took small steps to the side, maintaining mirrored positions, before Eligor took a half lunge forward. A quick jab of the pole followed the step. The wood clacked as Caelan parried the attack easily and they returned to their original forms. Eligor tested several other quick strikes, looking for slowness or a weak off-hand that would afford him the opening to decisively win the bout. He found such an opening and Caelan was greeted by a sharp pain as the wooden pole cracked into his shoulder.

They reset, but three more short bouts led to similar results. Caelan knew nearly three dozen sequences, but Eligor apparently knew more. Worse, the blonde Templar wasn’t pulling the finishing blows. Every mistake made was met with punishment. Caelan ground his teeth. Had it been Kai he might have accepted the lesson, but not from this prick.

The fifth bout began and Caelan committed to a powerful strike at Eligor’s shoulders. The blonde Templar stepped forward to intercept, but found air to block rather than Caelan’s weapon—the feint had worked. Caelan dropped his staff behind Eligor’s leg and pulled. When the wood freed his opponent of his gait, Caelan brought the other end to meet the side of Eligor’s head with a satisfying thump and the Templar went limp. Caelan turned without pause and strode towards the training yard’s exit.

“Light, did you kill him?” Kai asked, hurrying to catch up.

“No,” Caelan answered, “but he won’t be happy when he wakes in a few moments.”

They made it to the wall and Caelan placed his pole in the rack along the stone. They were about to cross the threshold out of the courtyard when Kai hesitated at the weak voice calling out to them.

“Initiate!” Eligor groaned.

Caelan saw Kai turn and caught Eligor hoist himself onto his hands and knees out of the edge of his vision. The blonde Templar attempted to stand, but stumbled in a daze and found himself sitting in the dirt. This isn’t the time to dawdle. Caelan continued through the archway and headed down the hall towards the Initiate’s quarters.

“Initiate!” Eligor’s voice was louder, but still lacked the vigor of full mental clarity.

“You’re going to get in trouble for that,” Kai said, catching up again as they reached the stairs.

Caelan raised a doubtful brow. “For winning a training bout?”

“He’ll say you attacked him or something, I’m sure,” Kai insisted. “Eligor is very...guileful.”

“He’s too proud to admit being bested by an Initiate,” Caelan retorted.

“We’ll see.”