What has happened to us?

ARC 5 - PARACLETE

CHAPTER 1 - FUTURE MINDED

Chief Inquisitor Crowmere was many things, but late was not one of them. Usually.

When the knock came at the door, Dulius had prepared himself to scold Arnulf for his tardiness. A foolish thought, that. Arnulf was one of the most reliable people in the Order, if not the entire Realm. Were he delayed, it was because something of importance had arisen. Dulius shook his head as he coughed, mentally berating himself for even considering taking his frustrations out on such a loyal servant. A fortunate turn of the mind, because it wasn’t even the Chief Inquisitor that stepped through the door when the Templar guards swung open the entry. He would’ve been airing his grievance with two acolytes, trays in their arms bearing his evening meal.

In the relative darkness of his office, Dulius couldn’t make out much of the two. He doubted they were new. Usually, the Church rotated through the same five or so for about a year before moving them on to other duties. He could stand to do a bit better when it came to remembering them, though, even if it was hard to tell them apart at times. Both these two were girls with youthful faces framed by white kerchiefs tied about their heads and their outfits were the same as any other, gray tunics of simple fashion and long enough to reach the floor. For all the Church’s architectural splendor, there were a select few members that wore anything extravagant. Practicality was the priority. Practicality and frugality. The Order was less of the same mind, mainly because equipping a Templar legion wasn’t cheap to begin with. What were a few elaborate clothes on top of that? Coppers in the bucket.

Dulius waved the Acolytes in and gestured to the table tucked against the wall to his left. They nodded politely and gracefully walked over to where he had indicated. He’d been busy enough lately that he hadn’t taken a meal at the small table for several days, but if Arnulf was to be late he figured he might as well eat properly for once. The Acolyte who had carried in his drink put her tray down and set about lighting the candles scattered throughout the room. The other set his place at the table, a plate full of steaming food centered on the single chair and the cutlery positioned to either side after the noble fashion.

Dulius frowned. It was too…kingly. How long had it been since he’d supped with his Templar in their hall? He still walked the corridors and grounds, less frequently than he would’ve liked, but even in those far and few between rounds he’d noticed faces that once looked upon him with smiles and words of greeting now bowed themselves in silent reverence. He tucked his chin and studied the patterns in the wood of his desk to hide his shame. He was becoming too much a figurehead. That wouldn’t do.

“What are your names?” he asked as he brought his large frame from his chair.

The two Acolytes jumped at the sound of his voice and stiffened in place, each turning to face him.

“Adelaide, Highlord,” the first said with a bow.

“Sebille,” the second answered, bowing her head deeper than the other.

“Allow me to help,” Dulius said as he stepped over to untie the curtains Sebille had started to work on.

The Acolyte gave an uneasy smile, but nodded and continued her work. The windows were tall and imposing, but there were only four of them and the task was done after a few short moments. Dulius turned to find Adelaide waiting patiently by the table and followed Sebille over as she returned to her companion. They all stood awkwardly, the two Acolytes seemingly unsure if they should wait for the Highlord to take a seat for dinner and Dulius entirely unwilling to be waited on in such a matter.

“Thank you for your service,” he said with a broad smile. Then, with a sweeping gesture of one of his thick arms, said, “Please, allow me to walk you to the door.”

A simple request and one no less awkward than the silence that preceded it. The door was all of fifteen steps away - it wasn’t as though they needed an escort. Still, the Acolytes obliged him, each taking up a position to either side as he walked. He made it halfway before another fit of coughs seized his ribs and forced him to fight for air. One of the Acolytes, he couldn’t be sure which, took his arm as if to help keep him upright, but he waved them both away. They scurried from the room as he made his way back to his desk and collapsed into the chair.

Arnulf slipped through the door just as it was about to close behind the two girls. The Chief Inquisitor perched like a hawk just inside the threshold, waiting for the usual acknowledgment of his arrival. The man wasn’t taller than Dulius, yet somehow it always felt like he was studying things from above. Watching. Surveying.

When his lungs finally settled, Dulius stood, cautiously so as not to incite another assault on his chest, and faced his Chief Inquisitor.

“You’re late.”

“My apologies, Highlord,” Arnulf said with a bow.

The same tone as always, Dulius noted. No matter conversation, no matter the mood, always the same.

“With good reason, I presume?” he asked.

Arnulf approached the desk, assuming the position he always took when delivering his reports and staring blankly over Dulius’s head.

“I took it upon myself to visit the Church and verify information that had reported through various means,” the Chief Inquisitor said. “The Council of Seven continues to push for a public acknowledgment of the Angel’s awakening. I have also confirmed that the Church has begun its own, independent, investigation of their ascension. It would seem, Highlord, that they are no longer satisfied with the Order’s progress regarding the Angels.”

Dulius groaned. Fuck the Church. What was he supposed to do? They’d tried the few initial ideas the Angels had proposed and nothing bore fruit. The last time he’d asked them outright how they planned to rekindle their divine connection they’d nothing to offer but cold stares. It wasn’t as if he could whip the Oracles to make them read faster and the Angels themselves had no answers. Until the right pieces were found there was little to do but wait.

“What of Ananiel?” he asked.

“She still requires a new partner, if she is to continue seeking ascension through her proposed method,” Arnulf said plainly. Then, after a momentary pause, added, “Though she has not asked after someone in some time.”

“Why?”

It didn’t seem possible that the Chief Inquisitor could stiffen given his already rigid posture, but perhaps stiffen was the wrong word. It was more like watching a plank of wood curl at the edges after being exposed to too many suns. Dulius studied the hawkish man. It wasn’t often that he caught him without an answer, though it was seemingly the only thing that could ever make the Chief Inquisitor uncomfortable.

“I am unsure,” Arnulf admitted, “though I will find out.”

Dulius grunted in acknowledgment, but the rough scraping against his throat brought on another fit of coughs. He buried his mouth into the crease of his arm in an effort to mask the sound of his wet hacking. From under his brow, though, he caught a glimpse of something no less surprising than a statue stepping from its pedestal: the Chief Inquisitor had broken from his usual position in front of the desk. Arnulf seemed a shade, fading in and out of shadow as he crossed the room, moving from one candle-lit area to the next. He grasped the two cups from the tray left on the table in a swift motion, his hands over each top to better prevent any spillage, and silently made his way back. Upon his return, he stood so close to the front of the desk that his thighs practically pressed into the wood.

Arnulf reached out, offering one of the drinks.

“If the wine is in your other hand, I’d rather that,” Dulius grumbled.

The Chief Inquisitor still did not look directly at him, even when he bent over slightly to pass the cup.

“Wine merely masks ailments, Highlord. I have carefully selected the Clerics monitoring your health, not just to prevent rumors, but for their talents. The medicine they create for you is necessary.”

“Well they could stand to make it taste a bit better,” Dulius scoffed.

The Chief Inquisitor shook the cup some as if to insist.

“You must drink, Highlord. Your health is paramount to the success of the Order.”

The stars that peeked through wispy clouds reflected on the sea’s surface, blurred to pools of white in the soft chop. The nights were no longer so intolerably cold, but sitting out on the water wasn’t the warmest place in or around Elysium either, especially with the steady breeze. Raegn sat in the middle of the small rowboat, letting himself be bobbed about like a small berry in some prissy noble woman’s drink and praying the motion wouldn’t make him sick. He pulled off his hood and let out a sigh of faint relief as the cool air brushed the back of his neck.

“You know, when you said that a true marriage proposal in your culture required a ship, this is not what I pictured,” he commented.

Kai broke his gaze from the cliffs looming above the shore and turned around so Raegn could see his flat expression.

“I’m trying to give due patronage to our joint heritage,” the islander said. “And you’re going to insult our ways?”

“No,” Raegn began, mounting his amused defense, “but you had me steal a rowboat. I feel inclined to tell you that your choice seems a bit underwhelming.”

“You’re underwhelming,” Kai muttered and turned back to watch the cliff.

Raegn chuckled. The poor man was nervous. Who wouldn’t be, were they in his shoes? Sometime tonight, the only thing the islander had ever cared about - the most important question he might ever ask - would finally be answered. Never again would there be such an instance where Kai was so vulnerable. Light, there were so many options to tease him that Raegn practically squirmed trying to decide.

“You do realize I had to steal this fine vessel, right?” he asked with a few slaps on the rowboat's hull.

“You’re a Justicar, I doubt anyone who accuses you will be able to do much about it,” Kai answered with a wave of his hand.

Raegn leaned forward. “Is that why you needed me? Because I could steal you a rowboat without consequence?”

“I needed you because I can’t be a captain of a ship without a crew,” Kai said. “You’re the crew, and the Captain is telling you to shut up.”

“Oh, so that’s it then? I’m just crew?” Raegn gave an exaggerated scoff and did his best to look offended. “Am I the First Mate at least?”

“You’re the Coxswain or something, I don’t know,” Kai said absently.

“The cocks-what?” Raegn snickered in disbelief. “Now you’re just making shit up. That can’t be a real thing. I want to be the First Mate.”

“Would you please—there!” Kai exclaimed and pointed to a small lantern lit on the cliff above the shore. “That’s the signal! Start rowing us in!”

Raegn snapped a hand - the wrong one, no less - up near his face with his palm facing inward in a mockery of anything that might even resemble a salute.

“Aye, Captain!”

Kai nearly lost his balance with how hard Raegn pulled the oars through the first stroke. Raegn cursed under his breath from between his grin. Close. Though soaking the poor man in seawater was perhaps a bit too far. Kai taking a stumbling step back into the boat before resuming his proud stance, one foot on the forward bench and the other on the prow, would have to be enough.

Or would it?

Raegn brought the oars up out of the water at the end of another stroke and didn’t dip them below the surface again. When their momentum began to slow, Kai turned and gave him a quizzical glance.

“I want to be the First Mate.”

“What?” the bewildered Captain asked.

“I said, I want to be the First Mate,” Raegn repeated.

“Oh for—you’re still on about that?”

Raegn crossed his arms over his chest. “Make me the First Mate, or I’m not rowing.”

“Holy shit, fine!” Kai exclaimed. “You’re the First Mate. Now would you please row the fucking boat?”

With a devious, yet satisfied grin, Raegn grasped the oars once more.

“Aye, Captain.”

With half the distance to the shore covered, Raegn’s attention faded from gleaning enjoyment at Kai’s expense to the matter at hand. Even though the islander might not agree, everything had been going smoothly. They’d acquired a vessel and, though it lacked anything in regards to size or splendor, Kai explained that it fulfilled the requirement. The lantern on the cliff was damn near half the plan, too. The faint flame in the distance meant that one of the Caloman sisters had indeed convinced Nalani to take a twilight stroll down to the beach. The signal came a bit later than Raegn had anticipated, but the tiny glow swept away his fears of sitting out at sea until sunrise and trying to keep Kai from drowning himself.

All that remained was to get the Captain ashore in a manner worth witnessing. That, however, required two things to occur: First, Raegn had to row them in at the right time. Getting flipped by a wave and tossed onto the sand like driftwood was memorable, but for entirely the wrong reasons. He slowed his pace for a few strokes, listening to the sound of the foaming water rumble and hiss as it broke somewhere behind him. He could feel the swells pass beneath the boat and, after practicing this routine with Kai for two days straight, was fairly confident he knew the conditions he needed. When the moment came, he heaved the oars through the water with all the strength his arms could muster. A wave broke behind them and cast its spray on his face as it carried them ever closer to shore.

With his part complete, Raegn allowed himself to relax some. The second requirement of their arrival fell to Kai. The islander had managed it during their practicing, but it had taken him no small amount of concentration. Nalani was liable to be on the beach by now, the fair maiden waiting on her lover’s return from sea, and she’d be every bit the distraction that might ruin Kai’s focus. The islander was adept with the Light, able to form lances and barriers as well as any other, but it took him nearly two days to even grasp the concept of forming it into flame under Raegn’s tutelage.

The First Mate bit his lip and waited. Doing it himself was out of the question, for nothing in these moments should mar the Captain’s luster.

The heat of the holy fire that washed over the shallow surf warmed Raegn’s back. The final few strokes glided them home.

They came in with the tide like a phantom through the fog. As the hull ground onto the shore, Kai deftly leapt from his ship amidst a walkway of lit candles half-buried in the sand. Raegn waited a few moments so that Nalani’s full attention would be on the arrival of her wayward Captain, then pulled the rowboat ashore to keep it from being claimed by the sea. He stood next to the small vessel, his hands clasped at his waist and his hood pulled high so the front drooped and covered most of his face. If he strained his eyes hard enough, he could see another figure at the base of the path that led down from the cliff through the fog Kai had created.

The figure had a feminine form and wasn’t very tall. Tera, then, he figured. Raegn tried to study her more, but she wore her cloak much in the same way he did and it was impossible to discern any features of her face. He knew that Nalani and Kai were friends with both sisters and he supposed that Tera was the easier of the two to spend time with given Nora’s normal duties. Now that both islanders had become Crusaders, though, he’d thought there might be a chance the elder Caloman might have been tasked with the night’s events.

He wouldn’t have interacted with them, no matter which of them it had been. This night wasn’t about them. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder what Tera was thinking. Did she feel anything at this sight? Perhaps wish they swapped places with their friends? Or did she resent him for the time he now spent with her sister and simply tolerate his presence?

As Nalani gasped, Raegn refocused his attention on the two islanders. There was a red gleam, small but noticeable, just beneath Kai’s outstretched hands. Raegn smiled warmly as he saw the fervent nods and Kai step around behind his betrothed. With the necklace fastened, the night was complete.

Their embrace was tighter than any knot. Their kiss deeper than any sea.