Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

“Come my boy, this way now, this way!”
 
Marcus really isn’t sure how long it’s been since they left the Chapel at this point. Hours, maybe? It certainly feels like it’s been hours. He’s been hustled about by Bishop Archibald for what feels like an eternity at this point. All for the sake of… meeting ‘the right people’, as the Bishop termed it.
 
Truth be told, Marcus barely remembered most of the faces he’d seen these past few hours, let alone their names. It was just one after the other, and sure they were all seemingly very important (self-important, Marcus privately thought to himself) but he still couldn’t keep track of them all in his head. And really, if there were that many people for the rotund Bishop to introduce him to, they couldn’t ALL be as crucial for him to meet as was claimed, could they?
 
The last familiar faces Marcus had seen were back in the Chapel where he’d had his Awakening. When Bishop Archibald had declared that he would be taking Marcus under his wing and making sure the Destined Hero got where he needed to go, the bearded clergyman had also told those still in attendance that they would likely never see one another again. He’d suggested that Marcus say his goodbyes to his friends quickly, as time was of the essence.
 
Marcus had taken great satisfaction in sweeping his gaze across Matron Gertrude and his fellow remaining orphans. He’d enjoyed watching their expressions fall as they all realized, one after the other, that their treatment of him meant not a single one would ever be considered his friend, not in a million years. It had felt quite good, turning to the Bishop and proclaiming he was ready to go without one solitary farewell thrown out to the bunch.
 
That was about the last bit of ‘feeling good’ that Marcus had done since, however. Not only had he been yanked around throughout the city nonstop since then, but the reality of his situation had quickly set back in. He was still reeling, still not entirely sure what was going on. His deep confusion made it all but impossible to get his bearings to be frank. And it made it even harder to commit any of the people the Bishop introduced to him to memory as well, as he simply couldn’t wrap his head around it.
 
He wasn’t supposed to be free. He wasn’t supposed to be praised or lifted up as some icon of heroism. He was the Dark Lord. Yet… everyone kept telling him he was the Destined Hero.
 
Honestly, at this point Marcus didn’t know what the fuck he was supposed to be. All he knew for certain was that he didn’t really want to stick around and wait for them to somehow figure out their mistake. The longer he was in the vicinity of the Church’s clergy members, the more likely he was to be discovered for the fraud he still felt he was. And then he’d be fucked either way.
 
There were just two problems with his heartfelt desire to get the fuck away from all of this. One, he and the Bishop were surrounded even now by an honor guard made up of all of the Paladins that had been lining the walls of the Chapel when Marcus had had his Awakening. Paladin Eric was among them, the only one Marcus even vaguely knew at this point.
 
Despite their clear reverence and awe for him, despite them seemingly being happy just to stand in his presence… Marcus couldn’t help but be afraid of them. They were the boogeymen he’d had nightmares about since he was a little boy. They were his would-be executioners according to every single one of his tormentors throughout his life.
 
And right now, even if they might not know it yet, they were his wardens. So long as they were surrounding him and the Bishop, Marcus could not escape. They didn’t even know it, but they had him hemmed in. They ferried him and Bishop Archibald from place to place, moving them throughout the city on the Bishop’s orders. Ostensibly, they were protecting the two of them from would-be harm, but Marcus didn’t feel safe. He hadn’t felt safe for a single moment since his Awakening.
 
The other issue regarding his desire to escape from the Bishop’s grubby, fat-fingered clutches, was a matter of geography. Marcus… didn’t know where the fuck he was anymore. He looked around and all he saw was a richness that someone like him would normally never get to lay eyes on, not in a million years. They definitely weren’t in the part of the Capital that he’d grown up in. Not anymore.
 
With no clue where he was, Marcus didn’t feel safe trying to make a run for it even during the handful of times where he and the Bishop were slightly removed from the honor guard’s presence. As a half-orc, he had been watched damn near constantly growing up. And while the guards near his orphanage were all shitty, they at least never went too far with things. He’d always feared roaming too far into other parts of the city. If he ran into guards who didn’t know who he was, they might mistake him for an orc outright and kill him where he stood.
 
So yes, Marcus had never gone too far from ‘home’, if one could even call his cot in the orphanage such a thing. He’d known the area around the orphanage quite well, but the Capital of the Holy Empire was vast, and Marcus was but one boy.
 
This all meant one thing… he was stuck with the Bishop. Stuck going wherever the aged, rotund clergyman wanted him to go until… well, until this hopefully came to an end. To be fair, Marcus wasn’t feeling physical fatigue whatsoever. He was a half-orc and it would take a lot more to even begin wearing him down physically. But mentally… mentally, the exhaustion was starting to set in. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep meeting new people and forgetting them mere moments afterwards before he just… shut down.
 
“Ah, Bishop, sir…”
 
Marcus blinks, as Paladin Eric’s voice cuts through the air. Turning but not stopping, Archibald looks at the Paladin with a raised brow.
 
“Yes, Paladin?”
 
“All of these meetings… its good for the Hero to have these connections, don’t get me wrong… but don’t you think it’s about time we took Marcus to get outfitted in proper armor and armed with some weapons? If he’s going to be fighting the Dark Lord’s armies, he can’t keep walking around in a threadbare shirt and pants.”
 
Marcus blinks at that, reaching up to touch his shirt. He tries not to take issue with the Paladin’s words, knowing that (surprisingly enough) Eric didn’t actually mean anything by them. But at the same time, they did hurt a little bit. This was literally Marcus’ best set of clothing. It was part of the reason he’d damn near gone off on those other boys for the fucking tomato.
 
And yet, when he compared what he was wearing now to what he’d seen so far today, even if he barely remembered much of it… well, the ostentatious, rich-looking clothes certainly stuck with him, he supposed. There’d been a lot of wealth in the garments of the people Bishop Archibald had been introducing him to. A lot of wealth in their holdings and homes as well.
 
… Had the Bishop been introducing him to nobility or fellow clergymen? Marcus honestly couldn’t have said. It really was all just one great big blur.
 
“Hm… you’re not wrong, Paladin. However, Marcus and I are due for a meeting with the Cardinal. You take your men and go get him some gear for after, how about that?”
 
Paladin Eric glances from Marcus to Archibald for a moment, before grimacing.
 
“Sir… its just that… for proper armor, the Hero will have to be measured in person. It’s not something you want to guess at and-!”
 
“Oh, poppycock! The Capital has some of the most renowned blacksmiths in the whole of the Empire! And this will of course be on the Church’s coin! Go to the best blacksmith you know and have him make something good. If he’s any good at what he does, he won’t need young Marcus there for such a simple task!”
 
Marcus didn’t honestly know if that was true, but considering who he was watching argue, he was inclined to believe Paladin Eric over Bishop Archibald. Especially since this was the first time that he’d seen the Paladin truly question the Bishop on something. Not just question him, but straight up debate with him as well.
 
And it didn’t look like the Paladin was backing down either, still grimacing and opening his mouth to speak again. Marcus almost wished that Eric would just give in and take his men to do as the Bishop ordered. Then, maybe Marcus would finally have a chance to escape.
 
However, before that can happen, before the Bishop can browbeat Paladin Eric into submission with his divine authority, another voice cuts in.
 
“Ah, there you are. Green skin, blue eyes, dark hair… and surrounded by members of the Church who are currently very far from their Chapel. You must be the new Destined Hero, Marcus.”
 
Everyone, Marcus included, looks over at the sound of that new voice. There, standing in identical robes to Archibald, is another man… another Bishop, if Marcus had to guess. As soon as he sees him, Archibald scowls.
 
“Travis! What are you doing here?”
 
Much thinner than his contemporary, spindly even, Bishop Travis raises a single brow, looking VERY unimpressed with the rotund Bishop as he clasps his hands behind his back.
 
“I’m here to escort our new Destined Hero to a very important meeting, Archibald. Playtime is over.”
 
Oh damn. Marcus blinks, as Archibald sputters indignantly.
 
“W-Well I never! I’ll have you know that young Marcus and I are on our way to a meeting with Cardinal Matthews right this moment! I’m quite sure your meeting does not supersede such an important individual!”
 
Cardinals were pretty important. Or so Marcus had been led to believe. Truth be told, he’d never seen any member of the Church higher than a Bishop before now. He… might have seen an Archbishop at some point in the last few hours while Bishop Archibald was introducing him to people. He couldn’t quite say for certain.
 
And yet, Bishop Travis STILL looks decidedly unimpressed, and ultimately unfazed by his fellow Bishop’s name drop.
 
“How amusing. But I think her Holiness does in fact supersede a Cardinal, even one with an over-inflated sense of self worth such as Cardinal Matthews.”
 
At that, Archibald goes white. Marcus, meanwhile, isn’t sure he’s hearing correctly. Her Holiness? That didn’t mean who he thought it did… did it?
 
“She… she wants to meet with him?”
 
Looking at Archibald as one might look at an insignificant gnat, Bishop Travis sneers.
 
“Of course. He is the new Destined Hero, you ignoramus. Now, it’s time for you to return to your Chapel, Archibald. You’ve had your fun, but as I already said… playtime is over.”
 
He pauses briefly and looks around at Paladin Eric and his cohort.
 
“I shall be borrowing your Paladins for an honor guard to the Cathedral. They may return to their posts when they are finished escorting the Hero and I to her Holiness. Your presence, however, is neither requested nor desired.”
 
“But I-!”
 
“Return to your Chapel, Archibald.”
 
The words are said in the same tone as someone saying ‘know your place’. Marcus should know, he’s heard it said more than enough times over the years, both in those exact words and other ways. In that moment, as Archibald is summarily dismissed, Marcus learns something. There are Bishops…and then there are Bishops.
 
Alternatively, Travis could simply be speaking from a position of significantly more authority than Archibald for this specific instance alone. After all, he had said ‘her Holiness’. And what beat a Cardinal? Only one thing came to Marcus’ mind. But… surely not, right?
 
There was just no way…
 
-x-X-x-
 
“Presenting Bishop Travis, the Paladin Cohort of the Twenty-Fifth Chapel, and the presumed Destined Hero, Marcus.”
 
Marcus’ mouth is undeniably dry as he’s… announced to a chamber bigger than anything he’s ever seen before. It is, beyond a doubt, the largest enclosed space he’s ever been in. It’s like a throne room… no, rather, as his eyes go to the very far end of the room where a woman with red hair sits on a chair, adorned in jewels and white robes and a very tall hat, Marcus is forced to acknowledge… it IS a throne room.
 
Except, this isn’t the Palace. Marcus knows that’s on the other side of the Capital. Even if he’s never been to the Palace, it dominates the skyline and you can see it from pretty much any main street and plenty of side streets as well. However, there is one other building that you can see from anywhere in the Capital as well. One that is just as large as the Palace and sits opposite of it.
 
The Cathedral of Most Holy Light. That’s where Marcus found himself now. Never in a million years would he have thought he would be here today. But then, he never thought he would be the Dark Lord or the Destined Hero either.
 
The massive room he’s been escorted into is filled to the brim with robed figures. Members of the Church, presumably… and all looking very important. More important than the people Bishop Archibald spent half the day introducing him to, that was for sure. However, none of them held a candle to the woman sat on an ostentatious high-backed chair that might as well have been a throne. After all, SHE was the Holy Pope Serafina. Marcus had never seen her in the flesh before, but he’d heard enough about her to recognize her on sight. He’d have to be an idiot not to know who she was.
 
Still, it was hard to wrap his head around. A lot of things about today were hard for him to wrap his head around.
 
“Approach.”
 
The Holy Pope’s voice rings out through the massive chamber, melodic in nature and sounding surprisingly… gentle in tone. For a moment, Marcus doesn’t move… its only when Paladin Eric’s hand falls on his shoulder and gives him a slight push that he realizes he’s expected to walk forward.
 
Had he mentioned yet that his mouth was INCREDIBLY dry? One foot in front of the other, Marcus walks to his execution. Surely, if anyone was capable of seeing through whatever fuckery was going on here, it would be the Holy Pope. Hell, maybe his Dark Lord Job had learned to obfuscate itself over the years, and that was why he was coming up as the Destined Hero.
 
But such obfuscation would fail against her Holiness, wouldn’t it? There was just no way SHE was going to get the same results as everyone else.
 
And yet, he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t even consider trying to take HER hostage, as he stopped a few dozen feet away from her, having traversed most of the length of the massive chamber. He’d heard of the miracles she could perform… of the power she wielded.
 
Surprisingly enough, she’s smiling at him the entire time. A kind, caring smile that Marcus doesn’t detect a hint of deception or disgust in. That really doesn’t make a lick of sense to him. He’s not expecting someone like her to be capable of a single ounce of affection or care for a half-orc like him. Orcs were monsters after all. They were evil. By that logic, HE was half-evil at least, wasn’t he?
 
At least, that was what he’d been told all his life. And now Marcus was here, receiving a kind smile from the Holy Pope herself. The moment couldn’t last, however. As he stops and stands still, she wordlessly raises her hand and performs the Identification Sign. Hers is the same complex version as Bishop Archibald’s, no more intricate than his. However, while it seems to be the same one that the Bishop performed, hers glows with a ferocious power, shining so bright Marcus almost has to shield his eyes.
 
When its over… he waits for the axe to drop. He waits for her to declare him an impostor, to declare him the Dark Lord before all in attendance.
 
“It is confirmed. He is the Destined Hero.”
 
The room bursts into a low level of noise at that, shuffling and murmuring as clergymen whisper and mutter to one another on all sides. Marcus’ eyes are wide, his jaw dropped open. If even the Holy Pope thought he was the Destined Hero… then maybe he WAS the Destined Hero. Maybe Marcus was the one who was insane in all of this. Maybe he was the one who had it wrong. He felt in his heart of hearts that he WAS the Dark Lord… but could it be, he wasn’t?
 
“Marcus.”
 
Hearing his name from the Holy Pope’s lips startles him badly and he looks to her, eyes still wide. She looks concerned for him, as she sits there in her chair, looking so regal and… and holy.
 
“How are you feeling?”
 
He opens his mouth… but no words come out. Instead, he gapes like a goldfish, unable to put just how overwhelmed he is into something verbal. But then to be fair, that’s part of being overwhelmed, isn’t it?
 
Luckily, he doesn’t have to say anything. After a moment, her Holiness nods sharply and snaps her fingers, the sound somehow echoing through the entire chamber and cutting through the murmuring like a freshly sharpened blade.
 
“Leave us. All of you.”

There’s a ripple at that, but before anyone can say anything, the Holy Pope doubles down.
 
“Now.”
 
There’s so much authority and power in her voice that Marcus isn’t really surprised when the chamber clears out as fast as it probably could. It still takes a couple of minutes, given just how many people were waiting for him to arrive, but soon enough… its just the two of them.
 
Marcus stands there, feeling both light as a leaf on the wind and heavy as a rock at the bottom of a lake. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what to say. He’s alone with the Holy Pope of the Church, for fuck’s sake!
 
It’s just the two of them now, and Marcus is still trying to figure out what the fuck his Job actually is. Does HE have it wrong? Or does the most powerful Holy Priestess in the entire Holy Empire somehow have it wrong?
 
… That’s when things get a little odd. Her Holiness stands from her chair, still offering him that kind, caring smile. Then, she turns and gestures to the cushioned seat she’s just behind.
 
“Please Marcus. Sit.”