THE APOSTATE SAINT

“Last chance to abandon this madness and live a simple life as a singer in a tavern somewhere.” Geilamir’s voice, tinged with nervousness, cut through the heavy air, revealing his own doubts as he spoke to Alaric. Just a week ago, Alaric’s world revolved around balancing his artistic pursuits with rigorous training and legal studies, preparing to succeed his father in the Senate.

Now, standing before the gates of the City, Alaric felt a strange liberation from his former responsibilities. But this newfound freedom was quickly replaced by the fear of the unknown. Geilamir’s jest, though cheeky, struck a chord. The notion of a quiet life dedicated to art was tempting. He reassured himself that once he led his House, he would find time for his passions.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Alaric replied, his tone light despite the gravity of their situation. Geilamir, rough around the edges these past days, was still his oldest friend. “If you could carry a tune, maybe we could fill the taverns with our music together?”

Geilamir flushed slightly, then shook it off, momentarily disarmed. Alaric pressed on with a grin, “Perhaps if you mastered basic rhythm, you could write me a ballad or two, considering your voice isn’t exactly melodious.”

“We all have our strengths, Al,” Geilamir muttered after a pause. Alaric resisted the urge to point out that he excelled even in Geilamir’s supposed strengths, deciding it was unnecessary to wound his friend further. Instead, he clapped Geilamir on the back. “That we do,” Alaric said. Geilamir winced, pretending the slap didn't hurt.

With Fridok’s arrival, the circle of seven champions was complete. Alongside them stood the matron of the hospital and two young trainees under the tutelage of Ervig and Isidore. The Son, elevated on a stone block, commanded the attention of the gathered masses with a mere motion. Alaric had never seen such a large group fall silent so quickly.

“Citizens,” the Son began, his voice resonant and clear. “Today, let the scribes record these words for the annals of history. On this eleventh day of the Summer month of Pateria, in the 2953rd year since the great fall of civilization, you, the enduring embers of life, shall witness a rekindling of Man’s glory. For too long you have been prisoners in a city that should have offered you dominion over the world. Your ancestors’ adherence to the Namer spared you the wicked punishment that befell others, yet you have still faced a judgment of your own. Today, I tell you, your deliverance has come! The Gifts have returned, and you, here in the last bastion of man, have answered the call to reclaim what was lost!”

The crowd’s excitement soared, and Alaric, caught in the wave, felt a deep sense of duty and honor swell within him. The Son, scanning the crowd, locked eyes with Alaric, further fueling his resolve. As the cheers subsided, the Son continued, his voice cutting through the lingering noise.

“Let it be known and recorded for the ages the names of the bravest among you. Masters of the lance and spear, Ervig Lacertian commanding Xanthus Serapio, and Isidore Maritium commanding Calix Sibylla. Masters of the sword, Alaricus Caballarius, Geilamir Aurumantian, and Fridok. Masters of the bow, Bulgar Alcamora and cousin Euric Alcamora. Finally, Lady Gailavira, widow of Amaliricus Agelastus and matron of the hospital. These noble ten shall be the foundation upon which a new civilization may rise. Through their deeds, mankind shall rise again! To glory eternal in His Name!”

Amidst the excitement, Alaric noted the slight: the Son had placed Geilamir ahead of Fridok in the order of announcement, despite Fridok's low birth. Fridok, arms crossed, wore a sullen expression. Geilamir, aware of the slight, smirked, adding tension. Alaric hoped they could reconcile, just as he and Geilamir had in their youth.

Before Fridok could react, a new distraction emerged. Two men on horseback, Senate-elected consul Kaius Tegula and Tolamirus Aurumantian, Geilamir’s father, rode forth. Their arrival, accompanied by guards, caused Alaric’s alarm to rise. The absence of the Torian Church-elected religious leader, Quintus Maximilius, only heightened his unease.

The Son greeted the Senate Consul with a collected, graceful nod. For a very brief second, Alaric could swear that he had seen something like hatred in the eyes of Kaius Tegula as he met the Son’s gaze, but that moment passed by quickly, leaving Alaric completely unsure of what he had actually witnessed. One thing was clear, however, and that was that the Consul had come with very clear intentions and only time would tell what those intentions were.

Alaric looked to Geilamir to gauge his reaction to his father and the Consul’s arrival, but Geilamir looked just as surprised as Alaric was. Suddenly, Geilamir’s father cried out so that the people gathered there would quiet down and listen.

“Take heed! Take heed all you citizens and open your ears. The Consul shall address you on behalf of the Senate and the City!”

Fridok stood in wait, inching closer one slow step at a time. His hand rested on the hilt of his blade, and Alaric got a sense that this gathering was about to devolve into something far more dangerous. He placed his hand on Fridok’s shoulder, urging him to stand his ground but not press any further. The crowd lowered their murmuring a bit, but certainly not to the level that they had done for the Son.

Kaius offered Tolamirus a glimpse of honest unease which Alaric happened to catch despite the brevity of the reaction. It didn’t last long, however, and in a flash the consul had regained his stately composure. If there was one thing Alaric knew about Kaius, it was that he did not tolerate being talked over. Tolamirus knew this, too, and so he whistled loudly in a final bid to bring order to the chaos.

“My steadfast and true friends,” Kaius said, addressing the masses and bringing all eyes upon him. “Truly, this is a moment unlike like that which we have seen in our comparatively short lives. This visitor to our great city has come bearing Gifts. Though he has not the ability to share them, these God-granted possessions of the soul, he has demonstrated their terrible power for all of us, the commons gathered at the gate that, until just a few days ago stood strong, protecting us from the dangers that lurk outside for thousands of years. He has proven to all of us that he is, indeed, a remarkable stranger capable of terrific things. The stronghold gates lie in ruin, yes, but he ensures us that this was done to demonstrate the immense power he possesses – the power which once was owned by each of our ancestors and by all means should have been inherited by you, by virtue of your noble births. He has shown us again the value of the Gifts that should have always been yours and mine, through the demonstration of their potential to heal the crippled, and even to bring back from death our brothers who have fallen. Those bravest of our citizens who were cut down in this stranger’s theater were raised from their untimely and unfortunate deaths, noble that they were, so that they would serve as a reminder of the awesome power of the Gifts that were taken from us - the Gifts that this stranger now possesses.”

Alaric knew what was happening, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Kaius, the great orator, had the people exactly where he wanted them. There was a reason he was twice elected as consul.

“Yes, I have heard the words whispered by those who would not stand in the way of the mob reveling in the excitement surrounding this outsider – words spoken of this man saying that he is a false prophet and a magician at best. They speak in fear of being swept away by the deluge that accompanies this mysterious foreigner. In many ways, I can appreciate their concerns. After all, the disruption to our great society that this man has caused in less than a week is unprecedented. However, when he crashed these gates and broke into our stronghold and demanded to ascend to the highest holy place that no man is allowed to enter, he assured us that it was done in good faith and with honor. Who are we to challenge someone who holds hostage the Gifts that were stolen from us? I cannot say with certainty whether this very self-confident man is a friend or a foe to the City, as his short stay hasn’t allowed us as a people to gather enough evidence to prove anything either way. Yet, he has conquered the hearts of the unsuspecting public and who are we, the stewards of this mighty bastion, to stand against him?”

Where the commons had just moments before sang a song of the glory to the Son and his chosen, they now grumbled among themselves. The consul’s mastery of the instrument of rhetoric was on full display now, and the masses were enthralled by the siren song he sang.

“No, we will not, because we cannot, stand in his way now – for we, you and I and all of us who do not have the Gifts that this stranger holds, we do not have the ability to quickly fix all of the foundational problems this man has called to our attention. Where he has assured us he could simply touch the earth and repair the unstable ground beneath us, you and I must use what rudimentary tools we have at the expense of our own bodies. Now he takes his leave of us, stealing with him the most able-bodied men, while our time-tested and most important gate lies in ruin underneath his feet. I do not seek to agree with these men who worry that this outsider’s true goal is to usurp our great republic. I am not suggesting that those who have quietly expressed fear and worry about this man’s presence are right to do so. I, personally, hope that this man is who he says he is and he is not simply what he appears to be to some – an ambitious charlatan at best. I stand with you today as your brother, always concerned about the well-being of our people, while this man who has already convinced so many of his righteousness, leaves you to fight a foe we have always understood as unbeatable, while in the company of a woman and children and even a man with no estate whose struggles will yield no reward. Please, I beg you, friends. Remember that after this outsider has taken his leave of us not only with our Gifts but our people in tow, we have a lot of real work to do against the very real problems he has decided are not as important to solve as his impossible errand. There is no place for theater in the hard work that lies ahead of us, but in that, there is real glory to be gained by you and by your gentle leaders. And we shall have it, together, my brothers.”

Alaric could not read the reaction of the Son. He somehow managed to maintain the same neutral expression for the entire duration of the consul’s speech. The Son did not give Kaius the reaction he undoubtedly wanted. Instead, he turned to Alaric and the rest of their company and motioned for them to begin to mobilize out of the City.

The silent march of the ten and the Son out of the City would surely be the subject of many a song, Alaric thought, as more and more of his short-lived confidence fled with each step into the unknown.