The Priesthood

Even through the darkest and coldest months, people lived. Kanrel believed that out of all the things that humans were capable of, survival was their greatest talent. By now, it must’ve been so.

No matter the temperature, no matter the lack of food, no matter their surroundings, they managed to survive. One could, with great justification, compare humans to roaches. Though roaches are just disgusting, they are not nearly as bad as humans can be. Do roaches have a concept of murder?

Roaches have no understanding of morals and ethics; humans do, yet they are unable to abide by them. Roaches are what they are, and so are humans, but at least roaches dared not insist that they were something great or something more than they are.

Despite all these things, humans can be quite admirable. And this village was proof of it. A small settlement in the middle of nowhere, far away from greater civilization, far away from the large cities with their constant hurry and organized crime.

Here, there was hurry, but it was less so, and crimes were most often just accidental things done by confused elderly or by children who didn’t know any better. One had to understand that it would always be like this, for how else would they entertain themselves?

Most of the houses were quite small; each place must’ve had only a couple of rooms at best. But then there were the outliners—the large building, which was most likely a tavern or a pub. There was also a temple, which did seem like a place no one had entered in a long while.

The place he was looking for was the mayor's house; if this village had such a thing, any form of local government would do. So he entered the pub; after all, it was known far, wide, and in between that the most astute intellectuals of the known world spent most of their time in a pub, preferably with a drink in hand, and other intellectuals around themselves so that great conversations of philosophy could be had. And so forth.

While walking in the snow closer to the building he was suspecting to be a pub, he could already smell it. No, not the beer, not even the barf, but the piss. He could also see it in the corners of the lovely establishment. Yellow snow would only mean one thing: a large gathering of intellectuals.

He opened the door and was invited in with the sound of loud chatter and the smell of tobacco and ale, but most importantly, there was warmth. He closed the door behind himself and entered deeper into the pub, where men and women were gathered around small tables.

They would talk about a variety of things, most of which made no sense to him:

“...Dan then shat himself, right there and then! Never thought a wolf would run away so fast!”

“I did not! But I do remember when ourstruly – Hernet – decided to court the Janderin wench! What did you say to her again? ‘I’ve got just ale and the taste for ale; can we therefore elope?’”

The table of young men burst into laughter; they raised their cups and clanged them together, soon downing them in quick succession.

Not once had Kanrel had the chance to taste the brown liquid they call ale. And hearing the conversation, he did believe that he ought to give it a chance, but maybe another day.

He navigated his way through the packed open space, with multiple tables scattered around it. He was looking for anyone who might be more sober than the people inhabiting those tables. Soon he found a tall maiden who stood behind a bar desk, at which there were many people sitting, drinking their drinks, and having small talk.

The woman was imposing with her beauty and harsh with her words; the men at the bar could either drink and pay for their drinks or fuck off. She would not deal with the harassment of drunken bastards - unless they paid well; money was always welcome in her lucrative establishment.

So she eyed the young man approaching her desk; from head to toe, she looked for anything that screamed wealth. Perhaps she saw something, perhaps nothing, as she brought on her face a wide smile: “Lad, anything I can do for ya? A drink, a room, perhaps some food, maybe all of these things combined, and more?”

Her voice was husky, which made it clear that she was quite the smoker. Tobacco wasn’t a thing Kanrel much cared for, and it wasn’t really allowed on campus grounds, but he did know how it could affect one's health.

He came closer and cleared his throat. “I would like some information; I have to meet with a mayor or anyone who is more or less in charge of this village,” Kanrel said. “I am a priest who has been newly appointed here.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and then eyed him again, looking for any indications that this might be true. “A priest, you say..." She pulled from somewhere a cup and poured some ale in it. She then placed this cup in front of Kanrel. “Can you show me? You know…”

Kanrel let out a sigh. “Magic?” He finished in her stead; he scratched his head and said, “I would rather not do it here; maybe somewhere more private.”

The woman raised her eyebrows and seemed taken aback. “Oh my, I wasn’t talking about magic like that." She then smiled slightly when she observed Kanrel’s unchanging expression.

“Well, come in the back; show me your magic,” she said, winking slightly. Without looking back, she entered a backroom that was behind the counter. Covering the doorway was a cloth that she had to move aside to enter.

Kanrel stood still for a while before the man next to him said, “Go now; don’t keep the missus waiting.” The man had a wide grin on his face as he eyed the cup of ale in front of Kanrel.

After a long sigh, he did what any man would: he followed a beauty who had given him an invitation. He was doubtful that anything would happen, but he was worried that he’d get mugged. And he did really worry about magic; what if he was unable to perform?

Kanrel entered and let the curtain cover the doorway once again. The room he had entered was a small one, but it possibly led into the barmaiden's quarters, the kitchen, and the cellar. The tall woman leaned against the wall and peered down at the shorter man.

“A priest, ay?” She muttered, there was much curiosity in her voice, “Last I saw one of your kind; I must’ve been just a young lass.”

“I remember how he would go around the village, doing some menial work, lifting a fallen tree, and such; he didn’t talk much and didn’t have many expressions either, but he was a curious fellow and had lots of questions."

“So, mister priest, show me some of your magic, and I will myself escort you to our so-called mayor.” She promised with a slight smile on her face. She crossed her hands on her chest and waited.

There really weren’t any words needed; he would either do as asked or leave, so he chose the former. He dug out his notebook, placed it on the carpet, and took a step back. He then formed a quick code to lift the damn thing.

He could hear a gasp as it started levitating; he slowly made it approach the woman, then opened it on the first page that had his name written as the first line: “As you can see, I am Kanrel Iduldian, and I am a priest; the notebook levitation before you describes my journey here from the Academy of the Heavenly; the encounters I’ve had and some thoughts as well.”

“But, never mind that; I’ve shown you my magic; now is your turn.”

The woman looked at the levitating book in wonder; it was unlikely that she read any of the words written on it, as she preferred to observe such magic. Soon she gathered herself and slowly touched the book. Kanrel let the code run out, and the woman had to quickly grab it before it would fall to the floor.

She had a smile on her face as she said, “You want to see my magic?” She peered at Kanrel again, from head to shoulders. "Sorry, lad, you aren’t really my style... But come to me again in five years or so; maybe there’ll be something on your chin by then.”

Kanrel smiled his prettiest smile and said, “You know what I mean, miss?”

“Vien Janderin, a pleasure to meet such a promising young man,” she said with a mocking curtsey. “Before I lead you to the mayor of our little village, there is some business I’d love to have with you.” Her smile had grown sly, and such a smile never promised anything good.

Rationality would scream at any man at such a moment, but curiosity is what would, in the end, kill the cat.

“As long as it is nothing illegal,” Kanrel, in the end, promised after letting out a long sigh. It would do him good to make favorable first impressions in a village he might have to work in for years to come.

Her smile deepened. “ Do not worry, my new friend; I would never do anything even remotely illegal; I just think magic is truly wonderful, and in this world, there isn’t even a single man, woman, boy, or girl that wouldn’t just love to see a show.”

Kanrel could already guess what she would say next.

“And you know, I can offer you a place to stay, food, and drinks—who knows, maybe even company, depending on your ability to grow a beard, of course." She took a few slow steps toward him and then pushed him to a wall behind him, all this with the book that she was pressing on his chest.

“But darling, a man ought to earn his own upkeep; you do your magic, I’ll do mine.” She leaned to whisper into his ears, “You’re gonna make me rich, aren’t you?” She then took a step back, leaving Kanrel with his notebook.

“Now then, let’s go, lad; we have a long day ahead of ourselves; a mayor to meet, a magic show to hold... Follow along, follow along!” Vien said as she walked out through the curtain again, leaving Kanrel against the wall with a shocked look on his face.

Kanrel swallowed, his hands shaking as he put his notebook where it belonged, and with uncertain steps, he went after the woman, back into the cold winter day. The sun shone brightly as he tried to keep up with the tall woman. She really didn’t seem bothered by the cold; instead, she was in a hurry; time was money, and none could sell a cup of ale better than she could.

They did have to walk past many different buildings; some were shops and some were normal housing, but Vien would either way, as they walked, give a slight tour of the places they went past. One of the shops was a bakery with the best bread in town; another was a jewelry shop, and as they passed it, she hinted that anyone could at any time buy her a necklace or a ring.

One, a slightly larger house, was where a local mason lived; a lot of the buildings of the village had his touch in them, be it foundations for a new building, house, or whatever; a wall or perhaps floor; and some fireplaces even. His efforts were quite appreciated in the village, but his eccentric interest in rocks left much to desire.

He was apparently very wealthy and quite handsome, but his social skills and topics of interest were mostly rocky. Cold and such.

After a good ten or so minutes, they reached a group of buildings, all of which were owned by the mayor of the village. Apparently, most villages didn’t even have mayors, but Ulken Reven insisted that they should, as the Village of Jersten wasn’t really a village but rather a small town. And all towns should have a mayor.

None cared to argue against his thoughts of grandeur; it wasn’t like it much affected their lives. Now they at least had someone that could deal with all the official government garbage that the kingdom forced upon them at times, like taxes.

“I’ll put in a good word for you; you see, me and old Ulken have an understanding,” Vien promised as she went ahead and knocked on the front door.

After such words, Kanrel could only be afraid what that understanding could be.