Thunder cracked overhead, rain lashed against the young woman's cloak, blurring the light from the lantern on her right hand. The cold wind howled like a banshee, as she pressed on the muddy stoned road. Her right foot slipped, and the weight of the wicker basket she was carrying brought her down into a muddy puddle.
She stood up shakily, then crawled to check the wicker basket in front of her for any damage. She quickly unwrapped the Adarna fabric, woven from the fiery feathers of a mythical phoenix bird, "Adarna". It acts as a waterproof covering and also provided both resistance to fire and insolation for the precious cargo that she held dear. A newborn boy, snuggled soundly in his white woolen blanket. The young woman gave a sigh of relief, "He's alright" she whispered. She wrapped the basket again and raised it using her left hand. Luckily, her lantern was lit on the muddy ground. Picked it up, letting the downpour of rain remove the mud that covered it, and continued on.
"To the seven gods above, let me be fast enough," she muttered under her breath.
As she walked along the muddy road, a weathered sign post at the left side of the road emerged from the rain and mist. She walked closer to it, lifting her lantern up so she could read. The sign contains three languages; Valerian, Bisaya, and Celtia:
"<--Nebo, Kingdom of Velanthir."
Below
"Baskerville, Empire of Karnorath--->"
"Nebo", she whispered. She continued onto the muddy road where the sign pointed towards Nebo with each labored step in the muddy road; short after she climbed a small mound which gave her the distant view of the town that beckoned on the horizon, its lights glimmered due to the rain.
"Just a few more kilometers," she muttered to herself, and pressed onward.
As she neared the town walls, the young heard a distant toll of a bell and spotted a group of mercenary men in cloaks, clamoring at the gate. Behind them stood a wagon crafted from the finest oak, its sides emblazoned with the words "Ray and Brother's Merchandise". Polished iron fittings, though dulled with age, gleamed softly in the wagon's lantern light, leading an unexpected touch of elegance to its rugged exterior. The wagon bed was laden with cargo, each crate, barrel and bundles of carpets meticulously organized and secured. Covering the goods was a dirty white canvas that arched, but it had a small platform above for protection of the driver from incoming rain, similarly to those wild west wagons, shielding both the goods and the occupants from the storm. A man sat at the front with reins on his weary hands, while beside him a young boy shivered beneath his cloak. His small frame trembled against the cold wet storm. The shouts of the mercenary men they hired, though muffled by the relentless storm, reach her ears - spoken in valerian, a language commonly used since the founding and the fall of the Valerian dynasty to the Karnorathian conquerors 59 years ago.
"Hey, is anyone awake!? Open up these bloody gates!" one of the mercenaries bellowed below the walls. One of the men rang the bell repeatedly and said "Our goods are getting soaked out here!" Finally, they saw light coming out from the walls, a guard stood on the wall shielding himself with his cloak from the storm, holding a misel lantern; a lantern type, made with lead that had reflectors that reflect the candle light from within into a one single direction and can also be adjusted similarly to a modern flashlight. He adjusted the light of the lantern and swept the beam over the group, the bright light cutting through the rain and darkness, the mercenaries half shielded their eyes from the blinding light with their hands.
"Pamatuod!" The guard called down in bisaya, his tone professional and skeptical of armed men in this late hour.
(Pamatuod - "Proof of identity" in bisaya, one of the many dialects of the Philippine islands.)
One of the men stepped forward, raising a golden badge. A flower-shaped designed gleamed in the lantern's beam, its eight polished gold petals catching an illuminated glow of golden yellow. The guard squinted down, then turned his head and shouted in Bisaya. With a groan, the heavy wooden metal gate cracked open upwards. The men wasted no time and hurriedly went to the wagon, pushing and pulling the two-horse drawn wagon inside. The wheels splashing through the puddles as they crossed the threshold. Laden with heavy tradable goods, the wagon rumbled forward and the men hastened to find refuge inside. The young woman wasted no time to follow behind quietly not to make any suspicious noise and went cautiously to their blind spots. Using her eyes she assessed the status of each mercenary for precaution if a fight would be inevitable. There are six mercenaries hired by the one who drove the wagon. 3 of which are swordsmen of diamond rank, 2 silver ranked mages, and 1 Iron ranked healer who was with the other 2 pushing the wagon from behind.
(Rankings: Titanium the Highest. Diamond is second. Silver is third. Iron is fourth. Steel is fifth. Copper is rookie; This is the standard ranking which applies to mana pool, swords man, mages, healers, warriors, and other classes. Except for military rankings which real life rankings applies to this story)
The guard house office built into the wall of the gate entrance; its facade adorned with the banner of the barony's lord; a crimson red background and in front of it is an image of a stone bricked tower. A small platform and window offered the guards inside a view of those passing through the gate. The mercenaries were met by a sluggish sergeant who sat inside the guard house half asleep, yawning at the face of the leader of the mercenary group. He gestured to his men to conduct inspection on the wagon and ask for identification cards or badges. Beside the sergeant was a highly active recruit who sprang into action, stepping briskly out of the guardhouse to meet the men. His tone was eager as it was his first shift, though practiced he executed it perfectly and greeted them trying to mask his inexperience while the other gate guard inspected the wagon and asked the other mercenaries and the persons on the wagon for their identity cards or badges.
"Good evening, sir, welcome to Nebo, may I ask who is the leader of this group?" the recruit said
A man in black cloak stepped forward holding in his right hand his adventurer's guild diamond identification card below it the golden shaped flower, travel permits and other important documents. "Very well sir, follow me inside the guard house and we will process them". Both the mercenary officer and the recruit entered the office. The mercenary officer's cloak and boots dripping with rainwater, leaving small puddles at the cobblestone floor. His frustration was palpable, the weight of the storm, delays and concern of his client's safety was evident in his sharp gestures.
"Does it take too long to open up those bloody iron gates? I heard that Baron Oliver upgraded it with a capstan to help ye lazy folk to open 'em gates faster for folks like me soaked in this pissing weather". The mercenary officer said in a grumpy tone.
"My apologies… Sir?" the sergeant annoyed but glanced at the mercenary to get him to say his name.
"Rodrick," the mercenary replied. "I am no Knight, sarge. I was… but my liege died a long time ago." His expression mixed with regret when he spoke.
The sergeant scratched his head and yawned, "Rodrick, in our defense. You and your men arrived this late…" the sergeant was cut off by the new recruit.
"At 1am in the morning, way past gate hours hehe…"
Both the sergeant and mercenary officer stared at him with an intimidating look, the recruit lowered his head,
"Private..." the sergeant spoke, causing the recruit to snap to attention.
"Call our scribe Edward to process their papers"
The recruit gave a salute and hurriedly rushed inside the gate barracks.
"Excuse me sarge". A man came inside the gate office, wearing a deep burgundy cloak, lined with a lighter cream, draped over his shoulders that cascades to the ground. The cloak's rich color contrasts with the teal and turquoise underneath the cloak. The man also wore fitted black pants, paired with black leather boots. On his right hand was a small purse full of libo coins, and handed it to the sergeant. But the sergeant didn't accept it.
Author Note: Below are the monetary coins used in the story. The VALUE on applies within the story.
Libo are rectangular shaped gold coins similar to those used during the Edo period in Japan. Value: 1 Libo = Php 1000
Drac are square shaped silver coins borrowed from "Drachma" once used in the ancient kingdom of greece. Value: 1 Drac = Php 100
Ari are round copper coins its size similar that of the previous "Five Philippine pesos coin". Borrowed from the roman copper coins "Assarius: Value: 1 Ari= Php 10
Dupo are small round coins, its size similar to that of US penny. Dupo which I borrowed from "Dupondius" a ancient roman brass coin. Value: 1 Dupo = Php 1
"Lord Julius Ray, even though you're a fifth – generation cousin of my liege; I will not stain my honor and oath with such an unnoble act. Besides 20 Ari isn't that much to you hmmm?
The sergeant fixed his eyes on Julius, with an intimidating glare. The mercenary officer came closer, holding the hilt of his sword and placing his right hand on the sergeant's left shoulder.
"Sarge, with all due respect. You are talking with a family member of your liege house. I am pretty sure there would be consequences for threatening…"
The sergeant turned his gaze to the mercenary, placed his left hand on the hilt of his sword, and released an overwhelming aura. That several of his men fainted to the ground, while the mercenaries outside stood their ground countering the pressure from a diamond rank guard their healer dropped to his desperately trying to resist the pressure blood trickling from his nose. Back in the gate office, the mercenary officer grinned and unleashed his own aura, the clashed of auras crack the walls of the gate house and the ground shook. Outside the gate, the young woman felt the pressure, and release a fraction of her aura to counter the pressure to protect her baby. Both the sergeant and the mercenary officer suddenly withdrew their auras, sensing something far more powerful that sent chills to their spines. Other of the gate guards who didn't faint unsheathed their swords scanning their surroundings trembling. The mercenary shouted orders at his men to surround the wagon in protective mode. Alarmed by the growing presence of the unknown aura, one of the mercenary mages raised her staff, struck the ground, and chanted "Mangita" (search). Blue-green circles of light emerged beneath her staff, scanning the area in search of the ominous source.
Outside the young woman noticed the spell, she dissipated her aura, and raised her right hand on chest level and made a hand – sign; raising only her index and middle finger and chanted "Tago" (hide). She blended into the shadows leaving no trace of her presence and magic.
"Is it gone already?" a voice came from below
The sergeant sigh, and saw Julius hiding below the table,
"Oh lord Julius, never thought you could cowardly hide despite your nobly confidence earlier"
Julius Ray, stood hastily from the table and pats the dust from his clothes, and spoke.
"One more word from you peasant, your wife and the whole town will know about you mistress. Also, your head will be placed on a spike for insulting a Noble!"
"I highly doubt my liege would lose one of his 3 diamond rank men who he invested so much to obtained"
Before Julius could speak, the recruit and Edward swung the door behind them. Edward carrying a heavy logbook, he respectfully excused himself in between Julius and the sergeant. Gently place the logbook on the table. Breaking the tense standoff.
"Oh, just in time, Edward"
The sergeant took the documents from the mercenary's hand and took a libo coin from the purse of Julius and tossed it back to him who was desperately trying to catch it.
As the squabble between the persons inside the gate office, the young woman seized the opportunity to slip by unnoticed. Keeping her head lowered and her movements deliberate since she barely holds the spell she placed on herself. She moves into the shadows of the wagon, cautiously moving not to draw any attention. But as she neared the horses, her baby cried within the wicker basket. She hastily unwrapped the Adarna fabric and checked on him and rocked gently the basket to lull him back to sleep – then she suddenly found herself face to face with a young boy perched on the driver's seat, with reins held tightly on his hand. Their eyes locked for five long seconds. The boy was startled by the sight of the disheveled person with a newborn infant before him. He turned to look for his father.
"Father?" said the young boy
"Not now Marcus!"
In that split second, the woman wrapped the basket, chanted "hangin", small winds gathered on both her feet and she darted out from the gate. Disappearing into the lashing rain, making the boy think he saw a ghost.
The small town of Nebo slumbered in the storm's embrace, its cobblestone streets slick with rain and reflecting the faint, flickering glow of the street lamps. She scanned for any signs of life in this late hour. The shops on the left huddled together against the wall, with their signs reading; "Closed". The right side mirrors the scene, save for the warm glow emanating from the local tavern. Despite the late hour, the sounds of laughter, cheers, and raucous songs, spilled out into the rain - soak night. "Praise to the gods" she whispers gaily, drawn by the promise of warmth and moments of respite from the cold storm. She went towards the tavern, arrived, and hesitated at the entrance, a wave of doubt washing over her.
"Is it safe to enter?" she wonders.
Wandering out in the cold wet streets with a newborn inside the wicker basket was unthinkable, and with no knowledge as to where the church was located. She gathers up her courage and pushes the wooden door. A wave of boisterous laugh, songs, music, warmth, the smell of ale, roast meat and sweat washed over her as she cautiously stepped inside. She raised the hood of her cloak and covered half her face so that only her mouth and chin were seen. She stood for a while enjoying the warmth of the tavern for as long as she liked, she traveled far from her home land just to arrive at Nebo.
The tavern's base and floor are made with cobblestone that is put together with mortar; then the walls of the first floor up to the ceiling are made of oak wood. The walls are decorated with heads of hunt trophies of deer, bears, and mountain lions. Three lead candle chandeliers are seen from the ceilings. The fire in the hearth casting dancing shadows on the cobbled floor and onto the oak walls. Men and women, their faces flush with drink and merriment; crowded around multiple tables with tankards and platters of food. The young woman, with her damp cloak dripping on the floor paused, unsure where to turn. Until she caught a lone young barmaid, the same age as hers. Cleaning an empty dirty table. Mustering up her courage she walks past the labyrinth of lustful eyes and women with their curious gazes. Just as she thought she made it through, a man stepped in front of her and spoke
"Hello gal, you look weary and that basket you're carrying looks heavy. Why not sit with us for a moment? I'll treat you with food and a drink." He gestured his hands towards a table with drunk rowdy men.
Before his fingers could make contact with the waist of the young woman, the barmaid's voice rang out, sharp and clear.
"News reach your wife from this tavern if you flirt with other women and bring to your table again Fergus!"
"If you weren't the owner's daughter, Emily, I would've ripped that tongue out of your mouth a long time ago" Fergus shouted back at Emily, who was wearing a long green dress and long cream-colored apron. Her black hair was tied to a bun, and her grey eyes shot back at Fergus when she heard the words.
Seizing the opportunity, the young woman slips silently toward Emily. Fergus, an experienced adventurer of iron rank, never anticipated her move while she concealed her presence. He grabbed onto her left arm, which she almost lost her grip on the wicker basket.
"Where are you going gal, we're not done tal…"
Before he could finish his sentence, the young woman turned her head and fixed her gaze on the drunkard. The man, startled by her intense aura of bloodlust, he also looked above where he saw a dragon glaring at him as if ready to devour him whole. He released his grip on her and stumbled back, pissing his pants. The woman turned and lowered her head to conceal her face, and continued on towards the barmaid, and asked politely
"Excuse me ma'am, thank you for stepping up for me earlier. May I take a moment of your time to ask for direction to the local church? I am in dire need of directions." Emily looked at the disheveled appearance of the woman in front of her. She could tell that they were of the same age. Emily noticed an amulet under her cloak, but the young woman covered it hastily.
"Just follow the main road and you'll arrive at the town square. Turn left, and the church can be seen up above a small mound. But…can I get you something? Warm sheep stew, bread and milk? Don't worry, it's on the house."
The young woman placed her lantern on the table Emily was cleaning and slipped her right hand under her beneath her cloak. Emily caught a glimpse of the amulet.
"A Dragon..." she thought, and immediately, she knew who the young woman was.
"Thank you for your kindness, Emily, but I don't have time for a moment's respite. I have a few coins to give for the information. Think of it as a gesture of your kindness."
"Oh no need, to my la…" She paused, afraid to expose her background
"No need to ma'am," Emily said respectfully. "You need that for your baby to..."
Emily didn't get to finish her sentence before the young woman grabbed her right hand and pressed something in it. When Emily opened her palm, she was shocked to see ten libo coins. But there was a folded note. She opened it.
If you say a word about our meeting, I'll reveal the location of the bastard to her father.
F.V
Suddenly she felt a weird sensation as If her movement paused for a while…
CRASH
A drunken man lay unconscious on the broken table, surrounded by spilled tankards of ale, overturned platters of food and broken chairs scattered on the floor. The entire tavern was too stunned to speak. Among them silver-ranked adventurer stood
"Have any of you felt something weird for a brief moment? As if time has stopped?"
"Yeah, I felt something weird for a brief moment." One of his friends stood
"Gregory, use "Mangita" (search). Search for any traces of magic that we can track down whoever conjured the rare spell. There is only one person that I know that could manipulate time.
"Call the town guards to be on high alert, there is a dangerous wanted person inside our town."
Prior to the incident above.
Fergus sat on his chair, with a table that he shared with his friends, trembling. One of his friends asked hysterically;
"Yow Fergus! Why are you trembling like you're going to piss on your pants! HAHA''
One of Fergus's friends who sat beside him, puts his arm around on Fergus' shoulders and gave a tankard of ale to him and spoke,
"What did you see when you looked into her face? Is she that terrifying for you to tremble like that and become sober? Or is she worth something for fun, that you're just acting shit for us to think that she's ugly and while you enjoy the bosom of hers in bed?"
Fergus took a sip and said, "Never have I ever seen someone with so much bloodlust, as if she would suck every drop of my blood and scatter my entrails... Those eyes... they're familiar.
Fergus's friends burst into laughter, and one of them named Taylor stood up, grinning as he added, "I'll let her suck every drop of my huge nuts instead, Fergus!" Taylor said as he stood.
"Watch and learn," Taylor told his friends, their boisterous laughter and cheers echoed behind him.
As he turned, he froze mid-step. Standing before him was a young woman. His grin widened. "Bingo," he muttered to himself, his voice dripping with confidence. "Where are you going, miss? Can I get you something?
He infused a hint of magic into his words, his tone silky and persuasive. Reaching out to touch her cloak, he smirked-
Suddenly, the world around him stopped. The fire in the hearth froze mid-dance. Laughter and song choked into silence. The clink of mugs halted mid-air, the cat chasing a rat above the beams hung still, paws outstretched. Everything in the tavern was frozen. Taylor blinked, his hand still hovering near the young woman's cloak.
"What the...?" The thought barely formed in Taylor's mind, his voice trailing off as an icy chill ran down his spine. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the young woman, and terror struck him like a hammer. Her hood had slipped just enough to reveal her eyes-red, with pupils slit like a dragon. They burned with hunger so primal it felt as though they could devour him whole. Her arms glowed with red runes of Baybayin characters of "Dakilang mandirigma" (Great Warrior).
(Baybayin is an ancient writing system used in the Philippines before the arrival of the Spanish colonizers. The word "Baybayin" comes from the Tagalog word "Baybay", meaning "to spell" or "to write".)
He tried to back away, but his legs refused to obey his will. Panic seized him, and a warm wet stain spread down his trousers. His voice trembled as he stammered.
"Wh-who... what are you? Pl-please... d-don't kill me! I-I have a wife and... and a newborn! Spare me! In the name of the Seven Gods!" screaming on the edge of his lungs
The young woman said nothing. She set her lantern and wicker basket, both floating effortlessly in the air. Before Taylor could utter another please, her hand shot out, clamping around his throat. Taylor gasped, his hands clawing helplessly at her grip. She lifted him into the air as if he weighed no more than a doll. He struggles to breathe and is pitiful against her unnatural strength. With a single heave, she slammed Taylor onto the wooden table where his friends were gathered, frozen with the tankards and food on their hands. The impact was devastating that the table exploded, sending splinters of wood flying like shards of glass, but stopped mid-flight. Tankards of ale flew up the become motionless in mid-air; their contents suspended like shimmering droplets. Food was sent flying, some splattering across the faces of his friends.
The young woman stood, her figure towering over the unconscious pervert man, who crumpled in the wreckage of the shattered table.
"Peasant" she muttered and spat at his face.
She turned and picked up her lantern and gently picked up the wicker basket. Then went straight to the door, and snapped her fingers. The world around her began to shift. The suspended tankards of ale resumed their fall, splashing onto the floor in a chaotic burst. Some hit on nearby people. Taylor's friend flew backwards due to the force that the chairs crumbled, with splinters flying towards them, some hitting at their eyeballs and some at their necks who were bleeding profusely.
Pushing open the door, the young woman stepped out into the night. A cold breeze swept over her, carrying the sharp scent of rain; which is quite the opposite to the comforting warmth inside the tavern. Suddenly she lost her balance and the lantern she was holding slipped from her grip. It shattered on the cobblestone floor, its warm glow extinguished in an instant. Darkness enveloped her vision. she blinked hard, disoriented; before a sharp pain lanced through her right eye. She gasped, instinctively dropping to one knee clutching on to the right side of her face.
"I must've overused them," she muttered with a strained voice. Pressing the heel of her hand against her right eye, she wiped away the blood that streamed down. Her vision swam; the rain slicked the street before her still blurry. A groan escaped her lips, as he clutched her left side, the pain flaring as her wound tore open. And she had just given birth to her newborn son, the same night she escaped. Memories surged unbidden visions of fire and smoke of a burning castle which was engulfed in chaos. Soldiers poured through its halls, merciless and unstoppable, their swords drenched in blood. The screams of the fallen still rang in her ears.
She heard her newborn cry, and she unwrapped the wicker basket and took the baby into her arms, rocking him back to sleep. She gently pressed a kiss on her child's forehead, and hummed a lullaby. His small face was peaceful, his eyes still closed as he returned to sleep, unaware of the horrors around him. She returned him back to the wicker basket wrapped in Adarna fabric. For a moment she knelt there, struggling to catch her breath due to the pain, with visible effort, she pushed herself up to her feet; though her steps were unsteady. Then she heard voices from the tavern. She picked up the wicker basket and left the shattered lantern behind.
Navigating the street to the town square, she made a left turn and saw the church perched atop the mound, a sturdy structure that seemed old as the town itself stood. Its weathered facade witnessed countless seasons and the passage of time. A single bell tower rose above the nave. The windows hinted at a colorful stained glass, depicting the seven gods with their hands raised high as if reaching for something above them. Finally at the foot of the mound, she stooped, exhaled a shuddering breath and began her ascent toward the church.
As she reached the church, she pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, its hinges groaned, and she stepped inside. The church hall was a simple, yet elegant space. The wooden beams supporting the sides of the ceiling were adorned with hand carved picture art, each representing different aspects of the town's history and its faith. The walls were painted in a warm, earthly tone.
At the heart of the hall stood a baptismal font, above it was a marble stone basin filled with holy water. The font was supported by seven intricately carved wooden pillars made from mangkono, a rare Iron wood, each adorned with the symbols representing each of the seven gods.
A stylized eight-pointed star with a central ruby stone representing the orb of creation for Bathala; the supreme creator god.
A woven bamboo mat with a stylus and inkpot resting on top for Minerva; god of wisdom, arts and healing.
A pair of sarimanok, their heads intertwined to form a heart, representing Idianale; god of family, fertility and love.
A pair of balanced scales with a kampilan sword crossing vertically behind them for Hiamut; god of judgment and order.
A three-faced sundial for Chronos; god of time, prophecies and visions.
A central black circle surrounded by a ring of twelve radially arranged sig-runes, forming a wheel-like pattern, for Orpheus; god of death and rebirth.
A large kampilan sword stands behind a Philippine eagle that spreads its wings, symbolizing Karamat; god of warfare and peace.
She walked past the baptismal font, dipped her index finger into the holy water just enough to wet it, and traced an ankh symbol on her forehead. Then she made her way toward the altar, where statues of the Seven Gods formed a semi-circle facing her, each with their head raised and right arm outstretched toward the orb suspended above them. The orb emitted seven rays in seven different colors. She gently placed the basket on the cushioned rug floor and knelt; she tucked a note into the blankets. The baby stirred, cooing softly as he smelled his mother's scent, his tiny arms reaching out to her. She lifted him gently, humming a lullaby, and kissed his forehead for the last time before placing him back into the basket.
She then fastened her amulet around his tiny neck. The amulet depicts a winged dragon, with its tail curled around a burning tree. She looked up to the statues of the seven gods, and prayed for her son's safety. Dedicating his future to their care.
She stood up, but the baby's cries pierced the silence, wrenching her heart. Tears streamed down at her face as she ran towards the heavy wooden door, her footsteps echoing in the empty church. Outside, the rain and wind whipped through the trees. She paused for a moment, with a final anguished look at the church as the cries of her son echoed through the night, knowing she couldn't stay any longer. She turned and fled down the mound, disappearing into the dark streets of Nebo.
The banging of the entrance doors of the church and echoing cries of the baby startled the priest from his evening prayers. He hurried from his chambers, his footsteps muffled on the stone floor, and soon found the source of the noise. A wicker basket lay nestled at the foot of the altar of the seven gods, a small bundle of blankets writhing in the distressed movements of a newborn baby. Father Howard gazed at the crying child, and a cold breeze flowed inside the church as the heavy doors of the church were half open. He rushed to it and closed it, and went back to the newborn; gently picked him up and comforted the little one. As he calmed the baby, his eyes fell upon the amulet, and a letter tucked into the basket, written in a shaky hand with the words inscribed "Kael". He then realized the paper material as he moved his thumb and chanted "abri" (Open) below the baby's name, words came out and continued.
"By Flame and Oath, we Endure"
-F. V
"Kael," Father Howard said, understanding the situation. He chanted "Kalayo" (fire) then a small flame emerged and burned the letter in his left hand leaving no traces of it.
As the baby's cries echoed through the halls of the church, Tania, a twelve – year – old novice, woke up from the depths of slumber. She groans softly, slumped over her study table, a quill still clutched on her left hand. Piled before her were books on holy magic, healing spells, and the theological foundations of the Valerian faith. Tania wore the simple black and white garb of a novice nun with a delicate veil resting atop her head. Partially concealing her red chestnut hair. Her green eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep.
"Huh?" she mumbled, still half-asleep.
The crying of a baby echoed again,
She rose from her chair and placed the quill on the teakettle. She reached for the amulet of Idianale from the pile of books in front of her, and fastened it around her neck before taking a flint and steel to light a candle. She descended the creaky stairs and couldn't help but wonder about the baby's cries in the middle of the night.
She made her way to the church worship hall; it was dimly lit with the flickering candlelight that danced on the walls. Tania saw Father Howard cradling a tiny infant. Wrapped in a woolen blanket. The newborn cries echoing throughout the quiet church.
"Is that what I think it is?" she asked softly.
Father Howard turned his head, and said, "Oh, sorry for disturb you during your study Tania. Here is the root of the trouble."
"Do you want to hold him?" Father Howard gently handed her the infant. Tania blew the candle on her hand and placed it on the floor and took the baby in her arms.
"Found him here at the foot of the gods. Abandoned I fear."
He paused, his gaze falling on the amulet around the infant's neck.
"His name is Kael, from the magic letter earlier before It turned into dust"
Her brow furrowed, "You know Father Howard, you're pretty bad at telling lies before me. Where's the letter you talked about?"
"Alright you got me, there was no letter and I named him Kael". The infant stopped crying, Tania's heart melted at the sight of his tiny, tear streaked face. She noticed the amulet around his neck.
"Do you know anything about his amulet Father Howard? I noticed you kept looking at it?
Father Howard paused for a second and said; "No Tania. What is important is that he is safe, and that we honor the person who entrusted this child to our care. As representatives of Idianale, it's our obligation to either raise or look for people willing to adopt him. He gestured to the statue of Idianale, depicted as a blessed maiden in a nun's attire, with a veil covering half her head.
Father Howard took a deep breath and sighed. "This brings me back to when you were left here, in this very spot, twelve years ago. I had just been ordained by the Cardinal of Valeria and didn't know what to do with you because I was the only one here at that time. I carried you hurriedly to your adoptive father's home at night and asked for cow's milk. Roger was speechless when he saw you in my arms, crying endlessly. Thank the gods your mother, Emily, came and took you in. Though she scolded me for thinking of giving you cow's milk HAHAHA." Father Howard laughed, the sound echoing through the church.
"Father, please lower your voice. We are in the presence of the gods. I'll ask mom if she's willing to take Kael in. As our doctrine states, children abandoned or surrendered church's care are obliged to serve the church from ages 6 until they've reached 18, at which point they have the choice to join the clergy or leave to forge their own path. Father Howard nodded in approval and ruffled Tania's head with his right hand.
"Very good, Tania. I think the rain has stopped. Give me a minute to change my clothes and I'll accompany you. Watch over your soon to be little brother."
Father Howard returned to his quarters to change. Tania gently laid little Kael back into his wicker basket, tucking him in with his woolen blanket. She noticed the Adarna fabric, which was supposed to be wrapped around the wicker basket, was tucked to the side of the foam. She picked it up to inspect it.
"This…This is from the feathers of the phoenix bird Adarna (a filipino mythical phoenix bird)." She muttered. After a short while, Father Howard came back, with an umbrella on his right hand
"What you got there Tania?" Howard said with an umbrella on his right hand
"Nothing" Tania replied tucking the fabric into her robes. She stood up like nothing happened.
Father Howard looked at her and said "you know lying in front of the gods is a sin. Especially we're on holy ground"
"Then I'm telling the truth, since I didn't turn into dust"
Father Howard sighed. "Very well, let's go. Your mother is probably worried sick."
And the three of them left the church.