Chapter 4
Present Day:
As Roelon passed the temple guards, he again caught a glimpse of his target. The fat man now sat on a simple, splintered, wooden bench at the very front of the cathedral ““ one of many that lined the main hall. Roelon approached his target with a brisk pace. His eyes were fixated on the man's extravagant hairdo, absurdly exorbitant robes, and egotistical “holier than thou†attitude. Roelon was lost in his quest. He moved with such a purpose that the beauty of the structure in which he stood was lost upon him. The grand stone walls rose some 15 meters above him. The air was heavy with the scented smoke that billowed from high-wrought incense burners in every corner of the room. An ornate mosaic-covered dome ceiling was accented by pillars of hand-crafted stone, but set in contrast to a simple hardwood floor. Plate-glass windows sparkled distorted colors about the room that was otherwise lighted by the yellow glow of large oil lamps that were suspended from high above.
Roelon leveled a stare as he made his way down the main isle of the cathedral. His gait quickened as he closed in on the paunchy man's position. A sort of tunnel vision set upon him as he advanced, brushing past the worshipers in the isle with increasing momentum. Roelon broke into a sudden sprint about 20 meters from his objective, knocking a robed squire to his feet. He never broke his stride or his stare. The calamity caused an uproar in the once-quiet temple. Onlookers froze in their tracks, trying to make sense of the commotion.
Roelon came to a sudden stop as he reached his destination. He now stood an arm’s length away from the portly man. His eyes met those of his mark. Roelon drew his blade from beneath his priest robes.
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Three Years Ago:
“You're too tense! Relax, kid!†Welkin said sternly.
Roelon was seated, cross-legged in the pitch black room. He tightened shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He grumbled slightly. In the few weeks he'd been living with the old man, Roelon had become accustomed to his character and temperament, but having seen nearly 25 winters, he grimaced at the term, “kid.â€Â
A warm calm settled around Roelon as he centered himself, relaxed in his position. A brief moment of clarity surrounded him. Roelon opened his eyes and leaned forward. Roelon spoke with a certain calm in his voice. His tone was soft, deep, but deliberate, “Four... Four stones.â€Â
Welkin stood and twisted a knob on a lantern, softly illuminating the small familiar room with wood-paneled walls. He held his fist out in front of him, and slowly opened it to reveal four small stones in his palm.
“Good!†He exclaimed with a moderate tone of excitement in his voice. “... you're well on your way.â€Â
---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
Present Day:
Roelon stood for a moment, blade in hand, towering over the now-trembling man. The man attempted to rise to his feet, but found himself unable. His elaborate robes had become entangled in the seams of the splintered, wooden bench on which he was sitting. Without hesitation, Roelon used his dagger to cut the flamboyant robes from the pompous man. He then grabbed his arm, and threw the man with enough force as to send him rolling across the cathedral floor. Roelon then lept toward him.
Not a moment later, one of the large brass lamps that was suspended from above crashed down on the very spot where the man had just been sitting. The oil from the lamp spilled out all directions, and was immediately set afire by the lamp's smoldering wick. The expensive robes now lay in the very center of the blaze, the material caught fire with ease.
The man lay face down on the floor, thrown to safety by the stranger that now stood before him. The man lumbered onto his side, sat up, and spoke.
“I thought you meant to kill me!†He said as wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
Roelon simply shook his head. He turned to see the pile of robes, now melted from the fire. Frenzied onlookers stood by in awe as the flames slowly dissipated. Having heard the clamor, Temple Guards had rushed in.
They surveyed the area, trying to make sense of what happened. One immediately recognized the would-be priest as the well sought-after thief from the various posters scattered around town. He pointed a finger in Roelon's direction, the guards charged forward.
The man gasped. He raised his hand and pointed to where he was just sitting.
“The fire...? My robes...? How could...you...!?†He continued, stammering to find the words, “How could you -possibly- have known?â€Â
Staring into the fire, Roelon then spoke in his usual deep, deliberate calm, “You now owe a life debt...†He turned his gaze back to the fat man who was still sitting on the hardwood floor. “...when you are called upon, you will answer.â€Â
“You're a good man, stranger.†said the man.
“Then you truly don't know me...†Roelon quickly replied.
Roelon nodded slightly, then calmly stepped over the man. The guards were still closing in, still some distance away. As Roelon turned to walk away, he pulled a small object from beneath his robes, flipping it into the air over his shoulder.
The object landed square in the man's lap. He palmed it and held it to eye level. As he opened his fist, he observed that the object was an unremarkable copper ring. The man then turned his gaze toward Roelon, only to find his priest's robes lying in a pile on the floor a few feet away. His savior, no longer in sight.
Present Day:
As Roelon passed the temple guards, he again caught a glimpse of his target. The fat man now sat on a simple, splintered, wooden bench at the very front of the cathedral ““ one of many that lined the main hall. Roelon approached his target with a brisk pace. His eyes were fixated on the man's extravagant hairdo, absurdly exorbitant robes, and egotistical “holier than thou†attitude. Roelon was lost in his quest. He moved with such a purpose that the beauty of the structure in which he stood was lost upon him. The grand stone walls rose some 15 meters above him. The air was heavy with the scented smoke that billowed from high-wrought incense burners in every corner of the room. An ornate mosaic-covered dome ceiling was accented by pillars of hand-crafted stone, but set in contrast to a simple hardwood floor. Plate-glass windows sparkled distorted colors about the room that was otherwise lighted by the yellow glow of large oil lamps that were suspended from high above.
Roelon leveled a stare as he made his way down the main isle of the cathedral. His gait quickened as he closed in on the paunchy man's position. A sort of tunnel vision set upon him as he advanced, brushing past the worshipers in the isle with increasing momentum. Roelon broke into a sudden sprint about 20 meters from his objective, knocking a robed squire to his feet. He never broke his stride or his stare. The calamity caused an uproar in the once-quiet temple. Onlookers froze in their tracks, trying to make sense of the commotion.
Roelon came to a sudden stop as he reached his destination. He now stood an arm’s length away from the portly man. His eyes met those of his mark. Roelon drew his blade from beneath his priest robes.
---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
Three Years Ago:
“You're too tense! Relax, kid!†Welkin said sternly.
Roelon was seated, cross-legged in the pitch black room. He tightened shut his eyes, taking in a deep breath. He grumbled slightly. In the few weeks he'd been living with the old man, Roelon had become accustomed to his character and temperament, but having seen nearly 25 winters, he grimaced at the term, “kid.â€Â
A warm calm settled around Roelon as he centered himself, relaxed in his position. A brief moment of clarity surrounded him. Roelon opened his eyes and leaned forward. Roelon spoke with a certain calm in his voice. His tone was soft, deep, but deliberate, “Four... Four stones.â€Â
Welkin stood and twisted a knob on a lantern, softly illuminating the small familiar room with wood-paneled walls. He held his fist out in front of him, and slowly opened it to reveal four small stones in his palm.
“Good!†He exclaimed with a moderate tone of excitement in his voice. “... you're well on your way.â€Â
---------- ---------- ---------- ----------
Present Day:
Roelon stood for a moment, blade in hand, towering over the now-trembling man. The man attempted to rise to his feet, but found himself unable. His elaborate robes had become entangled in the seams of the splintered, wooden bench on which he was sitting. Without hesitation, Roelon used his dagger to cut the flamboyant robes from the pompous man. He then grabbed his arm, and threw the man with enough force as to send him rolling across the cathedral floor. Roelon then lept toward him.
Not a moment later, one of the large brass lamps that was suspended from above crashed down on the very spot where the man had just been sitting. The oil from the lamp spilled out all directions, and was immediately set afire by the lamp's smoldering wick. The expensive robes now lay in the very center of the blaze, the material caught fire with ease.
The man lay face down on the floor, thrown to safety by the stranger that now stood before him. The man lumbered onto his side, sat up, and spoke.
“I thought you meant to kill me!†He said as wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.
Roelon simply shook his head. He turned to see the pile of robes, now melted from the fire. Frenzied onlookers stood by in awe as the flames slowly dissipated. Having heard the clamor, Temple Guards had rushed in.
They surveyed the area, trying to make sense of what happened. One immediately recognized the would-be priest as the well sought-after thief from the various posters scattered around town. He pointed a finger in Roelon's direction, the guards charged forward.
The man gasped. He raised his hand and pointed to where he was just sitting.
“The fire...? My robes...? How could...you...!?†He continued, stammering to find the words, “How could you -possibly- have known?â€Â
Staring into the fire, Roelon then spoke in his usual deep, deliberate calm, “You now owe a life debt...†He turned his gaze back to the fat man who was still sitting on the hardwood floor. “...when you are called upon, you will answer.â€Â
“You're a good man, stranger.†said the man.
“Then you truly don't know me...†Roelon quickly replied.
Roelon nodded slightly, then calmly stepped over the man. The guards were still closing in, still some distance away. As Roelon turned to walk away, he pulled a small object from beneath his robes, flipping it into the air over his shoulder.
The object landed square in the man's lap. He palmed it and held it to eye level. As he opened his fist, he observed that the object was an unremarkable copper ring. The man then turned his gaze toward Roelon, only to find his priest's robes lying in a pile on the floor a few feet away. His savior, no longer in sight.