The Priesthood

A month went by quickly while the novices attended lectures, and combat training was frequent, perhaps not because it really needed to be but more for Oidus's benefit. She could easily leave the novices to their own devices with Sirius while she sneaked out to her laboratory, which wasn’t far away.

But who knows how much time she really had with her research since the frequency of "morons" writing graffiti on the walls had increased considerably? No one knew if it was a person or a group of people, and catching them was nigh impossible since the graffiti would just appear at the oddest times of the day.

And during the night, the number of patrolling guards had increased, but even they hadn’t noticed anything off other than how often the other students of the academy went on dates or swam naked in the moonlight.

Kanrel, for one, was disappointed that he never knew about such a thing and would never be able to partake. Both Yviev and Yirn had their own stories about partaking in the entertainment of the commonfolk.

And now that Kanrel thought about it, a common plotline, or a cliché, in some of the erotic novels that he had read, for research purposes only, involved naked swimming in the moonlight.

He instead spent his nights reading the Book of the Heralds, finding every mention of the Otherkind from before the times of her mother as the Herald of the Gods and her contributions as well. The only issue was that it was all written word for word the way the Angels would’ve supposedly said them, so the writing was cryptic.

This prompted him to make several visits to different libraries within the campus, and oh, there were plenty. It's too bad that most, if not all, of it is just speculation. Sure, there are some more substantive books he read; for example, there are some mentions of old artifacts and ruins. But it would be difficult to say if those were just things made by humans centuries ago.

The very existence of the Otherkind is only supported by the mentions from the Angels, or rather, the alleged mentions from the Angels.

What of the Wildkind, then? There is substantial evidence and literature with detailed descriptions of them, their ways, and what they did. Of course, these accounts are from nearly a thousand years ago, but the evidence exists, and not only in the words of one Herald of the Gods. As far as Kanrel could tell, only her mother had written of the Otherkind. There is not even one single mention of them before her time.

Is it something the Angels just didn’t mention before or something entirely made up? For what reason would she ever make such things up? The only reason he could think of was that the Angels had abandoned her, or worse, all of them.

Another possibility that has been theorized in the past few years is that the Otherkind are the same as the Wildkind, but again, there is no proof for that. The reasons for the demise of the Wilkind are different than those of the Otherkind.

As far as we know, the Wildkind were exterminated, and the Otherkind either betrayed something or were betrayed by something.

After the lecture, Kanrel sat in the laboratory, staring at the wall before him, just processing all the thoughts and doubts that he had. What could he do?

"Are you alright?" Yirn had finally arrived, late as per usual, but there nonetheless.

He just gave a nod as a reply and kept staring at nothing but the thoughts he had.

"Is it about the graffiti and rumors going around about your mother?"

Kanrel now shifted his gaze to the young man, who stood not too far away. Yirn smiled and said, "Hah! I got your attention!"

Kanrel rolled his eyes, which made the young man smile even more, and then he got serious very quickly: "I don’t think you should worry too much about that; people will think what they want, and that is that. They’ll be caught sooner or later.

And hey, if you really doubt the Herald of the Gods, you can always ask her in a letter; she is your mother after all."

Kanrel sat in silence for a while, pondering this possibility: he really could send a letter; he knew that she would read it and that she would reply to it, but would she give an honest answer? Or would she even give an answer?

He then smiled; practice had paid off, and his fake smile was slightly less creepy than before. Yirn still frowned at the sight of it.

"I think I've got an invitation to write in the form of a demand," Kanrel announced his departure and left the laboratory, leaving a bemused Yirn behind.

"What’s his problem?" Yviev asked as she stepped into the laboratory, "I just saw Kanrel running in the corridor; he never runs; I didn’t even know that he could run!"

"I guess he has mommy issues," Yirn said and shrugged his head.

"Yirn, my dear friend, never say that again."

"Why? Am I not using the correct phrase?"

"Technically yes, but it can mean another thing; I suppose you haven’t read many novels of the erotic kind that are available in the library across the cafeteria? Oh, the stories those books could tell if they could see and speak! I’ve many fond memories with those little books." Yviev explained.

"I see; I’ll be much more mindful in the future. Also, I could have lived just fine without you telling me about those fond memories.

"Your lack of sophistication and knowledge of the finer culture is seeping through; my summer child, go and read one of those books; I believe that you too could have such fond memories. You can ask me or Kanrel for recommendations. Heck, ask him; he might’ve read more of them than I did."

"Right."

Kanrel sat down at his table. He then spread a page of parchment, baptized his quill in ink, and began to write a simple request to his powerful mother:

Dear mother,

My last year of study is going well. I was the first to awaken from the Ritual, and I’ve quickly began to grasp how to use magic in practice and how to code.

I’ve also made some friends or partnerships that are beneficial to me and them equally. I would appreciate it if you could meet them someday.

Recently, there have been rumors and slight vandalism that involve the Herald of the Gods on campus, including graffiti calling you a heretic and demanding your death.

These writings critique your passages in the Book of the Heralds, calling them forgeries.

I did some research and found out that there isn’t much of anything that supports your passages; before your time, there was no mention of the Otherkind, and the books I’ve found and read have no substantial evidence of their existence. Thus, I doubt.

I would like to put this doubt aside, so I implore you to give me a truthful answer. I wish to put my own doubts and the claims of others to rest.

Kanrel.

He then waited for the ink to dry, then folded the piece of parchment before inserting it into an envelope. He poured some blue sealing wax on the envelope to seal it shut with the seal of his family, the Iduldian seal matrix. It was made out of bronze, and its elaborate carvings formed the arms of the family.

Iduldian wasn’t a distinguished family before, so they didn’t have a seal of their own or a coat of arms before, but as one of their own was named the Herald of the Gods, this changed.

A seal was produced. In it, there are the wings of an angel on either side, depicting the faith of the family, and in the middle, the face of a blinded woman, signifying the Herald of the Gods.

The Iduldian coat of arms was similar, but with the house motto added: Officium ad scientia; duty to knowledge. All this on a gray shield.

He then wrote on the envelope itself the address of her mother's house—their house. It would be in the capital city, Lo' Gran, which was located a few hundred kilometers to the south on the coast of the Middle Sea.

He then had to walk to the gates of the academy, where there was a postal office. All he had to do was take the letter there and pay for the transportation of it, though he never had to pay for it since so many knew whose seal was on the letter.

The family of the Herald of the Gods had always had more sway than was necessary. This had in the past led to some foolish decisions, like how the brother of a Herald hundreds of years ago proclaimed himself the king and usurped the crown with the help of the faithful. This only lasted for a week, though, as the Herald at the time herself demanded he abdicate. Apparently, they weren’t fond of each other when they were children, and less so when they were adults.

Kanrel dropped his letter and would have to wait for weeks to get a reply.

He then returned to the laboratory, even though it was quite late; there he saw his two friends reading books. It did not take long for him to recognize what they were reading. Oh, the memories he had with those little books! Long, lonely nights.

Knocked on the door frame, "I am sorry to bother you with your research, which seems to be of great importance, but..." Kanrel began his sentence.

"Kanrel! Why did you not share this great literature with me before? All of this is outrageously brilliant! The way they describe things in the most unlikely way possible—if I could still find any enjoyment in anything, I’d like to think that I would have found a book like this very amusing." Yirn explained with a wide smile on his face.

"… I would like to talk about today's lectures with you." Kanrel finished his sentence.

Yviev snorted, "Why would we do something like that when we can educate ourselves in concepts like ‘mommy issues’ and other great things?"

Kanrel let out a long sigh. He was quite disappointed with his friends; the stuff they read just wasn’t good at all. Not enough swimming naked in the moonlight. Either way, he took a book from a pile of them and began to read.

It was one that he had read before, but the impact wasn’t the same at all. He hadn’t been fifteen for years now, and there were a lot more grammatical mistakes than he had remembered.

After a good fifteen minutes, he gave up on reading it and just keenly observed Yviev and Yirn; he again felt regretful. This too he hadn’t done with anyone before; he had not laughed with a friend or made fun of a friend. He never had a friend; even now, he couldn't say that he had experienced such a thing.

He didn’t feel much different about the two of them than a hundred other people he saw daily; the only difference might’ve been the perceived usefulness that he had of the two. But if he talked with even one of those hundred nameless faces, he would find useful people either way.

Someone being useful didn’t mean that he valued them as more than just someone he could exploit to further his own studies. Sure, he really had tried to form a sense of rational compassion toward the people who he perceived as "friends".

Even his rational enjoyment was useless. All he felt was regret for lacking true experience.

Perhaps this sense of regret was the outcome of trying to create rational enjoyment and rational compassion. Perhaps regret is all he could ever have.

Kanrel snapped himself out of this line of thought; he didn’t have time to delve too much into his own regrets, as there would be many of them. Too many to count.

He needed something to cage his mind into, something that would keep him from looking too much in.