Kindler Of Sin: Inferno

Caibidil Two

The day was here.

Edwyn Gorcha dipped his body into a pool of cold water. A chill breeze filled the air with a deep cold and he shivered. With barely any meat on his bones, his physique was slim and sometimes viewed as scrawny. He took his taillowed soap and began to scrub his body. His shaggy, long, blond hair was pulled back in a pony tail like always but today he wasn't going to do his normal hairstyle.

Today was the day someone would be chosen to receive the highest honor any noble could receive and the lowest status any peasant could be granted. Today was the day of Búain; The day of the Ogleddian reaping.

He could hear the sound of the northern fathach (or Giant) from the other side of the wall. Jötuun, as he called himself was the guardian who dictated the Duinians from escaping. Jötuun came from a land far to the north, from a country called Nepja. From what he had learned from his sister Creidimh Maisíocht, Ogledd's local druid, Jötuun had came from a cold land, brimming with ice and an almost endless winter, a land Edwyn himself couldn't ever imagine. Ogledd was a cold country itself but Nepja sounded brutal and harsh, a place Edwyn vowed himself will never go.

As he got out of the river bank and began to braid his hair, Edwyn closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was calm in the face of danger. Today was the day anyone could be chosen. The Búian had no mercy to anyone, regardless of age. Tales of humans ages of 4 to 87 had been chosen to be sacrificed to the First Tine, a sacred fire that acted as a pillar to prolong The Age Of Light and kept the inevitable darkness at bay. And Edwyn could be potentially chosen.

He still didn't understand why he was strangely calm. It could've been the threat of Fathachs and Deamhans. It could've been the fear of being kicked out of Ogledd, the only home he has ever knew, for being born from a secret love affair involving his deceased father (who was a Gallowglass, in service to the Royal Ogleddian Empire) and a seductive woman who no one ever knew. Maybe it was his fear for his own life. Or maybe it was both.

He begun his travel back to his green-grass covered sráidbhaile, a little village apart with the Empire. He could see the royal capital on the hill. All was quiet. This was a day no Royal ever celebrated. A day no one ever celebrated.

Edwyn walked into the town. The villagers took notice of him but quickly ignored of his presence. He was the village Outcast. A lowly Serf, in service to the church. It was quite strange, considering the relation between Edwyn and Creidimh.

Serfs and Peasants were the lowest social classes while the highest were priest, pastors and druids. How strange it was for Edwyn, the son of Ambiorix and the offspring of a boxum wrench to be the younger sibling to the druid in training, Creidimh. Everyone found it strange and found superiority over Edwyn, despite them being Peasants and Commoners. Edwyn himself hated the fact that he was nothing more than a lowly serf that everyone, including his classmates looked down upon. He was used to it at this point but Edwyn's only hope to advance the rank of Serf was to get a job hopefully but he knew that was very unlikely.

Being the offspring of a secret love affair and a serf to the highest social class was looked down upon and bought shame to not only his family name but as well as the country. Honor, Pride and Respect were the ways of living. Although the aristocrats and nobles enjoyed looking down upon the lower classes for their own amusement, many were proud to be who they are. Except Edwyn who despised his social status with a deep hatred.

As the local villagers began to prepare the Búian, Edwyn noticed his sister. It was hard to miss Creidimh's long, flowing red hair and her pale skin. Her beauty was sought after many peers their ages, sometimes older. Feuding farmers and lustful Gallowglasses fought over her when she had been kidnapped in the past times. It was no wonder why she had chosen the path of the Druid, due to the rule that Druids weren't allow to be wedded or bear children.

"Took you long enough Edwyn! The Búian is about to begin soon!", she spoke sternly. Edwyn never had any motherly-figure in his life but he always viewed  Creidimh as her own personal caretaker. She had taken care of him after their father ran away and her own mother had been chosen as a pilgrim for a Búian long ago. Edwyn saw her as a motherly figure in his eyes, for he deeply respected her and loved her as a son would to his mother, a Máthair. His only wish was she could spend more time with him but he know it was selfish for him to think about that.

"Sorry Creidimh. I was taking a bath, near the pools. I know what day it is. Might as well look decent for the Búian", he spoke innocently. Edwyn was famously known for his innocent and naive nature, which many found strange and unusual considering how he was concieved from. Edwyn had a kind and gentle nature unlike his peers, who enjoyed violence and cruelty. While others enjoyed crushing the skulls of their slaves or tearing the limbs off from deformed infants, Edwyn found pleasure in caring for life and being quiet and secluded away from the sráidbhaile. He was often ostracized by the villagers by critizing his skills as a Ogleddian.

Creidimh took a heavy sigh. The Búian was stressing everyone out, which Edwyn didn't blame her. Every one was stressing over the Búian. Today could've been their last day they have seen each other. Today was their fated day.

As Edwyn quickly changed into his normal attire (A white long-sleeve shirt with a reddish-brown scarf held with a pin with dusty brown trousers, along with a thin belt and knee-high boots) he began to notice everyone. The lake warriors, the Murchadha family were wearing their sailor suits with scimitar strapped to their side and their face were painted. The Mac Gabhann family, who were the village's blacksmiths were suited out in their heavy armor and axes and had faces hard as stone. The Cuinn family, the village chiefs came out last with their friends, the Cléirigh family, who were the Village clergymen. All the families were dressed proudly in their surnames and took pride in the fact that today they were Ogleddians of Duine, people of The Old North.

Then came time for Edwyn and Creidimh to join the Búian. Although he was a lowly Serf and the Village outcast, Edwyn vowed to take pride in his name and who he was. He was proud to be the younger half-brother of the village Druid. Creidimh stepped out in a white robe with braided hair and her Talisman Charm, her weapon to cast Holy Miracles. She took stride in herself, that she was the sister of the ashamed child. Together, hand in hand, they walked into the crowd where their overlord dictator smiled down upon them all like a god.

The Búian had begun.