Apostasian Revelations

Chapter Eighteen

Upon the high raised chapel stood a man in dark robes, the sun shone  brightly as he peered down at the ground below, people populated the area like ants from such a height, yet the overabundance of the crowd was easy to spot.

The people's cheers and angry lashings would be abhorrent in any normal circumstance, however this situation was a much more peculiar one.

Upon the creaky floorboards of the rotten wooden floor a young man with a slightly tanned complexion knelt down onto the ground, dirtying his already dirty rags.

His face was pulverised as he looked at the stage that was set, men in red stood by him as the deafening cheers grew by the second, tantalisingly close to his final moments his heart beat intensified and as did his shallow breaths.

His eyes darted around the crowd as the loop was strung around his neck, the men in red grinning out a malevolence filled grin and chuckling to their fat heart's content.

The seconds ticked by until the rope started to draw ever near, the stage was set.

Under the heavy set sunshine a black robed figure lurked around empty corners of the crowded and littered streets of the city, no one noticed him at all, passerbys remarking not much more than just another face on the already overpopulated street.

Yet Yoruland'uf saw him, he saw his eyes signal out sheer and utter confidence through his pitch black eyes, they seemed soulless to others but not to the man so close to passing away, the rope catching his neck as he struggled against it for air; he was fighting against time and it had him in a bear hug right now.

A loud bang occurred as the entire crowd shrieked and cried bloody murderer, the men on the stage themselves were surprised when one by one they began to fall, to fall at the hands of the rogue.

None whatsoever could withstand the man's ivory stained blade, which slashed with malignant undertones, the appreciation for such an individual was found in only one person that day, as his final breaths began to taper and fade, he could only imagine what would come out of this.

Would there be the paradigm of paradise that the church instilled deeply among it's followers? Or would his sins have him cast into the ever emblazed fiery pits of Hell?

One unlearns such falsehoods over time but the innocent and speculative child never forgot the fear of it all, all the bedtime stories read to him in the very distant and murky past would be mockingly sharp and crystal clear at such times.

And right now? Yoruland'uf was that child, ever so close to becoming a deceased soul.

If not for that man that is, that man would spark a change in almost a century of what all had known of, and bring about the usherance of a new era from the times of God and his Templar followers.

Both of them would.

The rogue however carried him slung across the shoulder, climbing with but a hand was not a difficult enough task for him, as he masterfully grabbed and held on for dear life to the windows alongside the blue painted edges of the clear ultra-marine blue houses, the chimneys were hot and bright red with smoke coming out of them as he leapt over them in quick succession, vaulting over the last obstacle with a bit of effort, a railing that lead down to a sets of balconies from where Yoruland'uf wished he was never born.

  "I think I'm getting motion sickness from this!"

"Toughen up lad! I just stuck my neck out for you, so quit whining about the little things and look at the bigger picture!"

He coughed and coughed as if there were no tommorow, cries of women finding a man outside their modest house and upon their railing to witness their bare bottoms erupted every once in a while, and it made the rogue rather homesick.

Finally after navigating approximately half the city they had both arrived at a secluded spot.

Yoruland'uf had never been more sweaty in his entire life of 23 and a half years, and the rogue was just the same as always.

He sat down as the rogue offered him a dark brown flask, upon it sketched the name Miguel.

  "No thanks, I don't think I should really burden you, mister.."

"It's on the bottle, just take it and hydrate yourself, and close your mouth you potted pansy."

He didn't take much of an insult to the last line, sat down and having the bottle thrust upon himself he decided to wind down for a bit, making sure to eye the water for any poison first.

The rogue raised a brow at that, removing his hood to reveal a sleek black mat of hair with the man looking on par with the likes of highborn Royalty in the area, Yoruland'uf felt as if even the Dukes and Dukettes would have a tinge of jealousy regarding the man's looks.

  "What, you really think I'd tamper with it? My own water bottle? And give it to you, after I rescued your life? And people say I'm over cautious." He remarked, crossing his arms together while standing against the unpainted cobblestone wall, an uncaring look on his face.

Yoruland'uf thought for a couple seconds before drinking a bit from the flask and putting it down. "I'm sorry about that, mister Miguel."

  "Don't be so hard on yourself, besides I never said it was a bad thing." He responded with a clear grin that displayed his pearly whites.

This would be the start of a beautiful, unbreakable friendship.