Why must sin taste so bitterly sweet (fyozai)

Chapter 1

Word count:1754

"Fedya, it's your turn on upkeep duty this month." Came a cold stoney voice, belonging to Mr Mikhail Dostoevsky, the town's beloved priest and voice of their lord on earth, Fyodor's father. Fyodor lifted his gaze from his porridge to look at his father with a sour expression gracing his face "Don't make that face at me, we all have out duties to attend to. You are not above everyone else in this village just because you are my son. You will take your turn in serving our people and our lord just like all of the others and you will do so with less of these unsightly expressions and attitude." the man chastised with a sharp glare. "Yes of course father." Fyodor responded gruffly, swallowing another spoonful of porridge with a grimace. Despite his mother's culinary skills she somehow never did manage to figure out the secret to porridge that did not contain lumps, that or she did it just to torture him, to watch him shudder as he felt the lumps of oat claw the inside of his throat while the others ate, taking no notice of the impurities that he somehow just couldn't manage to ignore.

"Every morning, 9 o'clock on the dot remember." His father reminded him as he stood up from the table, taking his dish and spoon and depositing them in the wash basin. He pulled his coat on over his uniform and slid his shoes on over his feet before making his way towards the door "Don't disappoint me Fedya. He is counting on us all to carry out his will." He said as he walked out, slamming the door shut behind him. Fyodor felt his form relax and his muscles go slack from their previously tense state as he returned his attention back to his slightly nauseating breakfast.

His mother sat in the chair beside his father's now empty one at the table, her breakfast currently forgotten about and growing cold as she tried her best to stop his 3 year old brother from spilling his own oats all over the table and himself. "It'll be over before you know it fedya don't worry, you were so excited the first time you were allowed to be on upkeep duty." She told him with a fond smile as she rubbed at his brother's face with an embroidered handkerchief decorated with colourful flowers. Fyodor pushed his chair back and stood, taking his empty bowl and spoon and placing them in the wash basin as he scrubbed the remains of the oats away "That was before I found out I had to empty buckets of faeces if you recall mother." He called to her, she chuckled in response "Well they're not going to be able to empty them themselves are they now? It's all we're able to do for the poor souls as mere mortal human beings, we leave the rest to those more qualified." She called back looking up to the roof as she finished her sentence. Fyodor offered her a hum in response as he placed his bowl and utensil back in their proper places and left the dining room to dress himself properly in his bedroom.

He wrapped himself up tightly, pulling his black gloves over his pale hands, winding his scarf around his neck, buttoning his coat and securing his ushanka over his head, the basements are always bitterly cold this time of year, he'd hoped his turn would come around during one of the warmer months but alas this was the will of the lord. What could he do about it.

He left his room and made his way towards the door, offering his mother a wave as he went by the dining room. His younger brother followed her gaze to him and took a break from attempting to eat his oats with his hands to wave wildly at his brother "Bye bye Akim, behave yourself for mother while I'm gone!" He called as he left through the door, out into the blistering cold of the village air that clung to his face incessantly, flakes of snow making themselves at home upon his pale cheeks, seemingly blending perfectly with his chalky complexion. "Such a hassle." He muttered as he traipsed his way through the snow towards the stone hut on the far side of the village, right on the outskirts. Making sure to keep his gaze to the ground and away from those around him other than when he passed by the clock tower to ensure he wasn't going to be late, the sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return to reading his novels undisturbed in the warm embrace of his covers up in his bedroom.

He enters the building into the main room, begrudgingly making his way towards the man that was snoring in a cushioned chair by the wall, poking him harshly in the shoulder to wake him. The man woke with a startle, blinking in confusion as he turned to look at whomever had decided to disturb his sleep "Ah Fyodor! They've got you on duty this month eh? I wish y' the best of luck with it, it's a strange one this month." He laughed out as he stood and fetched a couple of slices of bread and a metal tankard of water from the back, handing them over to him as he went to whisper in his ear, his breath was rank with the stench of ale, making Fyodor's nose crinkle in disgust "The bucket might not smell too bad if its frozen over." The man chuckled, tossing him the keys from his belt. Fyodor caught them in his right hand, swiftly turning before making his way towards the entrance to the basement "Have fun!" the man called to him, a scowl crossing Fyodor's face now that it was no longer within the man's view. "Let's just get this over with" he muttered with a sigh as he came towards the cell, unlocking the door and entering the numbingly cold space. He'd sooner roll around in the snow outside for an hour than spend any more minutes than he has to down here, the bitter cold mixed with the damp air and pungent smells making it almost unbearable.

He first dropped the bread and water over on a ledge by the window before going over to the bucket in the corner, holding his nose as he took it up to the surface to empty it into the barrel outside to be transported to the cesspool that was dug a little ways away from the village thanks to its foul smell. He wiped his hands off on the handkerchief his mother had insisted he keep on him (he was more thankful for that now than he had been when she'd first suggested it to him) before returning back down to the chilling cell. He then decided to spare it a glance, the sinner curled up in the farthest corner, facing away from him. Its body below the head was covered entirely in bandages, most stained in a bright crimson with darker murkier splotches between the alizarin sea. It had likely just been taken for its first marking procedure that engraved the first marks of their lord into its body. He made his way back over to the sill where he'd left the bread and metal tankard, grabbing the two items and bringing them with him as he drew closer to the sinner, sitting himself cross legged in front of it as he set the items down. He then reached for the sinners bound arms, slotting the key into the lock keeping them together and liberating its hands, he then did the same for the muzzle like contraption fastened around its mouth, watching as its hands went up after being freed from their restraints to remove the metal piece from its mouth.

Fyodor looked on at the sinner with boredom in his eyes, just waiting for it to start. The incessant screaming, crying, begging and pleading that inevitably came from each new arrival in this cell. He kept his eyes fixed on the chestnut brown curls of the creature before him, anticipating its turn to reveal the face of yet another terrified sinner, utterly desperate to attempt to avoid its repentance and to refuse the charity it had been so kindly bestowed by the people of this village and the liberation they promised it. Slowly, the creature began to turn itself, its hands shifting to support its weight as it whipped itself around, keeping itself curled up likely both to preserve heat and whatever was left of its dignity with only a flimsy white cloth it had been provided with tied around its waist. Fyodor felt his eyebrows raise with an inkling of interest as the creature turned, its eyes meeting his own. Eyes that were not filled with terror or anguish, eyes that were hollow and empty, void of anything that he'd predicted he would find swirling on their glassy surface. Eyes that were like his. It was strange. Jarring. Intriguing.

Fyodor reached out his hand towards the sinner and it made no attempts to move away as he placed his hand on the bandaged surface of its left arm, stroking the rough fabric gently "It must be so painful for you poor sinner, to be ripped away from your life of sin and burned by the purity of the lord that covers this town. Worry not. He will forgive you. We will set you free. I promise." He told it softly as he moved to stroke its forehead with his hand, its surface feeling hot even beneath his gloved fingertips 'most likely from the blood loss.' He thought to himself as he removed his hand, passing the bread and water to the sinner as he sat and watched as it ate, observing its every movement with curiosity. After it had finished he took the empty tankard from it and replaced its restraints, as he fits the muzzle back to its mouth he looks back into those chestnut eyes, yet again finding not a hint of emotion welling within them. "What a fascinating creature you are sinner." He muttered before turning to leave the cell.

He dropped off the empty tankard with the drunkard at the front and went back on his way into the snow with a small grin gracing his face, perhaps upkeep duty wouldn't be so dull this time around.