A Crown Of Blades(ARTK, Book 3)

Chapter 13-14

Anor 15th,3330 A.G

  The gods had decided to bless them with minimal wind as their high priest were buried- and as his preferred successor shook. Given a place of honor near the front, Auriol were grateful this affair would be over so quickly. Time read precious, and the temple dwellers deserved to mourn- but not for long. That custom were as old as time itself.

  Even now, she could feel the eyes of so many commoners and the noble family flickering back and forth between her and Raaf's pyre. So much would depend on what she said, whether the gods truly choose her- and whether she could keep her shit together long enough to avoid their whispers. She dug into her arm as Ferrant lit his torch, scratching where none could see.

In a decade, a student of hers would ask about the scars and she'd tell them it didn't matter and that they should get back to their studies.

She didn't hear the words that came out of Ferrant's mouth, but a few of the temple devotees who'd been around a while started crying. A few tried to do what she was; they looked straight ahead and sung songs in their minds so they didn't appear weak- but it was still all over their faces.

They missed the hells out of that man already.

Each and every one of them would stay until his flesh and bones were ash, until they were collected and stored in the temple's crypt. Their clothes, hair, and skin would be coated with that scent and no matter how they washed it would take weeks to get off- but this was something almost everyone were used to. Death were simply a part of life.

Auriol never asked the temple's time keeper how long they stood there, but her legs began to go numb after an hour or two and by the time sunset rolled around a few of the commoners and servants were growing restless. They loved him, yes- but they also had responsibilities. Children to feed, work to do-

Auriol shifted the way she stood, thinking of other things to avoid her own pain.

When she'd first arrived at the temple, she'd though Raaf were unnecessarily strict. She'd resisted the temple rules more often than not, staring at walls when she were supposed to be reading- but after a few weeks of this he'd caught her.

"What are you doing, child?" He'd asked, his voice as even and calm as ever. "One does not go from a student to devotee here by avoiding knowledge."

"I'm not... avoiding anything. I just... read two books today already. I completed the errands Johnathan or... oh whatever his name is-  asked me to do, I cleaned my room so I have a nice space to study in and I even helped Aniyah with her garden research. I'm tired." She'd been in the main dining room, on a couch on the left side of the big table. "My bones hurt."

"We've all been there." Ferrant shrugged, taking the seat next to her. "No one has ever said this place was easy. But for the chance to hold even a fraction of the god's and goddess's knowledge it is worth it. One day you will see."

Would she?

She failed to see how a man serving the gods his entire life only to have youth taken from him and the blood magick he spent so long mastering to stop working- was worth it.

Wouldn't a merciful god treat their devotees so much better? Wouldn't she, as his presumed successor be given the chance to plead for more -

Ferrant coughed. For some reason each and every one of the temple dwellers and nobility members were looking to her... oh.

Even with absolutely nothing official, she would have a little more power than when Raaf were still alive. The fire had gone out, and Ferrant were gesturing for her to come look over the ashes and approve the funeral's conclusion. She did just that, kneeling next to them despite how her eyes watered.