I hate virtue, and never will I be seen resorting to it. My father was known as a man of righteousness. He was held to be virtuous in all things. The burghers, vassals, and peasants loved him. I had only ever known him to be a hypocrite.
My mother, who loved him dearly, never knew of the transgresses he engaged in as she slept. I, however, knew, and when I confronted him, he had me sent off to become a priest in my 9th year.
Ten years later, when I'd finally been ordained, he knew his end was near. He came to beg my forgiveness. He said, with tears in his eyes and blubbering unceasingly. "I have wronged your mother, and, in my cowardice, I have wronged you. Forgive me, I beg you." All I could think was how this mighty lion had been reduced to nothing more than a dog.
He was a man who, in his prime, could have had any prey anywhere at any time. He is now crying at my feet for having done that which Lions do, hunt prey. When I found out what he was doing behind my mother's back, I thought it meant little.
It was not until my time in Orauka, or Prevela as the natives say, that I realized that my father did that which he ought to attain true meaning as a man who is above others.
What is it that had weakened him so that he would beg before me for something that no man has ever needed? Was it fear of the God in which he sent me to learn? I asked myself, was it his virtue that made him do this? Was it simply death itself? My father allowed himself to be chained to virtue, like a dog, all because he was desperate for God's favor.
The one thing I have learned in my time as a priest is that if one is to transgress, one should do so fully and completely. Never halfheartedly. The Father of all things is as unkind to the halfhearted as he is to the wicked rake. It is for this reason I have committed myself fully to an unrighteous life.
There are so many people who never transgress except when passion spurs them. Then, when the urge for freedom has left them, their chained spirit returns to captivity. I cannot understand such people. In the day, they are civil and kind to one another. By night after drinking and celebrations, one sleeps with his neighbor's wife. By the morning, they lament their transgression. It is this that I do not understand. Why does he not kill his neighbor and steal his wife so that his pleasure-taking may be continued without interruption?
The pleasures of life, forbidden or otherwise, in my 30 years as a priest have been free to me. The choices I've made have brought pleasure to me unceasingly. This is freedom, and anyone who does not choose it is a slave.
The Eze of Ernul is one such slave. He, of all people, sought my vote for the next Eze Ukwu, or High King as the natives call them. I will never make a slave, my liege lord, unless I can control him.
My city of Lexmark has grown only more pleasurable to me. Refugees from the war eight years prior can be seen in every part of the city. Beggars, who were in Lexmark far before the war ever started, offer their living bodies to the local Physici in the hopes of food and board. Desperate mothers with no means to feed their children grace those in my city, with the wealth, with the pleasures of their bodies. Most of the houses in the city are in poor condition, with the exception of those in the district closest to my keep on the eastern end of the city. Burghers, as well as nobles, live in that district, and all are of native lineage. They've taken quite a liking to me. I try to appeal to slaves as best I can.
At the end of the easternmost part of the city, high above those lesser than I, sits my keep. The keep is built into the mountainside and overlooks the whole of the city. Lumber Mills in the Southern quarter of the city where craftsmen build their masterworks. They take lumber from the forests on our Southern and Northern walls. The market sits In the northern quarter of the city, where trade goods from all over Lexmark are bought and sold. Since the war, the amount of pleasures I've had access to in such a market has unfortunately been reduced dramatically.
Finally, the Western quarter of the city is where the cathedral of Lexmark sits. "Build where the need is greatest." my teacher in Orauka used to say. I should be thankful for by such means I have found such pleasures. It is such a beautiful city with desperation on every corner. More than a third of the city's people are destitute. This is Fertile soil for a pleasure forest. Today is a day of rain and fog from the Tarrslaus Sea in the north. Even the weather serves me in elevating these people's feelings of melancholy. I hope to see a great many in court.
As I hold court, I see refugees stretching out of the keep and into the courtyard. First to my court is a woman with three children. She has a dirty and disheveled appearance. Underneath lies a delicate and well-shaped form.
Beautiful blonde curls stretch forth from her head. Her hair, from the dirt on it, would appear to be browner, but by her children, I know this not to be true. Her face is wide and plump, like the shape of a plum. The nose is short and narrow, no longer than half the length of my smallest finger. The mouth is small, and the lips are thin. Despite a face covered in dirt, its delicate appearance is hard to ignore. The beauty of her face is quite subtle. From a distance, I dare say, not even noticeable.
She is a short woman and slender yet shapely. Her breasts are small, very round, and well elevated like two small apples. The chest is narrow and delicate; the whole of my hand could span from one end of it to the other, her back swept down to the clef of her ass. It's not very large but it’s firm and taut. If I could relate her to a plant, I would say she is more of a shrub than a tree. One that needs pruning, but at her age, this is no longer possible to shape her the way I would like.
She has two daughters and a son. Not one older than ten years, it seems. If they look anything like their mother, they'll ripen well. She falls to her knees and asks. "Prince-archbishop Gerhard, I ask that you do for me that which you have done for others and take my children into your care. By the almighty God, I will be forever grateful."
I hesitate, only that none will suspect and complicate my pleasure-taking. "I'm unsure I have the room."
She prostrates herself before me with a face drenched in tears. " Please, Prince-archbishop, I beg you."
With apprehension on my face and pleasure in my heart, I answer. "Your humble heart has convicted me. If there is no room, I will make it for your children."
She wails. "By God, thank you. Thank you, Prince-archbishop."
My steward advises me that I should let lesser lords and judges handle the refugees, but by such means are the greatest of my pleasures ever stated. He, however, would not know this because, like others, he's a slave. The natives celebrate me and praise me for my mercy. Now I have pleasures of two kinds to enjoy.
After court, I am approached by one of my angels. They are men of little or no virtue who indulge in the same pleasures I do. The only men I would allow to guard my keep. "Lord archbishop, the shrub by which you have acquired new fruits has returned to its place in the forest. A fire may be lit in the forest. Purging all those who may one day lament the loss of their fruit."
This truly is a wonderful way to end the night. I think I will go to the brattice of my keep to enjoy another pleasure. "A fire in the forest makes room for new trees and shrubs to be planted. Light the flame and cleanse the forest."
I leave the cliff-perched keep and go to the cathedral in the city. On the face of the church sits symbols of God on his seat, his throne, in the old country. Then him leaving it 312 years ago now. It is by that event that we measure our years from the time before or after his disappearance.
Animals of All sorts, in herds, running into the sea. A jungle and wilderness turning to desert upon his departure. Storms of flame ruining our old cities after his leaving. Finally, our leaving of our homes for the lands we now all dwell in. It is here that I have come to provide counsel.
I only allow the nobility and burghers the privilege of council with me. Three are here for this very thing, it seems. First, the council is a young beauty. A native girl, Lady Clare of Ramsfeld, with long flowing red hair. A large aquiline nose with narrow nostrils. That still does not rob her face of its charms.
She comes through my door, closing it whilst looking out to make sure none will listen. "Archbishop, my heart is in great pain. I am to be married to a man I do not love. He is plain-featured, and his ways are uncouth. What will other women of the court think of me if I am to be held by such a man?"
Through this haughty girl, there may be a means by which I learn something. "Why does your father want you to marry him?"
The girl pouts and answers me. "He claims this will stabilize and strengthen our families and keep war from our lands."
So the Duke of Ramsfeld is looking to stabilize his position. One of the few upper nobility and only Duke that is of native lineage, Duke Gottfried, seems to want an alliance. Let me see from whom. "Who is this plain-featured man you speak of?"
Her upper lip raises, and her nose wrinkles. "He's the 3rd son of some... Duke of Garrenberg or Darrenberg. It doesn't matter; this is about me."
So a son of the Duke of Larrenberg. The Duke is one of the electors that supports the King of Ernul. I can't have that. "Whom is it that you love, miss?"
She answers with jitteriness and excitement. "Count Leopold. He is tall, handsome, and gentle. Everything that the other one isn't, and he's unmarried. I tried to ask father to give me to him, but father said no because he didn't trust him. Father said he was a puppet, but that isn't true; he doesn't have any strings."
Count Leopold of Belam. Yes, I remember. I first met him at one of the old High King's orgies. He loves pleasures of all sorts, and he supports the same man for High King I do. "Follow your heart, young lady; it can never lead you astray. It is love that motivates your actions, is it not? Your father's selfish desire for safety and stability is something he has soldiers and knights for. Why should he ask for it from his own daughter? You do not love that man, and you should not be made to marry him."
She leaves excited as if the pursuit of her pleasures were blessed by the bishop of Orauka himself.
Next to come in is an older native woman with tears streaming down her face. "My brother is dead. I just know it. He went to Emmernost for the Royal tourney to sell spices to the nobles. I have not seen him since. My husband has gone to Emmernost to find my brother. He's on the free city of Erilmore's council, and still, he's taking time out to find my brother."
That may be something I can use. "What did the City guards say about your brother?"
The woman covers her eyes as she exhales."I've only gotten one letter from my husband so far. It says that my brother was seen, by the city guards, entering the city, but no one knows what happened to him after."
"I'd hate to upset you, madam, but I must say it is possible the nobility of Emmernost may have killed him. If, for instance, he was rather committed to the sale of those spices, a young noble may have killed him solely to stop an annoyance."
She wails a most annoying wail. "NOO! He kept telling me he would sell the spices by any means necessary."
This woman's dramatic display continues with more wales and moans. Seeking to end this drama, I call her attention. "What exactly is it that you need of me?"
She wipes drool and snot from her face. "My husband is a member of the small council of the city of Erilmore. I simply hoped that you would be willing to do a ceremony should we find my brother dead."
So she may be useful indeed. "God forbid, but if your brother is indeed returned to the soil, I think the more pressing matter would be who is responsible. If the King's neglect would allow the murder of your brother. Perhaps it would not be wise for the free city of Erilmore to continue its state of alliance with the Kingdom of Ernul."
She pulls another handkerchief to smear more snot and tears. "What do you want me to do about it, Archbishop?"
"Speak with your husband, madam. He may be able to enter a motion in the small council to officially annul the agreement the city of Erilmore has with the kingdom of Ernul."
While sniffling, she gets up, gathering her things. "You're certainly right. There's no way the city I live in can be allowed to maintain any relations with a king who would allow his nobles, through neglect or otherwise, to commit wanton murder. I will tell my husband to submit such a motion as soon as he gets back to Erilmore." She storms out of the room with what seems to be quite a fire.
Finally, a colonial nobleman of a meddling age with a Balding head and a full beard walks through the door. A tall man, his big full chest and arms with an even bigger belly, seemed to barely fit through the door. With a big booming voice, he addresses me. "Archbishop, I need guidance. My wife and I have grown apart."
I think I would like to know his name first. "First, whom is it that I am speaking to?"
With an apologetic manner, he says. "Forgive me, archbishop. I am Duke Sighard of Velldaburg."
The Duke of Velldaburg. I'll see where this leads. "Tell me that which is bothering you, Duke Sighard."
He slumps forward and drops his head whilst exhaling. "My wife will no longer lay with me. She leaves the keep in the dead of night, and I know not where it is she goes. She speaks to me now only when she must."
Sounds familiar. Maybe I'll just have some fun with this slave. "Perhaps she is simply upset with you. Have you thought of buying her a gift to assuage her anger?" I find this ridiculous even to suggest. She sounds like my father.
The large man answers with a glimmer of hope. "I do not know what it is I have done. Maybe you are right. I'll go to the market on my way back to Velldaburg. I'll buy her a nice dress and some jewels in Erilmore. Yes, that, I think, will work. Thank you, archbishop."
I cannot believe he took what I just said seriously. Could it truly have not occurred to him that she is already finding pleasure elsewhere? I suppose this truly is proof that he is a slave indeed, if not to virtue, then at least to her. "You're welcome, Duke Sighard."
The Duke squeezes back through the door he came in. What a wonderful day at the cathedral.
I mount my horse and leave the cathedral of Lexmark with my entourage. To my pleasure, there are beggars and refugees everywhere in my city. As I return to my keep, I turn the corner and see no one. Streets empty, not a single refugee or beggar. I turn around, and now even my entourage is gone, and the destitute behind them.
What's just happened? Where has everyone gone? In confusion, I leap from my horse. I look back at the mount I just leaped from to find it has disappeared as well. My hands and feet grow cold at this moment. What witchcraft is this? Hearing steps down an alleyway, I turn to look.
There is a single filthy old native beggar with a hood on his head and a book in his right and left hand. He has a long scraggly white beard stretching down to his belly, and there is not a single tooth left in his mouth. He wears a tattered sackcloth, and his feet are bare.
"Peasant, what is all this? I have not seen a single person." I command of the beggar.
He turns to me. His eyes are covered by his hood. He speaks through that toothless maw with words so precise, clean, and concise. "Truly, this leaves you confused? Familiar, I'd have thought. Well, consider it a lesson now taught. You've given counsel to three today. I ask that, with me, you make it four."
This impudent wretch. "I'm the archbishop of Lexmark."
He smiles a hideous toothless smile. "Then you should be fine, counsel indeed. I have a great many who claim to follow me. Of those, I know not who is trustworthy. Perhaps through your counsel, clarity may be brought to me."
I think he's a warlock like my cherub. Something's different about him. I have the strangest sense that he is not like a normal warlock. I ask. "What is your question then?"
He opens the book in his left hand. He pulls a quill from a sackcloth pocket. The hairs on the back of my neck raise as my body freezes. It is as if that book itself is what my body fears. "How might I find those who would abandon and betray me in times of peril and travesty."
What does my body know about this man that I don't? I do not think it's wise to deceive him. "As you have said, in times of peril and travesty, the untrustworthy will abandon and betray you. Feign weakness, and they will show themselves."
He turns away from me while removing his hood. "So, you know."
With his left hand, he scrolls a name. When I look closer, I see what is written. My nilosi name Chimere.
In confusion, my grip tightens, and my teeth grind. I grab and turn him around, demanding answers. "Who are you? How can you speak my people's language?" To my shock, he has no eyes, just skin where his eyes should be.
Once I blink, it all leaves me. I am back on my horse on my way to my keep. I have my entourage on my left and right, with nothing but beggars and refugees in front and behind me.
Hours later, back at the keep, I speak with my archangel, the first of my angels, Dirk. "I need you to find a beggar."
Dirk smiles a wide smile. "More fun in the dungeons, my Lord, or is it pleasures of a different sort you seek?"
I dismiss his playful tone. "No, I'm looking for a specific beggar. An old man at least 40 my senior with no eyes or teeth, yet he can speak clearly."
Dirk chuckles. "I understand you not wanting him to have teeth but no eyes?"
In frustration, I correct him. "No, Dirk, as I said, he is a specific beggar. This is not a quest for pleasure."
Dirk seems to have finally understood my meaning and answers. "Yes, my lord, I will find him immediately."
The day is late as I watch from the battlements of my castle walls. I see a fire lit in the refugee camps of Lexmark. My angels have once again assisted me in attaining the highest of pleasures.
I move the fruits into their place to ripen. A place, in the rear of the castle, with windows facing the Tarrslaus sea where none are welcome but my angels.
The night has fallen as I rest in my bed chamber. My archangel Dirk brings me the news. "Lord Archbishop, the Count of Bernhoff is waiting for you in the Castle library. Also, your cherub has been paid. He will now fulfill your request."
I answer. "Good. Tell the Count I'll be with him shortly. Send word to the cherub to acquire the contracts. What of the old beggar?"
"I still have men scouring the city. I'll let you know as soon as he has been found." He says.
My archangel leaves my bed chamber. My castle library has bookshelves on all sides twice
the height of a man. There are books from the old country as well as the new. In this place, the whole of the known world could be read here. In the midst of the library, near the fireplace at the furthest wall opposite the entrance, sits the Count of Bernhoff.
His hair is gray, black, and short. His nose is short, and his nostrils are wide. A dark mantle and hood covered his head and body.
The Count is staring into the flame. I call him. "Count Dietrich, you wish to speak to me?"
My words distract him from what seems to be a world in the flame. He looks at me with a melancholy I'd never seen on him before. " Yes, Lord archbishop, l hoped we would have a moment to speak with one another. I can no longer support the King of Ernul's claim to the title of Eze Ukwu."
I wonder what could have happened that made this firebrand turn on his King. "We are in a time of peace, Count Dietrich; why would you say such things?"
The Count raises one eyebrow on that pensive face of his. "It's been eight years, and most of your lands are still in a horrid state. Entering Lexmark, I've noticed nothing but destitute beggars and refugees. Your lands are ripe for the picking. The King will not allow you to keep the title of the archbishopric of Lexmark as an electoral against him. So I must ask, do you really believe that, or are you just mocking me?"
I raise one eyebrow as a smile stretches across my face. "Not mocking but testing. For your sake as well as my own, I must know that you are committed. I should note, however, there are benefits to having refugees in plenty."
Confusion covers his face at the hearing of my comment. "Really? How? They have nothing to tax. Their propensity for fleeing, as well as their weak and frail bodies, make them horrid soldiers. They spread disease, and their numbers keep nobles, merchant burghers, and craftsmen from coming to your city. I'm having a hard time seeing the benefits."
I suppose he's passed one test and failed another; even so, I can still use him. "Then do not think of it. My angels will contact you when the time is right. Return to your keep. Let none know where it is you have gone." The Count covers his face and leaves my castle.
Dirk walks into the library. "Anything I should prepare for my Lord?"
I tell Dirk. "Find out why Count Dietrich came here. I want details about what's going on in Ernul."
He answers me. "Well, it's a good thing I brought this then."
Dirk hands me a report from one of my angels in Ernul and remarks. "It seems the Count of Bernhoff lost his third son in the tourney at Ernul. If this report is accurate, then he must hold the King responsible. He's not the only one; the Duke of Wenzelburg lost his fifth son in that tourney, as well. He may be plotting something, like the Count, or he may have chosen to remain loyal to his King. We don't yet know."
"What? That doesn't make any sense. Young nobles die in jousts all the time. Why would these nobles be angry with their King."
It seems I'd reminded Dirk of something. "Oh yes, that's right. It seems both of those nobles' sons were killed by the same jouster. Apparently, he was a native noble. It seems that the Count of Bernhoff blames the King for even allowing the native noble to compete. I don't know if the Duke of Wenzelburg feels the same way."
"Send a courier to Count Leopold of Belam. Tell him a very special asset will land in his possession very soon. Be sure to remind him of my assistance in the matter. Ask the angel in Emmernost if a merchant had been killed sometime around the tourney. Lastly, send an angel to Velldaburg to follow Duke Sighard's wife."
Dirk bows his head. "Yes, Lord archbishop."
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