~Roland ✧ Chapter IV~
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A soft muttering doth resound from all around, as the small throng wearily speak amongst themselves. I must admit, I do find some humor in this; nobles scarcely wake at an early hour, and most especially avoid doing so before the dawn, aside from those particular occasions when they see fit to honor Our Lady—such as this. It is most unfortunate indeed…there is perhaps no thing in this world more divine than the dawn, when the resplendent light of Our Lady subdueth the night, and from that ever-dark soil blooms beautiful shades of rose, periwinkle, wheat, cornflower—springtime in her sublime celestial garden…
Though this temple is of a most exquisite construction, truly can nothing compare to the magnificence of her creation; and, verily, do I wish I were out in her true temple instead, amongst the green that subsist on her light as no others do.
Now I gaze about myself, the various bodies a haze in the dark, the elegant torches upon the pillars doing little to illuminate the scene. All do come together in a blur—that is, until I notice he who standeth high above all the others, as tall and ungainly as a poor child who has thus been thrust into manhood long before his companions: Etsuo. He standeth rather away from our gathering, from his kinsman; although it is most difficult to see his face within the dark, he appeareth rather more dour than I have ever seen him…
I break away from the group, and thus encircle it to reach the poor man.
“Ašon bon né!” Good morning! I greet him, assaying to put upon a more jovial air than I am accustomed to. At this, to me his gaze turns, and he giveth a most wholesome grin…
“Why, ašon bon né, Brother,” he replieth, voice as smooth as a stream clear. “It is pleasing to see you so lively this morning.”
“I am more accustomed to the morning than many of our fellows,” I reply. “But I must admit, it somewhat concerneth me to see you are much less so than our previous meetings…”
“Yes,” he sighs, “I was informed my present conduct has been rather unseemly—so I am thus tempering my manner…
“I see,” I reply, thoroughly unsurprised, but even so do I pity him. He appears a most tender and genuine soul…by now I, at least, can judge not his lack of decorum.
“Please forgive my pathetic murmerings,” he speaketh most softly, crossing his arms and gazing to the floor below. “I must admit, it has grown so tiring; my kinsmen are weary of me, I know it is so—only the son of my sovereign, he who did lead us here, regardeth me with respect…”
“Is that so?” I ask with a frown, “No other?”
“Indeed; while our people follow not the old ways, still is it preferable to have a noble upbringing, unlike mine own…or at least would they prefer one with more elegance than I possess…
“My lord is a naïve sort, and looketh only upon mine accomplishments…none others are so young and pure as he, though I do wish they were.
“Oh—please ignore me, Brother,” he turneth away, a frown on his face, “I put my burdens on you too much.”
“Do you recall not what I did say? It is not a mere nicety; please, hesitate not to give me your concerns…”
“But there is nothing you may do for this. I simply prattle on for naught.”
“If it bringeth you some relief, then would I say it is not for naught, then.”
“I suppose so…” he sigheth, appearing most ashamed at his present state.
“Tell me,” he saith now, “What is this ritual we are gathered for? In these matters, I have little knowledge of your customs.”
“We are giving thanksgiving to Our Lady for your safe travels, and requesting that she blesses this embassy,” I begin with ease, putting upon that voice I do when addressing my newly cloistered brothers. “Mine own sovereign shall lead the procession, as all of us follow. Those which take not direct action in the ritual shall fill the pews, while those of us who do take part shall, upon his ceased speaking, begin to play music, singing our praises to that most glorious Sun—and once she doth arrive, her light spilling through the colored glass, all shall arise and join us in singing, and begin giving her their offerings.”
“I see; that soundeth not too strange,” he now allows himself to smile, which I can help not but return. “You say you shall be in the ritual?”
“Aye, of course—though my sovereign is little fond to me,” I say now in a whisper, leaning close. “Still am I Our Lady's servant, one whom she hath personally protected, no less. It would be most inappropriate for me not to participate.
“Hmm…” I gaze away now, stroking my coarse beard—before soon ceasing the unpleasant sensation, that remaineth so even with as worn and calloused as mine hands may be… “Would you like to join me?”
“In this ritual?”
“What else?”
“From what you described—you shall be playing music or singing, yes? If that is so…I know not your people's songs, nor instruments, and shall only further make myself a fool…”
“You shall not,” I smile unusually freely now, “Mine instrument does require a partner, yet not one who is skilled. All you must do is turn a handle, and I shall do the rest. My present partner, he is young and impudent—I imagine he shall be pleased to be relieved of his duties.”
“Be it truly so simple? I shall look not ridiculous?”
“Not at all; in fact…perhaps your people will respect that you were given such an honor, to take part in our ritual.”
“Well, perhaps…” he speaketh with uncertainty—yet his face doth appear lovely and light…
“Wait here for a moment, and I shall find my partner, and see if he should relinquish his post.”
“Very well, Brother,” he replieth, positively beaming.
Swiftly do I return to the group, and soon find my present partner: a page springing into nascent manhood, his face sprouting faint, uneven hairs. As I did suspect, he is quite relieved to be relieved of his duties—much to my chagrin, I must admit. What hath become of these youths, who care so little about honoring Our Lady that they would eagerly shun such an honor as this? Although, perhaps, this is the way of youth, and mine own generation was no better; rather, it was only the forgetting tonic of time which did make me believe it was ever different…
Regardless, I do return to Etsuo bearing my good tidings. Soon doth my sovereign call out to us, and all who are to partake in the ritual thus proceed after his lead, and behind those who shall not. A few of my kinsmen appear a tad puzzled at Etsuo coming by my side, yet none speak of it.
Soon we exit from the lower end of the temple, and proceed upwards many stairs magnificent, their polished marble gleaming even in the light faint. Admittedly, I soon can focus upon little else but the wretched steps, exorbitant in number they are—but soon, once I can conceal no longer my shameful breaths, Etsuo doth lay his hand gentle upon my back, and I feel some comfort at the friendly gesture…
After some time, we at last arrive to the top of the temple, to a place so utterly magnificent, it tends to be barred from all; but now, during this blessed occasion, the ever-tall, marvelous doors, gilt in the most sparkling gold, are open wide, allowing us passage into her realm—her Holy of Holies.
I must admit…it is, indeed, more marvelous than I recalled, perhaps as I was under some duress when I was here previous. This is one place where modesty is forgone entirely, and rather the splendor of Heaven is brought to Earth: all about us are massive pillars of marble, topped with elaborate carvings: innumerable gold accents, of Stars and butterflies and all Our Lady holds dear align the wall, with sconces alighting this place even in the dimness. Along the perimeter of the temple are innumerable flowers of light, lively colors, which never wilt, never fade—the angels, the guardians of this place. But, most wondrous of all, is the window of colored glass at the head, larger and more elaborate than, I would posit, any in all of the world. In the center she stands, gentle and elegant, modest yet dignified, all at once—Our Lady doth stand with her sky-blue eyes open only slightly, a smile most mild upon her face, her hands outstretched, and the radiant disk of her body true a halo above her head. She appeareth most beautiful and resplendent, wearing a gown and veil of pure white, topped with a golden crown which thus mimics her rays; her wings, black and white, in the form of a butterfly, are thus outstretched. All about her, then, is the world: above is her home, glorious Heaven, flowers spilling from pink-violet clouds, topped with dainty angels with wings which do match their patroness’; below is the earth, one side of her the rolling forests green and great cities of this continent, on the other the sprawling plains and the city which, once, was Our Lady’s most sacred seat, on the continent of the lost: Arinasa.
I do wonder…is this truly what Heaven looks like? As she did deliver me once, I must wonder—have I at least reached true obedience, so closely followed her statutes, that when I perish from this world I shall at last be free? No longer forced to be born again, to live in this world, but to live in endless pleasure and glory in Heaven? Might a world like this, filled with beauty, free from suffering, be my life everlasting?
Yet, even with this, all of this, I must say…I hope still would I see the clear blue sky.
As we enter, I hear Etsuo mutter something, clearly in a tongue I know not.
“Yes?” I ask, now gazing up to him, his eyes wide and glistening under the firelight.
“Your people appeared to me most modest and reserved, in aesthetics at least…I expected not such splendor as this.
“I suppose it maketh much sense,” he chuckles. “How could such magnificence as this be afforded if your resources were divested more broadly?”
“Do your people manage it not?” I speak softly as I lead him to our station.
“Well—we do, but…”
“It is well, you need not say.”
“Very well,” he lightly laughs now.
Soon do we come near the front of the temple grand, and to one side we find our instrument. It is incredibly large and ornate, adorned with painted carvings of flowers and evermore butterflies. On one end is the neck long, covered in a great many keys; the other is the body stout, bearing a wheel with a handle at its end.
“Why, this is most marvelous; my people have nothing like it…what call you this?”
“An organistrum.”
“Then do show me the way,” he saith now as he gazes down upon me, his smile subtle and sweet…
With little thought more, I proceed to the bench behind the grand instrument, itself a glorious object, fashioned with golden gilt and made of an inordinately luxurious fabric, deep wine velvet.
“Now come to my side,” I say, “And we must lift the instrument into our laps. Stay close to me, for it is deceptively large…”
“Very well,” he nods, and does as he is instructed.
“And now we lift?”
“Yes, yet not too forcefully; it is lighter than it appeareth.”
“Aye,” he says, and together do we lift the organistrum.
It is most queer…although there are many others here, and the sound of ruffling and shuffling and whispers aplenty as we begin to prepare for the ritual—still, it doth feel as though it is only he and I here…
Erelong does all the rustling cease, and soon a piercing sound resoundeth through the temple, high and loud, yet startlingly lovely in its resonance. Both he and I gaze to the platform, seeing my sovereign standing, his bright red hair glowing gently under the firelight.
I attempt to listen to him reverently; indeed, he—along with his lady fair, who I notice now I have seen not at all—are the highest priests of Our Lady, only equal to their counterparts across the sea… Yet, even so, this most haughty and prideful manner, even beyond our wretched past together, maketh it difficult to do so. Therefore, instead of listening to his words—at least these I need not record—I do focus upon the image beyond him, on the great figure of Our Lady…
Oh Lady Sun, most shining and magnificent, verily I can help not but wonder—what dost thou have in store for me? I remember it as though it were merely yesterday, when in this very temple thou didst save me, keep me from the pyre cruel…what have I, poor lowly servant I am, done to deserve such mercy? Thou didst say I was pious—and aye, much I try to be…but, still, do I wish to do thy will on earth, make thy machinations mine own…
In what seems an instant, the many-colored glass now begins to glow with the first rays of the day—beginning at the bottom, and steadily rising, with the rise of Our Lady in the sky. As this proceedeth, my Lord steps down from the platform, and sitteth on a chair behind; with this, I do tap Etsuo upon the shoulder—
And now, he doth begin to steadily turn his hand upon the organistrum, its sound deep and resonant filling the temple. I pull upon the first key, and a deep note sounds; I can help not but gaze to the side of me, to Etsuo, to see his response. His eyes do grow very large, and turn to me. I raise mine eyebrows in questioning; he, in turn, merely smiles, and returneth his gaze down to the organistrum, closing his eyes, smiling all the while. With this, I do likewise—
Soon, now, doth the choir begin, their heavenly voices filling the temple with a divine melodic radiance. Together do their voices become one as they sing one of my most dear hymns, one in Our Lady's sacred tongue, extolling the virtue of Wisdom…admittedly, it hath always felt pointed towards myself, mine own lack of this virtue—therefore, it hath forever felt as though I should heed it closely…
I sing along within my mind, yet not with my lips, for my voice is sadly wretched. Yet, after the words repeat some few times, I notice a new voice join in song, right by my side…
Etsuo begins to sing now, softly, tepidly, knowing well he is not a member of the choir—yet I soon wish he would not be so modest, so timid, for his voice in song is startlingly beautiful, as smooth and clear as a nightingale fair…
Swiftly I turn my gaze to him in astonishment, wondering if mine ear deceiveth me; but, they do not, for it is surely him.
While he singeth he doth grin, most pleased, and ease overcometh me. After seeing his dour state this morning, for once I do feel I have done something correctly in this sorry life of mine; and thus, I close mine eyes, and become lost in his fair voice, swimming in it as though it is a gentle sea…
What a wonderful blessing.
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