They had arrived at the meeting late on purpose. There were a number of reasons why Sebastian and Jordan had decided it was better that they shouldn't prove themselves punctual. One such reason was that they should not be recognized. Another was that they would not distract from the meeting or its proceedings. Everything was to go according to the plans of their hosts in the Kingsmen Congregation of Damascus. Strangers in a little town like Damascus, at the edge of Altruic society and far off the beaten path, were an unusual sight to begin with. Adding to that these strangers included the Kingsmen Council Representative for the region and a member of the King's Court was enough to convince them that tardiness would be an ally, if not a friend.
Dorcus couldn't help but feel that it was always uncomfortable to be a stranger, especially in a small town. They had quietly slipped through the door and filed into one of the wooden benches towards the back. Still, they attracted a few scattered glances from those sitting around them. The people seemed to be assessing them as they passed a glance in their direction, if not several glances or a long stare.
'There are times I think it would be better not to feel the weight of people's hearts, times like these, when they shift their attention onto me, even for a moment.'
At the front of the room there was a simple wooden stage with a lectern off to one side. A man stood speaking at the center of the stage. He was a young man: fiery, passionate, compelling, and animated. His words were light, elegant, and softly fluctuating, as she would expect of a man from the region. The Delphians were known for their beautiful speech and careful diction, and this young man did not disappoint her expectations.
He was an ordinary man of average height and build. He was round faced and clean shaven with dark hair and peachy, sunbathed skin. He wore white cotton shirt with a suit, vest, and tie, the traditional dress of the Kingsmen in the region, and his hair was like arranged. His eyes were a soft orangey-brown hidden behind the clear lenses of his large, round glasses.
"He's either alive or he isn't! He's either King or he isn't! He's either God or he isn't! There is no in-between! Why are you here? Why are any of you here? This evening, you could be anywhere, but you chose to come see me. Why? I am the most unextraordinary person. I'll tell you why you're here. You're here because you want to know. You want to know why I say this," he said, grabbing the black leather book from the podium and lifting it up, "is real."
He stopped, staring intensely into the crowd and shaking the book before continuing on. "There is a need for us to break through - to break through hope into faith, through ascent to believing, through warmth into fire."
He returned the book to its place and began again to pace the stage. "Let our hearts be a flame! Let us have a passion of right, not just a hope of it, a sure, deep, fiery conviction burning within us. You want the flame? Make the choice! Each of you here today calls himself a Kingsmen. Why?" He waited. "'We serve the King, of course...' Of course! But do you truly serve him, or... do you merely serve yourself? Do not be deceived: you being here does not make you right with God or anybody.
"What I'm doing here tonight is inviting each of you to reassess your position, because, you see, supposed belief will get you nowhere if it is not genuine, and many of us believe that we believe it, but we don't really believe it. Do you see the problem? We are deceiving ourselves.
"Now, you can wait until you're in the fire as these men were. You can wait! Certainly, you can wait; but when that time comes that you are in the fire, it will be too late for you to assess your position, because your position will assess itself. You will see first hand whether you truly believe, whether the heat of the furnace consumes you or whether it merely relieves you of your chains and you are left to live, because there is a hope inside of us which needs to be released.
"Let go of that which you are holding onto! Cleave to your King! Take possession of that which is higher! Your security, your wealth, your lusts, your greed, your business, your reputation, and on, and on! All of these are things which hold us back from the divine destiny which the heavens hold! Every one of you is chosen. Every one of us invited into his presence for the meager price of accepting the reality that we are lost and desperately in need of his direction, broken and desperately in need of his help, transgressors, desperately in need of his forgiveness... dead and desperately in need of his life."
He stopped again, wetting his lips, and walked back to the lectern in silence, taking tight hold from behind it.
"If I can be perfectly honest with you," he said, leaning forward and addressing the crowd with a newfound seriousness, "many of you would never make it into the fire to begin with." He paused, scanning the crowd, and his eyes were alight with a fiery passion. "You'd just bow to the statue. Some of you would like to fight me over it, but Himmel knows I'm right. You would bow yourselves to idols. Honestly. You would, and some of you already have.
"You think not, but I see in this book here in this book letters to each of us," he tapped loudly on the cover in front of him. "To Euphess, to Asrymn, to Pergum, to Tyra, to Sa'ar, to Delphi, to Laoce!" he spat out the names. "And don't think that because you live here in Delphi and Delphi receives commendations, that you can be lax in your commitment. It doesn't matter where you live, it doesn't matter where you're from; what matters is what happens inside of you. You can dwindle like Euphess and let your passion slip. You can become seduced like Pergum and begin to compromise yourself. We can easily become as Laoce where our blessing is here and our faith is superficial and we quickly lose sight of our need.
"Those of us who do not withhold our hearts from the knowledge of our King, we will be seated with him, and there is reserved for us a place with him. But I will ask again, and I will beseech you again that you do not deceive yourselves and you do not withhold your hearts from your King."
Sebastian leaned over, cupping his hand, and whispered something in Jordan's ear. His eyes turned to Sebastian, and he nodded in agreement.
'He is quite gifted. I understand now why his books are so widely read.'
When Mr. Webber was done, another man came to the podium to thank everyone for coming, and, when he had finished speaking, the people began to arise and stretch and talk one to another.
"Well, Dorcus, what did you think of him?" Sebastian asked her.
"He's quite impressive," she said, meeting the kind eyes of her master happily. "I would like to speak with him," she admitted, though it was more of a request submitted for approval than it was a statement.
Sebastian smiled. "Of course," he said, motioning forward with his hand. "Go, speak with him now, and tell us what manner of man he is."
"Yes, sir," she replied gladly, and she smiled, hopping up from her seat and hurrying towards the front.
There were people standing all around, milling and socializing with pleasantries and quiet talk, but she rushed past all of them on her way to the stage, navigating carefully through the crowd.
"Mr. Webber," she addressed, standing at the base of the stage on the ground below him.
He smiled at her, bending down to take her hand and politely shake it.
"Yes," he said sweetly. "Hello, Miss..."
"Garner, sir," she said, and her cheeks turned pink as his eyes met hers.
"Well, Miss Garner, it is so very pleasant to meet you." He paused, and his kind face turned to a question. "You're not from here, are you?"
"No, sir," she responded.
"I thought not," he said, letting her hand slip. "Where are you from, then?"
"I am visiting from Sa'ar, sir," she told him.
"I see," he said, and it seemed he was unable to quit smiling. "I'm sure it's lovely. Not that I've been there, but... from what I've heard of it."
"I suppose," she laughed politely, not wanting to make him any more uncomfortable than it seemed he already was, then added, "but it is very pleasant here, also."
He lowered his head to the side and stared at the stage. His face was flushed pink with embarrassment. "Well, I certainly appreciate you being here, Miss Garner," he muttered.
She smiled broadly, her lips parting to a grin. There was a quiet sincerity about him which she deeply loved.