Lucia watched as the tents curtains slowly closed for what felt like a century.
Was she feeling relieved or depressed? She couldn't quite tell.
Her glimmering eyes remained wide open; they lightly twitched as if they were ready for a second round of dismal waterworks.
The one person who she wanted to see the best in her had already discovered her largest secret.
That of course being that, Lucia, daughter of the Patriarch was an atheist. The irony was quite hysterical.
She knew well that Cynthia would never spread it, however, she had a feeling that the information in question would be getting out eventually.
She would be forced under the pressure of her self-imposed exacting standards.
All eyes were on Lucia now that her father's condition was worsening, and not once had she proved her worth to the church of the red stone. She knew the elders had secretly scorned her incompetence and it wouldn't surprise her to wake up one day to the rumor that she in fact didn't respect the Saint King at all.
Once that got out, it wouldn't be long before she collapsed under pressure and told her father the painful truth.
Lucia cared for her people more than anything else. She hated that they gave their lives away for a deity that could not give them anything in return. Or….so she believed at the moment.
She wished that somehow, a force would magically summon that pertinacious faith, so that she may properly understand her people and become the worthy and apt Patriarch that she believed they so greatly deserved.
Patriarch….Lucia knew that title meant nothing and everything at the same time.
In contrast to being the wife of a politician or rich man, she was simply the daughter of the leader who led those at the complete bottom of the social ladder in Maisine. Instead of living within one of the glorious metropolises the world had to offer, the Faurians were reduced to a hidden island. Even Fauria's Patriarch would be considered no greater than a beggar in the grand scheme of things.
Even so, the perseverance and gratefulness of the Faurians couldn't be ignored. Lucia's ancestors pulled them from certain death and gave them a group of people to call family, Every one of the Faurians were followers of the red stone afterall. The religiously persecuted on the island carried the same amount of devotion to their faith and all had stories to share of their struggles, most treated each other as if they were their own flesh and blood. Their love for their leader was unparalleled.
How could an imposter take that precious title away from someone who could truly provide the services that her people deserved?
No, she would never take that title with a lie like that on her consciousness.
"Valene,
the ruins of Valene Fortress…." she mumbled the location as if it were a mantra sustained by a methodological metronome.
Did Cynthia truly have a vision in that Fortress? Was Cynthia…..a non believer just like her? If it wasn't Cynthia herself who had told her that, she would have called it nonsensical balderdash.
Priestess Cynthia was widely known on the island for being the most devoted of them all. Considering that historically, the Faurians committed treason to continue practicing…..that alias meant quite a bit.
But that also put an unbelievable amount of hope in Lucia's heart. Perhaps she COULD magically summon that faith in her heart after all. In terms of her personal beliefs, it's very rare someone manages to change them. Some would say the young maiden was as stubborn as an older mule.
But….if she saw a vision of the Saint King himself- why, she would have no choice but to believe he existed. On top of that, if the holy scriptures were correct, his presence alone would make her into a loyal believer. She found herself more and more willing to bet on it.
Though she had to admit it sounded a bit bonkers to go to some ancient ruins in an attempt to force herself to change her views, it was the only hope she had in gaining the worthiness she'd always longed for.
Lucia grabbed a thick cover up and wrapped around herself before stepping outside the camp.
She soon found herself facing a busy old-fashioned city. The ground was still wet from yesterday's shower and the familiar scent of petrichor filled the air. Naturally, the puddles were free real estate for the playful children. The atmosphere was competitive but lively. Instead of deposits and currency, the people bartered their goods.
Of course, the busy housewives weren't about to end up on the bad side of the bargain. Neither were their burly husband's going to lose in arm wrestling while enjoying the closest the Faurians could get to quality beer. Children raced through the open vegetation trying to find a stick that resembled a sword the most and rocks that had the most pond skipping potential.
Scenes like these were Lucia's greatest memories.
In the middle of the town was a fragrant gazebo decorated in red roses. At its center was a pond which surrounded a golden shrine statue of an almost unbelievably handsome man holding a divine blade, though it was clear erosion took its tragic toll on this work of art.
Lucia's gaze remained on the man in the statue as if she was intoxicated. The captivating statue of Darius de Fauria, the Saint of the red stone could make anyone feel an urge to kneel or salute. Anyone could recognize his defined face and sharp eyes. Or at least what the historians interpreted of what he supposedly looked like. Perhaps he was really just an average looking dude? Lucia giggled to herself. In the end, she was still a teenage girl.
Afterall, she would marry this man as a woman devoted to the church, at least in a metaphorical stance.
She quickly slapped herself to prevent any more sacrilegious thoughts in front of so many people.
Around the garden and pond, decorated with fragrant water lilies, wooden benches with engraved floral patterns were perfectly arranged all around the gazebo-like room.
Several girls, who were as pretty and delicate as the roses surrounding them, told each other jokes while they picked at the basket of plump, red strawberries in front of them.
The crowds of the surrounding marketplace conversed about all the latest news and gossip. From today's weather to Jessica's alleged juicy, scandalous affair with the milk distribution man.
Most of what was in the community was shared, not sold or greedily kept to oneself. They may have been centuries behind, but at least they didn't have to worry about those "damned taxes" the elders spoke of as though it was some sort of horror story.
The night had only begun in Fauria, and the nights on the island never failed to be as lively as its mornings.
"Ah- it's little Lucy" an older woman pointed out while drying out the Landry in a shallow pond.
"Afternoon madam, may the Saint king bless you" Lucia called out enthusiastically.
She had repeated that phrase for as long as she could remember, she had hoped to say it genuinely one day. Why wait, she thought to herself. Afterall, if she suddenly left to see the ruins at least Cynthia would know her whereabouts, that on its own was reassuring.
As she painstakingly passed a street of the familiar faces of her people, her resolve further increased.
That smell of murky incense that inhabited the town at all times was more than just a sign of poor ventilation, it was the smell of home.
She wondered what the outside world smelled like and what the people on the other side said and did throughout their days. However, there was no denying that she would lack the comforting feeling she had in this small town if she were to leave for even just a bit.
"Hhhhhhh-"
She sighed and grabbed her family's pendant from under her collar, gazing at its red stone in a way that seemed somewhat intoxicated. It was as if the pendant was forcing and compelling her to leave towards the ruins. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't deny its orders.
She clenched it in her fist and took a final look at the busy town before disappearing into the horizon with a determined expression.