The temple bells toll through the annex, the tired grumbles and snores in protest arise from the sleeping disciples. A smaller bell chimes through the hall, getting louder in passing. It synchronizes with the footsteps of the women outside who ring them incessantly to gather the attention of the disciples.
The tired eyes gaze to the windows greeting a dark sky and the sound of happily singing birds to indicate the early morning hours. It's the usual time to wake up all the disciples to jump start their days and responsibilities. A young woman grumbled, pulling the thin blanket over her head in an attempt to drown out the ceaseless sound of bells.
The annex that accommodated the disciples appeared simplistic. A long rectangular room lined with small single beds and flat mattresses with a single, hard pillow and thin cotton blanket on each bed. The entire annex possessed a dull impression lacking in most colors and warmth. To the foot of the bed stood a small wooden chest; inside held two sets of the temple's uniform, a necklace bearing the symbol of Kleminus and one pair of shoes.
"Florian...You have to get up" One of the fellow disciples tries to wake the slumbering girl.
Florian sits up, her bed hair frizzy and sticking in different directions. Her unruly mousy brown curls proved a challenge after waking up. The length of Florian's hair weighed the curls down enough to look rather pleasant. A distinctive irregularity in her hair showed the unnatural coloring of blonde along the ends. Only nobles were known to afford unusual luxuries such as dyes. It was never an intentional choice but nevertheless drew unwanted attention.
Florian's light green eyes and diminutive stature gave an innocent impression to most, until one looked at her scarred and chapped hands realizing that hard work didn't suit that impression.
She yawns and steps out of bed without paying too much attention to her foot that had tangled in the blanket. She trips and falls face first to the floor. The other disciples laugh at what is only considered to be the usual morning routine.
She laughs along with the other disciples, her face red from the impact. Hurriedly Florian scrambles to her feet to make the bed and messily comb her hair. The morning mostly consisted of some clumsy accident, then rushing to get ready. She tried to contain her hair in a tightened braid tossed over the shoulder.
The sisters step into the room, those who are in charge of making sure all the disciples are awake and complete with their personal chores. They proceed with room inspection, double checking everything is complete. Despite being considered senior disciples, the true meaning of these routine checks intended to instill absolute discipline.
The temple maintained a straightforward philosophy and everyone under the temple is governed by this philosophy as if by law; Discipline means obedience, obedience means dedication and dedication means faith.
Aside from the picturesque representation shown to the outside, within the temple there is no room for those deemed unfaithful.
Florian lines up alongside the other disciples and kneels before a marble statue to pay respect. A beautiful androgynous figure stands proudly, adorned in a loosely draped tunic decorated by gems and with delicate lacings of gold. Rumors had mentioned that anyone would be able to afford a palace with the riches that adorned this single statue of Kleminus.
The worship hall took up the most space within the temple grounds. It acted as a prayer hall to all the disciples, priests and bishops as well as a place where the public would gather to worship on designated days. The empty hall would then be filled with long wooden benches to accommodate all the people.
The worship hall stretched on and was quite large. A tall ceiling that needed the aid of very long ladders to simply touch the roof and clean the ceiling. Marble pillars lined the side and had a basic relief carved into them. The focal point being the Kleminus statue, the Great God. A pedestal held the statue in its position, a small pond in which it rested and the surrounding area filled with various candles which were to be lit every morning and replaced every night.
The group prostrated themselves, their heads held down with utmost respect for their silent prayers. An hour passes before the disciples are allowed to stand and shuffle off to the dining area and wait in yet another queue for their meals.
The sun peeked through and encased the temple bathing its halls with a gentle warmth. "Next" a begrudged voice calls, instructing the next in line to step forward. Florian steps towards the senior sisters who dish the meals, receiving a paltry bowl of watered down potato and cabbage soup, a glass of water and one stale bread roll.
Looking at the same meal she had eaten on the daily for years, Florian fails to muster any real enthusiasm but manages gratitude for food nevertheless.
The dining hall is smaller in comparison to the rooms where the disciples slept. There were many tables packed into a tight space which made meals uncomfortable and an experience to bump into everyone who sat next to one another. The counter separated the dining area from the kitchen and is where everyone would line up to collect their meal from whoever was on kitchen duty.
Occupying the corner table away from the other disciples, Florian keeps to herself. Nothing good ever comes from interacting with them, especially the unsavory ones.
A lanky blonde man steps towards her table, a mocking grin on his face as he snatches Florian's food.
'Speak of the Devil' she thinks
"Remember it's prudent that you share with your fellow disciples!" the stranger snickers.
"I would gladly share with anyone that isn't you" Florian bites back
The evident disrespect in her words left him enraged. How dare someone lesser regards him with such belittling intention and his face twists maliciously in response.
"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM!?"
Florian shrugs "I don't know, nor do I really care."
"I am the third son of the Winston family! Abel Winston! Someone as lowly as you dare to disrespect me!?" he cries, bewildered that anyone would try to upset him without knowing of his family.
'Winston?' Florian recognizes the name from hearsay and some hushed rumors that float around the annex. Even in the temple, it would appear that no one is free from gossip. She claps her hands together and carries a look of realization. She feigns shock in her expression.
"Winston's third son!"
"Good, now that you've realized who I a-"
"Ah, I remember now. You failed the knight exam, have zero academic talent and your last ditch attempt was coming here to be a saint or high priest. Something about your mother's cousin being a high priest."
Abel's face turned red from embarrassment and flustered, he shoved a finger into Florian's chest "Y-You!"
"To your disappointment you have absolutely no divine power. Nor potential for it. Doesn't that make you even lower than me?" She spoke plainly with underlying contempt.
The jabbing finger shifts into a clenched fist that aims to hit Florian. Standing up and away from the incoming fist her hand slips under the table and throws it towards Abel. The rude disciple lay unconscious and sprawled on the floor of the dining area. Senior sisters and other disciples rush at the sound of commotion to see the sight.
"I see you've caused another mess, disciple Florian."
"Nothing that was uncalled for sister Avril" Florian already knew they would take Abel's side. Coming from a noble family who donated plenty of money to the temple would buy him some kind of secretive status. Even if Abel incited the incident, Florian would be the one to get punished. It's futile to defend herself in such a situation besides she doubts they would find justification in her throwing a table at him.
"I'll wait for my punishment."
The dining hall is fixed, Abel is taken away for treatment and Sister Avril cooks up some punishment or the other. Florian takes her leave and curses her inability to contain her temper.
Soon after, sister Avril walks in looking at Florian sitting informally on the floor outside the worship hall. She grimaces at the sight "Your punishment has been decided. You will take an oath of silence for three days and do your prayers in the main worship hall. Furthermore, it will be without meals until you reflect on yourself."
"All of that for throwing a table?"
Sister Avril gestured for Florian to keep quiet.
After the punishment had been stated, Florian is escorted to the worship hall by a few others. Initially irritated by the outcome and now she finds herself rather emotionless to the predicament. The priests had to uphold an image and pretended not to take sides, at least outright. Everyone who looked a little closer would see what is really happening.
The uncomfortable ache in her back and knees were evident due to kneeling for hours. Her only indication of the time passed being the setting sun and rich afternoon light that streamed in through the windows. Her eyes fixated to the windows instead of praying. The door to the hall creaked heavily and the sounds of footsteps approaching startled her. Florian threw her head down and shut her eyes. Attempting to discern who had entered the hall by their steps alone which proved too difficult.
"The Sage is looking for you"
She recognized the voice belonging to the head priest. She nodded and stood up, acting meek and keeping her eyes on the floor. She followed the priest to a separate room in the annex. Though this room is more of a lounge used for private audiences and considered a privilege that most disciples usually would never have the opportunity to use.
For Florian however, this is a different case. In fact she frequented this 'rarity'. Basil the great Sage had called for her by name. The temple's relationship with Basil is complicated, it couldn't be friendly enough to be amicable. More a relationship of love, hate and resignation. Knowing full well they could never get rid of Basil and much to their distaste, struggled to function as efficiently without him.
The door opens, and Florian steps inside greeted by a cosy warmth. Basil is sitting on the couch. He is a middle aged man with sharp black eyes. Shaggy grey hair, that more often than not, is always pulled into a badly tied ponytail. The ever present stubble on his chin added to his unkempt presentation, along with nomadic clothing for ease and comfort of travel. The various loose layers hid his knight-like physique.
Florian kept her head down until the head priest left.
Basil saw this act of submission and mused at the sight, "How long are you going to pretend to be so subdued?"
Florian sighed when he opened his mouth, he already knew the answer and yet still demanded it from her mouth. "Until I'm sure I don't have someone breathing down my neck." Her answer struck him, Basil roared with laughter "You probably got in trouble again didn't you?"
She rolled her eyes, he hit a nail on the head and even Basil realized that. He holds his sides, tears form in the corner of his eyes as he laughs. The situation at hand isn't all that funny yet he split himself over it.
The temple is known to be tolerant to even those of questionable morals and yet, lost their patience over a 'troublemaker' like Florian. Who, unintentionally, managed to aggravate them every chance she got.
She pushes the matter aside, raising her eyes to the familiar lounge. Two sofas that face one another, a few sitting chairs to lodge extra company. A table sits between the sofas and holds refreshments set out for Basil. A fireplace nestled in the far end of the room, alongside a second door that led directly outside.
A rickety bookshelf filled with few books the temple could condone. By no means is this a luxurious space nor one to impress the nobles however it did serve its purpose of the 'Look we're humble but we tried' appearance the temple aimed for.
Sitting back in her chair and getting comfortable when the idle chatter ceased. "And? What news do you have for me this time?"
Basil gestures towards the snacks on the table, giving Florian permission to help herself "I'm thinking of sending you on a mission."
At his gesture, Florian helps herself to some of the refreshments that were laid out. Seeing that she had yet to eat anything the entire day even these dry and somewhat stale biscuits were a blessing.
"What kind of mission?"