The bright blue sky above, unimpeached by tiny clouds shifting away, cast the new day on the back of the tall tower.
A long, thick shadow draped itself over the meandering bodies below. The glistening cream-coloured granite stone blocks stood in front of the coming people, that were rubbing against each other on the aged red cobblestone pavement worn by feet and hooves.
*MOVING OF FEET ON STONE.*
Clapping soles of worn shoes moved on, pushing deeper into the wide, open main square, gradually filling the courtyard in stacking rows. They were all aiming for the wooden structure in front of the masonry marvel that stood alone from the buildings surrounding it.
Tony flecks of green weeds sprouted from the cracked joints of the cobbles that sat in the darkness of the people's shadows and the lone tower, soft yellow dandelions being caught on the soft wind as they were trampled upon.
A line of guards stood in front of the makeshift podium that was hastily put together, spears held in one hand and small rounded shields in the other a little bulge at its centre, becoming the line of no continuation, forcing the coming people to stop.
*MUTTERINGS OF PEOPLE GORWING LOUDER.*
Hundreds of bodies, composed of villagers, merchants, adventurers, and more were all patiently waiting for someone on the podium to move into view. In the large crowd, a man and a woman conversed quietly with one another as murmurs grew all around them in anticipation of the announcement.
A woman dressed in fine silk spoke, aiming for the man to her left.
Female Villager: I wonder what this is all about for the high priest to be here? 'Concerned.' What do you think?
The woman in fine tight fitting clothes turned to her left, looking at the adventurer eyeing the guards ahead.
Adventurer: Probably another taxation... Who knows. 'Joking.' You'd think they would have better equipment for guards of the guild. (Looking at his armour.) My stuff is much better than that rabble.
The woman glanced at the man's armour, then to the wondering face of the adventurer next to her.
Female Merchant: Maybe, but your armour or sword doesn't have the blessing from, you know who... (Looking to the podium.) That alone is worth its weight in gold.
The adventurer looked up at the white blur moving about, preparing himself for something.
Behind the pair in the mass of unsettled flesh lost in conversation, cloth, coins, and armour standing in the shade of the tower, a thick purple cloak flicked as people moved by trying to get a closer look, rubbing past the softness of the suede-dyed veil, flicking it about at the edges.
It was the female jeweller known as Dwinnerva who had been at the market stand not long ago, surrounded yet alone, primarily keeping to herself, hiding under the thick material that nearly touched the stone below, only stopping above the black heels and pale skin.
Buttercup-shaded eyes looked upwards, peeking out from under the thick hood, attentively watching the old man dressed in a white robe with green streaks down its centre, gold silk adorning the edges, and a large circle with a gap missing from the top sitting on his chest. She could see him clearly; her hand moved to the necklace between her breasts, fingering the old ring on the chain ignoring the rest of her chains.
Dwinnerva: I wonder what that dried-up "Holier than thou" codger has to say today. 'Uninterested mutterings.' Just where are you, Kohl? (Quickly glancing around.) Hmmm, he must be held up with that man or back at the stall by now. 'Thinking.'
The audience around was still observing the man in the immaculate robe as he stood three meters above the ground on the improvised podium. A round white body moved into view, peering into the waves of bodies as two hands slathered in silver and gold landed on the black wooden balcony.
*SOFT CLINK OF RINGS ON WOOD.*
The man's head covered in a domed white cap moved ever so slowly left, then right, taking in the view as the old greying hair shimmered in the light along the sides of his head. Then a wrinkled mouth opened, and the high priest began to speak, calling for all to listen.
Thick arms stretched out, moving from the balcony in a dramatic motion and the robe fell down from his wrists. A deep, bellowing voice reached the ends of the main square where the final slithers of people had ended, all of the people now gathered in front of him.
Bodies below and afar stopped, no longer muttering, only purely focused on one man's words as the presession began.
High Priest Brucknell: THANK YOU FOR ATTENDING MY BELOVED CHILDREN! 'Calm smile.' It is always a beautiful sight to see the lovely people of Hyrnn of the Veryll domain of our our Lord. 'Pausing.'
Letting his words sink into the crowds ears, feeling all eyes on him and him alone, the high carried on speaking.
Brucknell: Giving your time from your important lives, as well as the adventurers who keep us safe from the horrors that lurk in the light and shadows. (Bowing in a humble manner.) You are always in my prayers. (Raising back up.) Now...
The white blob atop the podium captivated the crowd with his strong, comforting voice, as smiles appeared on many of the people in the front rows, rippling to the back.
Brucknell: (Arms wide.) Rejoice! The Luminarum has blessed us all with another beautiful day, as their guiding light beams upon us all, washing away the sins of the past and granting us another gifted day of life. 'Resolute.' Join me in a moment of prayer so that we can all receive protection from those who wish to do us harm. (Lifting arms up.)
With the coming gesture, raised arms formed an incomplete circle, leaving a gap above the priest's head and imitating the symbolic emblem on his chest. The lone man delivered a prayer that flowed out softly with reverence as if spoken time and time again, knowing the words off by heart without having to ever think on them.
Brucknell: 'Loud.' "Let them protect us; let them guide us, and in the darkness, find us. Only those born into the light of the Luminar and all who believe in the true path will see eternal salvation. For our God, for our Lord, and for our souls, we all praise the Luminarum. All praise the Luminarum... ALL PRAISE THE LUMINARUM!" 'Bellowing.'
*GROWING SHOUTS FROM THE CROWD.*
Crowd: 'Bellowing.' Luminarum... luminarum... LUMINARUM!
Waves of prayers echoed from the people, merchants, adventurers, and commoners alike, all as one at the front and middle, then to the far back. While some copied the priest's gesture with their arms stretched high, others only using their hands in front of their chests as a symbol of their faith.
For the ones who looked on doing nothing, listening only to the words with no interest at all or faith, another muttering mixed in the prayer came from the cloaked woman, still fixed on the priest revelling in the people's chants.
Dwinnerva: All hail the "Luminarum." 'Mocking tone.' The false gods...
The sea of chants mellowed on the waving orders of open hands calling for calm atop the podium.
To the left, Brucknell could see a small group skirting along the edges of the small buildings keeping away from the tower, the shimmer of silver armour catching the light in the distance. Two glimmers in front and two behind, it was the royal guards who were sent to the inn, returning with people in tow.
The high priest smile at the sight of newcomers coming closer knowing who they were.
*CREAKING OF WOOD.*
Hurried footsteps creeped up the wooden stairs to the top of the podium. They were heading directly towards the priest, who was still gazing over at the group with scrupulous eyes the n to the people beckoning for him below.
A slim female guard was now standing behind the small pudgy man began to lean in, carefully covering her lips from the crowd's sight with her hand, and a faint whisper wafted into the priest's left ear. A thin grin appeared, then faded before anyone could see it from below. As the old, chubby man turned to meet the guard's eyes, the long robes ruffled on the wood.
Brucknell: You have done well, my child. (Putting his hands on her head.) I shall reward you for your dedication to the "Luminar" and our "Lord" 'Softly.' Come here and feel the embrace of God bestow upon you.
Two wrinkled hands grasped the guard's head, and the priest gazed deeply into the wide eyes as he recited three words three times.
Brucknell: "Ver dioll, lumar, ver dioll, lumar... VER DIOLL, LUMAR." 'Quietness growing to a shout.'
Rough skin caressed the gingerly long hair as the three words crept out, still holding the woman in place with a comforting embrace, the people below hearing the new commotion and light shine out from above.
A soft kiss landed on the young forehead as the priest lent in. Brucknell's right hand emitted a faint, sputtering amber glow that gradually faded, emanating from a golden ring that adorned an orange gemstone, flicking back onto the tower, washing away the shadow for a brief moment.
The woman let out a soft smile and fell to both knees, holding her hands together, feeling the comfort and strength flow through her body as a tear rolled down her cheek. People below mumbled and erupted into muttering conversations about the glow as they took in the sight.
Villager 1: Did you see the holy light, I wonder what she got! 'In awe.' To be blessed by the high priest himself. (Gripping the necklace on her chest.) "Luminarum, LUMINARUM."
Another villager spoke up, basking in the fringes of the light.
Villager 2: I feel it, I feel the essence of the Luminar. Praise the Luminarum! Praise the Luminarum! 'Forceful.'
The priest turned back to the crowd and beckoned for the watching eyes' attention and for silence, as he made his way past the kneeling guard basking in the comfort of her deeds coming to fruition, he turned to crowd and spoke, moving as he talked.
Brucknell: For all those that walk the path of the righteous shall receive enlightenment. Just like this loyal acolyte of "God" and our "Lord." 'Riled.' And all those who do not shall feel his wrath! (Heading down the stairs.) "For the Lord's work is never truly done..."
The priest clicked his thick fingers, signalling to the guards, followers, and a small figure waiting at the bottom of the podium, all of them looking up, but the little form. Brucknell shuffled down the wooden steps, making his way to the coming royal guards with their prize in hand.
At the rear of the oncoming group, standing behind the royal guard, Gonf looked at the priest through the gap between Magio and the four little adventurers in front, staying close to the woman.
Just barely hearing the last of the words of the hight priests little sermon.
Gonf: (In his head.) Dejavu...
The two groups moved towards each other... one of faith and one of steel.