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   Chapter 138 No.138

The WeatherMaker - Prince of Light By Lady Lilium Characters: 4900

Updated: 2018-07-11 12:03

Cam watched her mutely, hesitating. Then he turned to face her properly, straightening up.

Valery watched him as he stepped closer to her, placing his hands gently upon her shoulders.

Behind her, Plum watched as Cam leant closer to her. Valery raised her chin slightly, and Cam's lips touched hers gently as he kissed her.

Around them, the corridors were silent and still, nothing moved.

Cam leant back then, straightening up and taking his hands off her shoulders.

She smiled up to him.

'I think' she spoke slowly, 'that I will be happy with you.'

A few days passed, and Cam and Valery spent every moment together. They used what little time they had to get to know one another as best they could. Valery was even beginning to smile, as she became more comfortable in her surroundings. And Cam in turn, felt the same way. The memory or Brioke was only a faint one now, having not seen nor heard a whisper from him in days. Not since that day. That day he had fallen from the balcony.

Cam took it as a sign, a positive one, and he was pleased to see when he looked in the mirror in the mornings, that his injuries, over time, were slowly beginning to heal.

And Cam, was happy, despite his mounting nerves.

'The wedding is tomorrow' Valery had said to him. 'It's so soon now.'

Cam glanced nervously at her, before looking away again.

'Yes' he mumbled under his breath, '…it's so soon……'

It had been crowded in the temple on this day. People flocked now to hear the holy men preach, and came more often to worship.

'This is excellent' the holy man named Fulcrim spoke, 'really really excellent.'

He stood at the head of the temple now, watching as the crowd filed out of the large hall through the small double doors. It took several minutes for them all to leave, only when they had all gone and the hall was silent, did Fulcrim speak again.

'I am very pleased. Never before have we had such a turnout.'

The figure beside him began to fidget then, shuffling his feet and casting his eyes to the ground.

'Do you think it's right though?'

'What do you mean Theat?' Fulcrim asked, a flicker of annoyance crossing his brow.

'Don't you worry that they only worship out of fear?' the younger holy man asked. 'Is it right to do things in such a way?'

'A shepherd needs to protect his flock' Fulcrim replied turning to the apprentice, 'even if he must be harsh in doing so. The people need a firm

hand; we are here to guide them after all. They need us.'

'I understand' Theat bowed.

Fulcrim nodded distractedly. He spoke, addressing the three figures standing in a row nearby.

'You may go now' he said to them. 'Return to your lessons and do whatever you must.'

The three figures, all young men bowed, placing the things they had been carrying upon the altar beside them. A thurible, a metal censer suspended from chains in which incense was burned, a shallow bowl of water, in which the sinful were purified, and a burning candle made of black wax, to symbolise the fire the unholy were burned in, the heathens, whores, betrayers, the gypsies, the disfigured and disabled, anyone who deviated from the 'norm'.

These three figures were young men in training, one day they may hold sermons of their own, one day they would be doing what Theat was doing now, an apprentice, and a personal favourite of one of the graduated holy men. Not everyone would be so lucky. When Fulcrim died, Theat would inherit everything, all his wealth, all his followers, his status, perhaps even the temple itself, his home, even his wife and if they were below a certain age, his children too.

Theat watched the three younger men hurry away, one of them cast him a glance as he went, and Theat saw the resentment in his eyes. Many would do almost anything to be where Theat was now, personally chosen by Fulcrim, the highest ranking holy man in the kingdom. Theat's future was a safe one. No matter what happened from now, Theat was guaranteed to live well and be rich. His future was set, and one day people would answer to him, one day people would worship him, almost as much as they did the gods themselves.

Fulcrim sighed wearily, running his hands through his thinning hair.

'Come Theat' he said to the young man. 'Let's go to The Back.'

The Back were the quarters of the temple where only the holy figures were allowed to go. It was where the meetings were held, lessons were taught, and where the holy figures relaxed when they were not preaching. They were comfortable quarters, with no expense spared. Many often said they were as beautiful and grand as the rooms of the palace itself.

'That's better' Fulcrim sighed again a short while later, closing the door after him and turning back to Theat who waited silently. 'That was exhausting.'

He moved across the short hall and into the next room, his own personal office.

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