8 Church of Arkantorx

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Munkheim

He didn't have much time until the ceremony. Three minutes to be exact, until the sixteenth hourglass would be empty. Within the next two minutes, the guards would step through the door of his room, escorting him to the location of the ceremony, which was really only another ten meters from where he already was. What could even happen on these ten meters? Absurd. Carmen sighed, as he pulled tight the last strap of his undergarment, before throwing his coat around his narrow shoulders. It's been too long since the last time he was given the freedom to train or act as he wished, locked inside this little room inside the large chapel of Munkheim. He had never liked this city, not like he has had much time to observe it lately, but its dim atmosphere and religious focus were a painful sight to his tired eyes. The idea, that that entire city relied on none other than himself, was not of help in fixing their relationship. He sighed again, this time heavier, closing his eyes, as he lifted the dead, preserved bird from a shelf onto his shoulder, letting it slide onto his back until he reached it with his hand, stabilizing the stuffed animal's head on his left shoulder, while a grey feathered wing reached out high above his right. "Mighty ugly bird" was what his friend Brandon had dubbed the dead aves, the unliving being perceived as the voice of god, Arkantorx. Just as he managed to grab the thread sticking out of the animal's tail, the old wooden door opened with the unpleasant sound of scratching over the dusty stone floor, which was cold, as Carmen stood up from his chair, staring the two guards at his door in the eyes. New faces. So it has been time again. He would bet that his last two guards couldn't have waited to escape from the hell that was his home.

Carmen followed the two dutiful mercenaries along the short hallway, slowly, making sure the bird remained tuck on his back as he intended it to. At the end of the few meter long cold corridor, an opening to the left appeared, leading into a large decorated hall. It was almost unbelievable that his room and the ceremonial hall were in the same building, as they could not have been more different. The one tiny, dark, dusted and made of wood and stone, the other tall and wide, brightly polished marble and gold on the walls, ceiling and floor. Just one thing they both had in common: the almost absolute silence. His escort stepped into the hall, each step echoing of the walls, which also reflected the bright beams of light, which slipped in through the multitude of small windows in the roof, effectively illuminating the entire hall at this hour of day. A loud deep voice was sent through the hall, as Carmen made his first step onto the marble floor, his bare feet immediately feeling the difference in ground, the only difference that his life in this chapel allowed him to feel. "The High Priest of Arkantorx!" Not shifting his head, he noticed over a hundred men raising from the banks in unison, standing still and upright, their eyes only on him and the dead bird on his shoulder. He was used to this procedure and his routine went smoothly, as he sat down on a seat decorated with grey and white feathers, "the feather throne", a smile almost slipped onto his face, but he managed to suppress it in time. These people weren't used to see emotions from him, for them he was nothing but a puppet of their god, a mere catalyst of communication. He wasn't even expected to talk, he was just the carrier of the bird, the carrier of the voice of Arkantorx, the chosen one. He cringed innerly.

A raised hand by his announcer, who now returned to the rows of men, and the masses sat down on the beautifully crafted marble banks decorated with wooden carvings resembling the winged animal Carmen was holding behind his back. A few moments of intense silence passed, a hundred pairs of eyes still resting on his slim figure looking weirdly misplaced on the throne of feathers, until a man in in golden armor raised from his seat in the front row. The heavy helmet in one hand, chains of golden light running from shoulder to shoulder and along his thickly protected arms. High General Robert Manntien, Carmen recalled, the leader of the army sitting in the hall before him, the Band of the Holy Chain. The High Priest looked past the general, scanning through the first row until he had found the face he was looking for. Brandon, his body also covered in the shiny armor of a general. Brandon, the bear, second in command of the Band of the Holy Chain. Brandon, Carmen's only friend. His face was frozen, static and cold, after all there was no reason to risk making their affiliation public. Carmen wasn't supposed to have friends.

The large man was now standing only a few meters from Carmen's seat. He felt as if the High General was trying to get closer to him with every ceremony, but today wasn't the right day to put a halt to it, today the main forces of the Holy Chain would set out for battle, today they needed his favor more than anything.

"Oh, god of the world; lord of the skies; ruler of lands; oh Arkantorx!", Manntien raised his voice in reverence of the dead bird on Carmen's shoulder. He dropped to his knees, the metal plates clattering on the hard ground, as suddenly every single man in the hall sunk to his knees in unity, filling the room with the sounds of armor momentarily, before silence returned in the large hall, and Manntien dared to raise his eyes and voice again. "Oh, Arkantorx! Lend us your strength in our moment of weakness. Lend us courage in our moment of fear. Lend us your power to vanquish the impious foe before us. Lend us your will to bestow your divinity over the land once again. Oh Arkantorx!" The man of roughly forty years of age almost screamed out, his voice cracking as he cried to his god, while Carmen sat unimpressed by the man's begging, having heard it many times in the past.

The bird on his shoulder slowly opened its beak, as a quiet deep voice emerged from the feathery throne. "Once again you ask for my favor." Carmen noticed a few surprised gasps in the rows of armored men, new souls lost to the deceit of Arkantorx. He felt terrible at the thought, but he had no choice, this life was forced upon him and there was no way to get out of it now without causing major damage to thousands of people all over Atura. The High Priest shook off the thought, and the dead aves began again. "My strength shall always be with you, my children, warriors of the Holy Chain. Believe and power shall flow through your body, believe and it will defeat your enemy, believe and be my champion in the battle before you!" The bird made a short weak screeching sound, resembling the noise of a much smaller bird, before Carmen suddenly coughed up, the bird almost dropping off his shoulder. He felt the hundred frightened pairs of eyes that were filled with wonder and devotion just a second ago, as the stuffed animal slid back into a stable position.

"Lies", a quiet voice arose from the rows, before turning into a shout, "you are a liar! That isn't Arkantorx speaking!"

Manntien furiously turned around, his belief unbreakable. "Who said that?!", he yelled over the heads of the men, "Get that infidel before me!"

A sudden panic broke out in the row the voice had emerged from, as armored men began to pull on one of the soldiers. A young, slim adolescent, likely to not even have reached his twenties, was suddenly thrown into the aisle of the large hall, while his comrades glared at their foolish newling fearfully, afraid of what were to happen next. The general emerged tall before his men, his golden armor raising him higher and forcing the eyes of his retinue down, as he stepped through the aisle with heavy feet, the young soldier cowering before him with wide eyes and a regretful realization on his face.

Carmen hid his eyes in shame and frighten, a shadow lying deep over his face, as he once again deepened his hatred for this life and feared for that of the young soldier. And with him the bird on his shoulder stood silent, while Manntien grabbed the little man by the shoulder and forced him onto his feet. Why, Carmen cried inside, why did he have to have a cough at exactly that moment? Why did the boy decide to blur out what probably a few had thought at the moment of his mistake? One more would be punished for the lie forced upon Carmen and the deception that had these people in its spell.

Manntien drew his sword, a beautiful one-hander with a long straight blade, engraved with the blessing words of Arkantorx, before looking down upon the desperate boy, too frightened to escape from his superior's grasp. Carmen closed his eyes, as the blade rushed through the young boy's chest, before the general spoke: "You have done wrong, boy, unworthy of Arkantorx' favour, I free you from your service." His sword was pulled back, unleashing a flood of blood streaming onto the marble floor, as the soldier dropped to the ground, lifeless.

The rest of the mess flew by Carmen in a blur, while his sermon praised the fanatical murderer in shiny armor before him.