Chapter 6: Of mice and men, and of the men who eat the mice

A chill morning wind brushed against the grass, so Lumière pulled the collar of his coat over his neck, pressing it against his pale cheek.

After a short walk across the hillside, he stood before a tall man with long white hair that fell down his shoulders. He wore a black long coat of the same fashion as Lumière's, with white robes tucked carefully underneath. Around his neck, he wore an iron pendant given to each priest by the council of the holy church- a crown of thorns, representing the Goddess of Thorns.

Although, unlike other priests who preached their words around the city-state of Leiden, Father Benedict was not old and pale-skinned, covered in wrinkles, and frail. His skin was clear and silky, and he could still move about well. It was because the priest, Father Ainsworth Benedict, was nearly the same age as Lumière, somewhere around twenty-six. Not that Lumière could remember his exact age.

While they had grown up together, and despite Lumière having kept a close eye on his life, he did not know exactly how Ainsworth had become a priest at such a young age. He wondered if it was some sentiment of the church to retain their family's control over the monastery on Cobbler's street, Ainsworth's father having been the previous head priest.

Still, Lumière treated his ordained title with a modicum of respect. Even if they were friends, it was something Ainsworth poured the whole of his heart into, and Lumière would never choose to demean that.

"Father Benedict," Lumière spoke with a gentle tone of voice, trying desperately to stave off the yawn that hung upon his lips. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Lumière." Father Benedict spoke in return. "Are you feeling all right now?"

"All right…?" Lumière responded sheepishly as he ruffled a hand through his messed hair, "What do you mean-"

His words were cut short.

Suddenly, his mind flashed with images grey in colour, as if he was watching the scenery of his life's events one by one. Familiar whispers resounded in his mind, booming in the distance with a veracity that made his ears want to bleed simply to drown out the noise. In the distance, he swore he could see himself, cloaked in a coat made of midnight-black feathers, with hair as black as shadow, and a sinister grin on his face.

His brain shook vigorously, and for a moment, he seemed frozen in place.

As the whispers faded away into the distance, and colour returned to his vision, he looked back towards Father Benedict and smiled softly.

"Yes, I'm doing fine, Father Benedict."

Such was the spun tale of a liar.

'Am I hallucinating still, or is this one of the costs of the Lord Sinner's power? Have I become a crazed person overnight? I'll have to remember to ask Thomas Hawthorne about it when he returns.'

"You terrified us last night, fainting in the hallway." The Father shook his head. "Honestly, I can't tell whether you're ill, or a fool sometimes. We were barely able to get you into bed."

Lumière took a seat beside the Father in the grass, his mind filled with countless thoughts that seemed to weave over one another, like a haze that obscured his rationality.

Still spooning warm porridge into the shakily extended wooden bowls of those that had gathered, Father Benedict turned towards him.

"It's a wonder that we can give out so much kindness to this world, isn't it, my friend?" Father Benedict spoke exuberantly. "It's all thanks to you and your hard work."

"This is the world of the Goddess…?" Lumière spoke grudgingly, staring at the hillside with sleepy eyes where many had gathered just to receive a singular meal within their day. It was the only one that was somewhat guaranteed to them, all because of the Father's kindness, and because Lumière had sought employment for that purpose. He wondered often why the greater Orthodoxy didn't support the endeavours of the monastery's in the lower borough, of which there was several.

He had come to the conclusion that the benevolence they preached as will of the Goddess of Thorns was not benevolence related to kindness. The Goddess only cared that people were alive, and not necessarily that their lives were pleasant.

"The sun still shines, doesn't it, Lumière?" Father Benedict smiled. "Isn't this the beauty of the Goddess's work? There's only so much she can do, I'm sure… that's why she's allowed us to be so charitable, with what little we have ourselves."

"If I chop the hands off of a man, and give him a slice of cake, how will he eat it?"

The Father looked at Lumière with a confused expression, and noticing this, Lumière bit at his lip as he spoke once more.

"The aggrieved… how can they afford space in their hearts to enjoy the sun, when their world is already this cruel?" Lumière said in a harsh tone of voice.

"Perhaps that is our test, Lumière." Father Benedict spoke with furrowed eyes, setting down the ladle as he paid full attention to the magician. "Why do you feel we're so entitled to an easy life?"

"I don't think it to be simple entitlement, but we revere the Goddess so much, for what little we've been given… why is it up to us to uplift our people? Why does the Goddess do nothing to help?"

Father Benedict remained silent.

'Should we be so satisfied with 'more than nothing'?'

'As for the Dwindlers…' Lumière thought as he turned his attention towards those who had gathered upon the hillside.

"They spend their whole lives outside… don't you think that for once, they would like to enjoy their breakfast inside?" Lumière asked of him.

"If so many people were to eat inside at the same time, the monastery would very quickly start to smell of porridge, wouldn't it?" Father Benedict laughed suddenly, his mood shifting. "Such a thing… is it really that befitting of the Goddess's status? Moreover, can we even fit them all?"

He looked a little dejected as he spoke.

'So even you have your boundaries, you holy bastard…' Lumiere sighed inwardly.

Since the blood-red sun had come up, out of their burrows and hiding places, many creatures ran about on the hillside. Most of them were mice, ones likely carrying disease and plague that would bring about sickness in any who interacted with them. They were disdainful, but in Lumière's heart, as long as they kept a distance, they were slightly adorable.

'It's animals alone that can move my heart, but why must they stay so close to me…?' He lampooned within his thoughts as he moved his feet about to avoid the scurrying creatures.

"There are so many mice around here…" Lumière groaned as he shook off the furry creature that tried desperately to climb up his boot.

"Perhaps we should start eating them as well." Father Benedict laughed jokingly.

"We eat them." A man said suddenly, appearing behind the two.

There was a sudden chill on the back of Lumière's neck- as if the rain-bitten air had grown a frosty attitude. All the hairs on his arms stood up, and he could feel as if there was an astute danger present behind him.

As Lumière and Father Benedict turned around, they met the sight of a man cloaked completely in black, as if the sun was an enemy he tried desperately to hide himself from. He towered over them, seemingly twice as tall as they were sitting down, and the eyes he peered down upon them with were blood red, almost glowing like the crimson sun.

"And you don't get sick?" Lumière spoke sheepishly, trying to keep a friendly demeanour between himself and the man while he tried to accurately measure his intentions.

"If we don't get sick from eating them, then it is a good day." The man spoke once more. His tone was gravelly and still, unwavering in its monotone fashion. "In that place, dying of sickness is also a good day."

"Then why eat them if there's such a risk?" Lumière spoke, already knowing of the answer.

'And by 'place', does he mean Etten-leur? If he speaks like that, then perhaps he's from the quarantine zone?'

"The alternative is starving." The cloaked man shook his head.

"Are you here for a warm meal?" The Father asked of him suddenly. "Or, is it another matter you wish to levy?"

The blood-red eyes that peered from underneath the cowl seemed to shimmer with confusion at his question.

"Why am I here…?" The man murmured. "Why… why am I here…?"

Suddenly, Lumière felt his heart drop. Staring at the man, he froze. Within the depths of the man's heart, he could sense a glimmer, but also a darkness. It was a shining star of terror, of true despair. Lumière's hand navigated towards his back pocket. He had seen something akin to it only once before.

He had seen that sight of fear when fighting the human amalgamation.

The placed a hand suddenly against his head, as if pain rang out intensely within his mind. His steps staggered, and Lumière shot up suddenly to support the man so he would not fall to the ground. His body closed the distance between Father Benedict and the hooded man, in case anything were to occur.

After a short time, the man shook off Lumière's grasp and then bowed to him as if to thank him. The darkness emanating from his chest gradually began to dissipate, as if the man no longer felt fear. It looked as if he had returned to normal in an instant.

"Sorry, I've suddenly remembered something. I have to go. Thank you for your help." The man spoke as he bowed.

Immediately after, he adjourned from the hillside and disappeared into the lonely and silent cobblers street. Lumière watched him with worried eyes as he went.

'He reminded me of that beast, but he didn't look particularly strange… why are these strange occurrences following me? Is this another cost of having entered the world of magic? Will Father Benedict and Sister Alinde be in danger because of me? I'll have to keep an eye out in the future… this really is troublesome.'

The man's words reminded Lumière of something suddenly.

'Ah, it's about time, isn't it?' Lumière thought suddenly, his eyes widening. 'There aren't many clocks outside around here, so I didn't even think of paying attention to the time… I'm going to be late.'

"I have to go, Father Benedict." Lumière smiled, turning towards the priest as he spoke. "I won't be back before sunset, so don't feel the need to wait for my return."

"I'll always pray to the Goddess for your safe return, so I need not wait idly for such a thing." The Father spoke in return assuredly.

Although, it all but assured Lumière, whose belief had waned in recent years. So, steeling his heart towards the world, he stepped away from the hillside, his long coat fluttering in the morning wind as he confronted life with a stern expression.