In truth there is fear

Perses tread the ambient, luxurious halls of the cathedral anxiously. Rather than consider the place something like home, it now resonated with him as a sort of battleground. The excessive warnings from the swordmaster had bore down on Perse's mind, making his steps heavy.

A pair of young handmaids delicately strode past Perses, sharing beautiful, undaunted smiles with him. Only today did he notice the eerie simplicity of their enthralling smiles as their movements were oddly synchronised.

Perses had been observant from the moment he awoke, but only now, with his guard up and armed with a greater pool of experience, did he feel strangely disturbed by their presence. As he wandered the hall, he was often met with the same scenario: pairs of kind, alluring and focused handmaids would greet him before returning to their duties shortly.

'Only pairs'

Perses had recognised the pattern. It didn't matter how hard he reflected on his memories so far. He could not determine a single instance the handmaids had left the side of another, nor had he seen them in larger groups.

'Must just be a rule or something for handmaids. I'm sure Machia would have an answer.'

On some strange instinct, Perses turned back around suddenly. The handmaids that had passed him before... They had stopped.

The handmaids had turned around. There, they watched him from the most distant part of the hallway. Their stares bore no malice, no hatred or frustration. There was nothing insidious about their actions. They even looked to share a few words with each other, followed by elegant, modest laughter.

All things considered, they were the spitting image of what maids should be.

'Huh'

Convinced of their innocence, Perses turned to leave, but then he stopped. He waited, then waited some more. Like a statue, Perses stood in the centre of the hallway with bizarre diligence. Perse's patience only amounted to around a painstaking 5 minutes, but he was gratefully rewarded.

Turning back, he realised it, the handmaids, they had not moved. They stood there communicating with each other, and neither showed any sign of distress, concern or even interest in Perses; however, they remained.

Finally breaking the stalemate, they turned and left down a different corridor. Perses breathed a sigh of relief. He had attempted to act as Machia might have and tried to grasp the whole picture by focusing on the little details. Alas, he had wasted his time. He wasn't Machia, after all. He could only think about things with a certain level of nuance.

It was only then that his deprecating thoughts vanished. A new pair of handmaids entered the hallway right in front of Perses. The gazes they cast and the greetings they shared remained uninfluenced by Perse's strange, frozen stance.

'Weird.'

With a slight sweat forming on his head, he humoured himself. Walking past them, he lightly shouldered into one of the handmaids. Even without his strength, the handmaid's gentle, thin, feminine build was pushed back a little as they collided.

Recoiling back with a slight shock, the handmaid showed a surprised expression. Her face was both innocent and pretty by this world's standard, and her loose clothing modestly hid any other aspects of her figure.

"Ah, I'm sorry, that was my bad."

As if awoken from a stupor, the girl blinked tiredly before blushing, slightly embarrassed.

"Oh my, how clumsy of me, really I'm very sorry I was merely a little tired. I suppose I wasn't watching where I was going."

Perses eyed her curiously. Her attitude breathed life into her figure as she smiled kindly at him and bowed her head ever so slightly. The little idiosyncrasies were not missed by Perses as he began to relax his guard.

'So then they're just very professional? I guess. Maybe they work harder than they look. Maybe that makes tiredness common among the maids. That would explain it.'

Choosing to drop his sceptical thoughts, he couldn't help but wish to engage with the endearing maid longer.

"It's no problem really, I'm quite clumsy myself, always doing this kind of thing, really you must allow me to apologise".

'Huh, don't I kind of sound like Machia right now? Where'd I learn to talk like that?'

"Always, aha, that sounds quite like myself. I suppose we may have a few things in common."

The maid was smiling at him keenly. Only now did he notice she was particularly young, possibly even his own age. Intrigued by the conversation, Perses thought about how to pursue it further. Perses tilted his head at the girl as they held extended eye contact.

"How old are you, by the way?"

The second handmaid's jaw dropped in shock as she looked at Perses with bewilderment. Just a moment ago, she had not even turned to look at Perses once. Yet again, as if awoken, she blinked profusely. Completely disregarding what could have upset the maid, he contemplated deeply. His guard was raised once again.

Doing his best not to arouse their suspicion, he turned back to the smaller younger handmaid, who was chuckling lightly as she covered her mouth with a single hand.

"Ehehe, how about you tell me your age first, and your name too. Does that sound like a good deal?"

The handmaid sent her partner a disapproving gaze, no longer simply zoning out like before.

"I don't kno-, I mean... I'm 16, and my name is Perses."

Choosing to hide his identity as blessed, he lied and guessed his age roughly.

"Only 16. Oh my, I thought you were a little older. That's too bad. I'm 18 myself, in case you were curious, Perses." The maid revealed a gentle but especially vibrant smile that she chose to share with him. However, she stopped.

"Sorry. You must excuse us. Perses. We need to." As if perplexed herself, the handmaid looked up thoughtfully without realising she was speaking out loud.

"That's right, we must continue. Continue our duties, Mrs Amy."

"Duty. Yes, of course, Mrs Andrea. Ah Perses, it was nice-". Just like that, the girl stopped talking all of a sudden and began to walk alongside her partner back down the hallway. Perses was slightly reluctant to see her go but turned to watch her leave anxiously.

But they did not. At the end of the hallway, the pair of handmaids stopped. They stopped, and then they turned and stood. They watched Perses from down the corridor with gentle, kind smiles. But their eyes, he could tell their eyes failed to recognise anything at all.

Overcome with an insatiable unease, Perses backed away from the distant duo with unfounded horror as they stared at him, but they failed to elicit any expression at his actions. Sweat dripped across his forehead again. Reluctantly, he turned away from the duo. He could have chosen to interact with them again to see what had happened to them, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Their undaunting eyes watched him leave with hollow indifference.

'I'm not sure I can stay here anymore. Being here, it's just eerie. There's only one person left to turn to.'

Perses finally arrived at his destination. In truth, he had avoided arriving here any earlier, but this had been his goal from the start. Where else would the man be residing other than the cathedral's most oversized, most intimidating door. The giant dark wooden door the size of a typical cathedral hallway loomed over Perses. Its dark brown edges had been covered by a pristine white layer of paint that hid the door's intimidating structure, albeit to a limited degree.

The anticipation of his battle with Mars and the unease stemming from his interactions with the handmaids merged to create the challenge before him.

Biting down, he reached out a hand.

The doors opened with surprising ease as Perses was decorated in the hall's ambient light. Blinded by it, Perses covered his eyes as a figure stood centrally on the stage. His luxurious, holy garments and gentle composure made it obvious as to who stood on the stage.

Below him, rows of men, women, and children sat idly infatuated by the man decorated with light. The audience leaned forward from their seats as if hoping to share and bask in the warmth of the light. Totally enamoured, they failed to notice Perse's entrance in the slightest.

Rather than stop or address Perses, the man continued his sermon with invigorated passion as he delivered his words with booming confidence. The shrewd, gentle man Perses was used to had been replaced by a passionate, gleeful priest. The kindness he attempted to share with those of his audience was unmistakable and could be interpreted from his every word.

With a flawless movement, he gestured for Perses to take a seat without anyone noticing. Perses was not used to being treated ordinarily, which was why he could say for certain that the man in front truly saw all of them as such. 

"God made all peoples in God's image."

Taking his seat away from the other audience members, it seemed his sermon had ended, and with it, the shared consciousness of the audience fell through as they sat back in their chairs, satiated.

"Now I shall tell you a story, rather than one of god, I will teach you of a fascinating human endeavour. The story of Icarus."