Between Lord Harrison, his grandson Marcus, and the carpenter, we had managed to finish the final touches a day before John’s first service. Nostalgia bit at my heart and soul seeing the fabric from my childhood hanging from the walls, competing for attention with the stain glass windows. I smiled, knowing both had been picked by my father and would catch his attention. As for the complication of keeping myself hidden from him, I had consulted Madame Plasket. She gave me some attire fitting for an assassin and a jeweled masquerade mask. It reminded me of the one I had dropped when I left Glensdale.

The black leather armor and heavy hooded cloak over my large frame made me a menacing figure. I didn’t care for the limited view through the mask, but it didn’t matter since I was putting on air as John’s personal bodyguard. No one would question it, not with the unspoken past involving Glensdale’s missing priests. Combined with the Lord Knight’s broadsword and sheath at my hip, there was an ambience building, making me higher rank than John. I stalked his heel like an obedient hound as the doors opened. The building rumbled with chatter and resonating whispers filled with garbled compliments on how gorgeous the remodel had been in such short notice.

Wagons were pouring in, and I was thankful John had heeded my advice to reserve the first two pews for high ranking individuals of thirteen-knots or higher. The first to claim these seats was Duke and Duchess Chapman, both eager to shake our hands and satisfy their curiosity to see the new priest, their prince’s keeper. The rows of pews were filling fast, many of them nobility looking for an excuse to dress in lavish attire outside of the usual ball. The crowd coming through the door was starting to thin and I rolled my shoulders, growing bored of the honeyed words each person offered John at the pulpit. In the past, it had been me shaking those same hands and receiving empty words of praise.

The banter came to a hair-raising silence as Viceroy Falco walked through the open doors. A woman shaking John’s hand left to sit, making the air grow cold around us. The sunlight pouring in did nothing to break the dark aura Falco carried into the church and down the aisle. Eyes avoided looking his way, afraid to draw his attention. He had started with a wide grin, but with each step, each glance, his grin fell further into a scowl. We had managed to do more work, with more materials than he had given us money for, and he was losing his first round of this game he had set in motion. John was beaming to see Falco falter.

“I’m so happy to see you made it, Viceroy Falco.” John bowed his head, his blue stare unafraid of the disdain dripping from Falco’s glare. “Is King Traibon still attending?”

“Where did you find the extra coin for this?” He wasted no time as he waved an arm around the church. He was aiming to crucify John publicly in front of his potential flock. “This pattern is pricey, the new pews, the runners, all of this and the horse are more than what I gave you. Are you stealing from my people or swindling folks for charitable donations already, Father John?”

John stood tall, back straight with a sheepish expression. “My dear Viceroy, you must know I have my own means of making money and trades. I started my life as an honest farmer, you know. Right here in this city, in fact. Not to mention, it wasn’t just you who wanted to donate to the church.” Duke Chapman paled overhearing this, letting John know he may have said too much if he intended to reveal who had aided him. “The Church wants to pour forth all the funding it can to make things right in Glensdale. It takes money, and your charity wasn’t wasted, I assure you. My superiors in Captiva City had sent me here with a generous amount, surely Bishop Marquis told you? Or could it be he didn’t know this either? Strange, I’m sorry I hadn’t shared this with you in our previous discussions.”

A hand on my sheath, I shifted in silence. Duke Chapman sighed, John had redirected Falco’s rage towards The Church and not those who had traded and worked with us. For the first time, Falco’s face was red with anger and I wished he could see the smile on my face. I bit my lip, resisting the urge to laugh and my eyebrows raised high.

Wow, I’m rather jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone but my own father spin him around in a game of words.

“And this, hired help?” He lifted an eyebrow, his chin pointing behind him and at me. “Or a dancer in costume?”

“No offense, but not many priests have survived their first sermon, or so the rumor goes.” I pulled my hand to the hilt and tightened my grip with John’s words, biting my tongue. “Besides, I’m sad to see Bishop Marquis isn’t here. I thought he would attend and come with you, he spoke fondly of you.”

“Yes, perhaps he didn’t realize you would be hosting a sermon so soon. Was he not here a week ago to scorch The Church’s mark into your flesh?” Sneering, Falco parried with John’s words, trying to regain control of the conversation. “I’m sure he had more important matters to attend to at this time.”

“I see, the Marquis and you must be really close.” John lifted both eyebrows, his hands motioning an invisible offering between them. “He must have forgotten it’s forbidden to speak of the ritual to anyone, but I suppose I can let this one slide.”

Falco flinched, his face becoming red once more before growling, “I look forward to seeing how today’s service goes.”

Trumpets were blaring outside, causing everyone to turn to the doors. A lustrous blue and gold carriage pulled to a stop. Everyone sat, lowering their heads and awaited the new visitor. They did this with precision, as if something they had all been trained to do in the presence of certain company. Tugging John’s coat, he followed my lead as we both knelt on the pulpit. He gave me a quick look, confused and unsure what was unfolding. Men and women in bright knight’s regale poured in, a menacing yet beautiful display of guards blooming before us and filling the aisle all the way to where we knelt.

Whispering over his shoulder, I answered, “King Traibon is here.”

Glancing over to Viceroy Falco, his expression told me my father wasn’t supposed to be here. Grimacing, I could only wonder if news had reached him that his son was alive or even the fact, I was a servant to a priest. My heart beat loud, my palms sweaty, I’m not ready for my time with John to end here like this. The carriage door opened and out came my father. I remembered him being taller, but I had been shorter the last we stood facing each other. His eyes sunken and dark, leaning on an elegant cane, his frame seemed so frail. He had rotted away in my absence and a sharp pain stabbed at my chest. His once snow-white complexion looked jaundice even in the bright sunlight. An attendant held his free arm as he took his time walking down the aisle.

Eyes wide, King Traibon took in the fabric and gave it a toothy grin, his fangs still large and sharp. He recognized it and giggled, whispering into the attendant’s ear who nodded and smiled with him. I could hear him mumbling, his voice still deep as ever like a lion’s roar. Madame Plasket hadn’t lied. He looked like he was dying, and that was unnatural for any daemon unless they were being poisoned. Again, I bit my tongue and thankful my grimace was hidden behind the mask I wore. King Traibon had made it to the front of the pulpit where he inhaled deep and took one last look around before speaking.

“Thank you, Father John.” He motioned, giving John permission to stand. “I found your letter refreshing and I couldn’t resist the invitation.”

Viceroy Falco and myself both paled. My mind spun into a panic.

When did John send a letter? How did he get it to my father without Falco snatching it up? What on earth had he written to my father to bring him from his bed, sickly as he seemed, and come here today for a sermon? Oh no, he wouldn’t dare have told him about me, would he?

“It’s a great honor to see you in person, King Traibon.” John bowed once more, smiling. “I was so afraid your health would keep you. Please, sit and rest well. I pray you enjoy my sermon.”

My father gestured for John to take control of his church. He bowed again to the King, and I stood at his heel where I stiffened, unsure of where to go and what to do. Every fiber wanted to hide, to be out of sight. My father was staring at me, making me shift. There was a familiar sparkle to his eye, one that made me feel like a kid again as I shuddered.

You always knew what I’d done before I could confess. What do you know about me? About John? Are you here to take me back?

“Thank you all for joining me today.” John’s eyes sparkled as he scanned over his audience and the next step in his dream came to life. “The Church has always wanted to spread its warmth to Glensdale, and I am blessed that Glensdale, alongside its King and Viceroy, have been great supporters in helping me regain this lost treasure on their behalf.” He motioned to the span of the church and many murmured in agreement. “I hope this is the start of a long-standing friendship between us in a time where war is slowing, and lives are so precious.”

As the sermon started, I scanned the room, but always came back to hopping between Falco and my father. I was grinning, watching Viceroy Falco grow sicker by the second. Then I would falter, a swell rolling in my chest as I returned to King Traibon. As much as I wanted to bring my father the cure in my satchel, the guards would run me through by the guards.

“Let me start by introducing myself.” John’s voice filled the room and all eyes were locked on him. “I am Father John Thompson. Like so many here, I lost my family to the war, and moreover, to the Madness. Priests of The Church are sworn to preach peace, to encourage a cure, to fight back this plague. I was fortunate to have a surviving family member who took me in and gave my childhood and my life a second chance. It was in this moment that I wanted to make a difference in the world, to stop others from being devoured by this plague and here I am before you to fulfill this dream, this passion.” He didn’t just stand behind the pew but paced back and forth on the pulpit. At times he raised his voice, making the bodies jolt in unison. “Glensdale! The world doesn’t know how kind and beautiful you truly are. I know different, I’ve always known different. Yet, we also know it is here that the birth and creation of the Madness comes from those who are bloodeaters. It is not my intent to condemn those who live this way. Nowhere do you see this rampant in your streets or ravaging your lands. So, I am here to plead for you to not be hateful, to not use your curse to ravage those who may stand against you. The Madness doesn’t discriminate. It kills daemon and human alike; fathers, mothers, children; the Church, the Court, the Tower, the House. It doesn’t choose sides once let loose. Like a rabid dog, it will turn and bite its owner if not put down swiftly.”

Many shifted in their seats and I swallowed, how brave you are at times, John. Do you intend to piss the entire city off? Worse, every bloodeater here who sees you as a hors d’oeuvre. Why not flat out scream FALCO IS TO BLAME and save us the shenanigans. Granted, the old man would have been howling in the back slapping his knee over this one.

“Bless you! Bless those who are willing to do anything to protect who they love, even drink from the blood of their enemies. The Church’s, no, my wish is to see you take heed, take great care in your practices so that we can cure the Madness. I pray-tell that we can make amends, have this war come to a close. Humans, daemons and bloodeaters alike join forces in order to cure, to teach, and to mend what the past has ripped apart. WE CAN BRING GRANDEMERE TO ITS FORMER GLORY!” If anyone had dozed off, they were awake in his roar for unity. He held a book high with a golden title of Histoire de Grandemere, slamming it to the ground suddenly made several yelp in response as it echoed into the rafters. “We were once united as one! There was no Tower, Court or House battling against one another at our borders, but a unified people who traded without fear and came together in times of need. Our country is sick. Grandemere, the Grandmother needs us to right our wrongs, repent and heal. Most importantly, care for one another again.”

Many nodded to themselves and whispered to their fellow attendees, as if joining in his cause as the words spilled forth.

So, this was the purpose of coming here and being a priest. You want peace in the world, unity and a way to combat the Madness. Sighing, he was still rambling, telling stories of old from his book. And now you share fairytales to lighten the mood. Perhaps you’ll actually be good at this after all.