The following week I was faced with a new problem. How to explain to the other monks I was already a Priest and Level 5 at that. They would want to know the reason, but how was I to explain myself? Did I even need to? I wasn’t necessarily certain what clergy I even belonged to!

  Well, I discovered a lost chapel underneath a tomb in a graveyard, got sucked into a dungeon and several Gods offered me different Classes all at once and I had to choose at least one, didn’t I?

  Surprisingly, things were made a bit easier as I was sent to Saint Caradan’s instead of back to Saint Iovan’s. Saint Caradan’s is a larger, newer Church only two centuries old near the center of Ordheim. One of my ancestors had been a pious Duke and spared no expense in erecting a Church to honor the legendary Emperor Caradan, Ord’s Champion. I would imagine that long ago Duke had likely had other intentions besides glorifying both Ord and his Emperor as his eldest daughter had married one of Emperor Caradan’s grandsons and rose to eventually become Empress. ‘Politics’, my Aunt Elspeth would have said.

  I was put under the tutelage of Brother Bernabo, a middle aged monk with the slight build and darker skin of the southern lands. I was one of a handful of new novices and I was shown no favoritism for my station, which suited me fine. In fact, my last name wasn’t mentioned once. I was always ‘Acolyte Kenric’ to everyone.

  “We rise at daybreak to attend Lauds. Then there will be a brief meal during which we pray to Great Ord and the Gods of Light. Then, you will be assigned a daily rotating work schedule that will keep you busy until Terce. From there you will…”

  I listened attentively as Brother Bernabo laid out the daily schedule for the novices and while I would be doing a great deal of prayer as well as continuing my Profession education, I would also be gardening in the Cloister, copying texts in the Scriptorium and learning to brew beer in Saint Caradan’s very own Brewhouse. Errol would have been jealous of that last one.

  “Brother Bernabo, when shall we be allowed to take our vows?” One of the novices who went by the name Marin asked. Brother Bernabo smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

  “The Gods all call us in their own time. Within the Inner Sanctum are altars to all of the Gods of Light. Qas, Mir, Tek, Hul and of course, Great Ord. You will each feel a pull one day drawing you to this place and when you offer yourself before the altars, in sight of Bishop Kynmeir of course, the Gods will judge you.”

  I kept silent. I was certain someone would notice I have a class by now, but apparently I’m still in the clear. Do fewer people have the Inspect skill than I thought? Whether Mir had a hand in it or not I wasn’t going to go and have a bunch of angry monks demanding to know more than I wanted to tell. Besides, the extra points I had gained in Wisdom made following detailed instructions easier and I also felt it was helping me to navigate my new living situation with a great deal more acceptance. It’s not easy to clean up after oneself when one has never had to before!

  I began to use Lore Sight with some frequency from the moment I entered Saint Caradan’s. Nobody seemed to notice that either. I had read in Taramel’s A Guide to Common Skills that the Inspect skill could be detected when used upon a person of a higher level or someone who possessed some variant of a detection skill. It was considered rude to inspect someone out of hand and had led to conflicts in the past. Lore Sight seemed to be, so far, undetectable.

  My fellow Novices, I learned, all came from common backgrounds, but were all from the duchy of Ordheim.

  Name: Loris Voln

  Class: None

  Lore: Loris Voln was born and raised in Cozyfields. His desire is to join the clergy of Mir and become a Vicar like his Uncle. He is a kind boy who could often be found chasing butterflies with his net and collecting their wings for the local Alchemy shop run by his cousin.

  Lore Sight was incredible, but I did feel a small amount of guilt in using it. It did feel a bit intrusive, but even Tier I let me know enough about a person to give me a general idea if they were someone I could associate with safely. Or so I surmised. I could only wonder at what I might learn about someone like Loris when Lore Sight reached even higher tiers. His hopes and dreams? His loves and fears? His darkest secrets?

  Hmm, maybe I don’t want to know some things.

  Marin wanted to be an Illuminator and spend his days copying manuscripts. Colt wanted to be a Templar, but was afraid to tell his overprotective mother. We were all there for different reasons, but each of us believed in those reasons.

  I learned much of my teachers as well. Brother Bernabo had been a convert to Ord’s faith after his family, while on pilgrimage to Nephelim, was killed by Elven raiders. Curious, I wanted to know more about my new teacher and he shocked us by informing us he had the Baneseeker Class. Baneseeker is an uncommon class from Ord that in the Holy Land, hunted Infernals. I found it strange that so kind and soft spoken a man had faced down demons! I needed to learn not to let my eyes judge others alone.

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  “Kenric, do you believe the Gods have a plan for us?”

  The question caught me off guard. I had been at Saint Caradan’s for nearly six months. In that time, mostly thanks to repeated use of Lore Sight I had leveled the skill almost to Tier 2.

  Skill: Lore Sight

  Level: Tier 1 (140 XP remaining to Tier II)

  So frequently did I use it, that I now felt as if I had known most of the monks and novices at Saint Caradan’s for far longer than I had. I felt completely at ease with my place here and had fallen into a comfortable pattern.

  We were all having a philosophical discussion and Brother Bernabo had been discussing the 3rd Gospel of Ord where Ord had just finished delivering a grand speech to the Barbarian Clans of the Urals to convert them to his cause against the Great Evil. I had read the speech several times and had even written a paper about it at the insistence of my old tutor. As I felt today’s lecture was nothing new, my mind was wandering.

  “Brother Bernabo,”I cleared my throat, unprepared for the question. “I do believe the Gods have a plan for us all,” I began. What does this have to do with Ord’s speech to the Barbarians? “I think that perhaps Ord’s plan when he spoke to the Clan chiefs…”

  “No, no!” Brother Bernabo cut me off with a gesture. “Ord’s plan was his own. I am talking about the Gods’ plan for you. What do the Gods want of all of us? Ord was a God given flesh, who lived in the manner of a human man. That is not what we are!” Brother Bernabo had a twinkle in his eye and I flushed. He knew I hadn’t been paying attention and only wanted to prod me a bit, but I found his observation intriguing.

  “Are you saying that normal men such as ourselves can only live according to the plan the Gods set for us? I’m not certain any of us can know that for certain, short of a divinely given message. Is such a thing even possible?” Several of the other Novices whispered amongst themselves debating the statement and Brother Bernabo nodded.

  “You are quite right, Kenric. Normal men can only guess at what the Gods intend. And yes! Conferring with beings of the High Heavens is possible, though I am only aware of Popes of the past who have personally received a message from Ord himself.”

  Loris gasped and I couldn’t keep the surprise from my face.

  “The Gods can truly speak to us directly?” I asked.

  “Oh yes,” Brother Bernabo said with a smile. “If you have the skill to listen when they speak.” He frowned. “It can be disheartening how often calm words of wisdom are less appealing than aggressive calls for war. Meditate on this: In no part of Ord’s speech to the barbarians did he call them to war. He called them to unity.”

  A church bell began to toll then, signaling the start of Nones, or the prayers before supper. The other Novices and I all stood as it didn’t due to be late to prayer. One might be penalized with a smaller portion of food and while I had grown used to the basic meals typical of monastic life, I would rather not have it grow more basic.

  “A moment, Kenric,” Brother Bernabo said as the others filed out and I sighed. I hoped he wouldn’t admonish me for becoming distracted. After reading his Lore and learning what had happened to his family, he was the last person I wanted thinking I wasn’t taking my time here seriously.

  “Kenric,” Brother Bernabo smiled benignly. “How are you finding Saint Caradan? I imagine it is vastly different from what you are used to.”

  “Yes, Brother, it is. But I find that it suits me,” I quickly added. “I very much want to be a Priest.” Brother Bernabo nodded, then indicated with a nod of his head he wished for me to walk with him. Good, I would hopefully not be late for Nones.

  “The Abbot has received a letter from your Father. He would like you to return home before we depart.” I stopped, my eyes widening in shock.

  “Depart, Brother? Where are we going? I thought I was to remain here until it was time to take my vows to the Light?” Was I being sent away? Had I been found unworthy? My stomach sank. Brother Bernabo must have noticed my expression for he laughed and patted me encouragingly upon the shoulder.

  “Peace, young Novice. A fine priest of the Light, you shall make. I do not doubt! Yet, harken to me now.” The Brother’s expression turned grave and he stopped walking before an open window that looked out onto the church gardens. Meticulously kept, they were awash in herbs, flowers and plants of varying uses for the alchemical arts. To me, however, they were more a beautiful sight and sweet smells than a means for potion making. My Alchemy skill still sat at 2. I stood patiently while Brother Bernabo regarded the garden.

  “Did you know that in order to make a Potion of Healing one needs to pick the flower buds of the Sweetfurrow plant before it blooms?”

  “No, Brother. I didn’t know. Actually, I know next to nothing of Alchemy, truth be told.” I said with a laugh. Brother Bernabo turned to regard me with a half smile.

  “I know little of it myself as well, but what I do know is that sometimes we have to find the strength to be of use to the Light even if we don’t believe ourselves to be ready. Kenric…,” Brother Bernabo stared into my eyes. “You, myself and the other Novices are going to the Holy Land. The Pope has called for a new Crusade.”

  It was a full minute before I could react and Brother Bernabo waited patiently, watching me.

  “I can only say that I will serve the Light with my life or my death, Brother Bernabo.” The monk winced.

  “Let it be your life and a very long one indeed! You have not yet been called by the Gods, but you and the others will still have a chance to receive a class upon the sacred altars of Light’s Bastion in Port Tyren when we arrive there.”

  Port Tyren. The Empire’s only secure port in the Holy Land. Once you step outside its gates…I swallowed my fear. Ord protect us all.

  As if he could read my thoughts, Brother Bernabo nodded and patted me on the shoulder once more. “I shall teach you all I know about the Holy Land beginning tomorrow and up until the day we leave. It isn’t enough time, but we shall do our best.”

  “Thank you Brother Bernabo, but tell me. Why must even Novices go to the Holy Land before some have a Class? Before we are ready?” Brother Bernabo sighed and turned away from the garden to walk at a brisker pace towards the meal hall.

  “Because this time, Kenric, the Pope means to do more than just push the Elves back from the coast and into the Badlands.” I could hear the sounds of monks chanting and Brother Bernabo led us forward. “This time, he needs every hand he can muster.” I couldn’t see his face in that moment, for his back was to me, but I could hear the sorrow in his voice. “He means to retake the city of Nephilim itself.”