The Golden Child

A delicious, yet pungent scent of garlic saturates the air, as a loaf of bread lay split in twain, within the bowels of an open-faced kiln. Fire licks the bottom crust creating a charred and delectable finish.

A woman in her early twenties with hair as golden as sunflower petals carefully removes the pieces and places them upon a long, ivory plate. Her verdant eyes dance with the light of the kiln and lanterns placed throughout the cobblestone room.

She skillfully filets them at an angle. Placing the larger of two in front of a black-haired man who matches her age. His dandelion-colored eyes fixate on her and not the food, he speaks to her.

"Thank you, Isabella. I appreciate everything you do for me."

A smile creeps across her face with every syllable that her partner expresses love with.

Her eyes fixate on a triangular-shaped pendant hanging around his neck. As quickly as the smile emerged, it recedes. 

"Pilor, can you please remove that medallion long enough to eat, for once? You even shower with it on, now."

He shakes his head slowly in disagreement with her request. 

"I'm sorry, Isabella, I cannot. I know this symbol reminds you of your father. However, once an individual swears themselves into the clergy, we cannot remove it. If someone or something else were to remove it, we would be considered unworthy and considered Fallen. For that, we would be exiled unless acquitted by a higher-ranking member. We could never rise to the afterlife and never join society here in this earthly realm until forgiven our sin of ineptitude."

She furls her lip. "How would the know you even removed it, Pilor? It's only been a week."

A slight smirk peeks from his lips as he lifts the metallic triangle in his hand. "A ward is placed upon this symbol as we take our oath. Should the chain or symbol no longer remain within a certain distance of me, a red glow will emit from within."

Isabella cocks her head in curiosity as Pilor continues. 

"Additionally, a signal is sent to the Chancellors, here in the Chamber. They know exactly who is and isn’t Fallen."

Scoffing, Isabella crosses her arms. "Well, Pilor. Or shall I say, Brother Pilor? I guess there’s no helping it now. I really wish you had waited just a little longer before swearing. Now, things get complicated."

Picking up a piece of the bread, Pilor takes a look over the glistening butter, garlic, and herb mixture that lay across it before taking a bite.

He savors the taste before swallowing. "The charred bits on the edge truly make it wonderful." He begins. "What is this complication you speak of?"

Isabella looks Pilor square in the face without emotion. "I'm with child."

The bread instantly falls to the plate, scattering crumbs everywhere. 

"I'm sorry? You're what?" He says shakily.

"You heard me." She replies.

Pilor grasps his symbol and looks at it. "We took vows when entering the clergy. There are tenants to follow. One is of bloodlines. A man of the cloth shall not extend his heritage unless withal woman of the cloth as well. Clergymen are forbidden to hold relationships unless with a Priestess."

His hands shake as he begins to tug upon the chain that holds the triangular emblem upon his neck.

"I might as well rip this off now and become Fallen. I'm a failure and have broken a tenant before partaking in even my first mission.

With the chain pulled taut against the back of his neck, Pilor's hand shook vigorously as tears began to well up in his eyes. 

Suddenly, the warm embrace of Isabella's hands wrap around his. 

He looks to her to see tears streaming down her cheeks. 

"Please, ease your mind Pilor." she begins. "I've had symptoms since before you took your oath. I've been to the doctor a few times now to try to confirm. This is why I kept trying to suggest you wait to take your actions into the clergy."

With a gentle push from Isabella, Pilor pulls the symbol closer to his body before letting it drop back to its original position. 

"We can keep it a secret, Pilor." Whispers Isabella. "We have a few capable friends that can help us make due and forge papers of adoption so that it looks like this child is adopted versus of your blood."

Looking at her eyes full of desperation, Pilor slumps in his chair before his reply. "I guess that is possible. Though how are we going to hide your obvious signs of pregnancy as we move forwards?"

A bright, candlelit smile runs ear to ear upon Isabella. "Don't you worry about the little things, I'll take care of all these other issues. You just worry about your Brotherly duties and learnings these next few months."

***

In the following months, Pilor progressed his training within the clergy. Standard rifle and pistol handling, modification, care, and so on. Additionally, he had worked his way through to be one of the few able to train one on one with elite clergymen who earned the title of “Father.” These clergymen were required to be chosen by the Chancellors for skill, honor, and excellent standing for tasks completed and absolute dedication to the Chamber.

A stalwart man in his mid-thirties took interest in Pilor. Walking up to him while training with another Father, he cleared his throat.

“Ahem. Pilor, was it?” The man inquired.

Lowering his saber, he bowed to Father Chordus, who had been training him extensively the past week.

“Yes, sir.” Replied Pilor somewhat bashfully.

A warm smile emerges from the Father’s goateed face. “My name is Father Khanos. I have taken some interest in your natural aptitude with all three of our weapon types. I’m especially interested in your skills with a rifle. What is it you did in the past?”

This question sent all manner of concern through him. For what else would Father Khanos inquire?

“Father, I used to work on the outskirts of the Chamber with my parents in a produce shop. We had family who worked a farm on the Outskirts for years. Occasionally, we had to deal with wolves and other creatures coming from the Shadeveil Forest. I had a lot of practice with our heirloom rifles. I would sell the creatures to the local tanner for extra money and processed parts.”

Khanos shakes his head understandably before replying. “And what does your family do these days? You need not answer if it is too difficult to say.”

Looking down at the puddle of sweat that had been dripping off of him and onto the dirt, Pilor takes a deep breath. “They’re all gone, sir. The Noxxium scourge got them before we were all able to enter the walls of the Chamber.”

Placing a firm hand upon Pilor’s shoulder, Khanos nodded towards the boy. “I am deeply sorry for the loss of them. Do you have nobody else? Is this why you turned to the cloth?”

The question shot lighting through his stomach. It was as if Khanos already knew the answer by the way he was looking at him.

“N-no, sir. I mean...I do have a woman that I once fancied.”

Khanos cuts him off. “You know the tenant of bloodlines, correct? We will not take on partners for prolific purposes. Unless they are of the cloth. I haven’t seen any of these ladies taking an eye for you yet. So do be careful if you are trying to do things outside these halls.”

Pilor shakes his head. “Yes, Father. I understand fully.”

Releasing Pilor, Khanos swirls around away from him. “I look forward to the day we may go on a hunt, young Pilor. I feel you will prove a valuable asset in the scouting and securing of outskirt towns. The Noxxium threat continues to grow.”

A sigh escapes Pilor as his posture releases slightly. “Thank you, Father Khanos. I look forward to it as well.”

***

The day finally comes for Isabella to have her child. Pilor along with some very close and trusted friends supports Isabella through the entire process.

The child enters the world with barely a whimper. The nurse looks the newborn boy over before wrapping him up and handing him to Pilor. A full head of jet-black hair tops the child. Pilor is overcome with joy.

“Isabella, he is wonderful. I cannot wait to watch him grow.”

Weak from the ordeal, Isabella whispers to Pilor. “Please, bring me our son. Bring me Athos.”

Placing him into Isabella’s arms, the boy takes a big yawn before opening his eyes. Both parents feel incredible bewilderment flow through them. Athos’ eyes opened wide to look at them both briefly before falling into slumber. His eyes were brighter gold than even that of Pilor’s.