“First off, I doubt she was dressed like that while camping in the wilderness and raiding supply caravans. Now we’re back to protection from the elements. Secondly, she says that they did not, although her father complained bitterly about her being alone with them the whole time. Her grandfather confirmed that even her father couldn’t find fault with how those boys treated her, and he was with her the whole time.”
“I thought he was dead, slaughtered with the rest of her family,” Ember frowns, “Now I’m confused.”
“It’s her swords,” Gethin explains, “I thought that such things were a fairy tale, cooked up by overactive minds, but I’ve spoken with her grandfather. That sword is definitely my old friend, Melfyn. I’ve known Melfyn since we were toddlers. It seems that her father is in the other one. Which reminds me, we need to limit her contact with that one; if you can help me think of a way to do it, that would be great. It seems that he’s currently blaming her for everything that happened. She’s blaming herself enough, right now, and doesn’t need him throwing more rocks onto that pile.”
“We’ll have to figure out something,” Ember agrees, “For her own father to tell her something like that…”
“Now do you see why I say not to send her out yet?’ Gethin shrugs, “She might be recovering physically, but she’s grappling with a lot. Her spirit is wounded. According to Melfyn, she was the one training her younger brothers and sisters. Not overseeing it, mind you, doing it personally. The five of them were quite close to each other. She was not just teaching them to rank well in the annual tournaments. She was turning them into a cohesive unit that supported each other’s goals and ambitions. Melfyn says that Arwydd was becoming a younger copy of her and that she’d taught Lefi and Gwern that they must support their sisters. That would have been a power base to contend with once Myfanwy started competing and ranking alongside her siblings. All five of them in the top of their age groups every year.”
Gethin and Ember sit speculating on what the five of them might have been able to accomplish. Finally, Gethin shrugs, “I have to go and wake her. I promised I’d sit with her for a bit at the start of her vigil. If I go now, there’ll be time for her to have her bath.”
“That reminds me,” Ember grins, “I’ve got the traditional garments for her.” He hands Gethin a bundle of clothing. “The clothing will be sufficiently traditional without making her wear plate for the entire vigil.” Nodding, Gethin tucks the bundle under his arm and goes to wake Emlyn.
Emlyn wakes to hear knocking on her door and yawns widely. “Coming,” she calls back. Cracking the door, she finds Gethin waiting for her.
He hands her the bundle of clothes, “These are traditionally worn instead of plate for a vigil, but the first step is your bath. I’ve already instructed them to prepare a vigil bath for you, so run along and take the clothes with you. They’ll help you dress. I’ll be here waiting when you’re done.”
Nodding, Emlyn takes the clothing and heads to the bath. Two girls usher her into a side chamber she’s not used before and gesture for her to undress so that the process of the ritual bath can begin. Sometime later, Emlyn emerges dressed in red, close-fitting pants, red boots, a white linen shirt, and a black hooded tunic belted at the waist. She wrinkles her nose at the swirling smells of the ceremonial oils she’s had massaged into her skin as she walks back to her room in the odd, unfamiliar clothes.
She peeks into her room and sees Gethin calmly waiting for her and smiles to herself. Seeing him so calm settles her jangling nerves as she reminds herself that the Goddess has agreed to amend her oath. She steps into the room and pirouettes, “How do I look?”
“Like a very proper novitiate paladin,” Gethin smiles, “waiting to take her oaths.”
“I’m supposed to go see Odous to get my thermos of tea,” Emlyn says, gesturing to the hallway, “before I start my vigil.”
“Then we should hurry,” Gethin smiles back, “since sunset is nearly here and you must be in the chapel by then.” They walk quickly, chatting about inconsequential matters until Emlyn has retrieved the promised thermos.
Once they’re inside the chapel, Gethin looks at Emlyn curiously, “Why are you taking up service with our Goddess?” Gethin asks her.
“At the start, it was simply because I wasn’t ready to die,” Emlyn admits slowly, “but since then she’s shown me that she’s worthy of devotion. The commitment from us to her elicits a reciprocal commitment from her to us. That’s taken a bit of getting used to.”
“The Goddess is very responsive to you," Gethin agrees, “and seems set on winning you as a devotee, if not also one of her Chosen… one of her champions.”
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“She said as much,” Emlyn nods, “when she came to me in whatever place I fought with the mad god. It was part of our agreement. My father and grandfather urged me to accept it, so I did. I wasn’t capable of much resistance.”
“I’ve heard about your version of not much resistance already,” Gethin confides, “I doubt anyone else has ever spoken to the Goddess in such a fashion.”
Emlyn has the grace to blush, “I am sorry about that. I was hoping that I would be able to die with some shred of dignity, and trying to figure out if there was going to be an afterlife for me, since I was godless. I was certain that she was another war god coming to try to trap me into an afterlife of eternal battles. I was afraid that I might have a moment of weakness and agree, so I was trying to drive her away.”
“What convinced you, then?” Gethin asks gently, “What persuaded you?”
“She offered to amend my oaths,” Emlyn shrugs, “Any god who was trying to trap me wouldn’t have offered me even the slimmest chance of breaking free. The mad god offered us the slimmest of chances at freedom, and we’d already taken it, so any other god would be doubly wary if they were truly out to trap me.”
“I see,” Gethin nods, “So that made you feel as if she might be trustworthy?”
"Yes,” Emlyn agrees, “And even when I was in and out of consciousness, even when the priests were pushing her to hold a Choosing, she was never harsh with them. The mad god would have been roaring them into silence even… before his insanity took him.”
“There is a kindness to our Goddess,” Gethin admits, “which is likely unusual for a battle Goddess. She is more complex than most. Prophecy, battle magic, and the circle of life are also within her province, her portfolio, so she’s got a broader experience with mortals than many others who deal in battle alone. There’s been quite a bit of speculation about it and how it changes her.”
“Had she come to us when we were wandering godless, we might all have accepted her,” Emlyn shrugs, “but the only gods who ever came were darker ones. Even Odin had a darkness to him, despite his insistence that he was also a god of wisdom. We came closest to accepting Bast, but we never managed to agree on which one to accept, so we never accepted any of them.”
“Bast is an allied temple,” Gethin assures her, “What stopped you from accepting Bast?”
“So many of the gods who came to us wanted oaths that would bind us even after death,” Emlyn explains, “Bast was no different in that regard. We had the suspicion that all of the gods wanted us to fall in battle so that we’d be trapped in their afterlife. We couldn’t afford that. We thought…. We thought we’d be able to save our people. We couldn’t very well lead them if we were trapped in some strange god’s afterlife because they’d arranged for us to fall in battle. We knew our people would need us. We knew that we were the last of the Great Houses, so we’d be some of the last who could rally the survivors. We thought that at least if one of us fell, we could manage a resurrection. Now, even that hope is gone, but the Goddess says Neit is interested in trying to call them to his banner and to resurrect any he can find, so not all is lost just yet.”
“Then we shall both see what the gods have in store for the Cymry,” Gethin sighs, “But what of your plans? Have you given any thought to that?”
“I must recover so that I can take my place among the Four,” Emlyn replies, “Then I can begin to search for any signs of the others. If I can find them, it might be possible to found a new Great House among whatever is left of the Cymry. Vanya says that as one of the Four, I’ll be sent all over the place, and that makes it more likely that I might uncover some hint of what’s happened to them.”
“That logic seems sound,” Gethin agrees, “The Four certainly do tend to find themselves in interesting places.”
“What can you tell me about them?” Emlyn asks, “If I’m to join them, I'd like to know what it is that I’ve agreed to.”
“Each one houses a tiny fragment of the Goddess’s divinity. It allows them to channel the Goddess’s magic more strongly than a normal mortal. They don’t age and we’re told that if they last long enough, they’ll eventually ascend and become a deity in their own right.”
“What sorts of things do they handle?” Emlyn asks.
“It varies a lot,” Gethin explains, “since it's whatever the Goddess has at the top of her to-do list. I’ve seen them sent to negotiate peace treaties, quash a civil war, remove a tyrant, and deal with all manner of truly nasty creatures.”
“Has any of them ever… umm… ascended, I think you called it?” Emlyn asks.
“Not as yet,” Gethin says with a shrug, “No one’s been in that office long enough to ascend. A few have decided to retire and return to a normal life, with everything that entails.”
Emlyn considers this for a moment, “You mean that they start aging again?” Gethin nods in confirmation.
“What is the Choosing that the priests are so insistent about?” Emlyn asks, “It seems to be some way for her to select a new member of the Four, but I’m not quite sure what it is.”
“When one of the Four is lost or retires,” Gethin explains, “The Goddess casts a spell to draw worthy candidates to a series of trials. Only one will pass the tests, and that one will become the newest of the Four. As a rule, there is one for each aspect of the Goddess – Macha, Feya, Nemhain, and Badb. Macha is the overseer of the circle of life and prophecy. Feya is the embodiment of battle magic. Nemhain controls discord and confusion while Badb controls rage and frenzy.”
“As I understand it,” Emlyn says, “I would become the new Badb, but I’m not angry or frenzied, so I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”
Gethin chuckles, “It’s not like that. It’s not that you have those attributes, but that you control them. Surely as a paladin, you’ve used your aura to keep your comrades focused and calm during battle.” When Emlyn nods, Gethin continues, “You are controlling their rage, their frenzy by suppressing it, not by having it yourself or allowing it to affect them. It’s the same thing, just on a larger scale. We have extensive archives on every one of them, if you would like to read them. We even have some archives that cover the founding of the Four. I think that reading those might give you a better understanding of what they do and how the Choosing works. It’s different for each person, and in each case, there’s an account from each of the chosen ones as to what the Choosing was like for them. We also have chronicles that cover the activities of the Four. With your penchant for dusty old tomes, I’m surprised you haven’t already read them.”
“I will have to do that,” Emlyn agrees, “I think it would be interesting.”
Would you ever consider becoming a paladin? Let me know in the comments.