The Prayer of Return

The outer ramparts of the castle walls jutted out towards the west, towards the pinks, reds, and oranges of the sunset. His footsteps echoed on the stone as his scabbard tapped against his armor. The sound felt calm and reassuring, somehow, as he walked along the outer defenses, his eyes peering over Queen’s Town and the cathedral in the distance. He had yet to visit the cathedral and the adoni who prayed for the people’s souls since his return from the frontier. Rylan snorted; one could hardly call Brishen’s border with the duchy of Garvan a frontier. But the people of the capital considered anything beyond the farmland that surrounded their city some backwoods frontier to be wary of.

The guardsman stopped as the cathedral’s bells began to chime the dinner hour. Soon, the people would emerge from their shops or factories to make their way home or to the nearest inn for the evening meal. If he wanted a private word with an adoni and still returned to the guardhouse for his own rations, he needed to leave now. A curse escaped his lips as he pivoted on the stone beneath his boots to make his way to the nearest exit.

Nobles and the occasional servant rushed past him in the corridors as he made his way out the courtyard. Their own insults fell off their lips. How could a lowly guardsman block their path? Rylan frowned; they were as much in his way as he was in theirs. And if any of them took a moment to actually look at him, any one of them would realize they recognized him. Would they even remember he was probably more noble than any of them?

Rylan pushed the thought aside, quickening his pace. The quicker he escaped the castle walls, he reminded himself, and the rest of the thought disappeared. “Thank Amaris,” he whispered. If he never had to enter the castle again, it would be too soon. Why couldn’t she just let him rot in the guard? Everyone knew the rest of his kinsmen had the same thought. Everyone knew well enough that he had those above him with a better claim to the titles his kinsmen were fighting over.

He stepped around one last corner to the courtyard doors. The only souls he spotted outside were the guards at the main gate. The young guardsman lengthened his stride to make it to the other side before the doors were locked for the night. That had happened to him during his last assignment in the capital. He swore it would not happen to him again. He doubted it would be this night, as many nobles had business that kept them in the capital itself until long after the evening meal.

His pace slowed as he approached the two guardsmen, faces he didn’t recognize. The men turned towards him as he came to a halt. “Lieutenant Rylan Wyndlow,” he announced. Both guardsmen nodded and let him out of the courtyard with no questions. Rylan had a feeling the men would pay for not asking for his destination. But that was their problem, not his.

Rylan took the twists and turns of the narrow capital roads towards the cathedral, taking the less traveled paths in an effort to avoid as much traffic as possible. He ran into some pedestrian traffic along the way, but the sun had not dipped completely below the horizon by the time he reached the cathedral doors. He whispered another thanks to the goddess for the quick journey, along with a short prayer that either an adoni or an acolyte would be available to pray with him.

Parishioners were scattered among the pews, kneeling down with their hands clasped in prayer as Rylan walked down the center aisle. No adoni would be in the confessionals at this hour. Why man that post if no one would come to make use of the service? He found a familiar face walking up to the altar for the evening prayers as he reached the first row of pews.

“Adoni Gregory,” he said.

The adoni smiled. “Ah, Lieutenant Wyndlow,” the priest greeted him, “it has been ages since I’ve seen you in the cathedral.”

“I just returned this morning from my last assignment. I was wondering if someone was available to pray with me this evening.”

Gregory nodded. “There is an acolyte in the Galen Chapel. The last time I checked, she was alone.”

“Thank you, Adoni,” Rylan answered, pivoting towards his right to take the path to the chapel.

The cathedral had had some restoration work in his absence, Rylan noticed as he walked down a side corridor. Layers of dirt and soot had been removed from walls depicting the sacrifice of the goddess’s son Galen. Another time, with more lighting, he would come back to inspect just how much the cathedral had been restored in the five years he had been away. Perhaps someone could give him a tour.

He came to the Galen chapel, stopping at the doorframe to take a peek inside. As promised, he found a woman inside, her faded gray robes marking her as an acolyte. Rylan had spent enough time in the cathedral to know that as part of an acolyte’s training, they were required to spend time in the side chapels, both cleaning and restoring the chamber for the parishioners. While acolytes were not allowed to give sermons, they could, and were expected to, pray with any believer. Rylan stepped inside the chapel and coughed to catch the acolyte’s attention.

The young woman looked up from the pile of dust she was pushing into a dustpan and smiled. She quickly let go of her tools and came to her feet. Rylan returned the smile, stepping further inside to join her.

“Lieutenant Windlow,” he greeted. “I forget sometimes that people are in the chapels so late.”

“The cathedral will not clean itself,” the acolyte answered. “I am Acolyte Ember. What can I do for you this evening?”

“I have come to the cathedral to pray, to thank Amaris for my safe return to Queen’s Town from my latest absence.”

“Of course,” the acolyte answered. “Join me by the altar.”

Rylan joined the acolyte at the pews in front of the altar. In unison, they chanted the Prayer of Return as the last of the sunlight faded behind the horizon.