Swordmaster

Era of Trepidation

Home... Leandyr couldn't remember if had been a few months or a few years since he last visited. After over two millennia of life, time had become an afterthought. But he had to go now, back to the place he was raised. For Lady Hiroh.

With a sigh, he stepped into the main vestibule of the castle. The light pouring in through the massive windows cast rainbows across the floor. The main entrance stood opened with castle guards flanking the doors, and people trafficked in and out.

As Leandyr made for the door hand landed on his shoulder, and he whirled and drew his sword in one motion, angling the blade with deadly intent.

"Wait! It's me!" Enver was shrunk against the wall with hands over his head as though they would be enough to stop the sword.

"My apologies." Leandyr sheathed his weapon. "Was there something you needed?"

He bit his bottom lip and stared over his shoulder as though he expected someone to jump out and attack them. "May we speak, please? Privately."

Leandyr raised an eyebrow. It was rare that he'd speak to Enver alone, heck, it was rare to even see him without his partner. And it was especially puzzling that he'd want to talk after Leandyr had been such an ass. Which made him wonder if Enver was acting alone.

Privately... That might be a problem, since he was still being watched every time he set foot out of the castle. "I was about to head to the temple. Walk with me."

The summer heat hit him as soon as he stepped from the shade of the castle, and he was grateful he'd chosen sleeveless attire. Enver was probably suffering in the dark crimson of his Scribe's coat.

Leandyr only gave a cursory glance around the immaculate north lawn, with its cobblestone paths and tiered fountains. His focus was on his destination, Shifah's Temple, standing to the northwest of the castle.

At a brisk walk Leandyr and Enver made their way down the sloping, tree-lined path. His ears picked up on small taps and rustles of cloth, reminding him that he was being followed and setting him on edge. With his jaw set and eyebrows angled, he probably looked as though he were about to murder someone. Something that was all the more punctuated by the sword at his hip.

"Swordmaster—" Enver started but Leandyr shook his head to stop him. It wouldn't be wise to discuss matters under the watchful gazes of the Yilmaz.

Meanwhile, citizens and tourists passed him by, talking, laughing and oblivious of his inward struggle. The density of the people increased as they neared the Temple, and at its entrance, they met a crowd.

Leandyr took Enver by the arm and pushed through the hot, sweaty parishioners, silently daring someone to test his patience. When the guards spotted him, they waved them into the cool interior of the sanctum. The large room greeted him with the familiar scent of burning incense, a comfort enhanced by the fact that the Yilmaz couldn't follow him there. For civilians, the Temple had one way in and one way out.

Home... The stone floors, the thick pillars and the excessive amount of candles were just as he remembered. At the rooms head, people knelt at the altar, before the statue of the healing goddess Shifah, imploring her to grant them grace, mercy and favour.

Leandyr knew better than anyone that the good goddess didn't give a good damn. She was probably cackling at their suffering from on high. How many days had he been at that altar, prostrating himself before her form to beg for things he'd never have and things that would never come to be?

He bypassed the rows of pews and led Enver into the east halls of the temple, aplace where only residents were allowed to roam. "We can talk here."