The Festival of the Azure Moon

Chapter 7 - A Land Without Faith

Bishop Gallen paced in his study. Cardinal Ollen had arrived the night prior, a full month before the Cardinal Four were meant to come. The cardinal was no doubt here to review Gallen's candidacy for archbishop, a position Gallen had fought long and hard for his entire life. He had hoped to have the whole catastrophe with the outlaws taken care of long before his review, with time to attend the Festival of the Azure Moon in Boukua afterward. Now all he could do was wait while Cardinal Ollen arrived to pass judgment.

He began to doubt his parishes. Every issue that crossed his desk flashed through his mind on repeat as he questioned if he ever addressed their concerns or if he had forgotten them entirely. Typically all four cardinals would review an archbishop candidate together. He pondered if Ollen was merely passing through Riverhill, and this visit was only a friendly one.

Cardinal Ollen arrived at his door with his servants guiding his every step and his heavily armed guards watching his flanks and rear. He was an old fat human. His belly protruded as if he were pregnant, and his face drooped like it was melting off his face. He was bald on the crown of his head with long braided gray hair dangling from the sides under his cardinal crown.

"Your Eminence." Gallen knelt to the ground and bowed. His wings lay flat and spread wide.

"Bishop Gallenra Mbembok. It is a pleasure to see you again after all these years."

"Has it truly been years?" Gallen asked.

"It's hard to say. When you get as old as I am, the mind begins to fade."

"I'm sure you are as sharp as ever, Your Eminence."

"You flatter me too much, Gallen." Cardinal Ollen dismissed his entourage. "Leave us be. There are holy matters of which only the bishop here may discuss."

His servants and guards bowed out, leaving the two holy men to chat.

"Now that we are alone, allow me to cut straight to the reason I am here."

Gallen gulped and hoped that the cardinal didn't notice.

Cardinal Ollen panned over the room to a large map of the continent hanging across the wall. He ran his finger from one end of the empire's territory to the other, stopping in the south.

"You are originally from Galatea, are you not?"

"Yes, Your Eminence. Me and Knight Commander Khadar grew up at a monastery there when our parents died of the sap plague. The church provided us with a home when no one else would. If it weren't for the grace of the Gods, I would have died as a fledgling and Khadar a calf."

"Foreign orphans that rose to such high positions of power. The blessings the Holy Trinity bestowed upon you both are beyond counting."

"I thank the Gods every day for them. The Holy Trinity are good to those who have faith."

"And vengeful to those who doubt," Ollen sneered. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"Of course," Gallen replied. He was trying to deduce what precisely the cardinal was trying to find out.

"Tell me, Gallen, how do you think your old home is faring?"

"It's hard to say. I seldom visit Galatea. My last visit was eight years ago during the last Festival of the Azure Moon. The political and cultural climate there shifts with the slightest breeze, so I never can tell what state the kingdom will be in when I arrive."

"Why do you think that is?" Ollen asked as if he already knew the answer.

"There are many things that contribute to the fragility of the nation, but I would say the greatest issue they have is a series of warrior kings rather than politician kings. They seek conflict rather than compromise."