Chapter 4

She woke. Once again she springs up, panting and sweating in her sleep. Wiping her brow clean, Presea slows her heaving chest and gathers her breath. The reason for this unusual physical behavior still eludes her, but she does not take time to ponder it. The sun shone itself through her window and lighted the room with an encompassing glow, warm and subtle. Then she jumped from her bed onto the floor. The girl shed her sleep clothing and walked around her room aimlessly, seeming to forget what she was searching for. Eventually she regained her thoughts and methodically dressed herself.

As she exited her room, she closed her door with no regard to the disturbance of others. Her routine remained the same every day. She would make a visit to the Pope, address him a morning welcome as was customary, eat a modest breakfast, and then exit through the side door into the castle courtyard. Presea took upon her axe in and began to conscientiously hew at a lacerated bulk of wood, which had been laid in an integral pattern in the center of the grassy area.

This went on for a time, and she thought nothing of performing this labor for those the cared nothing about. Her personal feelings could not interfere. She preferred to think, rather, that her work was an important part of the structure of the kingdom and did not need to be questioned or challenged.

I must perform this important task to fulfill my duty to the king and his understudies, she thought. There is no reason for me to question my duties or responsibilities. This is what I was born to do. I am not sufficient at other tasks. I must continue.

This manner of thinking continued in her mind for a time, during which she unknowingly completed her work and began to douse the lumber with oils and herbs. An understudy of the Pope withdrew from his observations of her careful movements and retrieved a small dagger, which he handed to Presea and bowed to her as he backed away, looking up to see her begin to carve an intricate symbol.

As she finished, she sheathed the knife in a small scabbard hung on her belt. Then she took the sacred wood through the Chapel; various priests and teachers knelt as she carried it past. Presea thought of today's Ceremony of the Sacred Wood. The king had been diagnosed with a strange illness and had been bedridden for the past week. This day's procession was dedicated solely to the recovery of the head-of-state.

"Young wood-bearer," said a voice from behind her. Presea heeded the call and turned to see her addresser. It was none other than the Pope himself, who then commanded her to take the Sacred Wood to the throne room, as the ceremony would be performed therein during this occasion. As Presea reached the exit, she was abruptly stopped by a young man clad in a crimson cloak-suit, long white tassels hanging from his neck down his back. What caught the girl's attention most prominently were the single-bladed swords that hung from his waist, sheathed but fully displayed.

To his left stood a young woman of roughly the same age, with platinum blonde hair and a cloak that covered her body, excluding her knees down. Behind her was another woman, older in both look and aura, who appeared to be the mental caretaker of the group. A small boy made himself conspicuous to the far right, having the same long silver hair as the eldest of the group. His face flushed and he took a regressive step.

The young man took notice of Presea, but thought nothing of her and let her pass. As she cleared a path and left the chapel, she heard the distinct voice of the Pope commanding the elite guards of royalty, the Papal Knights, to eviscerate the party, who had not been properly announced to enter the Church of Martel. The faction took their leave from the chapel and once again the male leader took notice of Presea, who was nearing the King's chamber.

"Wait, please!" he pleaded with her. "We must see the king, we're on important business!"

The guards at the castle doors tensed themselves as they saw the man talking with the sacred wood-bearer, and held their weapons in a passive defensive stance.

"My name is Lloyd Irving, and we're on important business from Sheena of Mizuho." said he.

Presea stopped for a moment... that name had some unknown significance. She agreed after further coaxing from the eldest female, and gently placed the log of sacred wood on the ground, allowing Lloyd and the boy to lift it instead. Both took opposite ends of the enormous log and grasped it firmly. On a count of three they both attempted to lift their respective sides, and failed miserably at doing so.

Presea took a few steps forward and grasped the handle of the lumber, dragging it up the steps to the castle entrance, and motioning for the guards to lower their defenses.

Lloyd and the young boy gawked at the girl wide-eyed and simply said, "I've lost all confidence as a man..."

Presea simply said sharply, "Come with me."

The guards eyed the team squeamishly as they walked through the two doors to the resting chamber of the royals.