Tales of Harmonia

Papal Pilgrimage

It was a lazy day for Aidan Wolfe, despite the hullabaloo engulfing the rest of the village of Malachite. The citizenry was in a complete uproar because the Pope himself was coming to visit their village on his pilgrimage throughout the world to spread and reinforce the teachings of Martel. Aidan, however, did not share their excitement: the stringent policies of the Church of Martel, the boring theology lessons, the hideous church clothes worn every week to mass… he, like most children his age, wanted nothing to do with it. The Pope, to Aidan, was an old man spouting 'truths' which held little interest for him; still, he recognized the man as the spiritual leader for their world, Aselia. Because the Pope brought hope to so many, Aidan could respect him for that.

It was for that reason that Aidan was somewhat exicted at the news that the Pope was coming to visit them. Of course, nobody could possibly escape the frenzy entirely: even the stray animals in the village seemed agitated by all the commotion. Aidan was simply glad because, for one, this meant having a day off of school, and for another, it was something different; Malachite was a dreary little town where very few noteworthy things ever happened.

A voice rang through the house, startling Aidan and waking him from his reverie on his windowsill. "Aidan! Get down here!" the voice bellowed. It was his mother. She, more than anyone else in his family, was excited about the papal visit, as she was the most devout of them all. In fact, in the week since the Pope's visit had been announced, she had grown increasingly more fanatic, to the point where Aidan's father worried (in secret) about her sanity, and couldn't wait for the papal visit to come and go.

However, in her current state, Aidan knew that it was best not to push her too much. He stood up from his seat by the window and stretched his tall body to get his muscles working. Wisps of brown hair ruffled as he slammed the window shut, just barely closing out the sounds of the outside world. Grabbing his spear from the wall by his bed and strapping it to his back, the boy ran down the stairs to see his family waiting by the door.

"Aidan!" his mother cried in shock, looking him over. "What are you wearing!"

Aidan grimaced. He had completely forgotten that she had wanted him to wear something 'appropriate' for the Pope's visit. She didn't want him looking like a 'ragamuffin' before the spiritual leader of Aselia. However, Aidan did not share her enthusiasm or her views, so he had completely forgotten to change into his best attire. He was still wearing the light chain mail of the Village Guard, and a pear of sturdy leather pants along with a bulky pair of black boots on his feet.

"And why on earth are you bringing that thing?" she exclaimed, pointing at the spear on her son's back.

"I'm a Village Guardian, mom. I'm supposed to keep this with me," he explained for what seemed the thousandth time. "Anything can happen, especially with the Pope visiting."

His mother was not pleased with his explanation, as evidenced by her chastising look, but she shook her head and sighed after a few unpleasant moments. "It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter! He'll be here any minute now and we simply don't have time for you to change. Come on, come on! Everyone out!" With a few brisk waves of her hand, the portly woman ushered Aidan, his father, and his sister out the door before slamming it shut and locking it behind her. "We simply cannot be late for his arrival. Let's get to the village square. Come on, then, on the double!"

Aidan felt much more like a soldier marching in formation than a boy about to meet the spiritual leader of the world for the first time. By now, several other families had joined them and were also heading towards the town square. Many of them were squabbling excitedly. Aidan merely folded his hands behind his head and walked as though he hadn't a care in the world.

By the time they reached the village square, it was already beginning to fill up at a rapid pace. The square itself was rather plain: it was, as the name suggested, an actual square carved out in the ground. Four roads led into it from the north, south, east, and west, and a few little shops dotted its perimeter, as did the city hall. Today, however, these shops were all shut and locked tight, and every available space was being used by gawking civilians.

Although Malachite itself was not a large village, people from neighbouring towns were also filing in to meet their spiritual leader, and so the square was filling up quickly. Aidan's mother had had the foresight to come early, so they were able to get a perfectly comfortable spot near the front of the crowd. Of course, she had exaggerated when she said the Pope would be here "at any minute": it was in fact two hours of boredom in the blistering heat before Aidan saw any sign of the head of the Papal Entourage.

During this time, Aidan found himself with very little to do. Normally he would chat with his friends while waiting, but as they were all in the Village Guard as well, they were doing their duty by vainly attempting to hush the crowd and keep an eye out for neer-do-wells. Aidan was also halfheartedly trying to keep the crowd quiet ("Hardly work fit for a Village Guardian," he thought), but he knew that it was a lost cause so he was hardly devoting much of his attention to it. Instead, he was keeping his eyes locked primarily on the road to the north, from which the Papal Entourage would come to greet them. It was a dusty road like all the rest, with nothing particularly worth mentioning about it, except that at the end of the path you could just see the village gate, and the great forest extending beyond that.

Suddenly, through a sunbeam breaking through the leafy canopy of the forest, Aidan thought he saw a faint glimmer. In another few moments, he was sure: the Papal Entourage had arrived. Clad in their tell-tale green-and-silver armor, two of the hulking Papal Knights marched smartly along the path. A horse-drawn carriage could be seen behind them, decorated lavishly with red tapestries; Aidan knew that the Pope was inside.

By this time, of course, the rest of the village had caught sight of the entourage as well, and those who had not had indeed heard the cries of the rest of the citizens, and began to get swept up in the commotion themselves. All the Village Guardians had given up trying to quiet the crowd now, because it was physically impossible to be heard over the teeming masses.

It took only a few minutes for the entourage to pass through the open gate and enter the village. The cavalcade swept regally into the square and turned to the left, exposing its flank to the bulk of the citizenry. Aidan could see that the Pope had only brought four Papal Guards with him: the two he had seen in front, as well as two in behind the carriage. That's weird, he thought. He's way more important than that, right? Perhaps the Pope had a lot of faith in the Village Guard of Malachite. Still, Aidan thought he certainly wouldn't trust a town militia to protect him if he were the Pope.

Slowly, a grand wooden door on the side of the carriage was opened, and a short, balding, but attractive gentleman stepped out. He was immediately recognizable as the Pope, even though many people had never had the chance to actually see him before. His robes, magnificently coloured green and gold and very uncomfortable-looking, as well as the miter on his head and the diamond-encrusted crosier in his right hand, gave away his identity immediately. He was met with cheering and clapping, which he quelled almost instantly with a simple wave of his hand and a warm smile. Aidan was impressed; with a couple of gestures, the Pope had managed to do what the entire Village Guard had failed.

"Greetings, people of Malachite," the Pope said in a very warm, regal voice. Aidan had never heard the Pope speak before, but he could tell even now that he was a gifted orator. "I, Pontifex Nigellus XVII, greet you. It gives me great pleasure to be here, speaking before you today."

A bit pompous, Aidan observed, but he sure is good. Faced with the Pope's comforting, flattering words, Aidan felt himself relax a little. He leaned on his spear, which he had propped up beside him, and listened to the man's speech. It was filled with the usual religious propaganda: go to church, keep close the tenets of the Church of Martel, beware those that would undo the church's teachings, and so on and so forth. Aidan was less interested in the words than in the way the Pope was able to command such awe and respect simply by speaking.

It was for this reason that Aidan neglected the heads now swimming through to the front of the crowd.

It all happened in an instant. Five people leapt out of the crowd. Four men, one woman. The highly-skilled Papal Guards cut the Pope's speech short and ushered him back into his carriage, but they were swiftly dealt with by the armed men and woman attacking them. By now, the Village Guardians had leapt into action amidst the screaming of the people, and they were fiercely doing battle with the strange assassins. Aidan, of course, did not stay behind: this was the chance he was looking for, to prove himself to everyone.

He saw that the female assassin, a tall, beautiful woman with black hair tied behind her head and wearing a long, unusually-tight blue dress with a slit down the front-middle to allow movement, had managed to open the door to the carriage and was grabbing at the Pope to remove him from it. Aidan immediately went for her: he leapt forward and summoned all his strength, burying the blunt end of his spear into her backside. The woman stumbled against the side of the carriage, letting out a cry of agony. She quickly let go of the Pope and spun around to see her aggressor.

Face to face with her, Aidan could see that this woman's eyes were beautiful, but frighteningly-determined. They were narrowed in anger towards him, and although she did not appear to be have a weapon, he was strangely frightened by her. "Get out of here," she commanded in a striking voice. "Back away. You don't have to die here. Let us complete our task and we will leave your village in peace forever."

Aidan brandished his weapon and smirked. "You must be kidding. Even if you leave the village alone, killing the Pope will do anything but leave us in peace." Even now he could picture the political and emotional backlash of such treason. Aselia might never recover from such a travesty, and if he could do anything to prevent it, he would.

"We have no intention of killing the Pope," the woman noted with a bit of an amused chuckle. She crossed her slim, bare arms across her chest and looked away from Aidan.

"So you came at him armed and ready to kill his guards. Right."

"Look," she snapped, turning her fierce gaze back to him. "I don't have to reason with you. You will get out of my way, one way or another."

Aidan stepped forward, trying to meet her gaze of determination with one of his own. He failed, but came quite close. "You leave," he whispered ominously. "I won't let you get away with this."

The assassin curled her lip and drew something from behind her back. Assuming it to be a weapon, Aidan hopped back and readied to defend himself. He lowered his guard, however, when he realized that she had pulled out, of all things, a flute. The device was carved out of black wood, and on one end it had a beautiful rose made of silver. "That's your defense? A musical instrument?" Aidan was stunned.

He was even more stunned, however, when the assassin hopped forward with her flute brandished threateningly in her right hand. She spun around with the agility of a cat, and the flute came hard across his cheek with a deafening crack. The woman continued to spin, and this time her leg extended underneath him, catching his heel and tripping him up before he even knew what was going on. That same foot, concealed in an attractive high-heel shoe, stepped forcefully on Aidan's throat. He felt that the heel would puncture his airway if he didn't think quickly.

"You had your chance, brat," the woman said. "You had your chance, and you threw it away. Time to—"

She paused briefly, feeling something behind her. Looking back, she saw Aidan rubbing her thighs with his hands like a horny schoolboy. She looked shocked and appalled, and turned back to him. "What the hell do you think you're doing!"

But Aidan wasn't so much a horny schoolboy as a schoolboy with a plan. That moment of shock had loosened the assassin's grip on his neck, and he was able to throw off her foot and roll a safe distance away to where his spear lay on the ground, knocked from his grasp during the attack. He grabbed it, righted himself, and brandished the weapon to face her anew.

"You're pretty hot," Aidan said with a roguish grin. "It's a shame you have to die for treason. We'd have been good together."

This infuriated the woman even more, and she charged at him with her weapon drawn once again. This time, Aidan felt ready for her. When she spun at him with her flute, he grasped his spear with his two hands far apart from each other, and held the weapon perpendicular to hers, preventing it from contacting him. Then he pushed it away and spun, driving the foot of the spear deep into the woman's stomach. He was trying not to kill her, if at all possible: the intent of her actions needed to be discovered.

Behind him, for he was now facing away from the assassin, he could hear her coughing and sputtering, and he knew that his attack had hit home, driving the air from her lungs. Aidan could tell that she was quick, but not very accustomed to taking hits, and so if he could carefully aim his attacks to hit her vital spots, he would be able to incapacitate her easily enough. As well, he simply had to prevent her from hitting his unprotected flesh, namely his face. Her flute would no doubt be unable to cause any harm to his chain mail armor.

"Pretty clever, boy," she chuckled as she regained her ability to breathe. "But you're playing in the big leagues, now. If you think your sad little militia training is going to stop my mission, you're sorely mistaken."

The assassin began her attack anew. She ran towards Aidan and pretended to spin, the same way she had done before; he instinctively brought his weapon up to guard against the attack from the side. However, halfway through the spin, the woman turned back the other way until she was facing Aidan again, and this time she thrust the head of her flute into his stomach. As expected, Aidan felt very little pain from the attack, but the force of her strength did unbalance him a little, throwing off his ability to guard.

After having staggered her opponent, the woman stepped around him, taking advantage of the moment in which he had no chance of blocking her. She slammed the length of the flute hard against the back of Aidan's skull, and he was momentarily blinded by the pain, staggering forwards helplessly. The assassin turned her back to him, and then extended her arms and kicked back with her right leg, balancing herself only on her left. The heel of her shoe dug into Aidan's spine, and he was sent flying another few feet forward, where he collapsed on the ground, awash in pain and agony.

"You're no match," she gloated without facing him. "I don't see the need to kill you now. You've wasted enough of my time already. I'll just take my prize and be on my—"

As she turned around to face the Pope's carriage, however, she saw that Aidan was standing up again. He was clearly in pain, half-leaning on his spear to keep himself upright, but his eyes told her that he was willing to fight to the death to stop her from achieving her goals. The woman smiled and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, letting out an amused chuckle.

"I don't understand your resolve. You protect a man with dark secrets, whom you have never even met before. Aselia will find another Pope – and it will want to, after we reveal him for what he really is."

Aidan was slightly bemused. What was she talking about? Dark secrets? What could possibly be bad about the Pontifex of the Church of Martel? He is, by definition, the holiest of the holy, Martel's chosen representative in Aselia. It seems unthinkable that he would have a dark past, or anything of the sort. He wouldn't have been selected if he did.

"I can see you're confused," she said darkly, shaking her head. "I don't have time to explain. Since you clearly won't surrender, I'll have to finish you here and now. I can't let anything stand in the way of the truth."

The woman charged again. Aidan could see the attack coming, but he was powerless to do anything to stop it. She was too fast, and he was too tired. "Destruction Dance!" she cried, nearing her foe and preparing the kill.

Crack. Crack. Crack. Three times her flute slammed against his face, battering his flesh and breaking his bones. She spun, and hit him with the momentum of the turn. In what seemed like the same instant, she leaned forwards and brought her right heel up to connect with Aidan's chin, sending him flying into the air. Quickly and skillfully, she righted herself, and brought the black flute to her lips. "Let me play you my symphony." Her voice seemed to echo ominously through the air and she began to play a tune. The song called raw energy out of nothingness, which attacked Aidan mercilessly as he was suspended in the air. The next thing he knew, he was falling again; but before he even hit the ground, Aidan was swallowed by murky blackness.

---

Aidan awoke in the most comfortable of beds, wrapped in warm sheets and with a fluffy pillow under his head, which was still pounding terribly. It took several moments before he could recall what had just happened. That last thing he remembered was being pummeled by the assassin's attack… but now he was in a comfortable bed. Had it all been a dream? He sat up and looked around.

He was certainly not in a familiar place. From the looks of things, he was in some sort of castle or compound: the walls were unfriendly stone, decorated with some tattered tapestries placed side-by-side with torches to light the room. It was unlike any place Aidan had ever visited before. Looking around, he could see a strange, hulking man sitting not far away, staring right back at him.

"So, you're awake." His voice was gruff and unfriendly. The expression on his face told Aidan that he didn't enjoy his presence here. The figure reached over and pressed a button on a strange device on the table he was sitting at. A ghostly figure erupted from the device, which Aidan immediately recognized, with a twinge of fear, as the assassin.

"Yes?" she demanded with a slightly annoyed look.

"The captive is awake, mistress," the man bellowed obediently. The holographic assassin turned and looked in Aidan's direction. She gave a quick smile and nodded.

"Right. I'll be right there." The hologram wavered suddenly, and she was gone again.

Aidan swung his legs over the side of the bed and tried to stand up, but realized he was in far too much pain to do so. "Get back in bed," the gruff man ordered, standing up. Appreciating that he was in no condition to deny the man in this state, he complied with the order and crawled back into the comfortable bed.

It wasn't long before the familiar visage of the assassin appeared in the doorway to Aidan's left. She gave a curt nod at the bulky man who had been watching him, and he shuffled out behind her to end his shift. Meanwhile, the assassin moved toward Aidan's bed and sat on the edge of it. He couldn't help but recoil slightly.

"You know, you've been a rather large annoyance," she said quietly, looking deep into his eyes. She didn't seem as mean or dangerous now, but that did nothing to quell Aidan's fear. "But I'll give you the chance to make it up for me."

Aidan was visibly shocked by her words. What? But… she wanted to kill me! He stared into her eyes for a long moment, trying to pick out some hint of maliciousness in her tone, something that hinted that she wasn't really giving him a second chance at life so much as offering him another form of death. "What… do you mean?"

The woman stood up, closed her eyes, folded her arms, and giggled quietly. She stepped away from the bed. "You, sir," – her head snapped back, her eyes locking with Aidan's – "are going to help me recapture the Pope."