The Journal of Renault, Bishop of Valor

Chapter 8

As I mentioned in my previous fanfic, "Hilda's Confession", I may not be posting new chapters or new fanfics for a bit as I am now in the planning phase of my first book (to which I gave the working title of Project Five). However, I will be updating the status of the project on my Twitter handle (codygulifanfics). Considering I have nothing more to say, here's chapter 8!

Eburacum.

The name resonated through my mind over and over, like a song playing repeatedly in my head. At the same time, I began having my doubts over what Uther told me. How could I trust this...stranger that he mentioned, this...Garrett person? How could he expect me to trust a bandit? Was this a trap? Somehow I had a bad feeling about all of this…

"Oi, priest," a voice called from in front of me. "Western Isles, dead ahead." Before I had departed for Eburacum, I had used some of the money that Bell had gifted me on a guide to the Western Isles. He said he used to be a former miner from the parts himself, as the soot marks and various scars on his body proved true. Although not the brightest of any guide, he was full of muscle and stout, perfect should I run into any trouble. His clothing was somewhat ragged for a man of his profession but fit him well. I looked up to see that we were approaching a small mining town, with various smaller islands emerging from the water close by. The caravan soon came to a halt just on the outskirts of the town.

"This is as far as I'll go, priest," said the guide. "Mount Eburacum is about a half-day's walk from here, so you might as well rest up for now."

"You mean to tell me we're not there yet?" I asked puzzled.

"Close. This is Armagh."

"You promised me that you'd guide me to-"

"I promised you I'd get you to the Western Isles, and that's that. 10 gold pieces."

I huffed as I handed over ten gold coins to the guide, who took them without another word spoken. As the both of us parted ways, I muttered under my breath impatiently and entered the small town.

The sights I saw there were dreadful. Most of the houses were rundown, some hardly even standing on their own legs. The men were covered from head to toe with coal dust and dirt, same as the children. Both the women and children were skin and bones, tanned by the harsh sun of the archipelago. Some of the children were just as dirty as the adult men, indicating that they too worked in the mines, whereas others had little to no clothing. Hardly any crop grew around town, perhaps because of the humid climate. As I advanced towards the village center, crowds of people began following me suspiciously, eyeing my clothing and sizing me up. As I stopped to look at them, a lone man as skinny and frail as the others approached me.

"Do you come to set us free, priest?" the man wheezed.

"I beg your pardon?" I asked.

"We are a community of miners, both man and child. We work many hours a day mining ore for our revered lord and master, and in return he feeds us and gives us shelter. As of late we have turned up less and less mineral, and thus he feeds us less and less. Most of us have not had food for days now, and yet he works us to the brink. Spare us some bread mister. We beg of you."

I stood dumbfounded and shocked at this new revelation that was thrust upon me. Who in their right mind would treat these poor citizens like slaves, scapegoats no less? This was inhumane, perhaps the work of bandits. And yet Marquess Uther wanted me to trust one of them in order to gain passage to Valor. This was absurd, and it was high time I did something.

"I have no food on me sadly," I replied to the man, "however I will see what can be done about your master."

"You mustn't!" the man cried out, grasping at my robes with two boney hands. "You mustn't defy our master. He has power here in Armagh, in the Western Isles. Should you so much as lay a finger on him…" The man paused to catch his breath, but by the time he had prepared to say more, another man dressed in finer clothing approached the group.

"What is going on here?" the other man said. "Well? Speak, mongrel!"

"Y-Your Graciousness…" the ragged man spluttered, "please...our people are starving. Our thirst for fresh food has reached its peak. All we ask is for some bread, or some other sustenance to nourish our stomachs."

"If it's food you want, then perhaps you would do well to turn up your keep in the mines."

"But the mines, sir...the mines turn up less and less ore-"

"Then you must continue to mine deeper! Mine faster! Mine more!"

"B-But Master…"

"Enough! On your feet, mongrel, and back into the mines with you. All of you!"

Despite his best efforts, the ragged man could not stand straight. As soon as he had gotten to his feet, he fell back down onto his knees. Furious by this, the fine gentleman, in an act of pure insolence, produced a leather whip and cracked it against the man's back. The ragged man howled in pain with each lash until suddenly, his whole body collapsed to the earth. With a raspy groan, the ragged man ceased to live. This only caused the fine gentleman to grow angrier still.

"Whelp!" he screamed. "Get up!" He continued to crack at the man's corpse while the others watched in horror. Finally, something inside me had snapped, and I ran to the dead man's side.

"Stop this!" I cried, kneeling by the corpse on the ground. "Stop this at once you heathen! Don't you see he's dead?!"

"Out of my way, priest! I have no qualm with you," the man answered. As he prepared another lash, I raised my staff in defense, pointing the orb on top towards him. "You wouldn't dare harm me."

"I would. If not for Saint Elimine, then for these poor villagers that you've exploited."

"Exploited? I find your choice of words a tad excessive, priest. So be it."

The man once more raised the whip, this time to strike me. I quickly muttered some ancient words, and from my staff a strong aura shone. The man shouted in confusion and stumbled backwards, growing even more furious. When the light faded, he growled and threw down his whip, favoring to use the axe attached to his belt instead. With an intimidating look, he said, "You'll pay for that, priest. You and these mongrels!" and charged headfirst towards me. I managed to parry his swings with ease, and with a gap in one of his attacks I struck him in the back of his legs first, then his back. He groaned in pain and fell to the ground, writhing with agony on his back. I pinned him to the ground with my staff pointed at his neck.

"I would not hesitate to kill you," I spoke coldly, "but that would upset my goddess. So I shall not. However…" A pause. "You will feed these villagers and treat them better, or you will suffer the wrath of Saint Elimine." I removed my staff from his chest.

"Who…" the man gasped, "who are you…?"

"Bishop Renault, of the Saint Elimine Church."

"Strong...you're not...human…"

These words gave me chills. Not human. It reminded me of Briar, of Nergal...it reminded me of what I was, and what I had become. It reminded me of what Nergal did to me, to Briar's corpse. Not human. Not human…

"Perhaps not," I replied without hesitation. "I don't know what I am anymore. However I do know that you are nothing but a manipulative, greedy oaf who has learned not to carelessly throw away human life. Pray that you don't forget that lesson." Suddenly, a rumble came over the horizon. Within moments the skies became cloudy, and then rain began to fall softly. And then heavily. I quickly took shelter underneath one of the buildings and watched as the other townsfolk and the ground were soaked by the rain. The downpour, while strong, only lasted a few minutes, but the effects were instant. The villagers, once dirty and full of grime, were washed clean. The ground became fertile and soft. Crop began to spring from the ground rapidly. The townsfolk watched on with wonder as food and life appeared before their very eyes. The gentleman, now having recovered from his injuries, stood up, grabbed his whip, and retreated.

"Saint Elimine has blessed us!" cried one villager.

"We are saved!" cried another.

"Food for all of us!" sang the children.

Then all of a sudden, the man who was struck dead rose to his feet completely fine. He looked at his hands, then his feet, and finally at me. He once again threw his arms around me and grasped my robes tightly.

"Bless you, dear boy," he sobbed. "Bless you and Saint Elimine too!"

That night, a feast was held in my honor. The women sang and danced, the men roared with laughter and drowned in fine wine, and the children laughed and screamed and played happily. It had felt like forever since I had seen such a celebration like this, and yet I was not interested in the festivities. I began to quietly slip away from the party when the ragged man from earlier stopped me and asked, "Where are you going, dear boy?" With this question, the roaring noise turned to silence and all eyes shifted upon me.

"I do apologize," I said calmly. "But I must rest. I leave at first light tomorrow."

"Leave? You're leaving us so soon?"

"I must. I have my own mission to worry about."

" You have brought our little village life again, set us free from the clutches of that tyrant, and yet you must leave us. Now, as my people across the Western Isles suffer the same fate as we did..."

"What if our master comes for us again? Who shall protect us?" one of the women asked.

"He won't," I replied courageously. "You have the blessing of Saint Elimine on your side. All you must do is pray to her and he will not lay a finger on you. And if he should, he will feel the judgement of Saint Elimine."

"Will you come back, mister? To visit?" a child asked innocently.

I paused to consider these words carefully. "I am unsure. Perhaps not. Should I not return, then do not feel sorrow. You are all safe now, as I have ordained it. Tomorrow, I shall set out for Mount Eburacum."

"Very well," the ragged man replied. "I assure you that you know the way? If not, my people will guide you. It is the only way we can repay you for your kindness."

"Thank you. I appreciate the help. Good night." I gave the villagers one last wave before heading to bed. As I laid in bed I began to think back on the day's events. I began wondering if I should make the effort to quell the suffering of the miners in the Western Isles, or if I should put my own agenda first. These poor people have suffered as much pain as I have, if not more. To ignore them would make me no better than those who harm them, who use them. I must decide tomorrow, I thought. For now, I must rest. There is much to be done in the morning.

Probably could have used a better ending but because my brain is mush I couldn't come up with anything better. Remember to check me out on Twitter (codygulifanfics) for updates on my life situation and book progress! Also don't forget to leave a review if you want to see more!