City of Bravil
"Sal-Gheel?! What on Nirn are you doing?"
Valutinian broke into a sprint towards the Lucky Old Lady. Already, Sal-Gheel had clambered atop the dais and climbed up the statue.
"Sal-Gheel, please get down from there!" Sirimgeira rushed at Valutinian's heels. "You'll fall and get hurt, child!"
"Do you need help, son?!" The Primate reached the base of the statue's dais first.
"It's all right!" Sal called back. He had already mounted the Lady's outstretched arm. "I do this all the time!"
He sat down upon the horizontal forearm and put one arm around her shoulders. Slowly, he leaned in to give the statue a kiss upon the cheek. His legs swung and dangled off the side.
Valutinian and Sirimgeira stopped and watched from below. An orb of blue-white energy shot out from the Lucky Old Lady. It struck Sal square in the chest and dispersed into rising concentric spirals around him.
They both gasped in anxious fright when he planted his hands on the Lady's forearm and pushed himself onto his feet. Yet he did not appear to wobble or flail on the narrow surface.
"Look out, world!" Sal perched one foot on the Lady's shoulder. He flexed his biceps and stared out around the city of Bravil. "This hatchling's gonna rise to the top! The sky's not the limit for this Argonian! Just you wait and see!" He leaned out to his left, away from the Lady, and smirked.
The clerics screamed when Sal flipped around. He now faced the chapel with his right foot on the statue's shoulder. His left foot perched on her forearm. He flexed his arms again, looking up towards the sky to soak in the morning sunlight.
"So, this was your home for the longest time, Sal-Gheel?" Sirimgeira sat down beside the feet of the Lucky Old Lady. Valutinian sat opposite her, on the Lady's left. "This is where you slept every single night?"
"Yes, Mother," Sal explained. He dropped his right foot beside his left. Placing one hand on the Lady's shoulder, he stepped around to face her. His back turned now to the chapel. "For an entire year. Or in empty alleyways when I could find them. But she always took care of me. Protected me somehow."
"That is an awfully narrow ledge, son," Valutinian observed the outstretched arm of the statue. "Yet you're standing there like it's nothing."
"I don't really know how to explain it, Your Grace," Sal shrugged. The Primate's mouth dropped when the hatchling turned to sit down upon her shoulder. Again, never once did his balance waver. "I've always been able to do this. I mean, she doesn't seem to mind it." He jerked a thumb at the Lady.
"How ever did you manage it, Sal-Gheel?" Sirimgeira leaned forward, insistent and curious. "Please, I must know. Living out here exposed to the elements; to anyone who could try to hurt or bring evil upon you. Living without food or drink or shelter for who knows how long. How have you survived this long?"
Sal lowered his gaze, unable to answer for a long moment. "Honestly, Mother…" he admitted. "I still don't understand it myself."
He stood back up on the stone arm. "Oh, yeah! I just remembered! Watch this!"
He leaped up and spun around in the air. The clerics cried out in unison and reached for him.
But Sal fell straight downward. His tail coiled around the Lady's wrist. In an instant, Sal-Gheel faced the chapel and swung back and forth from the arm, laughing.
"Sweet Mother Mara have mercy," Sirimgeira held a hand to her heart, closing her eyes and heaving a sigh of relief. "Please don't ever scare us like that again, Sal-Gheel."
"I'm sorry, Mother," Sal swung up and grabbed the stone forearm. He turned around, moving his hands around and turning accordingly until he faced forward again. "I'll try to be more careful for you and His Grace." He dangled back and forth by one arm, the other dropping by his side.
"How extraordinary…" Valutinian watched the swinging hatchling, captivated and awed. "No natural Argonian could possess the balance, dexterity, and adroitness that you do."
"Adroitness, sir?" Sal repeated the unfamiliar word in sincere confusion.
"Cleverness and skill," Valutinian explained, watching Sal's dangling arm in fascination. "In your case, your precise ability to manipulate your limbs, tail included. Anyway, what I wanted to ask is this."
He shifted his weight slightly and drew close to the hanging hatchling. "Do you at all remember where you used to live, Sal-Gheel?"
"Yes, Your Grace, I actually do." Sal-Gheel loosened his grip on the Lucky Old Lady's arm.
He dropped onto the head of one of the stone babies encircling her, oscillating for a second on the sole of one foot. Then he leaped off and landed safe on the dais beside the Primate.
They followed him onto Main Street. Directly parallel to Silverhome on the Water, the hatchling led them up four short flights of stairs to the summit of a pitiful ramshackle house.
"Here," Sal-Gheel gestured to the door at the top of the house. They noticed a rusted-over silver padlock on the handle. A magical black aura coated it, forbidding and invulnerable.
"This is where my parents and I used to live. Before the court seized it and tossed me out onto the street."
"Good heavens!" Sirimgeira held a hand to her heart, shocked. "They seized your home and then tossed you out onto the street?! Why in Mara's name would they do that?"
"Why else?" Valutinian answered the question for her. He rubbed his thumb and two fingers together indicatively. "Money."
"And they won't allow you back inside?" Sirimgeira leaned down to Sal-Gheel's eye level, hands on her knees.
The Argonian shook his head. "No, Mother. They won't. This is as close as I'm allowed to be. Whatever they're doing inside my old home, I have no idea."
He shrugged and exhaled in frustration, putting his hands in his pants pockets. "All this time, I've asked the Town Guard what they're doing in here, and why I can't go inside. But they've never told me."
"There are a couple inns here in town," Valutinian looked around at the city. "Did you ever try to stay in them?"
"Yes, Your Grace, for a time," Sal-Gheel nodded. He hooked his thumbs on the outsides of his pockets. "I had about a week's worth of money that my parents used to give me as an allowance. Stayed at the Silverhome for about six days. Until Elanaale Laemwatch evicted me when my money almost ran out."
He gestured towards the south of town. "The Lonely Suitor Lodge let me stay for a single day and night. But Gargakh Rugdbruz never liked children. He got rid of me the next day, too."
He shook his head and growled deep in his throat. His hands curled into tight fists. "I've been on the streets ever since. No home, no money, no food or drink. Only the clothes on my back."
"Oh, Sal-Gheel," Sirimgeira approached Sal-Gheel and wrapped her arms around him. The hatchling settled into her embrace and closed his eyes, relaxing. "I'm sorry, little one. I didn't know."
"If you don't mind my asking, Sal-Gheel," Valutinian clasped his hands humbly over his robes. "Where are your parents now?"
He didn't reply for a long moment. Sirimgeira ran a comforting hand over his scalp feathers. Both waited, the ambience of the city filling the fateful silence.
"Can you come with me back to the chapel? I'll show you."
The Great Chapel of Mara, Cemetery
"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. Maka, paka. It's me; sepu, xhot deek. Your hatchling. Sep'm kalhuthi –I'm sorry I haven't been to visit in a while."
Sal-Gheel wiped tears from his eyes and face as he weaved through the chapel cemetery. Valutinian and Sirimgeira followed behind him in silence.
At the very back of the cemetery, Sal-Gheel stopped. He dropped to his knees before a pair of headstones.
"I've been trying to be a taalil deek. Lakhu xho deelithloj sepu. Like you always taught me." he spoke to the headstones. "But…"
He choked, followed by a hiccup. Two fresh tears streaked down his face. He clenched his teeth as if trying to hold back more tears.
"But it's been so hard. Everything has gone xokuul…Everyone in this town is so…txahonti…"
Sirimgeira knelt beside the hatchling. Valutinian leaned down to read the headstones.
"Mahez-Ka Calidaseer
28th of Second Seed, 4E 122
3rd of Rain's Hand, 4E 187"
"Jani-Deseith Caliadaseer
19th of Last Seed, 4E 124
3rd of Rain's Hand, 4E 187"
"And here I had assumed they'd simply abandoned you, Sal-Gheel…" The color drained from Valutinian's face. "I…I don't know what to say." He knelt on the hatchling's other side, placing a hand of comfort on his shoulder.
"Xhaal leel…xepozman suuk…these kind people from the chapel…" Sal-Gheel spoke to the headstones in between sniffles and uneven, sporadic breaths. "They—they want to take me in, sepu txaetli, to live—katxan tlom—with them. If th-tha-that's okay. They gave me a bath, txaklan'eth—clothes, and-and food. Can I live with them? P-please?"
But the headstone sat silent, lifeless, and cold.
Sal-Gheel dropped his face in his hands and let his tears flow. He wailed and screamed into his hands and the ground. Sirimgeira and Valutinian both embraced him.
"Sal-Gheel…we're so sorry…" Valutinian whispered in between his anguished cries. "We didn't know. We never knew…"
After what felt like an eternity, Sal-Gheel's wails eventually diminished into soft sobs and barely-audible sniffles. He lifted his head and wiped tears on his shirt sleeves.
"I'm sorry, Mother; Your Grace. I-I didn't mean to cry. I just…my parents—"
"It's all right, child," Sirimgeira cleaned the last of his tear streaks using her sash. "It's not your fault. You had no choice."
"May I…" Valutinian chose his words carefully, his arms wrapped around the Argonian's waist. "May I ask how your parents died, Sal-Gheel?"
Sal-Gheel gulped, but summoned his courage. "A year ago, my parents and I were living in our house. One day, a man came to our door.
'In the name of Count Cavocus and Countess Augussandra,', he said. 'I'm collecting your taxes. Failure to do so will result in immediate dispossession.'"
"Dispossession…" Valutinian repeated the word in a horrified whisper. "Deprival of property, land, or possessions."
"'I'm sorry, but we can't pay right now!'" my dad protested. "'I can talk with my employers about raising my wages. Come back next month. Maybe I'll be able to pay you—,'"
"The tax collector grabbed my dad by the throat and pushed him up against the wall. "'I do not take no for an answer! Taxes! Or I'll have your head!'"
"He had three other people with him. Two of them held my mom's arms behind her back. The other one…"
The hatchling gulped again. "Pushed me onto the floor and put his foot on my back."
"'Taxes! Now! Or it'll be your wife and son's blood on your hands!'"
"'I'm sorry! I can't! I just can't!'"
"'Then to Oblivion with you!'"
"He pulled my dad out the door. My mom and I screamed and cried. But the tax collector's men held us down. My dad fought back. I didn't see a lot, but I heard a lot of yelling and hitting and wrestling. Next thing I knew, my dad fell off the walkway, and—,"
He stopped himself short. His eyes grew wide, staring absently in no direction.
"The—," he struggled to find the words. "The man came back in. He held my dad's coinpurses in his hands. My father usually kept them in his pockets. He—," A gulp and a shudder. "He pointed at my mom."
"'Do what you want with her. Then turn this whole house upside down. Grab every single coin you can find. Leave the child be.'"
"The rest is…" His words dried up mid-sentence in his mouth. "All I remember is…the men dragged my mother and I into the bedroom. They tossed Mom onto her bed…ripped open her dress. Held me down, made me watch…and—,"
He stopped again, seeing them grimacing and their bodies freezing mid-movement.
"Then…after they were done, they threw her off the walkway, too."
"I think we understand now." Valutinian broke the tension. He rubbed Sal-Gheel's back up and down, smoothing out the creases in his bright blue shirt. "I don't know what else to say except…I'm sorry, Sal-Gheel."
"I just…" His horror turned to abject anger, etched into every line of his face. His hands clenched into fists. "I wish I could've done something to stop it! My parents would be alive if I'd only fought back!"
"Sal-Gheel, there was nothing you could've done," Sirimgeira explained to him. "You were so young. You wouldn't be strong enough."
"One day…" A fiery aura filled his eyes. The same aura Sirimgeira recognized from the chapel. "I'll find that tax collector and his men. And I'll make them pay for what they did to my parents. For what they did to me!"
"Revenge won't bring your parents back, Sal-Gheel," Valutinian corrected the hatchling. He flinched when Sal-Gheel turned to him, his eyes flaming. "It won't heal the wounds they caused you."
The Primate gathered his wits and cleared his throat. "Wars have been started by needless acts of vengeance. Innocent blood has been shed because of it."
"The least you can do is move on from it, Sal-Gheel," Sirimgeira explained. She dropped her sash onto her lap and put her arm around Sal-Gheel's shoulders. "I know the wounds still hurt. But we are here to help you. The Divines are here to help you."
Sal-Gheel rounded on her, his mouth open and his brow furrowed in disbelief. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled.
"No. You're right. It's all I can do. I'm sorry for getting angry…"
When he reopened his eyes, the fiery glow had faded. Valutinian and Sirimgeira withdrew their arms from him.
"I've made up my mind, Sal-Gheel." Valutinian stood up, and the other two followed suit. "By the authority vested in me by the Eight Divines, I, Primate Valutinian of the Great Chapel of Mara…have hereby decided that the clergy shall adopt you."
"You will?!" Sal-Gheel exploded in happiness. "Oh, thank you, Your Grace!"
He threw himself at the Primate. Valutinian reacted in the nick of time. He caught the hatchling in a deep embrace, chuckling. Sirimgeira too laughed out loud.
"We cannot be complete replacements for your parents, Sal-Gheel," Valutinian explained, again rubbing the hatchling's back. "But we will do our best to treat you as one of your own. Perhaps, in time and when you grow old enough, you can choose whether you want to join us in the clergy."
"Really?" Sal-Gheel withdrew his face from Valutinian's robe and stared up at him, eyes wide with hope. "I mean, I've never considered it before. My parents and I worshipped the Hist, as do our people."
"And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, little one." Valutinian reassured him, stroking his scalp feathers. "You can continue to worship the Hist freely within our sacred walls. I encourage you. The Argonians and the Hist are one; a symbiosis. Each cannot live without the other."
"And maybe you can figure out how to worship both the Hist and the Divines together," Sirimgeira added, brushing dirt and dust from her robes. "Who knows, maybe you can uncover some connections."
"Is there anywhere else you want to go today, Sal-Gheel?" Valutinian released the hatchling. "We've still got a couple hours before lunch."
"Actually, sir," Sal-Gheel responded with an affirmative nod. "Can we stop by the Castle? I'd like to speak to the Captain of the Guard."
Castle Bravil
"Excuse me, Captain Gemanius?"
Gemanius glanced down at a familiar figure standing below him. The Argonian was dressed in modest but debonair clothes – a stark contrast to the roughspun tunic he'd yesterday been garbed in.
"Yes, little Argonian?" Gemanius dropped to one knee at the hatchling's eye level. "What do you need, child?" Over the Argonian's shoulder, he noticed two members of the chapel clergy standing behind him.
"Captain, there's something I wanted to report to you." Sal-Gheel related in explicit and comprehensive detail his attempted assault from that morning.
Gemanius' face fell, his brow furrowed and his eyes softening with genuine empathy. "You poor child." His voice sounded soft, almost broken and pained. "I'm so sorry you had to endure that. You didn't deserve to have that happen to you. No one does. How could those people attempt to sully such a chaste spirit such as yourself?"
"I haven't got a clue, sir," Sal-Gheel shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shifting his nervous feet on the castle floor.
"Can you give me the names of the people responsible?" Gemanius stood up and walked over to a table. Opening a drawer, he removed a charcoal pen and leaf of parchment. "Did you catch their names?"
"Yes, Captain," Sal-Gheel nodded. Gemanius made his way back to him and returned to his knees. "Engndir the Bosmer. Ysirsandra the Redguard. Moajma the Khajiit."
Gemanius swiftly wrote down the names on his parchment. "Don't worry, child." He gave a reassuring nod. "We'll track your assailants down and bring them to justice. You can count on us."
"Thank you, Captain," Sal-Gheel nodded back, comforted. His face broke into a half-grin and half-smirk. "You know, you're not quite so bad after all. I'd say you're the best Captain in town. I mean, you caught me, after all!" He let out a sheepish laugh at his own expense.
Gemanius chuckled and ruffed the hatchling's feathers. "You're one exceptionally smart Argonian, especially at your age. I appreciate you coming to me about this."
He moved his hand down to the hatchling's shoulder. "I can't imagine how much courage this must've taken for you. You should be very proud of yourself."
He flashed him a thumbs-up and a determined wink. "We'll find those people, for you. They may have escaped you, but they can't escape the law. I promise, they'll never hurt you or anyone else ever again."
"What?! Spoil that no-good brat, will you?!"
Countess Augussandra's voice pierced Sal-Gheel's eardrums. All eyes and ears turned to behold her sitting on her throne. Cavocus sitting on her right (their left) held out a hand to calm her. But she neglected to notice it.
"With all due respect, Your Highness," Valutinian approached the throne. "I have decided that the chapel shall take in Sal-Gheel Calidaseer. We plan to save this impoverished child from the streets." Sirimgeira stood abreast of him.
Captain Gemanius motioned for Sal-Gheel to join them. Sal-Gheel didn't waste a second. He moved to stand in front of Valutinian, who placed his hands on the hatchling's shoulders.
"We believe there is something…special…about him, for lack of a better word," the Primate continued. "We're not asking for Your Highnesses' permission; only your awareness. Perhaps it was fate and destiny that drew him to our fold? Perhaps it is prophecy? That is what we are hoping to uncover."
"Special?" Augussandra spat out the word, contemptuous. She narrowed her eyes at the little hatchling, who glared stoically back. "Doesn't look so special to me. Did you know he snuck inside our kitchens yestermorn, begging for food from myself, and Cavocus?"
"As he's well informed us," Sirimgeira nodded, acknowledging. "But as far as we're concerned, he's committed no real sins or crimes."
"Sins?! Crimes?!" Augussandra exploded, causing Cavocus to flinch in his seat. "Walking into our immaculate and sacred palace with his filthy beggar feet is a crime enough! Him merely existing is an unpardonable sin!"
She pointed a condemning finger at Sal-Gheel. "I should've had you taken to the dungeons! Locked up for life for ruining our perfect castle! Soiling our floors and rugs with dirt and mud and whatever else you brought with you!"
"I disagree, Countess," Valutinian objected, wrapping his hands around Sal-Gheel's shoulders, almost protective. "Sal-Gheel has an extraordinary connection to the Eight Divines; ancient and perhaps even supernatural in origin. We haven't uncovered precisely what that connection implies for him. But that's what we hope to do."
"Did you hear him talking to your Guard Captain, Countess?" Sirimgeira added, motioning to Captain Gemanius, who was now speaking to two others of his guards. "Poor innocent Sal-Gheel was attacked by a group of predators who attempted to molest him. They didn't succeed, of course, because of the connection to the Divines that he possesses."
"Molested by predators?" Augussandra rolled her eyes, and Sal-Gheel felt his heart jolt in his chest in annoyance. "Is that my problem? Unless it directly involves me, it is not my problem! As for this 'extraordinary' connection to the Divines you speak of…"
She made air-quotes on the word 'extraordinary'. "People will come up with any sort of delusion to try to make themselves seem more important than they really are! Fate? Destiny? Prophecy? Seems everyone's got a gimmick these days!"
"That's enough, Augussandra!" Cavocus's voice stabbed through hers.
Augussandra stopped halfway through leaning back on her throne. She narrowed her eyes at her husband.
"What…did you just say to me, Cavocus?"
"I said, that is enough!" Cavocus seethed, his eyes blazing. Sal-Gheel raised his eyebrows, his jaw dropping in awe and eyes widening at the Count's bold courage.
"Have you no empathy for this poor child? This street urchin who had nothing to eat or drink at all yesterday? Who came to us begging for breakfast as his desperate last resort? Whom we tossed out onto the streets when we were in the morally wrong to do so? Can't you have some sympathy for him?"
"Empathy? Sympathy? Did you forget we have a reputation to maintain, Cavocus?!" Augussandra threw her hands up in the air in disbelief. "You would dare taint the Magium name with empathy and sympathy? I cannot believe you're opposing me on this! You're defiant, Cavocus! You must have some kind of oppositional and defiant disorder! Are you just asking for a divorce?"
Sal-Gheel's face broke into an amused grin. He hid his snickering behind his hand. Valutinian and Sirimgeira too suppressed mild chuckles.
"Aww! Arguing like an old married couple!" Captain Gemanius stepped up on Valutinian's other side, not even concealing the ear-to-ear grin on his face. His guards Approllaise and Herisius stood behind him.
"Silence, Captain!" Augussandra waved a disciplining hand at him. Gemanius fell silent, but snorted behind his hand. "Go about your patrols, now."
"Just go, Gemanius." Cavocus nodded at the Imperial, an uncanny air of brave confidence about the Count. "I can handle this."
Gemanius bowed, as did the other two guards. He turned and gave a wink to Sal-Gheel, who winked back. He left the throne room with his guards behind him.
"What made you come to the decision to adopt Sal-Gheel, may I ask?" Cavocus addressed the Primate and Priestess.
"He has no home, Your Highness," Valutininan explained. "No family, no next of kin, no place to live. Your court dispossessed him a year ago after the murders of his parents."
"Murders?" Cavocus stared down at the hatchling, the color draining from his face.
"Acilandrus Vunone?" Sal-Gheel spat out the name with bitterness in his voice. "The tax collector? He and his men murdered my parents!"
"Wait a minute! I remember now!" Augussandra blurted out. She shook her finger at the hatchling. "You're that same wretched hatchling boy we tossed out onto the street a year ago!"
"The very same," Sal-Gheel folded his arms over his chest, now surprisingly assertive. "Would you like me to count one by one everything the streets have put me through since then? Or do you want to tell me what you're doing in my old home?"
Augussandra stopped, taken aback and stammering. She spat and raved, but the words did not reach her. She clenched her fists in frustration. Sal-Gheel's smirk stretched from ear to ear. Radiant golden flames burned behind his irises.
"I hope one day you realize, Countess…that you dispossessed the wrong Argonian."
"You rebellious ingrate!"
"Augussandra!"
"Such meanness! All the time!" the Countess barked, now whining. "People are so mean to me!" She stamped her foot on the floor and grabbed at her flowing brunette hair. "See? You're being mean to me right now! All of you!" She drew a finger around at the clergy and Sal-Gheel, ending on her husband.
"You are acting like such a child, Augussandra." Cavocus narrowed his eyes. His words jabbed into Augussandra's heart like cold venom. "I suppose you feel good about yourself talking to these people like that? When they have done nothing to wrong you?"
"I do feel good when I talk to people like that!" Augussandra spat and raged, her own words like burning tongues of flame. "I'm trying to teach this hatchling how to properly manage his life! This dimwitted, self-centered, oppositional child! He thinks the world revolves around him!"
"Speak for yourself," Sal-Gheel muttered under his breath. Valutinian and Sirimgeira again suppressed chuckles.
"I have never been so disrespected in my life! You!" Augussandra shook her condemning fist at the hatchling and pointed in the direction of the castle doors. "Get out! Move out of my castle! Go live somewhere else and see how long you last out there! I don't want to see you in my castle ever again! Get out!"
"Gladly," Sal-Gheel hissed, seething. A deeper, grittier voice joined his own. But Augussandra failed to sense it.
"You are raving mad," Cavocus growled to his wife. "You on the other hand are dismissed," he told Valutinian and Sirimgeira. "Good day." They and Sal-Gheel all bowed to him in thanks and respect.
"Wait!" Augussandra reached out her hands after the departing clergy and their hatchling. "You can't just let them leave like that! I wasn't finished with them!"
"You weren't, but I was!" Cavocus held out an arm across his wife's body to stop her. "We're going to need to have a real talking-to after court is out of session tonight."
"Listen to how rude you sound, Cavocus! Perhaps you should move out as well?"
"Perhaps I shall! And maybe I'll file for divorce! Have you tossed out onto the streets, just like you did that hatchling!"
The swinging shut castle doors muffled Augussandra's ranting reply.
"Thank heavens that's over," Valutinian wiped the back of his arm across his brow. Sirimgeira and Sal-Gheel both giggled and chuckled out loud. "Anyone up for lunch?"
The Great Chapel of Mara, Chapel Hall, Scriptorium
Valutinian stepped up behind Sal-Gheel's escritoire. "How are you coming along, Sal-Gheel?"
"I think I'm nearly finished, Your Grace," the hatchling sat up straight, revealing the membership paper he'd been filling out, with help from Romarcella and Heinoke.
"That's wonderful," Valutinian placed a cup of post-lunch freshly-brewed jasmine tea beside the boy's podium. "Remember, this is only for the chapel's records while you're living here. You won't have to worry about us sharing this information with the court. May I have a look, please?" Sal-Gheel passed the parchment to him.
"Thank you, son." Valutinian scanned the papers. "Name, Sal-Gheel Calidaseer. Sex and Gender you identify as, Male. Pronouns, he/him/his. Race, Argonian. Birthdate, 21st of Last Seed, 180—my goodness!"
He lowered the paper and stared at Sal-Gheel agape. "To think that all of this happened to you…and you're only almost eight years old?"
Sal-Gheel shrugged, lost for words. Valutinian nodded in understanding, then returned to the papers.
"Birthplace, Bravil, Cyrodiil, Tamriel. Height, 4 feet, 8 inches. Good, very good…Weight, 54 pounds?"
He looked over the hatchling's body. "Hmm…Now that I see it, you do look awfully underweight. The streets truly haven't been kind to you at all. You're dangerously under your typical weight for your age."
"But maybe we can change that, Your Grace?" Sal-Gheel tilted to his head to one side.
"Of course, child," Valutinian nodded and straightened up again. "That'll be no problem at all."
"You can count on us, kid!" Saint Heinoke rubbed his fist on Sal-Gheel's head, his other hand holding a tankard of Nord Mead. Sal-Gheel laughed out loud and hugged the Nord around his waist. Heinoke chuckled and wrapped his arm around the hatchling's shoulders, kissing the top of his head.
"We'll make sure you get all the calories you need to grow up, Sal-Gheel," Romarcella added, raising her own cup of jasmine tea to her lips.
"Parents, Mahez-Ka Calidaseer and Jani-Deseith Calidaseer…" Valutinian resumed reading while Sal-Gheel helped himself to his tea. "Siblings, none. Relatives, none. That's all fine. Last known residence, Main Street. Eye color, cyan. How beautiful. Hair color? Your purple feathers and tan horns. Skin color, green. Perfect."
He turned it over and read the back side. "Languages spoken, Cyrodiilic, Jel. Marital status, single. Of course, you're still far too young to get married anyway. Clerical positions of interest, Layperson and—hmm…"
He showed Sal-Gheel the place on the paper. "I noticed you're also interested in becoming a seminarian?"
"Se-mi-nar-ian, sir?" Sal-Gheel pronounced the word carefully, sounding confused.
"The name for a person training to become a priest," Valutinian explained, kneeling beside Sal-Gheel's chair. "I trust you understand that being a priest is a lifelong commitment, Sal-Gheel. You'd have to swear a vow of celibacy, which exempts you from marital and, erm…other relations."
"The only real barrier to this is your age," Romarcella remarked, stirring sugar and maple syrup into her jasmine tea. "You're certainly far too young to be enrolled in the seminary, or the Imperial College or the Arcane University."
"But it's entirely your choice," Heinoke finished, swirling his mead around in his tankard. "If you find being a seminarian doesn't interest you, then you don't have to commit to it if you don't want to."
"Otherwise, this is all perfect, Sal-Gheel!" Valutinian stood back up and handed him back the paper. "Now, your signature, little one."
Sal-Gheel signed his name on the appropriate line at the bottom of the page.
"Thank you, Sal-Gheel." Valutinian too signed his name. He pressed his signet ring into an inkpad, and pressed it beside his signature. "Document number 11-11-2011." This he wrote in the bottom right corner.
"Congratulations, Sal-Gheel!" The Primate spread his arms wide. "You are officially adopted by the Great Chapel of Mara!"
The biggest ear-to-ear grin broke out across Sal-Gheel's face. Tears of happiness sprang to his eyes.
"All right!" Heinoke elbowed the hatchling in the side. "You're one of us now, kid!"
"Welcome to the fold, Sal-Gheel!" Romarcella put aside her tea to open her arms for a hug. Sal-Gheel gladly slipped off his chair and fell into her arms.
"Thank you! Thank you so, so, so much! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"
Chapel Hall, Rectory
Sal-Gheel shed his doeskin shoes and wiggled his toes on the hardwood floor of his brand-new bedroom. A thin layer of shaved wood and dust met his feet. The sensation elicited a little giggle from him.
He stood in a quaint four-walled stone bedroom just past the sacristy. Rain splattered and lightning flashed across a storm window. Thunder cracked in his ears in the distance.
He sat down on the side of his child-sized bed. Hands brushed over freshly-laundered sheets and pillows on both ends. Beside it, a nightstand with a single candle atop and three stacked drawers below. He opened the top drawer to find a copy of The Annotated Anuad inside. A chest with its lid wide open sat behind the footboard.
He plopped into the chair of a small cherry wood writing desk in the corner. An inkwell, quills and charcoal pens, and plenty of parchment and books all stood and sat there.
He ran a hand over the smooth oaken double doors of the modest armoire. Grasping the handles, he pulled the doors open. His navy-blue tuxedo shirt and black dress pants hung on coat hooks. He slipped on his plain white bedclothes.
He had just fastened the last button of his nightshirt at a knock at his door.
"Sal-Gheel?" The door opened; Priestess Sirimgeira poked her head inside. She too had exchanged her clerical robe for a sea-blue nightgown.
"Yes, Mother?" Sal-Gheel looked up from his shirt. "I'm all dressed up. You can come in."
Sirimgeira came in, leaving the door open behind her. She smiled at the hatchling clad in nightclothes. "How are you doing, Sal-Gheel?"
"I don't really know, Mother." The hatchling gestured around at the bedroom. "This is going to take some getting used to."
Sirimgeira chuckled and made her way to him. "I know it will, Sal-Gheel." She dropped to her knees in front of him. "I hope that you can come to think of this chapel as your home. It's no substitute for your old home. But it's the best we can provide."
"It's more than enough for me, Mother Sirimgeira," Sal-Gheel promised her, nodding.
"Oh, you darling little angel," Sirimgeira took Sal-Gheel into her arms. He hugged her around her neck.
"Would you like one of us to stay with you tonight, Sal-Gheel?" she asked when they broke the hug. "Keep you company until you doze off?"
"Yes, Mother, I don't mind," Sal-Gheel nodded. He climbed into bed. "Whoever wants to, it doesn't make any difference to me."
He climbed beneath the cotton blankets. Sirimgeira tucked him in. One pillow rested beneath his hand; a second in his arms. Two more rested between his legs and feet.
"Mother Sirimgeira?" he asked as she kissed him on the head. "I want to say thank you. For everything."
Sirimgeira exhaled a fond sigh and caressed Sal-Gheel's feathers and cranium. "Thank you, Sal-Gheel, for coming into our lives. You are a living miracle, my child. A blessing of luck and destiny from the Divines themselves. Goodnight, my son."
"Goodnight, Mother Sirimgeira."
Not long after she left, Bovkianne Bririene took her place.
"Would you be comfortable with me reading to you, Sal-Gheel?" the Breton asked, moving the chair from his writing desk to the bed. She held a tome close to her chest. Upon its cover, Sal-Gheel read the title Ark'ay, the God of Birth and Death, by Mymophonus the Scribe. A misshapen rectangular scrap of parchment protruded from between the pages.
He nodded his consent, and Bovkianne reopened her book.
"'Just as Ark'ay felt that the book was opening visions of new worlds, the plague brought him low. His family tended his illness out of a sense of duty, but he slowly sank towards death. So, as a last resort, he prayed to Mara the mother-goddess to allow him enough time to complete his studies of the book.
'Why should I make an exception for you, Ark'ay?' asked Mara.
'Mother Mara, I am finally beginning to understand this book and the meaning of life and death,' he answered, 'and with a little more time to study and think, I should be able to teach others.'
'Hmmm, it sounds to me like that "teaching others" is an afterthought to appeal to me,' she replied. 'What is the reason for death and birth?'
'There are far more souls in the Universe than there is room for in the physical world. But it is in the physical world that a soul has an opportunity to learn and progress. Without birth, souls would not be able to acquire that experience, and without death there would be no room for birth.'
'Not a very good explanation, but it does have elements of truth. Maybe with more study, you could improve it,' she mused. 'I cannot give you "a little more time". I can only condemn you to Eternal labor in the field you have chosen. How say you to that?'
'I do not understand, mother,' said, Ark'ay.
'Your choice is to either accept the death that is so close or to become a god with us. But a god is not an easy nor pleasant thing to be. As the god of death and birth you will spend eternity making sure that deaths and births stay in proper balance in the physical world. And, in spite of what you believe you understand, you will always agonize over whether your decisions are truly correct. How do you decide?'
Ark'ay spent what seemed to him as an eternity in thought before answering. 'Mother, if my studies are not completely wrong, my only choice is to accept the burden and try to transmit the reasons for death and birth to humanity.'
'So be it, Arkay, God of Birth and Death.'"
When she closed the book, she noticed Sal-Gheel shook with quiet sobs. His eyes were clasped tight, as if trying to fight back tears.
"What's wrong, Sal-Gheel?" she leaned over to comfort him.
"Birth…and death…" the hatchling whimpered. "I just…I miss my parents so much."
"I know you do, sweetheart," Bovkianne cleaned the tears from the hatchling's eyes. "I can't imagine the kind of pain you must be feeling right now. Your grief, your loss, your mourning. It overwhelms you. It feels like there's a hole in your life, doesn't it?"
"Did…" Sal-Gheel choked out, gulping as if trying to clear his throat. "Did my parents…d-die…so that I could live?"
Bovkianne opened her mouth to reply. But no words came out. At length, she replied.
"I'm afraid I can't answer that question for you, Sal-Gheel. I can only recommend you pray to the Divines about it. Arkay will know, the God of Birth and Death; as will Mother Mara, the Goddess of Love. Perhaps they can answer your prayers."
Her words sank into his mind. Her voice softer than silk seemed to ease his sorrows. He breathed in and out to calm himself. Within minutes, he had fallen completely asleep.
Bovkianne adjusted his blanket and pillows. Then she returned the chair to its place, blew out the candle, and left the bedroom.
"Divines bless you, Sal-Gheel Calidaseer. May you find peace and comfort in their heavenly embrace. May you have the sweetest and most blissful of dreams."