7th of Sun's Dusk
The Great Chapel of Mara, Primate's Office
Valutinian stared across his desk at the young Argonian sitting opposite him. The hatchling's horned and feathered head was bowed chin to chest. Gaze distant, devoid of expression. Hands in his lap. The Primate's own hands sat clasped together on his desk.
"Sal-Gheel?"
The hatchling glanced up. Valutinian's heart jumped. A fresh layer of tears welled in the hatchling's expressionless eyes.
"If-if-if I had gotten there earlier, sir…." He spoke up, full of shock and disbelief. "I-I could've stopped them. St-stopped them tear-," he gulped. "Tearing her down…"
"Sal-Gheel, you know there was nothing you could've done," Valutinian told him. "Yes, what those rioters committed was a grievous sin against the Lucky Old Lady. Against all the people of Bravil. But-,"
He stopped. The hatchling's initial vacant look turned to abstract dubiety. "But…a young hatchling like yourself would've been-if you'll pardon my candor-powerless to stop it."
"I know, sir…" The hatchling hung his head. "Romarcella and Mathnude held me back."
"And something unspeakable would've happened to you if they hadn't," Valutinian explained, and Sal-Gheel nodded. "We couldn't afford to lose you in any capacity. Not after…"
He drew in a deep breath. Followed by a long anxious exhale. "Not after the Hearthfire riots."
"Why do we have to keep doing this, sir?" Now at last Sal-Gheel spoke up in full voice. Valutinian offered his hands to the Argonian, who took them without hesitation.
"My only concern is for your well-being, Sal-Gheel." He rubbed his thumbs on the other's clawed fingers. "As are everyone's concerns. You've experienced so much trauma over the last several months. First you get slapped by the local baker. Then you get thrown in the river. Then your former house burns down. And then the Lucky Old Lady falls."
He wiped sediment from Sal-Gheel's claws. "I simply want to regularly check in on you and see how you're dealing with it all. I want to help you cope with your thoughts and feelings in the aftermath. In the healthiest and most human-erm, beastly-way possible."
The hatchling did not answer. Valutinian interlaced their fingers together.
"If you feel like you don't want to talk to anyone, and you'd much rather handle your feelings on your own, I'll respect that." He rubbed his thumb on the backs of the hatchling's hands. "We will give you your space. At the very least, I want you to know that our help is available should you ever need it. This is routine counseling; nothing more."
Sal-Gheel sniffled. Valutinian let go of one of his hands to wipe his collecting tears.
"I won't claim to understand how you must've felt in that moment, Sal-Gheel," Valutinian resumed rubbing his thumbs on Sal-Gheel's hands. "But I do want you to know that none of what's happened so far was your fault."
"Then why do bad things keep happening around me?"
He had blurted out the question without thinking. Valutinian stopped his thumbs with genuine worry.
"Why do I hurt everyone's lives I come into?" the hatchling went on, trembling where he sat. "Why do I bring so many negative energies with me everywhere? It's like every time I come into someone's life, I affect it in some bad way. Someone gets hurt, or I do, or we both get hurt."
He shook his head. "I don't understand, sir. I just can't get my head around why I keep causing all these bad things. Like, all the time."
"You feel like you've let us down?" Valutinian tilted his head to the opposite side.
Sal-Gheel nodded and gulped. "And I feel like…I've let myself down, too."
"By not stopping the riots?"
"By just standing around and letting them happen without doing anything to stop!" Sal-Gheel raised his voice slightly. The Primate held his composure.
"Oh, Sal-Gheel…" Valutinian resumed his thumb stroking. "You are not hurting anyone's lives, and you are certainly not bringing negative energy." Divines grant me the blessed words to say!
The hatchling turned back to him, scaly eyebrows raised in disbelief. Valutinian did not waver and went on.
"You are not the cause of everything that's wrong with Bravil. You did not cause your parents' deaths. You did not cause your home to be seized; or toss yourself out onto the streets. Or tossed into your burning home. The Lucky Old Lady wasn't destroyed because of you."
"I've already messed up too much…" Sal-Gheel's voice quavered. "I've screwed up so many people's lives. It's only a matter of time before I mess up yours, too!"
"And by 'yours', I assume you mean mine and the clergy's?" Valutinian asked, sounding more empathetic than sardonic. Sal-Gheel nodded, taking a shaky and quivering breath. He bit back a new wave of tears.
"You haven't messed up our lives at all, Sal-Gheel," Valutinian wrapped his hands once more around the Argonian's. "In fact, I believe you've done completely the opposite."
"You…" Sal-Gheel stopped to hurriedly wipe his eyes on his robe sleeve. "You really think that, Your Grace?"
"I do, Sal-Gheel." The Primate nodded, sincere and earnest. "With all my mind, heart, and soul. I've no doubt the others feel the same. You have touched our lives in more ways than you can possibly imagine. You are a blessing to us from the Eight Divines themselves."
He leaned forward a tad to stroke the hatchling's cheek. "I know one too many unthinkable things have happened since then. But I believe that it's always darkest just before dawn. Now," He raised a finger to emphasize his next words. "I want you to learn one thing, Sal-Gheel." The hatchling listened with rapt attention.
"None of what happened is because the Divines hate you or I. These were not acts of divine punishment for any sins we committed. These were acts of mortals. They made their own choices, and the consequences followed. You know you could've done nothing to prevent these things from happening. All you can do is accept that they happened, and deal with your feelings about those events as they come, and take your time with them."
Tears welled in his eyes. "I can't imagine the weight of grief and loss and pain on you right now, my child. Nor can I comprehend what must be going through your haunted, scarred, fragile mind. But if you feel comfortable talking about it, know that we are here to listen."
"I didn't want any of this to happen to me, sir," Sal-Gheel's hands twitched in the Primate's. Valutinian held them in his own comforting palms. "I'm too young for everything that's happened."
"I know you are, Sal-Gheel, and I don't disagree with that." Valutinian nodded. "A young, innocent, pure spirit such as yourself never deserved any of the horrible things life has served you. You mustn't blame yourself, though. The ones who should be blamed are those truly responsible."
"But how can I forgive them?"
The question caught him unawares. He took a moment to mull over his words.
"Well," he clasped his hands around the hatchling's. "Under normal circumstances, I would tell you to forgive the sinners for their crimes. But these recent calamities affected all of Bravil. The general populace will not forgive easily. For the ones that affected you personally,"
Here the Primate folded the front collar of Sal-Gheel's emerald robe. "I say you take your time to forgive. You do it when you are ready to do so. You'll know, here. " He tapped his own heart.
A vague darkness fell over Sal-Gheel's face. He stared down at his lap, keeping their joined hands in his peripherals.
"You may not always believe it, Sal-Gheel. But your faith will give you the strength to endure your trials. They won't completely destroy it."
"Forge a keen Faith in the crucible of suffering," the other whispered.
"The Book of Dawn and Dusk," Valutinian nodded. "Perfect, Sal-Gheel. Aravayana would be proud."
"I know getting revenge won't change anything," the hatchling remarked out of the blue.
"And you'd be right." Again the Primate nodded. Once more he raised an emphatic finger. "The Divines themselves would frown upon such sinful ungodliness. So would the Hist, I'm sure."
"Do you imagine the Lucky Old Lady was protecting me all this time, sir?" Sal-Gheel lifted his head, hovering somewhere between curiosity and maudlin.
"I certainly wouldn't discredit the notion," Valutinian shrugged. "But at the same time…" He suddenly winked; the hatchling raised his other scaly eyebrow. "We're also of the belief that something else was likewise protecting you."
"My….gift." Sal-Gheel whispered in reverent awe. "My connection to the Divines that you and everyone else are always talking about."
"The very same, my boy." Valutinian's lips pulled into a smile of pride.
"But you still don't know what it is yet, sir?" Now it was Sal-Gheel's turn to tilt his head.
"Well…" The question caused the Primate to avert his own gaze now. "Heinoke and Sirimgeira suspect something. But they're not sharing it with me," he hastily added when Sal-Gheel's eyes narrowed and his face fell with pained confusion. "I'm sure they will in due time; and when they do, we'll all know."
Sal-Gheel fell deep into his thoughts. For a long moment he did not speak. Valutinian likewise did not speak out of respect for the hatchling's inner musings. Behind his seat the office's fireplace crackled with a lively saffron fire. The hatchling's focus, though drawn to it, seemed aloof and withdrawn.
"It'll never feel the same without her…" Sal-Gheel spoke up at length. He stared deep into the leaping, sizzling flames. Valutinian hung on his every word in silence. "Bravil will be so…empty…with her gone. I…I don't know what to do."
"There's nothing wrong with that," Valutinian put his hands on the hatchling's shoulders. Sal-Gheel stared up at him. Eyes of cyan linked with sandy brown. "First your home then her. These wounds of yours will not go away on their own. You must give them time. Oh, Sal-Gheel…"
He stroked Sal-Gheel's cheeks. "I am so, so, so sorry, my son."
"Why-why did…thi-this all have…to ha-happen?" At last Sal-Gheel's voice broke. He hiccuped and shook in his seat. "It's-it's not f-f-fair!"
"I wish I had an answer for this, Sal-Gheel," the honest Valutinian replied. "But I don't, and I'm sorry."
Sal-Gheel dropped his head into his hands. "Mama! Papa! Lady Luck!"
The hatchling at last wailed openly. He dropped his face into his hands and let the tears flow freely. He wailed and shook without even a smidgen of restraint.
Valutinian stood up and hurried to the hatchling's side. Sal-Gheel stood up, shaking and struggling to wipe the tears away.
Valutinian dropped to his knees and pulled the hatchling into his arms. Sal-Gheel too sank to the floor. He buried his face in the Primate's chest and cried freely. Valutinian only held him in patient silence.
Chapel Rectory, Sal-Gheel's Bedroom
Knock, knock, knock.
"Sal-Gheel? Are you awake, dear?"
The knocking compelled the hatchling to turn over in bed. "Who's there?"
"It's Sirimgeira," came the angelic voice of the head priestess. "May I come in?"
He managed an apathetic "mmhmm" in response. His door opened and Sirimgeira walked in.
"How are you feeling, Sal-Gheel?" She turned his desk chair in his direction. He peeked out from the thick plain white blanket wrapped around him. She held a large taupe book under one arm.
Sal-Gheel could only manage a small pained groan. He curled up into a fetal position, tail to face and arms wrapped around his chest. Sirimgeira sighed and stroked his feathers.
"I thought you'd be napping." She ran her fingers through his scalp. "I know today's been a rather lazy day; not much to do."
"I'm too scared to fall asleep," he replied almost half-heartedly. "I don't want to have another nightmare about her again."
Sirimgeira's brow furrowed and her gaze softened with empathy. "Well, would it help if I did anything to help take your mind off of it? Perhaps I could read to you?"
He nodded but said nothing. Sirimgeira opened up her book to show him the cover.
"The Scripture of Saint Martin, Volume 2. The teachings of the Church of Saint Martin are many, yet they are also three, for they are founded in the principle of embodying His Three Qualities. Translated from the phrasing specific to Martin Septim's personal accomplishments they become Our Three Qualities That We Must Strive To Achieve, and they are thus:
"'The First Quality. Self-improvement, rising from low to high status, turning away from dark paths in favor of pure paths.'
'The Second Quality. Boldness and bravery, willingness and ability to act to make genuine, positive change – for yourself, for those around you, or for the good of all.'"
"The Third Quality. The Primary Quality, finds a place, unchanged, in both His Three Qualities and our Three Qualities That We Must Strive to Achieve, and, once again, it is thus: The Third Quality: Selflessness and self-sacrifice.'"
"'The lessons that can be derived from Our Three Qualities That We Must Strive To Achieve are innumerable and ever-changing. They are also near-formless and deeply malleable, for they change shape in their application to different circumstances, problems and, indeed, different children of the flock. They might mean abandoning vile and wicked worship and turning to the true Divines, they may mean rising to the needs of your local community, or they may mean rising from a life of poverty to a life of comfort. This is the power of Saint Martin and his holy word.'
"'Yet the importance of balancing these various Qualities must not be understated, for each of these Qualities may become vile when taken to excess and left unbalanced by other Qualities.'"
"'For instance, the First Quality, when employed in rising from poverty to wealth, may transform its wielder, without the Third Quality, into a greedy, gluttonous and selfish cretin, unaware and uncaring of the plight of those below them, and unwilling to contribute to the society within which they reside. It is within this balance that the most challenging portion of the teachings of the Church of Martin Septim are to be found.'
"'However, I trust that you, dear reader, are up to the challenge. And it is upon these teachings that I leave you to consider how they might best apply to your life and your situation.'"
She stared in surprise. The Argonian sat up in bed. The blanket slipped from his bedclothes into his lap.
"Is something the matter, dear?" She leaned towards him, full of worry.
"No, everything's all right." The hatchling cupped and rubbed his chin. "That scripture made me think."
He threw the covers off and swung out of bed. Sirimgeira jumped with a start. The book slipped from her hands and fell facedown onto the floor.
"There's someone I need to apologize to," Sal-Gheel opened his wardrobe to grab his favorite navy shirt and black pants. He practically hopped one-legged towards the bedroom door while slipping on his sandals.
Sirimgeira waved a hand; the bedroom door swung wide open. "Are you sure you'll be all right, Sal-Gheel?" She tailed after the hobbling Argonian. "Going out at this hour?"
"Don't worry, I'll be back before dinner!" He practically sprinted out of the rectory. Sirimgeira attempted to give chase, but stopped as soon as he'd dashed out the chapel doors.
The Breadsmith
Ding, ding!
Smothering heat slammed into him first before the myriad scents. The muggy warmth wrapped around him like a thick cozy blanket on a snowy midnight. Not unlike curling up before a roaring fire on a rainy day. A welcome respite from the biting autumn chill which unsettled his bones.
He recognized all the same scents from his first fateful visit seven months prior. But a few new ones now met his nose.
Crusty yeasty gingerbread baguettes. Sharp, powdered cheese danishes. Earthy pungent molasses loaves. All of them hot and fresh from the oven tickled his nostrils. Underneath, the wafting familiar scent of almond-laced sourdough…
Jakino Statori spun round at the bell. He flinched, then reached for the spatula in his apron pocket.
"You!" he shouted at the hatchling. "Are you-?!"
"It's okay, Mr. Statori!" Sal-Gheel held up his palms to pacify the baker. "I'm not here to steal anything this time!"
He turned to pull a chair by the leg using his tail. Jakino watched in wary confusion while he climbed upon it and cleared his throat.
"I came to apologize to you, Mr. Statori." He faced the baker square-on, shoulders low, head hung while eyes stared upwards. "For stealing bread from you. Seven months ago."
Hands joined behind his back, one clasped around his wrist. "That loaf of freshly-baked sourdough I stole from you…I-I know I shouldn't have taken it. I know it was wrong."
He swung his head from side to side. Glancing one direction and then the other like a pendulum. "I'm not going to try to defend my mistakes. I hurt you and your business by what I did…and…"
He gulped, biting back tears. "...I wanted to say I'm sorry. And I will never steal from you ever, ever, ever again. I promise."
For a second, he anticipated anger. That same furious, prejudiced, wrathful anger Jakino Statori had shown him all those months ago.
But instead the baker too hung his head. He planted his palms on the shop counter.
"Don't see no need to beat 'round the bush with you, kid." Neither could mistake the sincere-and blunt-honesty and remorse in his tone. "If nothing else, I oughta be asking for your forgiveness, too. Reckon I'm just as guilty as you are in this matter."
He peeked up. A jolt of anxious regret shot through his heart. The hatchling was rubbing his left cheek and wincing in pain.
"Slapping you 'cross the face…" he stared down at his hands. "You didn't deserve none of that."
"But I did!" The hatchling half-argued, nodding to affirm his words. "I stole bread from you!"
"You didn't, kid, and that's my fault." Jakino sighed and shook his head. "And don't play the victim." His expression turned almost stern. "Ain't a good look for you."
"Right." The hatchling looked down at his feet, duly chasisted. "Sorry." He returned his hands behind his back.
"I shouldn'ta done it," the baker went on. "Little hatchling like you deserved better." He shuddered and clenched his fists. He looked about ready to slap himself.
"Wasn't fair what I did. I know I got no excuse. Got incensed. Was thinking only about my business. When what I really oughta be doing was setting an example for you. But…I didn't!"
At the raise of his voice, Sal-Gheel's glance met his. He approached the counter on small steps. Hand of sympathetic worry extended. Jakino watched in silent awe: the hatchling had perfect equilibrium on the narrowest edge of the chair.
"After I got back here…" Jakino could hardly believe his eyes now. He sounded almost absentminded, not really concentrating on his own thoughts, and instead on the balancing Argonian in front of him. "...I was mad at myself. Almost took my anger out on the Tavakanis."
A brief pause, then, "Glad I didn't. Couldn't afford to lose my favorite customers." The hatchling's tender, understanding eyes calmed him.
"Swear to the Divines," he proffered his hand to Sal-Gheel. "Do everything in my power to make it alright with you."
Multiple times Sal-Gheel's gaze shifted between the given hand and the baker's. He took one anxious step back onto the seat of the chair.
"How do I know you're telling me the truth?"
Jakino deflated, but his hand remained outstretched. "Knew you wouldn't trust me at first. And that's okay."
His hand flopped onto the counter. "S'okay if you can't forgive me. You need time. I get it."
He fell silent and turned away, staring past the counter at the walls dotted with tables and chairs. For a pregnant, bated moment, neither of the two said a word.
"So this is what you made of yourself, huh?" Jakino mused aloud. "Adopted by the clergy, eh?"
"Yes, sir," Sal-Gheel nodded. "Valutinian Mosellia and the clergy of Mara took me in. I've been living with them ever since."
"And they did better for you than I ever could." Jakino scanned the boy head to toe to tail. He'd grown at least a full inch taller. A noticeable but healthy layer of fat formed his otherwise very svelte reptilian figure. Pure nutrient-nourished bone filled the gaping holes that once riddled his horns. Purple scalp feathers stood upright and glowed like sparkling amethysts in the setting sun.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
"Tell you what, kid." Once more he proffered his hand. "Howsabout I make you a deal? But first I gotta ask: how old are you?"
"8 years old, sir." Sal-Gheel replied without hesitation.
"Too young to work, then," Jakino rubbed his chin with his other hand. "In that case…howsabout I make you an apprentice?"
At this, the hatchling perked up. "Me? Your apprentice?"
"Aye," Jakino nodded. "I can teach you all sorts of stuff. Can't pay you since you're underage. But it'd be a nice set of work skills under your belt, if you know what I mean."
"I…" Sal-Gheel bit his lip, his brow creasing. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it."
"I get it, kid." Jakino let his hand fall under the counter. "Hard to work for a guy who slapped your face one day, and is offering you an education the next. Wanna talk it over with the clergy first, I ain't got no problem with it."
Sal-Gheel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. One foot dangled in the air with each swing. But the chair never swung or tipped with him. Jakino watched him, fascinated. Abundantly clear that the hatchling was conflicted about the prospect of being a baker's protégé.
"Your name's been flying all over town, you know." He ventured to spur another conversation.
"Really?" Sal-Gheel leaned on his left foot. Right one in the air. "You've heard about me?"
"Oh, yeah, absolutely." A chuckle escaped Jakino unbidden. "Riots last Hearthfire, remember? Argonian lad escapes from a burning house completely unscathed? Whole town's gossiped about you."
His lips pulled into an intrigued half-smirk. "Nobody can explain why or how you survived burning alive."
"I still can't understand it, either." Sal-Gheel shrugged and shifted to his other leg. The opposite now hung in the air.
"Okay, how about this?" Jakino held his arms up on either side of him. "Go talk to them clergy about my offer. Lemme know what they say and all that."
Sal-Gheel exhaled in relief. He hopped down to the floor and carried the chair back to its former place. He'd walked halfway to the door before stopping-and pivoting.
"Why don't you come with me, Mr. Statori?" Now it was his turn to offer his hand. "We can talk to them together!"
The dazed Imperial's mouth fell wide open. But he composed himself in an instant. His face broke into a wide smile.
"I'd love to join you. Let's go."
Sal-Gheel knelt to tie his shoelaces. Jakino slipped something into a messenger bag. Together, they stepped outside into the amber-golden sunset.
"Oh, and, kid? Call me Jakino."
"Jakino." The Argonian nodded his understanding. "I'm Sal-Gheel Calidaseer."
"Sal-Gheel, huh? Nice to finally meet you after all these months. I'm gonna call you…'Sal'."
They entered through one of the chapel's east-facing double doors. In the sunset-lit ambulatory, Mathnude and Sirimgeira stood conversing between the pews. Aravayana was in the aisles, polishing the altar of Julianos. Sal-Gheel circled the pit and crossed the aisle. Jakino, after seconds of reluctance, followed close behind.
"Sal-Gheel, there you are!" Sirimgeira turned at his approach and opened her arms for a hug. "Where have you been? It's nearly dinnertime and we were worried about you!"
"I'm sorry, Sirimgeira!" Sal-Gheel fell into her loving embrace. "I had to go see someone. Look who I brought with me!"
Jakino had hung back by the first row of pews. He had one arm pressed to his side, his other hand holding it close in an anxious grip.
"Jakino Statori, I presume?" Mathnude approached the baker extending a hand of greeting. "Mathnude Geolaud, Priest of the Great Chapel of Mara."
"Priestess Sirimgeira Ebon-Brand," Sirimgeira curtsied and bowed her head. "It's wonderful to meet you."
"Who's here?" Aravayana spun around. She held a small rag and a bottle of water in the other. "Oh, hello, Mr. Statori." She made her way into the nave and bowed. "Aravayana Drorano."
"Erm…Thank you, Priestess Sirimgeira. You, too, Priest Mathnude, Miss Drorano." Jakino hesitated but shook everyone's hands. "You three in charge here?"
"Us? Heavens no!" Mathnude gestured to the Altar of the Nine. "That would be our Primate, Valutinian Mosellia." Up ahead, Valutinian was lighting candles upon the Altar of the Nine.
"Did someone call my name?" The Primate blew out the lit taper he held. He perked up at the sight of the stranger in his midst.
"Ah, you must be Jakino Statori!" He crossed the nave to the baker and gave his free hand. "Sal-Gheel has told us about you. To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit to our holy sanctuary?"
"Won't waste your time with filler," Jakino fidgeted, a tad on edge. "Got a special thing I think your kid might be interested in."
"But we wanted to run the idea by you first," Sal-Gheel added. "Can you call everyone here, please?"
They wasted no time. Within a couple of minutes, the entire clergy was assembled. After quick introductions had been made, Jakino and Sal-Gheel related to them their entire conversation. All listened without interruptions.
"An apprenticeship!" Valutinian beamed at Sal-Gheel. The hatchling walked along the narrow head of a pew, arms out on either side of himself, one foot in front of the other. "What a privilege!"
"Call it my way of making up with the boy," Jakino explained, arms folded, hands gripping elbows. He leaned casually to one side. "He'd learn the baking trade from me. Every weekday and Loredas, and Sundas off to help at chapel."
He glanced at Sal-Gheel in his peripheral vision. Then a double take.
"Don't mean to change the subject, but-How on Nirn does he do that?!" Sal-Gheel had swung one-hundred-and-eighty degrees. He started walking in the direction from whence he'd come, his back to the adults.
"Believe me, we're just as baffled as you are," Bovkianne shrugged.
"Our way of making up for past mistakes, if nothing else." Jakino shrugged. "Don't need to sign no stupid paperwork for some blockheaded bureaucrats. Just me, him, and the Breadsmith."
"He will be safe with you?" A concerned Romarcella approached the baker. "He won't be harmed?"
"Promise I won't let nothing or no one lay a hand on him," Jakino held a hand to his heart. "Anything bad happens, I'll bring him straight to you, Sister."
"What do you think of this opportunity, Sal-Gheel?" Valutinian planted his hands on the pew the hatchling walked upon. Sal-Gheel stopped in place to listen.
"Do you think this is something you might be interested in?" Romarcella leaned against the armrest. "It's entirely up to you."
"Yes!" Sal-Gheel pivoted to face the Primate and the Healer. He rocked back and forth on the soles of his feet. "I like it!"
"Oh, how wonderful, Sal-Gheel!" Sirimgeira clapped her hands to her face, eyes twinkling with excitement.
"It's a deal, Mr. Statori!" Heinoke pivoted to grab Jakino's hands and shake them with energetic vigor.
"I'll do my best to be the greatest apprentice ever!" Sal-Gheel hopped onto the seat of the paw and pointed at himself, puffing out his chest.
"Tha-a-at's g-gr-eat!" Jakino managed to say through the Living Saint shaking him up and down. After Heinoke had let go, he began to make for the chapel doors, then stopped and glanced down at his bag. He wheeled around to the clergy.
"Actually, may I stay for dinner? Got something else I want to show the kid."
Everyone looked around at each other, exchanging nods.
"Jakino Statori," Valutinian approached him, hands spread out. "You are indeed welcome at our dinner table."
Down in Chapel Hall, Jakino pulled a familiar item from his messenger bag. Sal-Gheel's jaw dropped.
"Jakino! Is that-?"
"For you, Sal." Beaming, Jakino placed an almond sourdough loaf in the center of the dining table. All the clergy exclaimed in amazed delight.
"I don't have to pay you?" The hatchling's eyes shone like evening stars.
"Not a single Septim," Jakino shook his head. He sat down, removing his bag from his shoulder with a relieved sigh.
They spent the next two hours dining, chatting, and laughing. Sal-Gheel had never been seen in higher spirits. He sliced the bread and passed it around to the clergy. He gave the last two slices first to Jakino, and finally to himself.
He fell asleep quickly, a bright, hopeful smile upon his face. Sirimgeira sat stroking his feathers as he drifted off.
"Thanks for dinner tonight; it was all very delicious." Jakino hefted his bag over his shoulder.
"Please don't be a stranger, Mr. Statori," Valutinian took the baker's hands. "You will always be welcome in our chapel."
Jakino knelt briefly to kiss the Primate's ring. "Thank you, Your Grace. Can't wait to see Sal-Gheel in the Breadsmith. Divines be with you all."