Saint's Quest (Chapter 1-2)

The Books
Of
Saint

I

Christian woke up with a start to find himself back at Canyon Fort. He sat up, running his hand through his sandy brown hair. He just had the strangest dream. He rubbed his temple. He had dreamed that he was a condemned man named, John, who was thrown in the dungeons for preaching about some god. He couldn’t understand the dream. It was so real, he could literally smell the terrible stench, feel the pain in his joints, and the anxiety of it all. Strange thing was, Christian didn’t even know of the god that he was talking to in his dream. The only being close to the likeness of a god that he knew of was the Emperor. The entire dream was surreal. It definantly was a dream that somehow didn’t belong to a man like him.
Christian sighed, standing up to his feet; he strode over to the water basin, and splashed his face with the cool water. Drying his face, he snatched up his tunic and pulled it over his head. Oh well, Christian had more important matters to consider other than silly imaginations of his mind. Considering the civil war that had just went on within the emperor’s borders, who knows what kind of scandals they would be facing up to in the days to come? Their last battle against their life-long enemies, the Zealots, had been horrendously fierce and bloody. It had ended by a one on one fight between both armies’ best warriors. Thank the gods; Christian had won, giving complete victory to Mephistophelia. Now they had to tie up some loose ends. The Zealot’s leaders were soon to be publicly executed at Gehenna, Mephistophelia’s capitol. On that glorious day, Christian was to be honored by the Emperor himself for his great triumph. Then he was to be promoted for saving his general’s life on the battle field, all in front of the entire Empire. Christian faintly smiled to himself in satisfaction. As a boy, he had dreamed of being a war hero. In command of the Emperor’s great and terrible army. Now, his dream had finally come true; he was in command. He quickly swung a blue toga over his broad shoulders, lastly shoved his sword into his sheath, and walked out into the hallway. He passed a few servants busily doing their duties, but didn’t give them much attention. Christian descended a flight of stairs and burst out of the doorway into the courtyard. The late morning sun beat heavily down into the canyon, making the dry heat nearly unbearable. Christian strode down the sandy court yard, and greeted a few soldiers as he passed by, but he wasn’t really in a conversation mood, he had business to attend.
He made his way to the General’s cabin. Two guards saluted Christian and opened the double, wooden threshold. He stepped in, to be greeted by three generals, two captains and the General Achilis. The man whom Christian saved. Achilis was a towering, barrel-chested, hustler bustler type of guy, who had an impatient, intolerable kind of kind temperament. He’d never stand for any short comings on duty. According to his principles, death was better than surrender when in battle. But he was a wise commander who knew what needed to be done and was an exceptionally skilled warrior. He was a man whom Christian had learned to respect.
“Greetings, Lieutenant,” the general rumbled, “Thank you, for attending.”
Christian nodded in respect, “My pleasure,” he then took a seat by Captain Caleb. His comrade arms in arms. A courageous man with outstanding fighting skills, Caleb was the bravest man Christian ever knew, someone whom Christian could trust his very life. And Christian trusted very few.
“So,” the general clapped his hands once, sitting down heavily in a furnished chair, “First of all, Christian, I would like to honor you, for your act of bravery by saving my life during battle in which you led to a great victory, Lieutenant General.”
“Thank you, commander. I am honored to be in service of the Emperor,” Christian replied, with a deep voice.
Achilis nodded, “Indeed,” he abruptly changed the subject, “Nonetheless, we have many matters to discuss. For the next couple of months we will gather, plan and execute missions to capture the Zealots. No survivors.”
“I have sent a message to the Prince of War that discusses the financial loss the Emperor will be facing. Not to mention,” he paused, grim, “The army lost more men to the enemy then the Emperor had wished for. I knew, of course, that we would lose more than he wanted, but this,” he sighed in disgust, gesturing to the records on the table, “This is more than I expected. Twenty thousand dead, fifty thousand wounded, and one thousand soldiers are missing. That leaves us with twenty-nine thousand capable warriors in this army!”
They all remained silent to the comment, grim. Achilis continued, “Though our great loss, we must continue on to Forest Camp by the Great Sea, within the week. We shall first march within the hour to Gehenna, and be greeted by the Emperor at the city square.”
Caleb interjected, clearing his throat, “So will his Majesty,” he searched for words, “Grant us our full salary for our service to the throne?”
A beat.
Achilis’ beady eyes narrowed, “And what, Captain, is your full salary?”
“You ought to tell me.” Caleb dared, cocking his eyebrow. For a solid minute, the two commanders stared each other down. Achilis wasn’t the type to be talked to in such a manner, by someone under his command. Finally, he sighed, standing to his feet, he bent over a huge chest and unlatched the locks, one by one. He slowly lifted the huge lid, and the soldiers stared at the relics before them in wonder.
“These, my friends, were found in the rebel’s underground temple. They are religious artifacts that I am assured that the price ranges from five-hundred to a thousand talents of gold each. By the generosity of the Emperor, I am commanded to pay each of my officers, three relics, of which you can go to the city and trade it for the money.”
The soldiers all nodded, slight grins curving on their features.
“I am positive that you are all aware that you are quite wealthy now,” he glanced over to Christian, “Lieutenant, since you brought us into victory, you can have the honors of first choice.”
The room shifted its attention unto Christian. Christian blinked. Stunned. He stood up to his feet hesitantly, and walked over to the chest. He peered into the contents and stared at the treasures.
Which three should he pick?
Grabbing three of the many golden artifacts, he slipped them into a simple brown sack and then resumed back to his seat besides Caleb.
Christian wasn’t too sure what happened next, but time seemed to speed up while his mind foggily noted that everyone had gotten up and received their share of the booty. His mind then wondered to the war, his wife and children, and such. He suddenly felt a longing for his wife, Kristine. Had been almost a year since he saw her.
“…you like to read?” came Achilis’ voice.
Christian snapped out of his thoughts, “Hmm?” Christian rephrased that, “Sorry, didn’t catch your question, general.”
“Just asking if you like to read,” He held up a leather book, “I don’t,” he grumbled.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. When I have time,” Christian muttered.
“Well, this is the religious rebel’s book. Read it if you like. You know what they say, it takes one to know his enemy to conquer him; if you catch my drift,” he said, throwing Christian the book, “Just don’t let their nonsense get into your head.”
“Will do.” Christian studied the leather book in his hands, engrossed with a seal that he didn’t recognize. His fingers lingered on the cover, the mysterious book seemed to be ancient yet new. Odd. Perhaps because no body actually read the book. Christian wouldn’t have doubted that. Most of rebels were illiterate, only the priests and the leaders could read. Christian opened the book and flipped through the pages. The small lettering was written by hand, with a rusty brown, red ink. Or perhaps blood; he wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Their kind did weird things like that. They were a sick type, them folks anyways. Done looking at it, he closed the book and left for the stables.

_________




The Books
Of
Saint

II

Three days later . . .

A legion of a thousand of the general’s fiercest warriors marched onward towards the glorious city, Interitus that stood mightily on the grand cliff, high above the turquoise ocean below. From there, one could see the faint outline of the astounding capitol of Mephistophelia, Gehenna, where the Emperor himself dwelled.
They marched behind the knights on war steeds, and solemnly bore the Royal banners of the great Emperor, Luciferus. His golden insignia illuminated in the late morning sun light. Christian rode on his monstrous, black, war stallion, dressed now in his full, ceremonial, body armor. He rode beside General Achilis who stood proudly in his chariot, lead by four of the Emperor’s finest horses. Christian raised his aqua eyes to the city, as a faint glimmer of a smile crossed his handsome features. He was finally home, after eight months of being away, fighting against the Emperor’s enemies, he was utterly exhilarated beyond words could even describe. As he urged his weary horse to ascend the winding pathway up towards the colossal gates of the city, Christian could see a warrior on a stallion, whom he knew to be a general by the gold sash across his breast plate. Accompanied by a regiment of other officers. Upon approach of the gates, General Achilis abruptly raised his arm, “Halt!” The soldiers halted. Achilis then waited as the other general advanced towards him in utter silence, his countenance set firm. The general raised his hand towards the sky in a salute.
“I salute to you, revered General Achilis! You have served your Emperor well.” He greeted.
“Salute, General Taurus, it’s my pleasure to be in the Emperor’s service.” Achilis replied.
“Yes, an honor it is, indeed.” He said turning his horse around to face the massive gate.
“Open the gates!” he cried.
A series of majestic trumpets sounded with a deafening blast, echoing throughout the entire city. Then, the double gates began to open . . .

_________

Kristine, a beautiful, young woman, sat on the ledge of a massive window in her bed chamber, overlooking the city square. Her crystal blue eyes sparkled like the sea, dancing in pure ecstasy. The late morning wind blew her dark, brown locks from her beautiful face that illuminated in the golden sunlight. She wore an elegant, bright turquoise silk dress with white sashes that flowed down her long legs to the marble floor. Her father, a great prince of the city of Gehenna, had purchased Kristine this dress for this special occasion. Her beloved Christian was finally coming home! The rumor of this long, treacherous battle had been devastating and every night she worried for her husband’s life. Though everyone knew that Christian would probably be the least likely to a get a limb cut off.
Words could not even describe the joy that Kristine felt at this moment, or even the knowledge that she was finally going to disclose to him that she was with child. It had been eight months of pregnancy so far, and Kristine desperately hoped that it would be girl this time. She and Christian had had three boys already, Matthew, James, and Joseph. A smile curved on her rose bud lips. Matthew, her eldest, at seven years old, took much from his father’s image, both his looks and his behavior. The sharp, aqua eyes, sandy brown hair, same charming face and lopsided, boyish smile; the only leaning side to her own family was his dimples. And Matthew, unfortunately, inherited Christian’s rascally conduct. Oh, the pranks that that boy pulled! It was hard to scold him without laughing herself at the hilarious things he and his two younger brothers did.
Then, there was James, who had just turned six just last week, but acted far much older for his age and was already taller than his elder brother. Matthew couldn’t stand it.
One might have thought he was eight or ten because of his height, which came from her father. In fact, James was almost a replica of his grandfather, the height, highlighted dark brown hair, piercing grey eyes, and adorable freckles. The only difference to his grandfather was that he had a calmer demeanor, not so temperamental and impatient. Maybe he could be a bit blunt and a little selfish at times, but he was good boy.
Last, but not the least, was Joseph. Her beloved youngest son. A beautiful sunny toddler, with his innocent eyes smiling up at you, portrayed his gentle spirit. The little four-year old was the chatterbox in the family, and Kristine loved him for it. He had curly blonde hair, and rosy cheeks that reminded her of apples. No one really knew where he got his looks from, with that head full of blonde curls that fringed above his hazel eyes.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the bedroom door just then opened. Her mother, Eunice, stepped into the room gliding towards her in her jade green dress, her grey hair pulled up into a bun, revealing the silver jewelry on her lily white neck. Eunice placed a ring clad hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “Kristine, your husband won’t arrive until at least an hour from now, and even then, you won’t be able to talk to him until tonight. Why won’t you come down to Gehenna with me for a few hours and visit? Your father would love to see you again you know.”
Kristine smiled gently at her mother, then turned her gaze back to the street, “No thank you, I’d rather not.” She closed her eyes and took in a breath of fresh air through her nose, “I want to be able to see Christian ride down the road on a valiant, black stallion, sitting tall and handsomely as a great warrior would.” Kristine stood to her feet, “All glorious, valiant and mighty! His armor glimmering in the sunlight as a grand parade fills the streets of Interitus in honor of his great victory; singing, dancing, and shouts of great glory I want to ring in my ears as my knight in shining armor arrives. The whole city will be alive with wonder when he comes!” She looked at her mother with ecstasy dancing in her eyes, as she spoke this, “It will be flooded with cheering people, and blowing trumpets that will let the whole world know that my warrior came back victorious!”
Eunice raised an eyebrow, “Dear me, Kristine! You speak as if he was the Emperor himself!”
Kristine smiled and whirled around to the other window, giggling, “He is the Emperor as far as I’m concerned,” she exclaimed enthusiastically.
“Be careful what you say, Kristine,” her mother cautioned, “Some would consider what you just said treas—“
Suddenly the sound of trumpets blasted all around the city.
Kristine caught her breath, “They’re here! You see, mother, Christian has arrived!” Kristine leaned over the window’s ledge to see the enormous city gate slowly open far off in the distance. Kristine shielded her eyes from the sun’s rays; from here, she could see Interitus’ cheering citizens flood the streets, welcoming their soldiers home and waving scarves frantically and beating on tambourines. The war drums began to beat, as the generals and Christian lead the legion through the streets, riding on magnificent horses. Flowers and flower pedals of different vibrant colors and sizes flew out of dozens of houses to the approaching warrior
Kristine’s breathing quickened, “I see him!” She gasped, “There he is; he’s coming this way!”
The door burst open and three beautiful boys came charging through. “Mommy! Mommy! Papa’s home! Can we go out and greet him?” Joseph shouted excitedly, grinning ear to ear. Kristine turned to her three boys, smiling like the sun, “Absolutely, let’s go together.”
“Be careful, Kristine,” Eunice warned, “You are a pregnant woman.”
“Don’t worry, mother, I’ve never felt better.” With that, she struts for the door, while her sons ran ahead of her in anticipation. She descended the marble stairs and headed out of the door, into the excited crowd. Kristine peered over the heads of the people, to see Christian sitting tall on a black stallion, and the legion following close behind.
“Christian!” She shouted above all the cheers of the people. Christian looked at her and a wide silly grin spread across his face. Kristine waved enthusiastically at him. Christian waved back, as he rode away, as all the children chased after them.
_________

It was now later that evening when Christian urged his horse faster up the back road, where a large three story house stood. His body trembled in anticipation as his heart beat a pace faster. He was finally home!
Suddenly three little boys burst out the back door and raced past the gardens into the clearing, towards him, “Papa!”
Christian fiercely pulled on the reins and slid off his horse, taking off his helmet. He dropped to his knees, as his sons ran into his open arms. He held all three of them tight to his chest, not wanting to let go.
“Papa,” Joseph moaned, “You’re squeezing me!”
Christian let go, holding them at arms length and ruffled the boy’s longish hair, “Sorry, pal,” he stood to his feet, removing his gauntlets. “Well, look at you three;” he smiled broadly, “Just eight months ago you were only wee little men, now you’re so big. I’m having a difficult time catching up with you guys.”
They all giggled and Christian couldn’t help but laugh with them.
“So where’s your mother?” He finally asked, catching his breath.
“I’m right here, Christian,” came Kristine’s beautiful, almost musical voice. Christian looked in her direction. She looked more extravagantly beautiful than he remembered, he smiled and she smiled back, revealing her pure white teeth. Christian strode over to where she stood, and gently wrapped his arms around her pregnant stomach. He lowered his head and kissed her fully on the lips, “Well, my dear, aren’t you full of surprises,” he said releasing her lips, “So in all these eight months of my absence, you somehow forgot to mention this little detail in all your letter writing?” He gave her his lopsided grin, rubbing her pregnant belly.
His wife laughed, “I wanted to surprise you, when you came home, my love.”
“Oh! A surprise indeed,” he said removing his arms from around her waist.
“Mama says that we will be having a baby sister soon, Papa!” James exclaimed.
Kristine interjected, “I said maybe, James, just maybe.” But there was a glimmer in her eyes Christian had noticed.
“So you want it to be a girl, Kristine?”
“I think so, it would be lovely, but I wouldn’t mind another boy either,” she said.
Christian lifted James up onto one arm, “I think a baby girl is a marvelous idea. What do you think, James, would you like a baby sister?”
James pondered that for a moment and then answered.
“Could I tug her braids like how Ronan does to his sister?” he asked.
Christian threw back his head, laughing loud and long, “What! The son of the hero of Mephistophelia, pulling his sister’s hair, what a way to act! You ought to have more regard for girls, James.” James only giggled, but it was more of a snort than a giggle.
“So when do we eat, Mama?” Matthew asked abruptly, as they began to head back to the house.
“As soon as when your father is hungry,” Kristine replied, putting her arm around her eldest son.
Christian opened the door for his family, “Hungry? I’m starving!”
Kristine clipped her husband on the shoulder, “As soon as you clean up then. We can’t have you at the dinner table smelling like this, can we?”
“I suppose not, lovely,” he said setting James on the floor, “Well, my dear family,” he clasped his hands loudly, “After tomorrow, we shall leave for Gehenna,” he announced.
Matthew looked up at his father, “Why?”
“Because I am to be honored by the Great Emperor himself, Luciferus, in front of the entire Empire! For my wondrous bravery.”
All three of them gawked at their father in awe, “Really?”
Christian raised an eyebrow, “You’re actually questioning your father?” he growled playfully, “Next time you try to pull that off, I’m going to,” they all stared up at him, wide-eyed, “Tickle torture you!” He charged at them, and they all scattered, squealing. Christian and Kristine laughed, amused with their children. Christian ran his fingers through his sweaty hair, “I think I should go wash up now,” with that, he gave Kristine a peck on the cheek and strode down the courtyard, past the grand pillars, he took a left into a vaulted hallway and then walked into the bathroom.
_________
Later that night, the stars were twinkling in the indigo skies, and the dim moonlight shone through the large, glassless windows. A calm summer breeze swiftly blew past the satin curtains, making the candle flames flicker, casting dark shadows through the boys’ grand bed chamber.
Christian sat at the edge of Matthew’s twin bed, relating his heroic stories in hushed tones. His three boys were sitting up on the bed in a semicircle, listening intently to their father in full absorption.
“…and when all hope was lost, thousands of soldiers dying all around me, and it seemed that the Zealots were going to slaughter us all,” Christian’s voice grew more tense, “The general’s man sounded the retreat and so the remaining of our warriors began to flee to the hills, where a regiment of archers awaited. Just as the Zealots made it to the brink of the rocks, they fired a thousand flaming arrows!” Christian held his arms as if he was pulling an arrow and bow. His sons’ eyes widened as Christian continued the story, “And the Zealot barbarians fell to the ground dead. But lo and behold, a huge cavalry rode over the mountain, charging madly towards us, hurling eight foot spears at us! My men grew afraid thinking it would be the end of our army, they began to disperse, running for their very lives! Seeing this, I seized the flag of Mephistophelia, and leapt upon the back of my black stallion,” Christian stood up, his voice growing more excited, “I charged up the face of the mountain, clamoring up the steep rocks, and then before I knew it, my horse and I were airborne. Though spears were flying at us in all directions, we soared through the air. Time had seemed to fade, as my mighty steed landed on the rocky crag. I mounted off my trusted steed, and waved the flag madly, shouting for my men to take courage! ‘Fight to the death!’ I roared. ‘For the Emperor!’ At once, my men turned back and engaged in fierce battle with the enemy! I then mounted my horse and rode down the mountain. Grasping my spear, I speared three Zealots to the tree like kabobs!” The three boys giggled at that. “I swung my broad sword in hundreds of different directions, the Zealots swarming all around me,” Christian picked up a wooden sword that he had made for Matthew, and began swinging it fancily at imaginary Zealots, “I fought fiercely, fighting like a tiger.” Christian jabbed the wooden toy more ferociously through the air, “I then—, “Christian caught Kristine in the corner of his eye, who stood eyeing him in the doorway. She crossed her arms and held up an eyebrow.
“Is this your idea of putting the children to sleep?” Christian smiled, his cheeks flushing. He put the sword back on the bed stand.
“Okay, you heard your mother, back to bed!” The boys pouted.
“Aw!” Joseph moaned, “You just got to the good part!”
Kristine stepped into the room and ran her fingers through Joseph’s hair, “Now I’m pretty sure that your father will tell you all about his heroics in the morning. But for now –its time for you to go to bed.” With that, she tucked her three boys into bed, and kissed them goodnight. Christian blew out the candles, and together they slipped out of the bedroom.
Once he closed the heavy oak door, Christian slipped his hand into Kristine’s elegant one, and pulled her gently into the terrace, under the moonlight. Without saying a word, Christian tenderly moved her brown locks out from her heart shaped face. He swallowed, even after ten years of marriage, she never ceased to make his knees weak or cause his heart to thump quicker in his chest. Or make him gape at her stunning beauty. To him, Kristine was more precious than rubies, a priceless treasure. No man could ever ask for more loyal, loving wife than she.
Kristine’s finger gently touched his forehead, running down his high cheekbones, “Will you be staying home this time, Christian?” She whispered, ever so quietly.
Christian looked down from her clear gaze, “I’m afraid not, my love,” he sighed, “I must leave at the next four moons to Forest Camp, where I’ll receive my next assignment for another five months.”
“So soon?” she breathed, but it didn’t really sound like a question. Christian nodded solemnly, entwining his arms around her waist, hearing the disappointment in her trembling voice.
“But after that,” he paused, “I’ll return here, and spend the rest of my days with you, raising our children together. And I’ll never set foot on a battlefield again.”
“Promise?”
Christian gave her his charming, lopsided smile, “Promise.” Christian then lowered his head, and kissed her warm, soft lips. He could feel her hot breath on his cheeks.
“I brought something for you,” he whispered, his hand reaching into his pocket, and retrieved a gold necklace with an amyst diamond dangling from it.
Kristine held it up in the palm of her hand, “It’s beautiful,” she stared up into Christian’s aqua eyes, “I love it,” she murmured, she placed the necklace into Christian’s palm,
“Would you?” She then turned around and lifted up her thick curls off her creamy white, graceful neck. Christian lifted the golden necklace onto her neck and hooked the clasps, letting his fingers linger on the curve of her neck. She turned around and smiled up him, though her smiling eyes said that they were tired.
“I think I should be going to bed myself. I’m tired,” she murmured. He kissed her lightly on her mouth again.
“I’ll join you soon, but first I think I’ll stay up for a little while.”
She nodded and Christian watched as she glided to their bedroom. Once Kristine clicked the oak door shut, Christian let his gaze wander to the clear starry night sky. Faint, but noticeable outlines of shooting stars sailed through the atmosphere, leaving streaks of glowing gas vapors. Lingering out there on the terrace, Christian’s mind went over the recent events while he overlooked the sleeping city. He thought about winning the war, and how they captured the fugitive renegades and Zealot leaders. He thought about how he was endowed with the country’s fate or victory at the last battle, since he had become Mephistophelia’s best, most skilled warrior. The battle had become devastatingly hopeless on both sides, that they had only one resolve. Man on man combat. Christian was chosen for the honor, and his opponent was a seven foot Zealot giant. And how did that go? Well, most would say the fight was pathetically easy for Christian, which led him here today, the rich, soon to be honored champion of Mephistophelia. He was the greatest warrior in all of history.
Christian sighed, wrapping his cloak tighter around his muscular form. At eight years old, when he had found out that his beloved father, Julius Grand Duke of Interitus, had been assassinated by the hand of a Zealot, Christian vowed that he would forever avenge his father’s death.
He walked down the stone stairway that ran down the outside of the house into the garden. All around him was dark, and if not for the full moon, Christian wouldn’t have been able to see the way to the stables. In front of him, a magnificent stallion frolicked about in the corral. Christian leaned over the rail and whistled sharply. The horse stopped in his tracks and gaited up to his master.
“Hello there, old friend,” Christian murmured, his hand traveling down the animal’s sinewy neck. “You know,” Christian sighed, “I think you’re getting too old for war, Bucephalus.”
The horse snorted, as if begging to differ. Christian slapped the horse affectionately on the neck, but then accidently knocked over the saddle hanging on the fence, and onto the thresh floor. It landed heavily, creating a startling noise like metal clanking against each other. It was just then that Christian remembered the golden relics that he had stowed away in his saddle bag. Christian reached down and picked up the saddle bag, and examined the relics, making sure nothing was broken. Satisfied that everything seemed fine as far as he could tell in this lighting, he replaced the artifacts in the saddle bag. Keeping the bag in hand, he stepped out of the horse stables and locked the wooden doors. He started to return to the house, cloak flying in the wind, as he soundlessly strode for the vault. The whole house was still lit with candle light, so he had no trouble finding his way through the house though dim. Passing by the halls, he came to a small wooden door that closed off the underground chamber that contained his wealth. The door was bolted shut by a warded lock, and only besides him, Kristine held possession of one of the two keys that was hidden safely away.
Christian unlocked the door, and grabbed one of the torches off the wall. Cautiously he descended the narrow flight of stairs, scents of mildew and earth hitting his nostrils. The torch’s orange flame illuminated the moist, stone walls, revealing the fan shaped vault around him. Huge, wooden chests of silver minted coins sat against the wall in front of Christian, surrounded by marble stands with varieties of valuable antiques placed on them. Every part of the room was literally congested with assets of gold and every precious gem and metal imaginable. Christian went to one of the chests, unlocked it and silently placed the contents into the chest. He reached his hand into the sack again and pulled out the ancient leather bound book that General Achilis had given him. He paused for a second, pondering whether he should actually read the book or not. Christian shrugged; he would just take a look at it. Holding it in hand, he ascended the winding stairs, and relocked the vault. The servants hadn’t blown out the candlelit chandelier yet, likely knowing that he preferred staying up late.
Christian hung the torch back up on the wall, and strode for the kitchen in the east wing of the house. Grasping a silver chalice that was all ready filled with wine; he sat on an oak chair besides the large, roaring fireplace. The flames flickered violently and fiery sparks burst into oblivion, casting their glows upon the leather bound book in Christian’s hands. He held it there for a mere moment, before opening the front cover.
Staring down at the front page, he read aloud in hushed tones.
“The Ancient Blood Writings of Elohim”
The words almost had something mystical about them, as if the written title held an essential mystery to be unfolded. But it didn’t hold any significance to Christian other than the mentioning of blood writings. Could it really be written with blood? It would explain the rusty brown color of the ink. Sick.
He doubted if there was anything useful in the book other than just legends and myths. But despite his better judgment, Christian turned through a few of the pages, and began reading, not bothering to start from the beginning.


“In the land of the far North, the Great Elohim spoke to the man, Abram and declared.
‘Get out of your country, from your family, and from your father’s house, to a land that I will show you. I will make you a great nation; I will bless you, and make your name great. You shall be a blessing. I will bless those you bless you, and I will curse him who curses you.”
“And in you all of the families of the earth shall be blessed.’
Christian paused, sipping slowly from the chalice. Then continued reading.
“So the man, Abram, departed as Elohim had told him, and Lot, his brother’s son went with him, to the land of Canaan. Abram was of the age of seventy-five years when he departed from Haran, and when he took his wife, and Lot, and all of their earthly possessions to the land of which they did not know. When Abram came to the land of Canaan, he passed through the land to the place of Shechem, as far as terebinth tree of Moreh. For the Canaanites dwelt in the land.
So Elohim appeared to Abram and said to him saying,
‘To your descendants I will give this land.’
And there Abram built an altar to Elohim, who had appeared to him, and then went on his way to the mountain east of Bethel. So Abram pitched his tent with Bethel on the west and Ai on the east. He also built Elohim an altar in this place, and called on the name of Elohim.
Then Abram journeyed onward, still heading for the South.”


Christian closed the book, “What a terribly boring story,” he mused, slugging the last of his wine. As he assumed, the book was nothing more than fantasized stories and worthless ramblings that the Zealots probably never had read anyway. He pondered what he should do with the stupid book, until he realized that General Achilis wouldn’t care what he did with the book if it was worthless to them, anyhow. Besides, the Zealots were at the brick of extinction, to be rid from the entire world by the great legions of the Emperor. And so should the rest of their rebellious works, to the fires of Hell.
Christian carelessly tossed the book into the flames.




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