Justice – A Megarél Tale, Chapter 7

Having retired to his chambers for the evening Salvo started to take off the heavily armoured uniform that most men would struggle to move in, let alone fight.

His living quarters were small and simple as was normal for those of The Watch.  Living underneath Megarél, the room was carved out of the hard stone that made for a sturdy foundation of the city, not necessarily a comfortable one.  Placing his breastplate next to the flittering candle that lit the room, the reflection from the sigil lit the room thrice the previous brightness.  Attached to the armour, the holy symbol of Marque was presented as a pair of letter ‘t’s stood upon one another and the fine iron wrought one around his neck helped Salvo to channel Marqué’s power into this plain of existence.

As he laid his weary and tired body onto the bed that he had called home for over 30 years now he contemplated the day.

After locating the pair of women it hadn’t taken long for Salvo and Gabriel to catch up to them, they moved slowly through the streets so as not to gain any attention but the magic available to the clerics had made it easy enough to identify them.  When they’d caught up, the woman had stood between the clerics and the child as though to protect her, but unarmed she didn’t have much to say about being taken into custody.  Whilst the other members of her gang were guilty of attacking a cleric of The Watch, hence earning the death penalty, her futile efforts of punching them was a laughable offence.

What really had Salvo’s attention was the unblemished aura of white that had surrounded the child.  Most children were innocent as an age that young but no one that Salvo had ever seen or imagined he would ever see could hold a candle to her.  What bothered him more was the thought of what these people were doing and planned on doing with her.

As Salvo rolled onto his side he noticed the wooden mistletoe leaf presented as a pendant that lay on the shelf next to his bed.  The only thing that he had been left with as a child when he was abandoned at the orphanage, it suggested that his parents (or at least one of them) had been druids.  A small culture of people who viewed the world as a set of scales where good must balance equal, their symbol and the source of their powers came from nature, where mistletoe was considered to be the most potent.  Due to their secretive nature, it seemed even more likely that at least his mother had been a druid as it was rare for druids to have children, never mind raise them.

His years of wondering about his parents had gone now, after 35 years of being on his own, his family was The Watch and his mother was Marqué, if he was more powerful than his brothers and sisters because his natural mother was a druid then he would make sure it would be put to good use, caring for the city and his new family.

Placing his hand on the sigil on his breastplate, the light from it diminished and even the candle extinguished itself, dropping the room to a comfortable darkness as Salvo rolled onto his back once again.  Closing his eyes and placing his hands together on his chest he recited the prayers and holy verses that he had been taught as a child and into his adult years.  As the hour passed he felt his prayers fill the empty store of power in his chest as Marqué rewarded him for his work in her name.  Command spells, healing spells and light spells were amongst the many he had been taught and some of the spells that Salvo prayed to be given the right to use.

Having been a cleric for so long the choice of spells he could pray for from his bible were in the dozens, ranging from simple spells that could trick or confuse an assailant to more powerful ones that would deter elementals.  As the risk of something that rare attacking the city was pretty low, Salvo preferred spells that could be used in a moments notice in the heat of battle, or better still, in its early stages to avoid one all together.

Feeling his reservoir of energy full, Salvo allowed himself to slip into a deep sleep, letting his wounds heal and allowing his brothers and sisters to take care of the city for a while, feeling sure that little would require his attention for the foreseeable future.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s