Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
“I appreciate your mural more and more,” Idris says as we head towards the busy Watchtower this morning. He and I walk side by side towards the famous building, the depiction of Bellandi hanging from the roof in vivid colour for all to see.
“Perhaps it was a bit rash,” I muse, gently lifting the silk of my sage-green skirts as we reach the base of the steps.
“It’s good for the people to have a reminder of what we do to traitors, and the might of what the people can accomplish,” Idris says, taking my other arm in his fiery fingers.
Stepping closer to him is sweltering, despite the strong shadow cast by the tall building covering us with a cooling blanket.
“That sounds like it comes from frustration,” I say as we step inside the building. The church congregation has already gathered and crowded in as many people as possible. The City Guard lines the aisle as we slip towards our seats at the front.
Idris agreed to come with me to church today – which surprised me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him at a sermon before.
As we take our seats, Idris looks around the building with a slightly pinched expression and lets out a sigh as he leans back in the seat. I keep my amusement to myself, realising he really doesn’t want to be here. At least, not for the sermon. He came for me, because I wanted to come.
I breathe out slowly, turning my head to where Otta is speaking with a few individuals I recognise as some of her more devoted followers.
She looks lovely as per usual, but she’s wearing a more elaborate dress than I’ve seen her in before.
Instead of the very plain and simple black dresses she’s worn in the past, this dress is made of more expensive material.
It also has a white textured panel at the corseted bust, with floating white trumpet sleeves that sweep from her elbows to her thigh.
She’s kept her signature veil, the beautiful white gossamer glinting with a thousand colours as she moves in the morning sunlight.
I can’t help but wonder at the change. Still subtle, still elegant and understated … but noticeable. Otta doesn’t seem the kind of person who would do such a thing for the sake of vanity.
Otta then turns away from her followers and towards the lectern as she begins today’s service.
The opening song is a favourite, and soon the many voices ring off the old building in rough but enthusiastic harmony.
Even Idris murmurs along, his deep voice easy for me to pick out amongst the others, and it sends hot shudders running up and down my spine.
The sermon goes on as normal, with prayers and a speech.
Otta really listened to the city when she crafted the sermon today.
She spoke of kindness and consideration, not falling victim to fear.
How hate is a powerful weapon that can be wielded for better but is easily turned against your own people.
The crowd is enraptured as she speaks from the heart, moving with an ethereal, delicate grace that could be gifted by Fate and his daughters themselves.
She almost glows as she goes through the last few songs of praise and leaves us with a reminder that love is divine, and that hate is only a tool of the gods when they bestow it.
“Okay, I like her message,” Idris says begrudgingly, leaning over and whispering in my ear as Otta finishes up. I chuckle, looking down at my hands as I ready myself to leave soon.
Otta’s about to wrap up the service when she takes a deep breath, both pearlescent hands gripping the lectern.
I pause, eyes narrowing in surprise as she starts talking.
“And now that our service for the day is over, I have an announcement. For those of you who wish to leave now, please feel free to do so,” Otta says, but not a soul moves from their position, curious to hear her next words.
“I have been praying and reflecting of late, on my purpose here in Halice,” Otta continues.
“I have been with all of you, seeing the fear and division that has been caused by grasping, egocentric, foreign entities. People who claim to share my religion, but use it to manipulate, to terrorise, to spread indiscriminate violence and harm. These people are operating on greedy, personal ambitions and glory, with little care for the lives destroyed in their wake. They have corrupted and abused the vehicle of the church and the faith placed in them by the people, for their selfish endeavours. It is not a church I can support. It is not a church I can claim as my own. It has become a beast of greed and fear.”
Otta steadies herself, taking a deep breath before she continues. The entire hall is on tenterhooks. My heart pounds in my throat, hoping beyond hope she’s about to say the words I think she will.
“Which is why I am officially announcing the formation of a new faith. A doctrine, with Father Fate, Sister Love and Sister Hate at its heart. A belief and church that doesn’t murder or wage war or clamber for personal glories.
I will be recruiting, teaching and training preachers starting tomorrow, so that we may grow our church to be what it was always intended.
A vehicle of service to one another, a reminder of community and unity, connection to Fate and his holy powers. ”
There is mumbling all through the church now. A surge of victory bolts up my stomach and settles across my shoulders. Yes! This is what we need, another bold statement, spreading a message of new faith across Halice – and maybe even further.
Otta clears her throat and holds up her hands, still commanding the attention of every person in the room.
“To be clear, I do not want bloodshed, or pain, or loss. This is a church of hope and new beginnings. Should this be of interest to you, or anyone you know, please spread the message. And, with that, I bid you all go with the grace of Fate.”
“Grace of Fate,” the congregation choruses, and the chatter is immediate. Otta looks my way, meeting my eyes with her own brown ones, full of purpose but also hope. She nods purposefully before walking down the aisle to greet people as they leave.
“Well, well, you have been busy,” mutters Idris in my ear. I turn to look at him, that dark tether between us drawing me under like a vicious, deadly tide. I smile and offer a playful shrug.
“You say that like you disapprove,” I reply, our voices quiet and only for each other. Idris smirks and leans closer. My heart thuds in my ears, mouth going dry as I fight for the sense in my words. His scent, that maddening mix of lavender and mint both burns and soothes, like a fiery balm.
“Not at all, but I continue to be surprised.” Idris runs the very tips of his aggravating fingers slowly up my arm.
I swallow, fighting for words in response to the sensation of his fingers trailing over my shoulder.
His smirk turns a little hungry. He leans closer, his lips barely an inch from mine.
“What? No biting retort?” he teases.
“I’m focusing on unity,” I answer. “We just heard about its virtues after all.”
“I should’ve listened more carefully.” Idris drops his head towards mine. “I think I like the sound of unity.”
His lips hover above mine, that galling, enticing promise of his fevered kiss too strong to ignore.
“You stayed.”
Both our heads snap around to see Otta walking closer. I hurriedly stand up, smoothing out the skirts of my dress.
“Of course. We had to congratulate you on this new church. I can’t wait to see what it’ll bring forth,” I say warmly, hurriedly placing a few steps between me and Idris.
Otta smiles, but she’s nervous.
“You mentioned before that there might be funding available…?”
“Of course, for outreach programmes and things. It might be a little tight currently, given the war we’re in but we can certainly look at perhaps partnering the church with programmes for the poor and refugees and things.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking!” Otta beams, shoulders dropping with relief. “The church must be one of service to those most in need. Can we talk details soon?”
“Absolutely. Let’s put a meeting in the diary for say, day after tomorrow?” I offer. Otta nods, letting out a pleased breath.
“Thank you. I just hope this doesn’t upset too many people,” Otta says, biting her lip. “This will infuriate the Holy Mother.”
“Does this not make you a Holy Mother now?” asks Idris with a deep, charming chuckle as he comes to my side, hands in his pockets. “The head of a brand-new faith?”
“Gosh, I’ve never thought about it like that,” Otta says with wide eyes that look almost fearful. “I shall have to pray on it.”
“Whatever you decide, I really do hope it can be everything you want of it. But we should be off. We have so much to do but I couldn’t miss the peace your service brings,” I say warmly, taking her hands. Otta grips my hands tightly, the gesture one of genuine care.
“I hope the peace lasts, Maestrus. I really do,” she says with feeling. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have another service in two hours I need to prepare for – as I’m sure the crowd will be rather loud following my new announcement.”
“Do you feel the need for a personal guard? For your protection?” Idris asks suddenly. I take a breath, realising he’s right. I nod, touching his arm as I turn to agree.
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Otta answers.
“On the contrary, I think that perhaps any agitators in this city will see your new decree as quite the threat,” Idris says. “Your work is important, and you must be protected so it can flourish.”
“But I’ll be surrounded by people.” Otta frowns and Idris shakes his head.
“That makes it easy to find you and get close to you. I just want you to be safe,” Idris says kindly. “You can’t help others if you don’t look after yourself.”
“Agreed, but we’ll keep it small. Perhaps we can find a few City Guards to volunteer. Perhaps they can wear plain clothes. Just until this war is over?” I offer her. Otta hesitates but her shoulders drop as she nods.
“Okay, but they must pitch in and help.”
“Absolutely,” I agree. “Now we must go. See you in a few days.”
I take Idris’s arm and he leads me down the aisle towards the large front doors.
“Do you really think she’ll be under threat from agitators?” I ask Idris as we head out of the building. Idris nods, eyes skipping around as we step into the bright Halician sunlight. His eyes cut around the bustling Market Square as we head towards the carriage.
“I think the Holy Mother will want to put her down as soon as possible,” Idris says.
“Her power comes from faith and the people that follow her. If people start abandoning their belief in the old faith, and the old church, and coming to Otta’s new faith, then the Holy Mother’s grip on her people will falter. ”
Guilt swirls in the base of my stomach. I hadn’t intended to put Otta in danger, but Halice needs a church and faith of its own. So I provided one. One they actually benefited from believing in.
“Come on, let’s get food and then back to work.
Giulia wants to show you some accounting masterpiece she’s concocted with Michelle,” Idris says warmly as he opens the door to the carriage.
I climb up, pausing as I turn to look at the Watchtower.
Otta stands at the wide doors, talking animatedly with her group of most devoted followers.
I take a deep breath, steeling my stomach.
Otta knows the risk, and she’s willing to take it to build something better. I of all people know what that’s like. I’ll help her do it.
May Fate have mercy on us all.