Chapter Twenty #2
Unlike conventional churches, there was something sensuous about Livadon’s basilica. Murals painted in the ancient style covered the arched ceiling, and colorful streams of light poured in through towering stained-glass windows.
In contrast, the habits of the clerics were markedly humble. They wore floor-length robes made of coarse dark brown cloth, cinched at the waist with cords woven from straw.
An old cleric who appeared to be the most senior among them stepped forward to greet Riftan and Duke Aren.
“We welcome you to the sanctuary of our God.”
Duke Aren gestured toward the campaign party. “These are honored guests who have come to aid Livadon. Would the church allow them to stay in its care until they depart for Louivell?”
The cleric’s cloudy, light blue eyes flickered to Riftan and the Remdragon Knights. “Of course. We shall welcome them with all honors. Please feel free to ask for anything you might need.”
Riftan stepped forward and gave a slight bow. “We will not trouble you for long. If you could provide us with enough provisions and a hierarch who could accompany us to Louivell, we will depart with haste.”
The old cleric stared into Riftan’s eyes before slowly nodding. He then whispered something to the cleric on his right, and the man promptly rushed out toward the back garden.
“We shall summon two hierarchs for you at once, as well as supply you with the provisions you need,” the old cleric stated.
“And we shall help you replenish and mend your weapons. Three hundred of Livadon’s best knights will be accompanying you to Louivell,” Duke Aren added, gesturing to the knights waiting outside the basilica. “You must be tired from the journey, so leave all the preparations to us and try to unwind.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the clerics parted and swiftly led the party to the back.
They stepped through an arched doorway into a spacious garden bathed in sunlight, then crossed a lush pomegranate orchard.
They walked along the stone walls of the courtyard for some time before a pale gray building surrounded by thick trees came into view.
The party followed the clerics into the shaded building and entered a huge room with a loft. It seemed spacious enough to accommodate at least eight hundred people.
“This is where we allow pilgrims to rest,” a cleric explained. “We shall bring you your meals shortly, so please make yourselves comfortable.”
When the clerics left the room, the knights let out long sighs of relief. Some slumped into the thickly cushioned chairs, while others stretched out in the cots placed between partitions along the wall. A few of the junior knights attended to the knights to help them remove their breastplates.
Maxi was studying the murals on the walls and the intricate carvings on the pillars when Riftan called her name.
“Maxi, come here.”
She turned to see him seated at a long table across from Duke Aren. After a moment of hesitation, Maxi made her way to Riftan’s side. The duke’s dark brown eyes gleamed with curiosity.
Riftan possessively placed a hand on her back, guiding her to take the seat beside him. “This is my wife, Maximilian. I wanted to ask you before I depart if you would provide her shelter.”
“Your wife?”
The duke looked surprised. Then, much to Maxi’s discomfort, he blatantly looked her up and down. She willed herself not to shrink back.
Stroking his neatly groomed mustache, the duke cocked his head, perplexed. “I would of course make sure she is well cared for, but I must ask: Why did you bring your wife on such a dangerous campaign?”
“Lady Calypse is a talented healer,” Hebaron suddenly chimed in. He was lounging at the end of the table, sipping a goblet of wine. “We had already sent our mage with the first party, so we had no choice but to ask her ladyship to accompany us.”
“I see,” said the duke after a pause. He gazed back at Maxi, his dark brown eyes softening. “It must have been a rough journey. I shall arrange for her to stay at the palace immediately and see to it that she has everything she needs.”
“I wish for her to stay at the monastery,” Riftan said quickly. “I have heard that many of Livadon’s noblewomen are staying there. Would you be able to make arrangements for my wife to be accommodated there as well?”
Duke Aren raised an eyebrow. “That can be arranged, but…would it not be better for her to stay at the palace?”
“I do not want my wife embroiled in politics,” Riftan said plainly, not caring if he sounded insolent.
Growing tense, Maxi studied the duke’s face. What if he became furious at Riftan’s discourteous tone?
Duke Aren simply let out a hearty laugh. “Word has it that you have managed to earn the ire of Elnuima Reuben III. Are you worried that having your wife stay at the Livadonian palace will further inflame his misgivings?”
Riftan scowled. “You must concede that there is no guarantee that people with treacherous intentions would not approach her.”
The duke did not immediately respond. “Indeed,” he finally said. His trim brown mustache quivered slightly as he sighed. “Considering your position, it would surely be better for her to stay at the monastery. I understand. I shall ask the high priest to see to her welfare.”
While the men discussed where she would be staying, Maxi sat meekly beside Riftan and clasped his hand under the table. He glanced down at her anxious face and firmly squeezed back.
The duke briefed them on the situation in Louivell, then left to supervise the campaign preparations. Soon after, the clerics entered with an array of warm food, wine, and a basket of fresh fruit.
Maxi sat gloomily at the table, picking at her food as she ate her last meal with the knights. With their departure into dangerous battle looming, the men’s faces were visibly tense. The atmosphere was more sober than usual as they discussed their itinerary.
Although Maxi desperately wanted to have a private moment with Riftan so that they could say their farewells, he was deliberating with the knights and seemed not to notice her at all. All too soon, the Livadonian knights came to inform them that the preparations were complete.
“Baggage wagons with the weapons and provisions are waiting in the square,” a Livadonian knight stated.
Riftan gave a curt nod of approval. “And the hierarchs?”
“Two of them are all set to depart.”
Riftan and the knights once again donned their armor. As she watched them prepare to leave, Maxi felt a gaping hole in her heart. She had known that sending Riftan off would be difficult, but the anguish she felt now was far greater than what she had been steeling herself for.
Unable to even bid him or the knights farewell, she dumbly watched them file out of the room. Riftan, who had been talking to Duke Aren in the doorway, turned to look at her.
“Maxi, the duke will introduce you to the high priest. Come.”
Only then was Maxi able to move. She silently followed Riftan out of the building. They passed through the garden and entered the basilica, where they were greeted by a middle-aged cleric. His pale, almost white hair curled just above his shoulders.
Duke Aren stepped forward to formally introduce Maxi to the high priest. “Reverend Father, this is the wife of Sir Riftan Calypse.”
Maxi executed a stiff curtsy. “I-I am Maximilian…Calypse.”
The high priest bowed back. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Calypse. I am Sam Mordecai, a servant of our divine master. I have been told that you will be staying with us for a while. Please, consider this place your home during your stay.”
“I leave my wife in your care,” said Riftan, respectfully bowing his head to the high priest.
Maxi’s eyes flew to stare at Riftan, an icy dread seeping into the corners of her heart. Did he intend to bid her farewell here? Like this?
Riftan straightened and turned to her. “If anything happens, inform Duke Aren. He will look after you.”
Maxi’s lips quivered, unable to manage any words. The impassive face looking down at her was as cold as steel, devoid of any emotion.
“Be well.” Riftan’s voice was as frigid as his expression.
Maxi felt her throat constricting. She could not believe this stony farewell was happening.
Riftan brusquely turned away from her and walked out of the basilica. Maxi stared after him, frozen with disbelief. It was as if the intimate time they had shared aboard the ship had all been a false act. The knights waiting nearby gave her curt nods and followed their commander.
Ulyseon was at the rear. He paused at the entrance to offer her a final, confident reassurance. “We will return to take you back to Anatol, my lady, so please do not worry.”
Maxi numbly accompanied the clerics out of the church to see them off.
At the foot of the steps, dozens of baggage wagons and armed soldiers filled the square.
The Livadon and Remdragon Knights stood to attention at the front, their banners flapping in the brisk wind.
Maxi felt her heart hammer against her ribs.
She looked on miserably as Riftan mounted his horse. He pacified Talon’s furious snorting and turned him around to check on the formation. When all was set, he lightly spurred Talon to trot ahead. The knights began to lead their horses out of the square in unison.
Maxi watched in a daze as Riftan suddenly pulled his mount to a halt. The knights abruptly ceased marching and murmured in confusion.
Oblivious to the knights’ muttering, Riftan barked something to Hebaron, jumped off his horse, and sprinted back toward the basilica.
He bounded up the steps and seized Maxi’s forearm.
“Come…”
Before Maxi could say anything, he pulled her over to a large tree. Bewildered, Maxi stumbled after him.
“R-Riftan…wh-what are you—”
“I know that I’m being a damned fool, but…” he murmured, his words making no sense to Maxi. He whirled around to look down at her.