The Heavenly Host

“Good evening my friends,” Moradel said rather grimly. “Unfortunately, Sentir is occupied and won’t be able to join us.”

“How unfortunate!” Beragamos said with what sounded like great emotion, even as he withdrew his hand from creating a fifth wine glass.

Moradel glanced at the bottle of wine, his eyes widening as he recognized the label. He snorted. “Yes, I am sure you are truly disappointed, Beragamos.” He shook his head with a slight smile.

He turned to gesture to the young saint. Hilda thought of him as a young saint because he appeared to be in his early twenties so he must have died young, but he was also young given his aura. She would be surprised if he had been a saint for more than sixty or seventy years.

“This is Saint Stevos Delastros, Patron Saint of Travelers of the Border Forests,” Moradel said, gesturing to Stevos, who nodded politely to each of them. Clearly the youth was feeling a bit overwhelmed to be in the meeting, even as she had been but a few days back. It was funny how quickly one became accustomed to the previously unbelievable.

Moradel shut the door and Hilda poured wine for the four of them. Stevos nervously took a seat that Hilda gestured for him to take and Moradel sat down at the final seat. He raised his hand to give them pause before trying the wine.

“I think you will want to wait to drink until after you’ve heard what Stevos has to say,” Moradel said solemnly.

Beragamos raised an eyebrow at this as he pulled his hand back from his glass. “Very well,” he replied. “But first, where exactly are the Border Forests?” Hilda was glad he asked; she had no idea.

“Uhm, they are on Norelon, Your Lordship,” Stevos replied hesitantly. “They are the forests between the Abancian wasteland and Jotungard. Where the Kingdom of Murgandy and The United Federation are.”

“I am not sure I like where this is going,” Beragamos said firmly yet hesitantly at the same time. “ If there is trouble in that region, historically it meant orcs.”

Stevos nodded. “But it’s worse, Your Lordship.”

“Worse?” Hilda asked, puzzled.

“Yes, ma’am,” Stevos said.

Hilda smiled tightly. While technically a term of respect, the word always put her on edge; it made her feel old. She had only just celebrated her two hundred and forty-sixth birthday one month — okay, a month and a half ago. She was by no means old; at least not amongst present company. She glanced at the two archons.

“Go on, Stevos,” Moradel said.

“Well, as you know, our presence in that part of Eton is minimal and has been so for some time,” Stevos began.

“Since the Desolation,” Beragamos added.

Stevos nodded. “While we do have resources in the Cythanian Federation, and of course Noajar, Ferundy and further north have not been particularly welcoming.”

“Alfar, orcs, and assorted brigands are not our ideal worshipers.” Beragamos smiled.

“Aye, My Lord, but I do what I can in the region. I support a number of itinerant priests who do try to support the faithful that we find there,” Stevos said.

“Admirable work, lad.” Beragamos smiled.

“Thank you, sir,” Stevos said somewhat breathlessly, clearly nervous. “So as it is, not having a huge number of illuminaries to deal with, I tend to pay special attention to those I have.”

Beragamos smiled and nodded, trying to ease the young saint’s nerves. “Excellent.”

“So, one of my priests, Teragdor — ” Stevos began.

“Teragdor? That is an odd name,” Beragamos interrupted.

“Yes, Your Lordship. He’s half-orc, half-human,” Stevos acknowledged awkwardly.

“Half-orc?” Beragamos blinked. “We have half-orc priests?” Hilda was shocked herself.

“Yes, Your Lordship. He was a child of rape, naturally, and his human mother abandoned him with one of our priests,” Stevos said. “It’s a long story, but eventually the boy entered the priesthood and has done quite well. Given the difficult circumstances of the region, I would say quite well indeed.”

“And you are sure of his devotion?” Beragamos asked.

“Yes,” Moradel interrupted. “I am aware of this particular priest and he has been thoroughly vetted, as you can imagine. He is sincere, and to be honest I would probably trust him more than some of our people surrounding Freehold.”

Beragamos chuckled. “Verigas?”

“Of course,” Moradel said. Stevos looked back and forth, not understanding.

“Go on then, Saint Stevos.” Beragamos nodded with a smile.

“Well, Your Lordship, this evening he began a very urgent and relatively sophisticated set of ritualized prayers to ensure he contacted me,” Stevos said.

“Something more than a bedtime prayer, I take it?” Beragamos joked.

Stevos nodded. “The Prayer of Dire Deliverance.”

“The PDD?” Beragamos blinked as Moradel nodded.

Hilda shook her head in amazement; none of her illuminaries had ever tried that. Very few did; in fact, it was usually only done by a high priest.

“So what information did he want to relay?” Beragamos said.