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A Fateful Meeting...
Posted: 17 May 2006 12:29 AM |
Somewhere in Midor...
... there is a darkened drawing room. The walls are dark paneled wood, the furnishings opulent. A large, mahogany table dominates, at which two graven faced men are seated. Candles have been doused, save a long taper at the center of the table, which flickers listlessly in the still air. Red satin drapes have been drawn, blotting the faint moonlight from the room, and the room from the city surrounding.
Two men occupy the room, speaking in hushed tones. One is seated, well dressed, clearly the head of the household. The other is much younger and is frocked in the unmistakable robes of the Midoran priesthood. He wrings his hands, nearly a nervous fit.
There is a knock at the door and a young man of his early twenties enters. He bears a striking resemblance from the man seated at the table... and a passing resemblance to the other. Their hushed whispering is immediately replaced with grim silence as he walks tentatively into the darkened room. The man in white stands and begins to pace the length of the room.
The seated man speaks.
"Sit down."
The young man does as he is told.
"You know why I have sent for you." It is not a question.
The young man steals a glance at the man in white then drops his gaze to the table.
"No, Father... it has been some time."
A moment of silence passes. He feels rather than sees the men exchanging looks.
Someone lets out an exasperated sigh.
The man speaks again in tones of restrained anger. "Perhaps you can explain to your uncle and I, then, what /exactly/ you have been doing in La Sapienza."
There is a long pause and the darkness of the room closes in further upon the young man.
Without looking up: "I have been busy with my studies, Father."
A sudden explosion of anger. The man slams his fist down onto the table, jaw clenched.
"Marion, give me the file."
The man in white reaches into a leather folio and slides a file over the table silently. The seated youth stares at the file, stealing only a single fearful glance toward the man in white.
"Do you know what this is?" After a moment's pause, he continues. "This... this is an intellegence report... It is regarding you, Dominick." He reads aloud: "...the subject identified as Dominick Bastil has attempted to gain entry to La Sapienza's forbidden text collection by impersonating a member of the clergy." His eyes scan down the page, "...it is hereby recommended that he charges of intent to commit heresy and impersonation of clergy are to be brought and the subject submitted to immediate Justification."
He stops and tosses the paper down to the table, glowering at the young man.
Another long silence.
"Look at me, boy," the man spits venomously. "You're a disgrace to the family. If it wasn't for your uncle here, you'd be dead by morning... maybe it'd be better that way."
He continues, "He's volunteered to provide your Justification himself... but," he glances at the robed man "we'll not have the blood of family on our hands, no matter how d*** stupid you are. Collect your things and do not return to my sight. If you ever return to Midor, I shall kill you myself. Pray, Hara*, that you have not brought ruin to us all."
Somewhere in Midor... another refugee is born.
((*: from Midoran children's story told in the spirit of patriarchal devotion, the name of an unfaithful son who brings disgrace and misfortune to his family. It is an epithet of disgust.)) |
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