A shaved young servant in the classic robes of the Divine Order was scrubbing the floor of the cathedral seriously and meticulously, along with the others.
It was a fine early morning.
The servants of God had woken up before dawn as usual and, after getting refreshed, they followed their routine to clean the cathedral from top to bottom.
The reason why Serin would be amazed seeing how clean and pristine the cathedral always appeared was because of these hardworking, well-trained servants, who made sure that not even a speck of dust could blaspheme the sacred place.
Many such servants were former criminals who had been given a chance at redemption by the Divine Order, while others voluntarily chose to serve the Gods. Anyhow, it was not actually a bad job, as it also came with a certain level of prestige among ordinary commoners, and lodging as well as food were provided by the Cathedral.
Of course, not everyone could obtain this work. Only the most devout of the Gods' children, after rigorous tests and indoctrination, were allowed to serve the Gods so closely.
The work for the morning was about to be finished. Some servants were dusting off the benches and the edges, while others were cleaning the floor. Already, the cathedral was starting to shine.
Glen twisted and squeezed the wet cloth over the bucket of dirty water, wringing out the moisture. He then soaked the cloth in a bucket of clean water and scrubbed the floor lightly. Glen repeated this process a couple of times, then draped the dirty cloth over the bucket and exhaled sharply as he wiped the sweat from his forehead.
A sigh echoed from behind. Glen looked back and saw his friend Fred watching him with concern. "Why don't you take some rest? Don't push yourself, you're ill."
Glen shrugged. He smiled carelessly and replied, "I'm fine… It's nothing!"
Fred sighed again helplessly. He replaced the dirty cloth with a new one and soaked it in the clean water. While doing so, he spoke casually in a low voice, "You should let some steam off during the Spring Festival. It will be good for you."
Glen nodded, his gaze flickering momentarily.
"Missing your sister?" Fred asked.
"Hm… she's getting married soon," Glen answered somewhat absentmindedly.
Fred moved closer to his friend. He placed his hand on Glen's shoulder and said, "I know already, she invited me, remember?"
Glen broke away from his daze and lowered his gaze, somewhat crestfallen.
Fred tightened his grip on his friend's shoulder, making him flinch slightly and raise his head. Locking Glen in his gaze, Fred said, "It's a happy occasion! Didn't you come here for your family?" He paused for a moment, then put on an affirming smile, showing his teeth. "It's Saturday today. She will come to visit you—don't show her such a sulky face!"
Glen cheered up, his eyes once again firm with resolve. He turned his head toward the large metallic frame of the symbol of the Holy Mother behind the altar, hung high upon the wall at the very center. Glen clasped his hands in prayer and murmured, "Praise the Holy Mother!"
This was but a short episode in Glen's daily routine, nothing special at all. With renewed vigor, he, along with the other servants, continued their work mostly in the silence of dawn.
Suddenly, as they were working, footsteps and the clanking of metal rang through the cathedral. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their attention toward the sound.
Priest Phelipe entered the main hall with two Paladins. His face as gentle as ever, Priest Phelipe took a cursory glance through the hall, seeing everyone scramble to get up, looking at one another in confusion.
Priest Phelipe offered some words of comfort first. When everyone calmed down, he gestured toward the rear annex and said, with unquestionable authority in his voice while a very subtle pressure emanated from his body, "Everyone, please head back to your quarters until further instructions."
The servants were surprised, but only for a moment. The work was mostly done anyway, so no one thought too deeply about it, although some were certainly curious, as something like this had never happened before.
There were some dozen servants in the hall—some with brooms, others with buckets of water and cloth. Everyone obeyed without question and immediately began heading toward the rear annex where they lived.
Glen and Fred had a brief exchange about the oddity before they separated. Glen left the water buckets in the inner courtyard like the others and went to his quarters.
Glen walked slowly toward his room, his eyes subtly surveying his surroundings, darting left and right as he opened the door.
Glen stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
The chamber was narrow and sparse, barely more than a cell. A single bed pressed against the wall, a small wooden desk beneath a slit window, and a simple shelf holding a prayer book and a clay cup. Nothing more. Nothing unnecessary.
Morning light filtered in faintly, illuminating the room in a dull, familiar grey.
He crossed to the bed first, untying the cord at his waist and setting it on the edge of the mattress. The blanket lay folded near the foot, one corner tucked slightly inward. He paused for half a heartbeat, then continued moving, unbothered.
At the desk, the chair stood half a palm's width away, exactly as it had been left. Glen set his hands on the desk and leaned forward, exhaling. The prayer book remained where he had left it, its spine angled toward the wall rather than aligned. A thin strip of wax had hardened along the side of the candle stub beside it, unchanged.
Glen reached up and touched the window latch, his fingers brushing the cold metal. It did not move. Dust clung evenly along the sill, as expected.
Only then did he sit.
The room was quiet. No scent lingered but damp stone and old incense. Whatever concerns had followed him down the corridor did not cross the threshold.
Glen lay back on the bed, staring at the low ceiling. Somewhere deeper in the cathedral, bells rang softly, distant and measured.
He closed his eyes.
Then he let out a breath of exhaustion and snapped his eyes open. Slapping himself lightly on the cheek, he narrowed his eyes and began moving.
Glen shifted the bed to the side, his gaze focused. Then he forcefully pressed against the stone floor near the corner edges. Sure enough, a very faint, barely noticeable gap emerged between the tiles of the stone flooring.
Glen's eyes brightened.
With a thick needle, he carefully nudged the stone toward himself through the crevice between the tiles. As the gap widened, he quickly used his fingers to pry apart the slightly irregular stone tile, revealing a shallow cavity beneath.
Inside was a small bundle of cloth. Glen hastily pulled the bundle from the hole and began unpacking it. Inside were several items—some silver coins, a dagger, and a few envelopes among other things.
Glen grabbed one of the envelopes, one that looked no different from the others but felt distinct to the touch. It had a very particular texture.
He handled the envelope with extreme care, as if it were not merely paper but a treasure beyond value. Sliding his fingers inside, Glen eased the contents out carefully.
It was a single, rather small sheet of paper—not ordinary by any means.
Tch!
Glen clicked his tongue in amazement as he stared at the seemingly simple sheet—even as his hands trembled, his heart began to race slowly, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.
It was no ordinary piece of paper. It was an array talisman—a recent invention of the Magi Order, or so Glen had been told. On closer inspection, the talisman was anything but ordinary. Strange runes and symbols were threaded into the paper, and even though it did not look flashy, Glen felt his mind spinning if he stared at it uninterrupted for more than ten seconds.
The young servant gulped audibly. He had no idea how effective this thing truly was; he had never used it before. Alas, if there was ever a time to use it, then it was now.
Glen took deep breaths and steeled his resolve as he calmed himself. He closed his eyes, recalling the entire layout of the cathedral in his mind and forming a sound plan of action.
Finally, he opened his eyes, hesitation no longer present within them. His mind fully focused on the task at hand, Glen reviewed the plan once more.
With the needle, Glen drew a drop of blood from his fingertip and let it fall onto the array talisman.
The moment his blood made contact with the special paper and the dark-colored threaded runes and symbols, Glen felt the talisman grow warm. A faint pulse, like a heartbeat, went through his body.
Glen walked to the wooden door of his quarters, the warm talisman clasped between his hands over his chest. Facing the closed door, he gulped again. Taking one final deep breath, he closed his eyes and recalled the image of his younger sister in his mind. Then his eyes snapped open, filled with decisiveness, as he muttered I can do this! in his thoughts.
"I invoke thee, Chaos!" he whispered under his breath, his eyes blazing.