Chapter Text
All was silence in the nave of the abbey, so still that it seemed that even the insects dared not scratch the stones of the building with their mandibles. No echo bounced off the frozen sculptures of saints stretching out their hands as in a gesture of begging towards the visitor who would come to wander in the confines of semi-darkness veiling the sacred place. Here, no one speaks unnecessarily, the act is prayer and meditation. A private atmosphere that only the Brothers members of the Brotherhood, and the student knights, could penetrate in all quietude, in their eager homage to the Sanctuary.
The smell was pervasive everywhere, drowning the silence of the nave in its heavy and airy scents at the same time. Incense diffusing its tablecloths in an almost sickening sweetness; wax from the candles which burned and melted in a sizzling last sigh, flowing down the tapers in yellowed opal sculptures giving way to an imaginary molding them into ghostly shapes; anointing oils, the scattered drops of which froze on the cold pavement engraved with Latin symbols; worm-eaten wood releasing its tangled creaking hints of mold and moss; stones eroded in places, releasing its aromas of wet greenery, as well as that of corrosive saltpeter feeding on their material.
And then, at the bottom of its subtle olfactory layers, bursting surreptitiously like a desolation of its opportunity, the hints erased in the oblivion of identity of such an abrasive rust, nibbling the gates-grids leading to lost basements , or to powdered crypts with their spider webs, gnawing at the frameworks supporting the building, and which became one with the various mortars composing it.
Everything indicated the antiquity of the abbey and its quarters, entirely dedicated to spiritual reflection, and to the escape of the soul in its sought-after catharsis. And the man who tread with his quiet steps on the ground shining under the intimate lights, melted his own human essence made of sweat, blood, and hormones, to this odorous magma suspended through the rays of light filtering their audacity to through the stained-glass of the high windows.
The two men confined in the small screened room of the confessional, were no exception to the rule, avoiding to break the tranquility of the place by their whispered dialogues reserved for the Angels who could have given them a somewhat mortified ear, and above all to the Divine so feared that the two Brothers almost expected to be struck down on the spot.
It must be said that the confession would have had enough to set Hell itself on fire! And the Brother Confessor was appalled, and curled up as the scandalous unpacking of the fantasies hated by the mouth of a Brother tutor, to whom he would never have granted such acts of debauchery!
In murmurs barely higher than the breath of a dying man, one cradled his lost soul, eaten away by the guilt of temptation, the other gently inveighed to relentless penance. But both inevitably deluded each other, trying to abstract from an aggravated situation, which had made its way into the heart of the Brotherhood on multiple occasions. No matter how much the Brotherhood preached a sanctualized conviction in the idea of the perfect Being willed by God, the fact remained that its Founders were human! For the most part ... And perfection did not exist, even in the godly servant, the most fervent!
More than a confession, the two Brothers knew that they were exchanging words that should never have crossed the lips, and their dialogue looked more like a form of conspiracy or finding on something that they knew how to take place, and who made their hearts freeze in the ice of fear. It seemed that the two Brothers of the Brotherhood harmonized perfectly in their united connivance, their dialogue on the pretext of confessions that each of them knew to be decoys in acts of holiness which had long ago lost their chaste veils of remorse, and lost souls gangrened in the fruit of a temptation that made even the most prudish of all shudder. Their wounded Narcissism displayed its festering gaps in language that would have made the hell spawn themselves turn pale, overflowing their absolute perversities in the intoxication of fantasies, which had indeed anchored their poisoned roots in the crestfallen and flabby flesh of hidden debauchery. In their minds strangled with dread, the two Brothers knew that they were not the only ones in perdition, carried away by the waves of anathemas bearing crowns of sharp thorns.
This something had been meandering for years already, and was slowly swallowing up the bowels of the Brotherhood in the poisonous intertwining of doubt and prevarication. There, the Dragon hordes struck mercilessly, with lulls that put the most seasoned to sleep, the better to strike harder, again and again. And perhaps these two Brothers, nestled in the narrowness of the confessional, dared to put into words the blindness of a Brotherhood that was forging its own destruction through a silhouette still frail in the implications, and never for a second did It suspect that their "pawn" was meandering on the Dark Path in a form of programmed apoptosis.
There, the infernal pack of the Dragon waged their devastating war, here in the abbey, the Founding Brothers bet their illusions on a few reflections distributed sparingly by a Mirror carved in bronze and obsidian, pushing the blind folly of their hopes to reserve its meaning in small pieces encased in polished silver: artifacts slipped under the cloak of the most learned who thought they knew the Sibylline messages.
And no one noticed that the Divine had looked away from this scene of consummated disaster, as the Founders affixed their Seals on parchments signing their own death ...
As they strove to erase the dreadful and feared name of their greatest holy Knight whom they had ever raised in their ranks ...
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Everything was smelly in the apothecary, the most sustained hints of sage or thyme, more delicate essences of lavender or Madonna's lily, woody aromas of bay leaf or rosemary, more intense bouquet of tansy or savory, bitterness exhalations of borage or fennel. A real olfactory waltz that never ceased to charm Trevor's senses, when he came there for bruises and other little training wounds, and his mind often drifted happily under the amalgamation of exquisite aromas, as a man drunk on wine would readily indulge in dizziness disrupting his cognitive behavior. Between sweety-salty, bitterness and tangy confectionery, citrus acidity or restorative sweetness of subtle essences, this mixture in permanent suspension, did not fail to give him sly headaches, viciously attacking his senses already well polluted by the environment. constantly boiling.
Usually it was just a quick stopover for treatment, and he would quickly rush outside to flush out his threatening sense of smell to rebel against the orgy of smells that infiltrated it. Trevor had always been very sensitive to all this extraordinary range offered by nature, and sometimes his absorption capacities reached their limit, when sneezing fits set in, causing him to retreat from the overflow of plant information ! It wasn't that Trevor was allergic, far from it! but there were times when a well-made man had to not impose himself !
But this time, Trevor knew not to cut it! And that he was going to have to put up with it all in a longer time. So it was with a wry look that he let himself go to contemplate for the umpteenth time, all the shelves crumbling under pots and alambics, an invention that had just been born, allowing the maceration of the ingredients for much better elaborated potions in the care of the injured flesh.
And to think that Acthéean is swimming in all of this ... he found himself thinking, as the Brother Apothecary gauged the nasty whip bites with a disapproving and critical eye.
Brother Efrain had known Trevor ever since the Founders brought him back to the Monastery, a tiny babbling package, snatched from his mother, and already begging for affection that he never quite got the way he was supposed to. Little being wrapped already in the bloody linens of a cruel Destiny, as IT walked away crying bitterly, while the nets of the Elders of the Brotherhood were woven around his flesh, and their Stylus engraved his "Tabula" Rasa ”…
Efrain made several discreet clicks of his tongue, examining the bloody and torn back. Acthéean worked to prepare the various restorative ointments, in an almost religious silence, as if fearing to disturb the concentration of the Apothecary Brother.
The young apprentice had been relieved that Trevor had followed him without further problem. It was practically incognito that they had gone directly to the care building, but it was more complicated when Trevor had to relate the why of such injuries, knowing full well that it set up a series of complications that escaped him, and which he suspected he would pay the price for sooner or later.
The part where Trevor had to strip down and show the damage proved even more difficult, if possible ! The young warrior being of a molded modesty of unparalleled inhibitions ! He also estimated that he was not entitled to the necessary considerations and care, muttering protests that were stifled by Brother Efrain. Fortunately, the latter knowing the child well, succeeded in opening the confidence of the beauty with the sapphire eyes, not without having received all the same in passing, one of the bursts of rumbling storm on the attentive silhouette of the Brother.
"Young Belmont, you really don't need to have such beautiful eyes, to have such a nasty look ... had calmed the impetuous youth, unanswerably the brave patient herbalist, and slightly amused by excessive prudishness.
As the examination progressed, Efrain echoed his orders to Acthéean who hastened to obey, only too glad that the savage Belmont bowed to the medicine man's experience. Thus, he set about gathering clean, soft nightcloths in contact with sensitive wounds, animating braziers in the room where Trevor was ordered to rest, and above all a very hot full bath, macerating in the oils and medicinal plants which would sprinkle it, in order to warm the aching and shivering body, - as Acthéean had said, Trevor had cooled in the river, thus weakened, he was becoming fit for a bad blow of cold - and gently repair the crevices streaking his alabaster skin.
Trevor stifled painful moans as Efrain's expert hand parted the hair whose strands of silk had stuck in the bloody ooze. Gnarled fingers gently palpated each weld, gauging the excavating depth, and measuring the extent of any infection lodged in the degraded cell tissue.
The man leaned over to Trevor, who had an alarming complexion even whiter than usual, and sighed in a voice that never rose, not in anger and annoyance. Trevor had always admired the Brother's perfect control over every situation, even the most confusing.
"Tell me, my child, did he make you take your clothes off? Why ?
Trevor lowered his head, as if he was the culprit, the guilty one. His cheeks heated violently, and it was not from the enveloping steam of the bath being painstakingly prepared by the apprentice's quick hands.
“I don't know, Brother Efrain. He got everyone out… Luckily…' he pressed that word, strangled with emotion as he recalled the scene.
"The bath is ready, Brother Efrain," Acthéean said softly, and Trevor was grateful to him for interrupting the difficult interview. He felt a bitter, icy sphere growing in his chest, which made him uneasy, and he thought his body was going to falter in a pernicious unease.
Seeing the exponential change that made the limbs tremble in spasms that the young Belmont wanted to hide, Efrain wrapped the young man's hunched shoulders in a protection he mostly wanted comforting, guessing that it wouldn't take long for the youngster to collapses. And morally, and physically.
"Come on, my son, you are going to sit in the medicinal bath, and I will put on some herbal poultices. You're going to stay there for a while for it to take effect. And we'll talk, if you don't mind?
Efrain, in his long experience of suffering and affliction felt by others, was gifted at the comforting of trust, knowing perfectly well how to vibrate the sensitive and abused chord of the soul in perdition and despair. And he knew that the teenager in front of him was in an extremely unstable situation, balancing above an unfathomable abyss, in which at any moment he risked abandoning himself without struggling any further. The Brother knew the hardened character of the Belmont, the strength of resilience that he could seek in the depths of an undeniable will, but there, he suspected, rightly, that the rope on which the young had been pulling for so long, was going give in and let go permanently. If Belmont let it all go, it could be irreversible. In absolute terms, he needed benevolent attention that would help him find the paths of a comforting calm, in the absence of a catharsis, however much necessary for this mistreated soul who had resigned from the buttresses to which it still clung desperately.
And Efrain knew of the Brotherhood's relentless plans for the youngster. Somewhere deep inside, the respectable man heard immeasurable sorrow flood his chest, and his heart clenched in the grip of the Stranger he dreaded to be baneful.
He was reassured to feel the slim frame submit to his push towards the carefully prepared medical bin, releasing long mists of blissful warmth bathing the room in its humidity laden with subtle and delicate aromas, as well as heady, which made Trevor's temples pound a little as he exhaled the mingled aromatic scents.
The youngster still hesitated when he had to get rid of the last clothes made wet from having put them on his skin bathed in the river. Understanding his modesty, Efrain turned away and grabbed the pieces of clothing as they were removed in long, careful strokes.
"I'll wash your clothes as best as I can, the bloodstains are hard to remove," he said, wanting to reassure Trevor in his exposed nudity, not wanting to let a more awkward silence set in. I don't promise anything for your tunic, however. You will wear the nightgowns as long as you stay here.
Trevor froze in his movement to step over the tub, and slid into the syrupy ointment water, the orange light of the roaring fire danced for a moment around his sketched figure, and lightning caught in the hollows and protruding valleys of the muscles. A sculpture of an athlete in the effort, taking shape under the spatulas and scissors of an inspired artist.
"But, Brother Anselm demands my presence at Vespers tonight ...' he whispered, aware that Efrain would not let him go without being on the right track of care.
“Brother Anselm will complain, if he wishes, although I strongly suspect he will be silent about it, given the consequences of his blindness.
Efrain had breathed, made up his mind to do battle with all that, and grabbed a stool on which he spread saucers of ointments bearing questionable colors, and smelling of sour and powerful smells, which almost made Trevor cough, as he settled into the tub with an unchecked sigh of relief. The warm water made the welts pulsate a bit, but it was no worse than the cool water from the river. He began to think of the Brother tutor, and the anger that would result from his absence.
He allowed himself to be manipulated in the careful and delicate gestures, sighing in relief as the Brother Apothecary's cupped hands poured invigorating loads of medicinal water down the bruised back, as he offered his suffering to the loving care of the two men. As Efrain cradled the sore flesh, Actheean helped part and hold the long night hair, some of the locks now falling well below the shoulders, a mane promising veils of velvety softness under the fingers.
While the applications of cleansing oils and oily ointments were spread very carefully so as not to wake up the slenderness in the flesh, Efrain decided that it was absolutely necessary to make the young afflicted speak, the presence of Acthéean wasn't an obstacle, for he knew the young apprentice of unparalleled discretion.
In a measured, confessing voice, such would be that of a confessor, Efrain monologized at first, finally eliciting timid responses rooted out with difficulty first, then flowing from the lips hemmed in endless sadness. The words that washed up on the labial beach, hurt the heart of the brave apothecary, making him aware of the pain of this being lost in the way of moving, like an ash bubble vanishing in the stale air of a brutal existence having already torn off the wings of a struck down Angel.
"Brother Efrain," Trevor began, tilting his face to the side in an attitude of waiting for an answer that he knew would not be given to him. The features chiseled already in an undeniable beauty that was developing into a genetic perfection rare in this century, tensed with anguish, and the gaze of pure water became painful. Brother Efrain felt his heart break with excitement at so much despair coming from such a young being. On the other side, facing him, Actheean shrank into disapproving silence, patiently holding the long, supple raven-wing locks, but his gaze saying so long when he stared at Efrain's.
“… Why does Brother Anselm hate me like this? … He whispered. Why am I afraid of what I saw in his eyes? ...
Trevor curled his knees in his arms, arching his injured spine, surrendering to the healing and expert caresses. After a moment, Efrain asked, anticipating the fear of an obvious answer in all his horror. What he suspected for years, was comforting himself in the terrible confidants of a child barely out of what should have been a carefree innocence, following in the footsteps of an adult in the making, between dog and wolf of a life barely sketched out.
"What did you see, my child? Are you sure what you there have discerned? You know, under pain or anger, we imagine things ...
"No, Brother Efrain, what I saw scared me… A look loaded with wickedness, but also with something that I don't understand…
"Of course you do, you understand ... You know what's in that hateful man's heart ..." the Shadow began to sing with the many pleading voices, and Trevor knew IT was right: what he had seen shining in the eyes of Brother Anselm, was an unforgivable ignominy in the eyes of God, an abjection punishable by death in any other case, a filthy reflection of a temptation hated and forbidden by the Writings of the divine word, and this man who was supposed to perfect their education, protect them, was succumbing to the evil scheme of a spirit possessed with shameful lust doomed to Hell.
The hearts of Efrain and Acthéean froze in the ice of understanding, statuified by the mortification of such a revelation. Embarrassment set in as Efrain tried to reassure young Belmont. But, he was hardly deluding himself, the teenager's mind had already understood the deliquescent intertwining of the situation. How would he explain the toxicity of such defilement towards the Founders, without the adolescent suffering the constraints and fallout that would necessarily result?
Brother Anselm had been present in the Brotherhood for so long that he was almost its contours and patient elaborations in the educations of their young people, and Trevor? He was only an orphan-pupil, whose knowledge of his origins made the high Patriarchs of the Brotherhood shudder, so necessarily also, an element arisen from the Underworld, disruptive in the nascent temptation of his Being, possessing a savage character of indomitable rebel, and for years now, "blessed", if one could argue, exceptionally beautiful in features and form, promising to wreak havoc in human hearts! Yet, paradoxically, a beauty that was far from being blessed and blissful in this case! Trevor literally became a temptation on legs, bathed in the Beauty of the Devil, rendering those around him incapable of coherence, when he simply plunged his crystalline orbs into the gaze of others, removing any inclination that was diluted in the abandonment of reprimands or of punishments. Faced with his eyes there, what did you want to do? In addition, the teenager had naturally learned to know how to express his opinions or convictions, for the sake of diplomacy that made the most hardened to give up. A beautiful seductive and above all manipulative manner, which he had nevertheless been able to sharpen without knowing it. Contrasts and paradoxes fought in the Being and the Soul of this adolescent who could have been called Angel and Demon in the same metaphorical dance!
An axiomatic symbol of oxymoron in all its glory! And from that, Brother Efrain would have bet his apothecary on the fact that young Belmont was far from being oblivious to the power he wielded over others, on the contrary, the mischievous wily already knew how to play with the reactions of his peers! Anyone who gazed into the innocently presented wave of the blue lakes found themselves suffocating under their intelligent intensity.
To everyone, even those who were suspicious and dismissive of him, Trevor attracted like a magnet, beyond an understanding of the human, and an unwavering charismatic ease. Everything took place in a confusing naturalness, despite a desire for asceticism on the part of the young warrior. In the example of a young man wanting to ignite the powder, without appearing to be, and feign ignorance with a single modest look, it was staggering theatrical naivety!
For everyone he was an Enigma. Except for Brother Anselme, for months, displaying a destructive behavior hiding cogs much more complex in their ambiguity. There we were reaching depths in the malignancy of incidents becoming all too common in recent months. Gravity reeled in its poison in the disturbing peculiarity that it affected more and more members of the Brotherhood.
Efrain even often questioned himself about the dark identity that worked behind the beautiful large, streaked forehead: a pure Angel unaware of the misdeeds resulting from deadly sin, or fiery Demon, innate manipulator,fashioned into a brilliant intelligence. Intelligence that had proven itself in tactical plans during strategic installations by his Peer Warbenders, it was undeniable. So, was the child playing in several aspects, pulling the strings with the tips of his candid eyes, his voice moulting in the depths of light baritone, the sharp, muscular lines of a body ditto to a Greek lyrical statue? He did give the impression of dancing like a drunken boat on the slippery waves between two worlds, risking everyone in an unconscious diversion, taking on the dazzling and innocent glow of river blue sapphires.
It was in this reflective stagnation that Brother Efrain tried to untie the knots of a man-made mystery, with hints of sulfur. The confidences that followed only cooled the picture a little more than it had been over the years.
"My child," he continued, while laying the poultices of herbs on the crevices, 'you are aware that I am obliged to report to the Founders. You understand that, don't you?
"I thought you owe it to yourself to keep it a secret…" breathed Trevor, sliding his sharp gaze into that of the Apothecary Brother. His voice was deeper in tone, and suddenly felt like an older adult man talking, not a molting teenager.
"Trevor, that's the role of Brother Confessor, but even he has to refer it, when the situation is really… delicate. Me, I am an apothecary above all, a doctor under oath, you know it, and the wounds that you entrust to my care, must be reported as the result of outrageous and divergent behavior on the part of your Brother tutor.
"But, if you ...
"Let me go on, don't cut me off. Brother Anselm has just put you through a treatment that will require you to stay in bed for several days, while being completely free from training, class, study and prayers. It’s bad enough to get it back to high places, and I couldn’t suffer any dispute from you. This is said, and decided.
Trevor remained with his mouth open to silent protests, his mind calculating the consequences of fifteen strokes of the whip, which brought down the projects that the young man had drawn up for his comfort and his progress within the Brotherhood. There was no point in arguing, he knew Brother Efrain scandalized by the confidences, even if the latter showed incredible coolness.
Acthéean, meanwhile, was unsure whether to stay, to keep the hair dampened by the steam, thousands of sensations clashing in his hazy and shocked mind. The cheeks also purplish red, but that wasn’t due to the heat of the bath ! His gaze never ceased to contemplate the shapes and volutes in the young body, and internally, he could not bring himself to give up his contemplative admiration.
After a few moments of heavy, uneasy silence, without letting the Brother go from his steel-blue orbs, a supplication hemmed in when Trevor hissed, like a roughness carved into the angular marble of indifference:
"Brother Efrain, am I so bad that God has turned away from me, and is punishing me like this? Does he hate me for my actions?
"Child, there is no creature of His conception that God hates, what are you saying? Do you know that you blaspheme by saying this? God does not hate you, He has not turned away from you, because He has plans for you, remember that.
"I often feel like I am abandoned again ... He never answers my prayers, and only sends torment to me through others ... I think I am not worthy of Him ...
"Unhappy, do you realize that your angry words are against you ... It is you that you hate by such words ... You are as worthy as any other, to have His Blessing, do not doubt it. God does not allow His Children to question themselves like this, and castigate themselves by deeming themselves unworthy of His Love. It is a Sin to think otherwise, and to have your life for nothing when He has plans for each of us.
Efrain shuddered with every word, bewildered by Trevor's intransigence towards himself. He wondered if there were many with such sharp minds in the face of adversity that shattered even the most hardened convictions. Was the child having suicidal thoughts? The greatest of all sins in the eyes of the Creator, and this young man who had shown himself to be as intense in an ascetic life as ... the Other? the most fervent in his Faith, lost his balance in doubt and pertinent questioning about his Sacred Essence.
In his astonishment, Efrain did not see Acthéean's decayed face as dismayed as he, who had let go of the strands of moire-night silk at, and stepped back, a fold of bitterness twitching his lips.
The two sapphires drowned in silent prayer, when Trevor could breathe out his plea:
"Would you accept that I accompany you when you report? I would like to talk to the Founding Fathers… I don't want to make history, but I want answers… Please?… I will not stand being beaten for others, and above all, I do not want no longer see… what I saw in his eyes… I don't want to be impertinent or pretentious to demand to be received by our Patriarchs, but I would like so many answers… My soul longs for it, Brother Efrain, and I'm dying a little more every day… I don't know anything about who I am, and somewhere, I…
Trevor interrupted the flow of words, lowering that look of so distressed incomprehension. He was reaching the end of his tolerance when he was only following in the footsteps of his young existence.
My God, what a dismay! Efrain realized that the child needed to talk, and quickly thought about how he was going to approach the situation. If Trevor's fragile position within the Brotherhood was the result of his birth, there was no doubt that the Founders would agree to hear the child in his erratic lament, knowing that he was the One revealed by the great Mirror.
"Good… I'll make the Fathers receive you." Turning to Actheean, still silent, he gave his orders:
"Acthéean, you help him dry off and dress him. You lay him down, and bring him some soup, he needs warmth in his stomach. I charge you to watch over him during his stay here. As he will be on call at the stables, most certainly, while waiting for him to resume training, we will have to be very careful with the dust and the straw which raises enough dirt, so that it becomes encrusted in wounds. So you clean his wounds every three hours, with fresh ointment poultices, and baths twice a day, I grant you occupation too. I am going to take care of other of our soldiers awaiting treatment, one of our garrisons has returned from a quest against the Dragon, and it is the hecatomb there… I then go back to the Hierarchy. . If you encounter the slightest problem, you make me look for it immediately.
Turning to Trevor, he added:
"Don't worry about Brother Anselm's injunction, there's no question of you attending Vespers, or whatever, as long as you're in this state ...
Acthéean recorded the list of intense occupations without flinching, and Efrain thought he had gotten out of the barrage of orders.
"Do you think you can cope?" Will it be okay? You already know the plants involved in medication, now is the time to prove your skills in dealing with problems. If you have any doubts, you have all the grimoires at your disposal. I'm going to have some for a while, and I need to sort out some issues.
Then turning again to Trevor who was looking at them, still coiled in the herbal bath, the water of which was gradually cooling:
"I think you know each other a bit, don't you? - The two young people nodded with the same nod. Well, that will be easier. I will be back in a few hours, I hope, Trevor, that I will find you asleep, groomed, calmed and sated by Brother Isaac's infamous brew.
The two young people chuckled in agreement, at the mention of the poor cook's dubious cuisine, who nevertheless made great efforts for his swarm of hungry flocks, pushing away their meager plates much more often, appetite cut in front of the total lack of imagination and culinary gift. It also explained that none of them risked seeing his fat body from too rich food, and Trevor's razor-sharp hips were a blatant explanation!
Regardless, the bit of humor had a knack for cheering up anxious faces! A very small victory that Brother Efrain proudly cradled in his heart.
After Efrain left laden with sacks of herbs and medical items, silence slowly re-settled, barely broken by a gentle splash as Trevor turned to Actheean, waiting for the latter to instruct him what to do next. The sapphires brushed with their brilliance the many jars and vials lined up in a methodological row on the crowded shelves ready to collapse under the weight. The copper of the first stills threw a flame like a wink under the intimate light of the fire that Actheean had nurtured. A strange thought crossed his attention : "Ash from the fireplaces is used as a poultice for bruises." Weird ! He certainly didn't see any ash clinging to his whip bites. But least of all, above all, the ugly urine poultices! Trevor still trembled for his flesh to be cradled with the ignominy of the care and the stench that flowed from it, preferring himself to plug the faults with weeds torn from his hands! Even though the healing was assured by this horror, there were limits in the desperation to seek treatment! His eyes squinted in shuddering anticipation!
A quiet scrape drew him from his thought, and he considered Acthéean removing the grass roots from his back, and piling them carefully in a cloth, before handing her a large towel which he unfolded between them, making him understand that it would also hide Trevor's privacy when he got out of the bath.
"HHmmm… are you going to take care of me, then? Trevor asked, suddenly hesitant and intimidated.
"Don't get me wrong, Belmont ... It's my job now to take care of people, it's my will to study medicine, like I told you, I would rather mend bodies than cut them under my sword.
The reply was sharp, unequivocal, hard as the lifeless mask that had settled on the features of the young apprentice. However, the latter invoked a silent prayer: that the disordered beating of his heart could not be heard by the Belmont. Heartbeat he didn't know the cause of, but tried to quieten down discreetly.
Trevor let himself be wrapped in the soft fabric, and his back was gently padded, before being handed a clean, immaculate shirt. This time, Acthéean pulled back and looked away, letting Trevor put on the garment. The bleeding seemed to have dried up, not staining the shirt. He noticed that the seams opened up the garment in the back, certainly reserved for this purpose in case of back injuries.
"Now you're going to lie on your stomach, I'll put bandages on you that won't move. But you have to stay in bed like this. On your back, you wouldn't hold on anyway ...
Trevor gracefully obeyed. At this point, he didn't really want to rebel at a sideways look, or his modesty being tested under the care he needed. He wanted to find his peace of mind in simple acts that would take care of himself, to languish without remorse in a lax laziness, to revel in a carelessness he had never really had, even in his young years.
It was hot in the room prepared for the reception of the most important patients, the air was healthy and regularly rocked with delicate incense, having the property of totally relaxing the body and mind by their ethereal scent of herbs burned on the coals of fed braziers. Efrain had known, like a good herbalist knowing perfectly all the medicinal properties, to create an environment beneficial to the cure. Trevor found himself well as he stretched out his aching, burning body in clean, soft-feeling tissue, and it was unconstrained that he surrendered to the finish of the meticulous care.
He let his gaze drift into the surroundings, but ignoring the importance of it, his face resting sideways on the bedsheets serving as a pillow. His mind sailed and took stock of the day, as he registered as in a static mist the expert palpations of Actheean's hands as he worked to heal every tumefaction.
Until he became aware of the insidious way his body was reacting, as the bandages cauterized and calmed the twitches, anesthetizing them into a blissfully settling form of numbing, muzzling the nasty bites he had endured for too long a time. And yet, around that blissful and comforting cloud, his flesh yearned strangely in another way, and delivered a sheet of goosebumps branching from head to toe, in a mortifying ecstasy, which he hoped the other would not notice.
His mind stammered, frozen by this new sensation, and there he was, not knowing how to behave so as not to put Actheean in the uneasy. What was happening to him? Has he never felt this way before?
"Yes, but usually you don't get such extensive treatment ...? Shadow explained, in unfeigned irony. "... and you want to blend in, don't you? For once someone's taking care of you ... and it's not that old Efrain that flatters your body like that ... "
A feeling of intense dizziness relaxed his limbs, but his flesh was still covered with small, quivering pimples.
" Are you cold ? Actheean asked, having felt the slight throbbing tremor under his fingers. Wait, I'm done, then I'll put some blankets for you.
Thank God ! He didn't see anything ... Suddenly, what Brother Efrain had said, before leaving, came back to him, and he took advantage of this lure to question the apprentice, begging his interior to calm the sudden eruption of a reaction as ambiguous as unsettling.
"Brother Efrain spoke of a garrison returning from failure?
"Yes, this is one of the garrisons sent on a quest, with Knights appointed and seasoned in the feats ..." Acthéean began, with a little emphasis in his voice. But he continued in a sadder tone: Many did not return… The Dragon had them… The Founders have been mourning their sacrifice since last night. And there are serious injuries, we don't know if we will be able to bring them back.
"So this is a bitter failure for our Brotherhood, again, is it?
“Belmont, it is better not to speak like this in front of the Founders…
“I'm not talking to the Founders there, but to you…
Pointing out his swollen reply with anger at the knowledge of yet more dead fallen to the hordes of the Dragon, Trevor straightened up on his elbows, and returned his transparent gaze to the apprentice herbalist.
"When can we end all this horror?" Will there ever be someone strong enough to bend this monster's knee?
"A Prophecy is whispered ..." Acthéean conceded. You know It as well as I do, but it's still unclear, like a prophecy should.
"Yes:" Only the Blood of the Dragon will put the Beast out of harm's way ... "...
"" Blood against Blood, for Eternity ... "But you know as well as I do, that Prophecies are metaphorical puzzles ... We don't understand their content, or too late, when they reveal themselves in Its clarity. However, I suspect the Founders to know more about the subject, but only they have the right to Knowledge ...
"And we are raised for war against this Scourge, of which we never see the end of its Terror. Sometimes I feel like I'm just a pawn on the chessboard of God who alone is the holder of the Truth. From that, I believe it. The rest…
Trevor stopped short, resigning from his rant and resting his head on the pillow again. He found that his body had calmed down from the strange sensation, and he felt "empty" of this sensory absence.
"Forgive me, I get carried away, but I often think of possible solutions, strategies to develop ... I sin out of pride, it is not my place to think for the Patriarch Fathers ...
"Belmont, I got to know you a little bit, over time, and what I do know is that you will make a great warrior and a great Knight when you become one… You have that formidable strategic intelligence, which makes even reflect our Masters of War ...
"Maybe, but I'm still a long way from being allowed to manipulate the Cross," Trevor conceded sadly. 'You, you devote yourself to medicine, and you manipulate the Cross ... Me ...
"Your time will come ...
With these words, Acthéean put the last bandage in place. Unbeknownst to him, before closing the seam of the shirt on his painstaking work, his fingers ghosted on the bruised back of blue-purple-yellow shades of bruises: this so pale flesh would take a moment to be erased of. If these bruises disappeared one day ... Already scars on a young body still virgin of the battles of the Brotherhood ...
Trevor felt the suspension in the air, the hesitation, and again goosebumps ruffled his epidermis, making his neck shiver. Again, the Unknown's icy fluid slid surreptitiously into his being, and his brass pupils dilated under the gentle pressure. He was almost relieved when he heard Acthéean, but detected a sudden tension in his voice.
"I'm going ... I'm going to get a bowl of soup, you have to eat before you sleep." I have orders to watch over you, you heard ... so, I'm going. I'm closing the pharmacy, so you won't be disturbed ... Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone, Belmont?
Trevor split him with a flash of steel, but understood the humor in the words, which were spoken only for the sake of relaxation and self-assurance. But he had time to catch the tiny trembling of his hands, and remained fixed on the pleasant figure of Acthéean leaving the room, in a comfortable silence.
He began to appreciate the discretion of the silent companion, he seemed to be comforting himself in an anonymity that suited him perfectly. Trevor had often seen him fade away like a shadow, as the others bark at each other mockingly at each other, testing their brutal manhood that begged to expand through the bumps, or pints of mead, which they were allowed to consume only if they had proven themselves. Acthéean was… like him, in fact. Shadow among the shadows, asking only for peace in his studies of sacred texts, or training, whether physical or intellectual.
On these last suggestions by a spirit wishing to sail in a restful haze, Trevor surrendered in the comforting warmth of the fur Actheean had laid on him, before leaving. The pain had subsided to a faint pulsing thudding degressively, put to sleep by the ointment generously distributed on the wounds.
He sighed, closing his eyes. He hadn't let himself go like this since ...? Since when ? As far as he could remember, his childhood, his adolescence, were strewn only with various and varied incidents, peaks of intense stress which had never left him any respite, runaways which kept him away from punishments promised to rain on his thin spine, already ... from as far as the gaze of his Memory could project, he had never experienced the carelessness of a child!
It had taken an overzealous relentlessness of a Brother tutor, to finally take a deserved rest for his body, much too molded in the harshness and implacability, normally imposed on a seasoned warrior ... And this obvious realization made form a sigh "oh" rounding his lips, as he settled himself a little deeper in the diaper, aware of the insidious pulsation lingering there, in the inguinal hollow, and below… where the quivering fluttered in the gentle shivering jerks of a waking being. But it was such a soft jolt, like a ghost shedding the weight of its chains, evaporating throughout its being on the edge of welcome sleep still bathed in the fumes of the bath.
Before plunging definitively into the welcoming arms of Somnus, he returned to the well-being of his immersion, he would have wanted these moments to last an eternity, although the result was of a medical nature, it had been so in osmosis with his passion for toilet, that he always arrogated to himself the time to pour himself into this precious ritual of which he had made his fad mocked by others.
He always mused, when he was spread out in the hot and perfumed wave, to mold a silent prayer to God who allowed him to take care of him thus, and not to repress him from a sin, because to this Point of view, Trevor had some reservations about the church's edicts threatening the people.
"Why would God forbid this ritual to his creatures whom He loved so much? … A bath like a caress on the wounds of my Soul, why would He see it offending in His eyes? "
It was in those moments that Trevor was still proving to be very green and innocent! He had learned later that some of his comrades bragged about enjoying the privacy thus exposed to ...?
"Haven't you polished yourself yet, Belmont, by dint of taking your baths? ... one of the more daring students had burst out to harass him about this. And all had roared with a fat sneer, adding deed to speech.
He had blushed fiercely at the suggestions, and had run away from the discussion with broken sticks, under the unchecked cynicism of others, and the obscene bursts of laughter mimicked by the unambiguous catchy gestures. Thinking about it, a burning sweetness crept up his pale cheeks.
No matter what, he sailed seamlessly through muses and oblivion, crossing the border of the Great Mirror. He let go of reality.
And he dreamed ...
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