Chapter - Jirard
"At the dawn of time, the Maker shown his light on us, and created all that there is and all that there will be." Brother Jirard had delivered this sermon countless times he had memorised it.
"He then sent out his four disciples, the Warrior, the Crone, the Smith and the Chantress to watch over his creation. The warrior is our father, he who watches over us and champions justice, the Crone is our mother, she who represents fertility and wisdom, the Smith is our brother, he who looks over all creation and grants us fortitude and the Chantress is our sister, she who granted us the gift of spellcraft and controls all within its realm."
"We stand today in the temple of the prophet Najrasi, bride of the Maker. It was she who, in the first era of the Chantry calendar, the Era of Heroes, brought together all of Neisacan to battle against the tyrant Emperor, Ustof the Mad. It was she who first established the order of the Chantry and told us of the Chant of Wisdom, to guide us in our lives."
Brother Jirard looked around, noticing that a few of the children had dozed off. It seems that they too had heard this sermon countless times. Every Neisaci was likely able to recite the Chant of Wisdom in their sleep.
When his sermon ended, Brother Jirard kneeled, his congregation following his lead.
"Blessed be the Maker, may his light shine forever upon us, Falhurah."
"Falhurah," Everyone repeated.
Jirard stood as the congregation began to take their leave. A mother and her eldest son approached him as he began to gather his things.
"Brother Jirard, do you have a moment?"
"Why certainly Mrs. Lannas, would you mind walking with me, I must gather my coat and things from my room, High Chanter Onirias has called a meeting of the Small Council, must not keep the Neyrns waiting," he chuckled.
"No… we must not, I was actually wondering, well rather my son is wondering if he could come under your tutelage to become a Chanter."
Jirard frowned. "Mrs. Lannas, you know I would, but all apprentices must first speak with and be approved by the High Chanter himself, and if you are coming to me that means you must have already spoke with Onirias."
"I did… he thinks Richard is yet too young to join the Order, but Brother Jirard, just speak with the boy, he is almost a man grown and talks only of the Chantry. If you could just see how devoted he is you can-"
"Mrs. Lannas, I understand your request, all I can say for now is that I will talk with Onirias when I see him."
"Oh thank you Brother, thank you so much."
Jirard smiled and bid the two farewell.
He gathered his things quickly as he was already running behind. He walked back through the main hall and to the front doors, but as soon as he opened them, he froze. His face flushed as anger took over him. He regained himself quickly and moved in a brisk and rigid pace towards the temple entrance.
"What is going on here?! I told you before, I will not tolerate the Warriors of the Son on my temple grounds."
The larger of the two warriors answered him. "By order of House Lanark, all Simkis are forbidden from entering the grounds of the temple of Her Divineness, the prophet Najrasi."
Jirard's face flashed again. "He has neither the right nor the authority to do such a thing! You tell the Neyrn that he is no longer to send any men to this temple. I and I alone oversee the goings on here."
The men stood silent and watched Jirard sternly.
"You will leave now or I will force you out myself."
Brother Jirard was again met with silence.
His face was a bright crimson by now surely. He reached for his staff and the air grew slightly colder. The wind drew around him in a circle as one of the guards reached for his sword. Jirard drew a deep breath and slammed one end of his staff forcefully into the ground.
"Was Nagelle!"
The two guards fell to their knees, frozen in place. The twang of steel echoed in the afternoon light as one of their swords fell to the ground.
"You go back and tell the Neyrn that he is not to send any more men here, do you understand - or next time I am not going to hold back." Jirard slammed his staff against the ground once again and the two men flew backwards landing a few dozen metres outside the entrance.
Jirard gathered his things and with a heavy heart went on his way. He would be hearing of this again certainly…
Next chapter - Tir Bal'Zulan
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