The bell of the chapel rang, calling its followers to today's afternoon prayer. The bell was loud, so it scared the birds away that had been trying to rest on the branches of the many trees around the chapel, but as for the bald men and women that resided near the chapel, they were not scared.
In fact, the ringing of the bell brought them joy. As Followers of Thaleena, the Goddess of Forgiveness, the only time they found inner peace was when they were inside the chapel. Prayer shunned away their demons, and as people, as followers who had plenty of inner demons to fight with, prayer was a necessity that kept them from going off the deep end.
Forgiveness didn't come easy to innocent people who had a lot to forgive. In fact, some might even see the followers as delusional, or utter cowards, but this was why the chapel dedicated to Thaleena was isolated from the outside world.
The chapel was hidden on the mountainside, two hundred miles, or roughly three hundred and twenty kilometers away from the closest village.
A mourning man or woman who sought to forgive the people who did them wrong, did not need an unwashed, hairy farmer with eight missing teeth calling them cowards. Distractions of that sort would destroy the purpose of their prayer.
Clayton, a sixty-four year old man, followed the bell just like everyone else. He stepped into the chapel, and sat on the third row, on one of the many chapel's long, wooden pews.
The sixty followers mostly sat across the first rows of wooden pews, and tried to be quiet as they waited for Thaleena's Advocate, which was this world's equivalent of a priest, to come in the chapel, step onto the platform, and read the afternoon prayers from the book that was neatly placed on the lectern.
Even though they heard the Advocate repeat the same prayers hundreds of times, they still wanted to be as close to the Advocate as possible. They were desperate to calm themselves down, and in this case, the repetition of the prayers that they were used to, never failed to give them inner peace.
The rhythmless sharp thuds of swords that hit the pews as a few followers were still settling in, unintentionally unraveled some past traumas that Clayton had.
He looked down, and got lost for a moment as he stared at the tip of the Shortsword that was strapped on his hip.
Past memories played in his mind in repeat. He remembered his twenties, when the King's Guard slaughtered his family just because of a misunderstanding.
Clayton blamed the King everyday for their deaths, and worse yet, he blamed himself too. He was blessed, or perhaps cursed with magical abilities that were so new, that they were confused with Necromancy a few decades ago.
This confusion, this misunderstanding cost him his family, and his livelihood as he knew it. He used to have a good life, he used to be a young Noble, fairly wealthy, though not rich.
All of that was taken away from him because of a misunderstanding, because of a crime that he and his family did not commit. Some random farmer accused him of Necromancy, and it all went downhill from there.
Clayton's life, family, and any sort of progress whatsoever was taken away from him. If his life played out any differently, he would be a retired Hero by now, he would be a skilled swordsman that would enjoy honor and prestige even higher than that of the King's Guard. He was still good with a sword, but his talent, his opportunities had long been stunted.
Simply said, he had a lot of people to forgive. If it wasn't for his father who shipped him off across the river through the help of a fishermen friend, he'd be dead too. He was alive, only to be burdened with the death, the utter annihilation his family suffered because his magical abilities were misunderstood.
Every follower here had a story of how the Empire took something away from them. All of them had respected, influential people to forgive, and some might need another lifetime to succeed in forgiving them.
All of the followers in this chapel were armed, skilled and could take their revenge on at least one of the people who harmed them if they chose to do so, but they hesitated. Prayer was the only thing that kept them calm, and they tried to stick to their convictions.
The Advocate came in five minutes later. He was a seventy-seven year old man, with a strong spirit that fought with death itself. Old age was yet to catch up with him, he was fit enough for his age, he was healthy, but then again, every follower could tell that something was wrong with him as soon as he stepped in. He seemed concerned.
'Perhaps his past haunts him?' Clayton thought, 'No, that can't be it. He had all this time to forgive those who did him wrong, and besides, Advocates of Thaleena can't hold malice in their hearts. If they did, Thaleena would take him today.'
The Advocate used an old, worn-down, but clean cloth to wipe the sweat off of his forehead. The sunlight that pierced through the wooden windows was hitting his forehead from two directions, and many angles, so it wasn't surprising that he was sweating up there on the platform.
However, the worried look on his face as he started out the prayers, was a tell-tale sign that something was bothering him. Something was wrong.
"Brothers and sisters, as we start this unusual prayer, and skip the common citations of today's afternoon prayer, I ask you all to let go of all your worries, and hear what Thaleena had to say to those who caused us harm, and yet still wish to cause us harm today, or even right now." The Advocate spoke, his voice rising after every word, with worry and a strong contempt mixed in his tone. "On Chapter 23, Verse 4, Thaleena quoted, -Let the transgressors know that even if my followers do not forgive them, I, Thaleena will fight for the transgressors in the afterlife, and give them a fair chance of stepping into paradise. In the darkest of days, I will forgive the wrongdoers if my followers fail to do so.-"
As the Advocate finished that verse, his thundering voice was conquered, and reduced by the horrifying crash of the chapel doors breaking open, right behind the followers!
"Kill them all!" A man's voice sounded out, outside of the chapel. "Kill every last one of those bald bastards!"
"Brothers and sisters, grab your swords!" The Advocate shouted. "Today, we fight the transgressors to death! Today, your demons are your strength, and your friend! May Thaleena forgive us all, and may she help the transgressors too. They'll need it."