Rynth: Four Beats

| 7th of Teryusin — Year 362 of the Cycle of Synthesis, Grand Cycle ??? |

Pushing open the creaky oaken door, Teyrhar nudged the four of them inside.

From the outside, the cabin looked on the compact side, particularly for the reason that the carved roof took much of the bulk in its upper half. The interior was no less different from first impressions; with the entryway opening to a carpeted front foyer with an empty shoe and coat rack. Teyrhar didn’t seem to care much for the state of his home—he urged them to pick and take their seats on the one larger-than-life yam stitched couch just behind the glass carved wooden coffee table.

Their host made himself scarce in the kitchen just past the lounge, already clicking alight the gas stove on the counter and waited for the kettle he placed atop the flame to hiss. Just past Teyrhar’s intimidating musculature, Raoul caught sight of a bedroom behind a slightly-ajar door.

“So?” Avil spoke up. “How’d you come to live alone in the forest, Teyrhar? How’d you turn from a, by your words, ‘brigand’ to a monk in service of the Heir of Waters? Way to make a total respec.”

Cali nodded along. “I admit I am curious as well. If you had chosen that life, it would not be difficult to keep hold of it and enjoy its comforts. The successful highwaymen are said to make a lot of profit.”

The stove flame flickered a little bit, causing Teyrhar to furrow his brows as he twisted the knob back and forth to reset it. He brought a humored hand to his chin. “It is not quite as free or profitable as you might think. In my earlier years, I became entangled with the wrong crowd and could not find the opportunity to dislodge myself. You do not know this yet, but I used to reside in Cias Buril and was a student of Fenum Tensal Academy until college, when I dropped out.”

“No kidding!” gasped Avil. He landed a cursory glance on each of his three friends. “Same here for the four of us. Well, only two now. Raoul transferred early on in high school, while Idri hasn’t attended classes in years. I suppose that makes you our alumni.”

The monk shrunk back, scratching the back of his head. “You four are fellow Wolves, then. But ‘alumni’ is rather much. My tertiary education remains unfinished. After I met with my then-cohorts, we spent most of our time cutting classes and sneaking out of the city to harass travelers, demanding their money—and if they did not pay, we would often go straight to physically assaulting them to steal what we wanted.”

He continued, eyes charged with melancholy on the once more flickering flame of the burner. “I stuck with that for a while, eventually getting a lay of the land. I learned how to evade the police. Routes to easily sneak past the walls and out of the city. How to smuggle contraband in and out. There was a time when I considered it a sublime way to spend the rest of my life.”

If the mood of the conversation hadn’t shifted for the sombre at the lower half of his words, it certainly dove into the fringes when he mentioned his ‘exploits’. Still, the Batan couldn’t feel much fear. Something about his tone and general demeanor made it abundantly clear that he regretted his past actions intensely.

“How’d you become a priest?” asked Raoul.

“That is a deep tale, but I will shorten it for brevity’s sake. During one of my expeditions outside of Cias Buril, I and my cohorts turned to our next target—a lone priest on a pilgrimage to this very waterfall we now sit atop of.” Teyrhar stopped, tapping the butt of his pewter staff on the planked floor. “I did not know it at the time, but he was a devout of Il-Lancasta. I happened to feel especially irate during that day because I had been threatened with expulsion, causing me to forget to hold back my slashes. I ended up murdering him by accident that day. That was the first time I had killed. We never went so far as to take the life of our victims. My blood ran cold when I saw the life fade from his eyes.”

His gaze drifted to the dozen rings on the wide circular tip of his staff. “In his dying breath, he called me over. He didn’t hurl insults or curse me. Instead, he placed a hand on my chest and offered me a prayer. From just those words alone I felt something break within me.”

“Aside from the waters, Il-Lancasta is also associated with ‘rebirth of the self’, although it isn’t in his official portfolio.” Raoul murmured. “I can’t pretend I knew what he was thinking that day, but it’s possible that was his greatest deed he’s done for his god. Turning someone on the path to darkness to light.”

Hiss. Steam started to pour out of the kettle’s snout, echoing. Teyrhar quickly flicked the burner shut and moved to the wall-mounted cabinets in the back of the kitchen, retrieving a carved tea set. Small imperfections were layered on the surface, indicating a less-than-adept carpenter had worked on the set.

“You may be right, Raoul. Since that day, I had started distancing myself from my associates, and was successful tens of years ago. I made my way to Kilaantin—at the time, I had known for a while that my father took care of it before he died, but I never paid a visit while he was still on Rynth. I quickly got to work repairing the site. It used to be a dilapidated, murky swamp of water, but I have gone through extensive efforts to make sure it is purified and clean for those that come to visit. Not that the Heir of Waters minds. He sees to all smaller bodies of water, unclean or clean.”

“And it’s been really nice,” Idri remarked. “I could feel the water. It was so cold, but smelled really clean and felt great on the skin.”

Teyrhar smiled. He quickly filled the four cups with the boiling hot water and dipped in small bundles of tea leaves in each one. He then walked over, setting the tray down on the coffee table before taking his own seat on the rocking chair close by. “I appreciate that. Though, I am quite surprised to see you all are taking this better than I thought. Most would turn tail and flee at the mention of being in the same room as a killer and brigand, not to mention the way I fight—especially when it’s in the defense of my god.”

“You should know, right? Fenum Tensal’s curriculum is pretty crazy when it comes to training kids.” Raoul replied, shooting Teyrhar an appreciative look as he took a cup and began sipping. “We were pretty big amongst our peers, the four of us.”

“Oo, ooh! Right!” Idri added. “We were ‘Malsron’ back then.”

“Malsron,” Teyrhar repeated, testing the word on his lips. Finally, he recalled the meaning. “Ah. So you four were the highest achieving in your grade level?”

“Right,” Avil chimed in. “They only give it out to five people at the end of every year, and it continues on until the next recognition ceremony, where potentially new students are awarded the title. We held Malsron for almost the entirety of our high school life.”

“You four are simply extraordinary. I am curious, however. Why the decision to leave the city and go on a journey? Being Malsron, especially for that long, would have allowed you near-guaranteed entry to any kind of job you would have wanted in the future. You would have been set.”

“It’s a long story, just like yours,” uttered Raoul. “We all got fed up with our lives in the city, so we’re on a journey as pioneers to soul-search. That’s the short of it. We’ve only just started.”

“I see. Then it seems I am the first of many you will encounter. I have no doubt you four will go on to thrive in the world wherever you go. I can attest to that, given how well I saw Raoul and Avil fight.”

He continued, taking a lengthy sip of tea to clear his throat. “I’ve already talked too much, but please allow me to talk some more. You must be curious about Misericorde, yes? As thanks for helping me with protecting this holy site and for listening to my story, I will tell you all that I know. Ask your questions.”