The Suffered Hermit And His Service

[Gaius ~ Sertorius Cagan 62]

 

Resting hand over hand atop the metal rim of his farming scythe, Sertorius looks through the canyon chasm, viewing the rushing waters as they flow from under his feet along the cliff. The seclusion of the Sophist Enclave had given Sertorius time to delve upon his options, of what paths could lead him to a more wholesome life. War had taken toll upon his body, at such a young age, yet his mind slipping into morose thoughts and his ears deafened. He decided after the second battle that he was meant to elide within his refuge to give thought to what his future would have for him.

 

The path now cemented into an upkept highway as Sertorius marched forth with a carpet furled with breads and vegetables that he would harvest every so often from the lush gardens at the base of the plateau in which the Enclave rested atop. He moved forth to the city of Salvus, desiring to offer his services in the upkeeping of either smith or tavern. He stood below the open-jawed gate of the mighty city, with the gate hanging mercifully still over his head like a guillotine paused by fortunate favor. Sertorius began through the city, exclaiming his wish to serve as a tavern-keeper or a smith-worker in hopes to be accepted.

[3andD 1722]

The Cathedral in Salvus sat with a young novice at the alter, dull prayers filled the silent air of the cathedral.

 

The conclave had sent all the clergymen northward. Leaving there parish church's empty. As you approach the cathedral, a vibrant air basks in your senses. This was the place, you thought. This was the place of the creator, his walls calling to me.

[Gaius ~ Sertorius Cagan 62]

Sertorius's eyes widen to see a cathedral bending at knees with a young boy in a random altar. Shaking off the mirage-like hallucination like the idea of men born of blood proselytizing; he continues through the streets of Salvus.