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Thon pulls himself to his feet and shuffles to the closest bed, falling to sleep almost instantly. Your growling stomachs make it a touch difficult, but exhaustion soon finds the full party drifting off...
****
"Oi! Shift change, grunts!"
You're all awakened brusquely in the morning. You notice the other bunks all filled during the night, though now there are just as many additional acolytes crowding the room. You're informed, or rather gather by the gruff way the more veteran acolytes hustle you out of bed and flop into your places, that the faithful apparently serve in shifts. Part of Yoshiki's logistical question, then, seems to be that the barracks effectively accomodate three or more times the number of beds by virture of this shift system.
There's little time to learn more, however, as someone hears the word 'breakfast.' However groggy you may be, your stomachs, at least, wake quickly and loudly as you follow the small crowd across the hall to the dining room. It may be no more than bread, water, and old fruit, but after at least a day without any food, no one's especially picky.
You've barely time to finish when Tarkan enters and points to the quintet, and the blur of the day begins.
"Masks on and upstairs," he barks out. The others in the room instinctively cower at the grimy priest's voice, but relax when they realize you're the target for now. Tarkan, as before, doesn't really wait to see if you're following, though he does seem to wait to speak again until he's heard the scramble of feet behind him.
"Rules part two," he growls as he leads you upstairs. "When you aren't assigned a duty, you can spend your time on the first floor or the basement as ya please. But don't expect a lot of that time, and don't even think about setting foot on the stairs to the second floor."
You move down the vestibule away from the large room where you were sworn to the faith. He pushes the massive pair of doors open with ease and leads you into the courtyard. Guards walk the wall as you catch sunlight for the first time in two days. As always, Tarkan doesn't pause to let your eyes adjust.
"Fresh air's good for the body blah, blah," he says dismissively. "Just like the second floor, outside those gates ain't for you until I say you're ready. Today, you're gonna start by doin' the deliveries."
You're pointed to a rather full wagon with boxes and bags, and the five of you set to work carting supplies down to the kitchen, and to the foot of the grand staircase to the upper level (a pair of men in gray robes meet you at the foot of the stairway to take those supplies).
Once you've delivered the supplies, you're set to cleaning the stables, though there don't appear to be any horses in them at the moment. Still, Tarkan's imposing figure watches silently until you've moved hay around enough to satisfy him.
"Lunch," he says simply, and heads off. Half a loaf of bread, some fatty meat, a thin slice of cheese, and potato stew await you in the dining hall during your short respite.
As white robes reclaim your plates, Tarkan appears, tossing several buckets on the table filled with small brushes and a pungent soap. Your trainer leads you upstairs, points you to the water, and leaves you to the tedius task of cleaning the entire first floor with the causic soap. It's an exhausting next several hours, but you do have a good sense for what there is on this floor, discovering the small armory in the course of your duty. You recognize your own weapons here, though the rest of your gear must be stored elsewhere.
Hands and noses stinging from the cleaning experience, you plod back to the courtyard at Tarkan's beckoning. There, he begins to lecture you on interaction. This starts out as simple ways to walk as a group, keep composure, and not reveal one’s identity. After a while, it moves to less savory training, such as how to force someone to donate, and how to mock other faiths to make Owbej seem more powerful. There is the promise of tomorrow's lesson being how to deal with local guards and others who would interfere with the temple, but today's traning ends with no more other than that ominous hint.
Dinner is a simple vegetable stew with some inexpensive meat tossed in, coarse bread, and cheap wine, then it's on to evening prayer.
This session seems to be about half as full as you recall your swearing-in ceremony; apparently the others gather at another time, or have some other duties to which you aren't currently privvy. Garthia leads the procession through a number of rather pompous litanies and psalms to the Living God.
Your day already tiring and long, still the quintet has further duties. The sun has long since set, but under the light of the temple's everburning torches and some additional candlelight, you all gather at the large table in the room with the elegant chairs (a room for meeting with outsiders, you discover) copying holy texts for another hour.
All of you are dragging by the time Tarkan finally leads you back downstairs to the barracks, where a couple acolytes already sleep as others don their masks for evening duties.
"I didn't have to beat anyone today," The big man says, his tone suggesting he's faintly surprised and probably disappointed. "Sleep it off and maybe you earn back your gear tomorrow" he says, turning on his heels and leaving.
Thon takes his mask off and changes out of his now-filthy robes, flops onto the bed and almost instantly begins snoring, leaving the party as close to alone as they've been since they were drugged and brought to the temple.
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