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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Lazybones" data-source="post: 3651945" data-attributes="member: 143">Chapter 213 EVENING IN CAMARThe monastery at Kalliades was situated a little less than a league from the city of Camar, a large, squat square of stone surrounded by a few smaller outbuildings.  The whole was perched atop a low hill that was just visible from the main road leading west from the city.  Despite, or perhaps because of, its proximity to Camar, the monastery received little attention, and received very little traffic for a site just off one of the main trade arteries of the Duchy.  The place seemed almost deserted, these days, although the low stone wall that circled the complex was kept in good repair, and the gardens that connected the outbuildings were tidy and well tended.  Only a few monks were visible, silent shapes in dark cloth that blended into the long shadows of the fading day. The large building in the center of the complex was in turn dominated by the chapel of the Father on its second level.  The prize possessions of the monastery were on display there, a pair of large windows of stained glass high on the eastern wall, designed to let the full glory of the morning sun into the chamber.  At this time of day, as night descended upon Camar, the room was deep in shadow.  There were ample candles about the perimeter of the place, but all but a small handful were unlit.  The chamber’s sole occupant, a man in a soft brown robe, seemed to prefer the dark.  A faint creak sounded in the back of the room as one of the tall double doors in the back opened.  The noise did not carry far, but it was enough to alert the solitary vigilant, who turned to witness the newcomer.  For a moment, he saw only shadows, which suddenly felt malevolent. “Who is there?” he asked.  “Brother Kalvis?”“No,” said the newcomer, the voice resolving into the form of a figure of average height, his features masked in the depths of a dark cowl.  His garments were bulky, possibly enough to conceal weapons or armor within them.  Now more obviously alarmed, the priest rose, one hand rising to the silver torch he wore on a chain upon his chest.  “Who are you?  This is a sacred place... there is no money or precious goods here.”“I seek neither,” the stranger said.  “I will ask once more, for you to reveal yourself,” the priest said, a hint of steel creeping into his voice, but belied somewhat by the tense grasp of his fingers upon his divine focus. “You have nothing to fear from me,” the stranger said, drawing back his cowl.  “I am Licinius Varo.”“Varo...” the priest said, his mouth twisting as though it had sampled a foul taste.  “I have heard of you, priest of... of the Dark Creeper.”“You may speak his name, Nelan.  The Father will not take offense.”“What do you want of me?”Varo came forward, until he was standing near the altar, opposite Nelan.  “Do you not recall, our last meeting?  It was on the south road, near Aldenford.”After a moment, Nelan nodded.  “I remember.  You were there...  That is a night I would prefer to forget.”“There are many things that we would prefer to forget,” Varo replied.  “It is the nature of life that sometimes we must confront those things.”“I have asked several times, what you want from me.”Varo continued as if the other man had not spoken.  “Names, for example.  I found a number of people who spoke the name of Nelan with great favor, especially those that you escorted out of the south during the undead attack.  But hardly anyone I encountered knew the name of Nelandro Agathon, even though that name had greater renown associated with it.”“That was long ago.  Now there is only Nelan.”“I do not seek to refresh old wounds, nor speak of your exile,” Varo said.  “Those events are in the past.  What concerns me is the present, and the future.”Nelan chuckled slightly.  “My future lies in the hands of the Father.”Varo did not let him off that easily.  “And does the Father wish you to hide in the shadows while the people of Camar suffer?”“I will not be judged by a priest of... of Dagos.”“I do not seek to be your judge.  But it is a doctrine of the faith you profess to serve that the gift of power brings with it a mantle of duty.”“I will not fence at words at you.  I know about duty.  I have dedicated my life to the service of others.”“True.  That much was clear in the testimony of those who know Nelan.  But Camar needs Nelandro Agathon.”Nelan angrily swished a hand across his body in negation.  “Nelandro Agathon is no more.  He died, thirty years ago.”“The church that censured you, sent you into exile, may likewise soon be no more.”Nelan’s eyes narrowed.  “What do you mean?”Varo turned to the altar.  He took the candle set in the recess there, and touched it to one of the offering tapers.  Nelan watched in silence, although he obviously bristled at the possible blasphemy in the other man’s actions.  But there was no mockery in Varo’s motions as he dripped a drop of wax upon the palm of his left hand, and then placed the taper into one of the slots atop the altar. “You know our rituals.”“I was once a priest of the Father.”Nelan betrayed some surprise.  “Then... why did you fall from the Light?”Varo looked at him, and smiled sadly.  “Duty,” he said.Nelan turned back toward the front of the room.  “I serve as my conscience commands,” he said.  “You have been given gifts.”“I no longer seek power.  It has been many years since the greater blessings have been granted to me.”“A flame strike was summoned from the skies at Highbluff,” Varo said, “against the monstrosity that sought to destroy the town.  “And yet none of the priests of the Father known to be capable of such magic were present that day.  At least that is what people believe.”Nelan glanced back up, was caught by Varo’s needle stare.  “What do you want of me!”  Varo held his stare for a long moment.  Finally, he said one word. “Resolution.”</blockquote>

Verification