I was asked to join a blogring where a picture is sent out once a week, usually on Thursday, and you write a story about said picture and post it on the following Wednesday. You are to include links to everyone else’s story too. Sounded like fun to me!
High Priest Quentrell raised his hands in the air and began the final series of incantations of the morning service. He gave a slight nod to Acolyte Webley and turned his eyes to the heavens. There was small scuffle and a flurry of wings. Expecting to see six pure white doves soar majestically into the air, the High Priest was surprised when one lone pigeon flapped its way across his vision and past the dome of the temple. Shaking with anger he stammered through the last few stanzas of the chant and dismissed the gathered worshipers. As they filed out he glared at Webley over their heads.
“Garrin, do you think he noticed?” Webley nervously whispered to the other first year Acolyte.
“Are you insane? His face is as red as a prostitute’s spanked ass! Of course he noticed!”
“What am I going to do?”
“You should have thought of that before you spent the money he gave you to buy doves on wine. Moron.”
“You drank some too!”
“Yes, but I can always tell him I didn’t know where the money was from. You, on the other hand, are in deep – “
“ACOLYTE WEBLEY!” the High Priest screamed from the other side of the room. “You will be in my office in five minutes!” With a swirl of robes he left the temple.
Exactly five minutes later Webley was standing in front of an impressive looking oak desk in the High Priest’s office. Quentrell was seated behind it staring at him and drumming his fingers on its polished surface.
“So? Any explanation? And do keep in mind I said ‘explanation’ and not ‘excuse’.”
“Well, you see sir – “
“Oh shut up! Whatever you come up with will only be a lie.” Quentrell sighed. “Don’t you like it here Webley? No, don’t answer, it was semi – rhetorical. How could you not? The Brotherhood feeds you, clothes you, we give your life purpose. Yet you cannot do the simplest of tasks. Perhaps your brain is dull and these tasks are not simple to you, they are complex. Is that it? No, again, no answer is needed. I know you are no simpleton. The thing that bothers me is that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. You were charged with helping Master Tiziano with the laundry. Somehow the simple act of folding sheets ended up with me having to request the help of the City Guard in removing a score of harlots from the dormitory! Years of celibacy were wasted that evening!” He took a drink from a goblet on the desk and continued. “Then there was the time you were to help Master Sergius with the wine – and you sold our entire stock to bandits! Did you think no one would notice that 150 barrels of wine were missing? Never mind – we’ve already been over that. I could go on but I am sure you get my point. I see you standing there squirming, bursting to speak. Hold your tongue! I am well aware that you are not alone in your inane adventures. You have corrupted your friend Garrin as well. As you very well know we took you in as a favor to your rich father who also made a large donation to the temple. But enough is enough. I have come to a decision as to what to do with you and it I am sure you are not going to like it.”
Ten minutes later Webley was in the drab cell that he shared with Garrin explaining what happened.
“WE’RE WHAT?!” exclaimed Garrin.
“We’re kicked out. We are to gather all our belongings, put on the street clothes we had when we got here and meet the High Priest at the main doors. Right away,” Webley explained for the second time while stuffing his things into a bag.
“But why me? I didn’t do any-“
“Oh please! Quentrell isn’t stupid. He knows I couldn’t have done half the things I did alone and he damn well knows who helped me. Start packing.”
A few minutes later the two young men were standing in front of the large double doors of the temple, dressed in their street clothes with a bag slung over a shoulder. The High Priest approached them.
“Will wonders never cease!” exclaimed the High Priest. “A simple command was given and you carried it out!” He smiled at them.
“Oh crap, this can’t be good, he never smiles,” whispered Garrin.
“I cannot send you boys out into the big world empty handed. I have for each of you a letter to your parents explaining the situation.” He handed them each a rolled scroll. “Plus, against my better judgement, and at some urging from the Masters, I have a pouch of 25 silver coins for each of you as well.”
After he handed over the pouches of money he walked to the side of the large wooden doors and pulled a cord. Somewhere above a bell chimed and the doors began to swing open.
“May the goddess bless you! Farewell!” High Priest Quentrell said with just a touch of glee.
The two of them stepped out of the cool temple into the hot morning sun. As the doors swung shut behind them Garrin asked “So, what now?”
“Now? Now we find the nearest tavern!” Webley replied with a grin.
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