Gaston paced back and forth through the chapel’s antechamber. A stream of obscenities rattled from his lips until he settled upon the king’s language. “I hate them. Those damn arcane spell casters do nothing but bring death and destruction. They don’t create, they just destroy. With a bit of glee I might add.”
“One cannot pass such broad judgments,” the young priest of Dian Cécht said. “All creations upon this world are important and unique. Just because one apple in your basket is bad you do not throw away the entire load. Prejudging will make you no better than those that you judge. You will be doomed to fall to the same fate.”
“How much longer do I have to wait? If he’s coming he should have returned by now.” Brilliant shades of blues and reds from the setting sun through stain glass illuminated marble columns and oak pews.
“Like all things mystical, returning one’s soul to their awaiting body is an art,” the priest said. “The wisest of priests tug at the strings of fates. With their advanced study they can guide a soul cut short back to their awaiting body. Lest ye forget the queen had already been returned to us.”
“Fortunate for her soul, but they usually don’t return.”
“You are right, after having a glimpse of the beyond some souls don’t want to return. Even when one does wish for life again, it is still a difficult journey through Tormier. A journey only possible when guided by the clerics.”
“Your priests seem to have worked harder to bring her back,” Gaston turned to look the priest in the eye. “I don’t recall the royal family having to wait around here half as long as I already have been here.”
“They say it drags all priests involved in the ritual to the brink of exhaustion. It is simply a marvel they were willing to guide another soul today after returning the queen yesterday. But a soul only has so much time before the window home slams shut.” The priest sighed. “Just consider yourself lucky that the king’s treasury was generous enough to return your father to this world. Not all kingdoms value their soldiers as much.”
“Captain of the guard,” Gaston corrected the cleric. “My father is the captain of the guard. The king should consider himself lucky to have a man willing to die to save the queen. That he was willing to give it all for his king and country.”
“Are you saying that you would not have given the ultimate sacrifice for the king?”
“Some may not,” Gaston returned to pacing.