Stormday, Week 76, Month Octus, Year of God 488

  Lou couldn’t stop thinking of his encounter with Nevos a few days ago. For the past three nights, he had tossed and turned in his bed, unable to lose his grip on the elderly man’s speech. He worked slower than usual, and Thyrian reprimanded him for doing so. Could thousands of people die because of his existance? This concept made Lou very stressed out. He had just begun to stop truly worrying about Nevos’s words when he went to church a few hours ago. The priest had given a sermon whose main message was that commoners should be subservient to nobles. It included a story, which, in summary, was about a young Fire Caste boy who was very devout. He had seen some Rain Castemen beat up his best friend. But instead of attacking them or reporting them, he had apologized to them for his and his friend’s existence. Each of the commoners present was visibly seething, but floating Wind Caste guards ready to blast light from their eyes at the faintest whiff of heresy curbed the desire to leave or speak up. By the time the sermon was over, everyone was either asleep or angry. Lou had been the latter. If the nobility hated commoners so much that they bullied them for no reason, was it much of a stretch that they would be more than willing to sacrifice them in droves?

  Now, Lou strode down Turquoise Broom Street, a middle-end residential neighborhood. It was in between the church and Rat Boot Street, but was slightly out of the way of the main path Lou took home. He was so distressed from the sermon that his sense of direction wasn’t on par with what it usually was. He was so distracted that he bumped into someone. He and the other person went tumbling to the ground.

  “Watch where you’re going, boy!” a familiar voice grunted. It could only belong to Thyrian, who had not attended church today.

  “Master Thyrian? What are you doing here?” Lou asked. “I thought you were manning the boot shop.”

  “What you think is happening is different to what is actually happening,” responded Thyrian in a condescending tone. “All my potential customers are in church, so I figured I’d close up shop for the day and take a walk.”

  “I was just getting out of church,” Lou said. “I was going to hang out with Van at his family’s shop.”

  “Go do that, boy,” Thyrian said. “Enjoy the time you have.” He smirked mildly at the last statement. This was mildly unnerving to Lou, but he decided not to press. The two men departed, walking in opposite directions.

  Eventually, Lou arrived at Green Rat Street. Van’s mother, Marlindah Cook, was standing in the doorway of Green Rat Noodles, the family store. The familiar smell of savory noodles wafted through the rain, dispelling some of the cold.

  “Well, if it isn’t my son’s special someone!” Marlindah called. She had a friendly but loud personality, always exclaiming her sentences. “Come on in, Lou, come on in!”

  “Hey, Ms. Cook!” Lou replied. “I’m sundamn freezing!”

  Marlindah scoffed. “When you get to by my age, boy, the cold of the rain ceases to bother you. Come on in; I can get you some food on the house!”

  Lou took her up on the offer, and entered the small restaurant. It consisted of a few small tables with chairs and a door leading to the kitchen. The place felt homey and rustic, and calmed him right down. The restaurant’s usual customers Reinhauer Clothmaker, his wife Artemese Clothmaker, and their friend who only went by “Robby” were sitting at a table, drinking noodle soup and talking. Van was sitting at another table. Upon seeing Lou, he straightened up and beamed.

  “Lou! How was church?” he asked.

  “You know, you know, same as usual,” Lou responded. “Good to see you.”

  “Good to see you too,” Van responded, more seriously. “Come, sit down.”

  Lou walked over to his friend’s table and sat down, emitting a grunt of relief. “Ahh, good to sit on something that’s actually comfortable for once.”

  “Church pews, am I right?” Van said, giggling sharply afterwards. “Might as well stand, but the Rain Caste won’t have it.”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Yeah,” Lou agreed. “So, how’ve you been?”

  “Good,” Van responded. “Marleyna loved her birthday party. We had clam soup, best thing you’ve ever tasted. You?”

  Lou was torn inside. He had a sudden urge to tell Van about his encounter with Nevos, but didn’t really want to say anything heretical. “I’m doing all right. I went to the Walrus Man’s Treasure a couple of nights ago. Massively overrated. Food was good, but way too expensive.”

  “I’ve heard of that place,” Van replied. “Isn’t it full of debauchery and sin?”

  “Yeah, but it’s not like anyone cares,” Lou said. “Noble castes can do whatever the sun they please and nobody gives a swimming shit.”

  Van chuckled. He then reached under the table and grabbed Lou’s hand. Heat and calm rushed through him as the familiar feel of Van’s palm surged through him. They continued to converse, mostly meaningless small talk and current events. Apparently, the Yalen District was bouncing back after it had been struck by plague. Unfortunately, there were some strange disappearances in the Are district. Van followed a popular news-bearer, who always apparently had the most up-to-date and accurate information. This particular news-bearer claimed that the disappearances were related to a group of heretics, but the officials had nothing definitive to say on the matter.

  This jogged Lou’s recent memory. Could these hypothetical heretics be in any way related to Nevos? He had to say something.

  He leaned in towards Van’s ear and whispered. “I heard something similar to heresy when I was at the club.”

  Van wasn’t fazed. “I would think so. Drink makes your tongue loose, and one might say stupid things that wouldn’t normally be said.” He shrugged. “I dunno.”

  “No,” Lou responded. “Someone actually said heretical things to me.”

  At this, Van began to lose his composure. “What?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Lou said. “Remember that old man Nevos we saw a year ago? He was working at the club. After I was done eating, he pulled me aside and he told me…” he trailed off. He had trouble saying what had happened next. He gulped. “He told me…”

  “It’s okay, Lou,” Van replied, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “No pressure here.”

  “No, I’m fine,” Lou retorted. “Just words.”

  Van was completely serious, his frequent playfulness having disappeared. It made Lou want to continue speaking. Van had always been there for him, and the two had gotten through tough times together before. This was nothing.

  “He said that God isn’t real,” Lou blurted quietly. Van paled and his expression soured.

  “He said WHAT?” Van harshly whispered. “There’s heresy, and then there’s heresy. This is the latter.”

  “That’s not all,” Lou continued. “He claimed that God’s followers want to sacrifice thousands of commoners to God in order to bring salvation to the nobility.”

  “Why?” Van asked incredulously. “It’s not like the Theocracy is particularly nice to us commonfolk, but mass murder? They’ve treated us at least fine for almost five hundred years; why would it stop now?”

  “Because apparently, my birth just so happens to fit a random prophecy from the holy texts,” Lou said. He quoted: “The third son of a fourth son of a fifth son, born unto rain, shall be the herald of great sacrifice, and the blood shall grant His followers the abiility to purge the Heathens.”

  “Are you a third son?” Van asked. “Oh, right. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “No need,” Lou replied. “I barely remember them, and never knew them very well. My great-grandfather was a noble Sun Casteman. He had a lot of kids.”

  Realization dawned on Van. He counted on his fingers, muttering. “Oh shit, you’re right! Your great-grandpa had five sons, your grandfather had four, and your dad had three. Coincidences are crazy.”

  Lou tensed. “But this coincidence might lead to the deaths of thousands.” He gripped Van’s shoulders. “Don’t tell anyone. Heresy can fly under the radar, but I don’t want anyone to die because of someone’s loose lips.”

  “Got it,” Van said. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  It was at this point where Marlindah turned around and spoke to Lou and Van. “What’re you boys talking about? Seems pretty intense.”

  They started and blushed. “Oh hi Mom, didn’t see you there,” Van said. “We were just talking about… about…”

  “About how such good friends we are!” Lou blurted. “Isn’t that right, Van?”

  “Indeed it is, Lou,” Van answered. Marlindah smiled and walked away.

  “Right then,” Van said, most of the tension gone from his voice. “So, did you hear about the rainball game yesterday?”

  “No,” Lou answered. “Tell me about it.” The two slipped back into their meaningless conversation for several hours. Marlindah served them noodle soup, and eventually, the two retired to Van’s bedroom. That night, as Lou laid on the small cot next to his friend’s bed, he couldn’t get Nevos out of his mind. He needed to do something about it.