Ioannen in the Basilica Dominici - Trade Tide

[Ashari]

Set on its own pathway within the boulevard of temples in King's Court, stands the Basilica Dominici- the Temple of The One. Alabaster walls stand as testaments to the purity of the One True Faith. Surrounded on all sides by a tall and impressive wall, the church manages to avoid looking like a fortress- tall and elegant sculptures standing along the edges- pictures of saints and angels taken from Dominicus's dogma. An experienced clergyman might recognize the Chronicler Oren or the Cardinal Kern; Drakedoder and Berkeley. The present rain runs along the sculptures, giving them an appearance of sadness and woe, as if the saints themselves weep for the King's Court at present.

In the center of the wall there is a massive gate- ornately crafted in silver metal that is blessed to never rust, until the faith of all men within should fail. The ornate entrance is always held open- just as the arms of Dominicus himself are always open to new followers. Just within the gates is a splendid garden, lush in its greenery and vibrant in its flowers- tended by some of the most religiously devout monks to walk the face of Tazlure. Perhaps it is this devotion that allows this garden to remain pure and luminous despite the rain and cold- where all other gardens might fail. The main path leads directly forward, hedged in by the shrubs of the garden itself at waist height, leading directly toward the main chapel, the tallest building in the entire complex- smaller walkways branching off, to the less-important structures.

It is the main chapel that is most impressive, however, remarkable in its height and elegance- essentially a circular building, bound on all sides by columns and arches. There are other sculptures set in the alcoves and upon the roof, here, a tall spire stretching upward from the entire mass- spiraling into the heavens- capped in a gilded depiction of an eye, the simple of The One. In all times, the chapel is doubtless inviting- but especially so in the current rain, seeming to beckon any approaching travellers forth, into the soothing warmth it provides- the entry chamber visible behind tall doors, partially open- a fire burning within, with deep and comfortable-looking couches set just within the oversized portals. All were welcome to enter freely, especially converts.

Father Marcus was tending to regular business and seeing the entrance of Ioannen offered him a wave and moved toward him. "Good day, Ioannen, how fare you today?"

[Ioannen]

Ioannen walked into the Basilica Dominici. His breath was taken away from him as he stared up at the massive arches--he had forgotten how beautiful this building was, as if God himself had built this with his own two hands. Truly this was too glorious to be the work of humanity, Ioannen thought. His heart was beating fast, and he began to sweat.

Yes, he thought to himself, if there even is a God.

He sighed. Just being back here was making the young acolyte nervous. He heard something and looked up to see Father Marcus. His mentor waved and moved toward him.

"Good day, Ioannen, how fare you today?" Father Marcus said.

Ioannen sighed inwardly before forcing a smile. "I am well, Father. I have returned--I have... I've come home."

Father Marcus' eyes twinkled and a small smile began to play upon his lips. Ioannen began to feel tears well up in his eyes--tears of joy. He dropped his bag on the floor with a thump (which echoed throughout the pillars) and embraced Father Marcus, taking the older man by surprise.

In that moment the young acolyte felt more at peace then he had his entire stay at Word's Mouth. His wandering mind and wandering soul, though far from rest, paused here a moment.

"I have much to tell," Ioannen said.

[Ashari]

Father Marcus was a practical man. In addition to this he was a young man. When he'd taken in Ioannen he'd been very new to the study, in fact, he had just become a priest. He'd taken a particular liking to the street scamp and had been sure he'd been well taken care of while in the orphanage he placed him in. It was this that had brought him to the Compassionate Heart, a branch of the faith of Dominicus that practiced love over hate, as it was the Compassionate Heart that ran the orphanage that he visited on a regular basis to see the boy he'd rescued. He'd been a silent dissenter from the ranks of the stricter and prominent sect of the religion of which he was a part.

The closeness he'd felt to Ioannen had been that of a father to son - and he'd been the family that he'd never had due to the promises he'd made to his god. When Ioannen left for World's Mouth the priest dove further into his religious studies and work as a healer. To see his adoptive son return so soon was both unexpected and a relief. He pulled Ioannen into the warmth of is robes. They smelled of herbs and incense, a mixture that was sure to remind Ioannen of his youth in the Father's personal barracks.

Marcus leaned back, smiling and looking at the young man. "Your skin has become tanned in your time in the warm city," he said. Ioannen was still fair, but darker than he had been when he'd left. "And your beard, it's grayed," he put his hands on either side of the young man's face, looking at him and his welling eyes. He easily hid his emotions, though Ioannen could hear relief in his voice. "Pick up your bag, come on, let us find you a room. We will talk and then you may have some rest."

The priest released Ioannen's face and took up beside him, walking the familiar halls of the Basilica Dominici with the young man in tow. They made their way to the personal rooms of the acolytes and passed to room number 7. It would appear the odd numbered rooms were on one side of the hall while the evenly numbered rooms were on the opposite. Staggered as they were they went in order.

Father Marcus opened the door and showed a room basically devoid of personal belongings. Two beds were on either side of the room and at the foot of each there was a simple trunk. There was one window between the beds, and beside the furniture already described, there was a small basin for washing and a brass mirror hung above it for shaving. Aside from that, the room was devoid of personal possessions. The bed on the right is unoccupied," he said. "You're welcome to it if you're going to stay. In the meantime, it gives us somewhere private to talk." The priest sat on the bed on the right, giving Ioannen plenty of room to sit himself.