center of attention, I immediately sat down.
I tilted my head slightly and enjoyed an unhindered view onto the Inquisitor’s grand balcony. Impressive ornaments of pure gold decorated both corners. I had seen them so many times before, but now they meant something. Today they were dedicated to me.
While the crowd was busy chattering, the Inquisitor’s council quietly came through a side door and took seat on the right of the balcony. The Inquisitor’s ward, a girl of maybe sixteen, followed closely and took a seat on the left. Blankly, she stared off into the distance, bored and bothered at once.
When they were all settled, the trumpets sounded. The crowd quit their talk and applauded on cue. Upon this signal, the Inquisitor’s herald knocked on the marble ground thrice with a big wooden stick. With a booming voice he exclaimed, “Citizens! The Inquisitor!” Upon his name, the crowd turned their applause into a roar. It had begun.
The red curtains behind the balcony flushed to the sides. With arms spread as if embracing us all, the Inquisitor stepped onto the balcony towards the banister. His burgundy robe dragged over the smooth marble surface, while his slow steps rang in beat with the noise of the crowd. His face looked determined, stern almost, radiating both terror and power. But those were mostly the same.
For how long could he hold this power? I wondered. The golden miter covered his grey locks, while the holy scepter in his hand only distracted from his bony fingers. I was not the only one whose clock had started ticking.
The swelling elation was soaked into silence the second he lifted his pale left hand. A collective hush fell over the crowd, with none of the multitude daring to breathe. I sunk deeper into the throne in anticipation. He looked at me sitting there for a moment’s length. One could hear the drop of a pin. In a calculated pace, he lifted his face to address the crowd, “Greetings children of God! It is my pleasure once again to rejoice with you all, and to celebrate what this city stands for - faith, duty, and honor. To celebrate the young men who serve their God, their city, and every single one of you outside these gates. Only the strongest spirits, the firmest believers, withstand the pains and evils that linger in the outside world. Their valor and strength fend off all the demons that haunt our city.” The crowd went into ecstasy with shouts of approval until the Inquisitor once again raised his hand, and this time pointed towards me, “You, son, were blessed to be born of the valiant kind, to protect everything that is dear to our hearts. God has chosen you to be this moon’s only Celebratorio, a rare occasion that speaks in lengths about God’s faith in you. Like all men, you will start your journey one year from this day. Ages ago, even I served the Grey Guard. The Guard is more than just duty. It is opportunity. It is honor. It is everything we stand for. And you, son, are fortunate to receive this blessing.”
His speech continued, diving into the history of the city. Every month we were told the same story, and every month the same promise was made: For the horrors to end, for our men to stop dying, and for peace to finally break in… the end of the Dark Age, and the coming of the next golden age. And every month the young were said to be the missing puzzle pieces for that long sought escape from dystopia.
“It is time that you join the ranks of those that came before you, into the brotherhood of men that love and protect this city with all they have,” he spoke as a priest came up beside me with a knife and chalice in his hands. The row of temple-men sang a Latin chant in canon that dug deep into my ears. Their voices mingled into one long swinging sound.
The crowd hushed. Only the deep voices of the priests filled the square now. My eyes marked the old man in front of me. Carefully I took the knife from his hand. Slow in my actions, a thousand thoughts ran through my
I tilted my head slightly and enjoyed an unhindered view onto the Inquisitor’s grand balcony. Impressive ornaments of pure gold decorated both corners. I had seen them so many times before, but now they meant something. Today they were dedicated to me.
While the crowd was busy chattering, the Inquisitor’s council quietly came through a side door and took seat on the right of the balcony. The Inquisitor’s ward, a girl of maybe sixteen, followed closely and took a seat on the left. Blankly, she stared off into the distance, bored and bothered at once.
When they were all settled, the trumpets sounded. The crowd quit their talk and applauded on cue. Upon this signal, the Inquisitor’s herald knocked on the marble ground thrice with a big wooden stick. With a booming voice he exclaimed, “Citizens! The Inquisitor!” Upon his name, the crowd turned their applause into a roar. It had begun.
The red curtains behind the balcony flushed to the sides. With arms spread as if embracing us all, the Inquisitor stepped onto the balcony towards the banister. His burgundy robe dragged over the smooth marble surface, while his slow steps rang in beat with the noise of the crowd. His face looked determined, stern almost, radiating both terror and power. But those were mostly the same.
For how long could he hold this power? I wondered. The golden miter covered his grey locks, while the holy scepter in his hand only distracted from his bony fingers. I was not the only one whose clock had started ticking.
The swelling elation was soaked into silence the second he lifted his pale left hand. A collective hush fell over the crowd, with none of the multitude daring to breathe. I sunk deeper into the throne in anticipation. He looked at me sitting there for a moment’s length. One could hear the drop of a pin. In a calculated pace, he lifted his face to address the crowd, “Greetings children of God! It is my pleasure once again to rejoice with you all, and to celebrate what this city stands for - faith, duty, and honor. To celebrate the young men who serve their God, their city, and every single one of you outside these gates. Only the strongest spirits, the firmest believers, withstand the pains and evils that linger in the outside world. Their valor and strength fend off all the demons that haunt our city.” The crowd went into ecstasy with shouts of approval until the Inquisitor once again raised his hand, and this time pointed towards me, “You, son, were blessed to be born of the valiant kind, to protect everything that is dear to our hearts. God has chosen you to be this moon’s only Celebratorio, a rare occasion that speaks in lengths about God’s faith in you. Like all men, you will start your journey one year from this day. Ages ago, even I served the Grey Guard. The Guard is more than just duty. It is opportunity. It is honor. It is everything we stand for. And you, son, are fortunate to receive this blessing.”
His speech continued, diving into the history of the city. Every month we were told the same story, and every month the same promise was made: For the horrors to end, for our men to stop dying, and for peace to finally break in… the end of the Dark Age, and the coming of the next golden age. And every month the young were said to be the missing puzzle pieces for that long sought escape from dystopia.
“It is time that you join the ranks of those that came before you, into the brotherhood of men that love and protect this city with all they have,” he spoke as a priest came up beside me with a knife and chalice in his hands. The row of temple-men sang a Latin chant in canon that dug deep into my ears. Their voices mingled into one long swinging sound.
The crowd hushed. Only the deep voices of the priests filled the square now. My eyes marked the old man in front of me. Carefully I took the knife from his hand. Slow in my actions, a thousand thoughts ran through my
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