"O Phōreneion, Breath of the First Light,
Who broke the dark and warmed the sleeping earth-
Let thy radiance pass through the air we breathe,
Let it cleanse the rot that hides beneath our feet.
By thy hand are the fields renewed,
By thy gaze are the hearts made pure.
May no shadow linger where the dawn has walked.
In the name of Aurelion, the Flame,
And Seraphene, the Tear,
So let this day be sanctified"
Those words within the prayer rites of the Litany of Dawn were recited by Father Rhion at every sunrise. After the final line, the church bell's rang three times indicating the start of the day. The congregation which was mostly made up of farmers, merchants, and children bowed toward the east, facing the rising sun.
Acolyte Mareth walked through the aisles and sprinkled blessed water. This was her duty --- to assist Father Rhion. Shortly after the rites, chatter filled up the church, before the congregation left one by one. Farmers went back to their fields, merchants to their stalls in the market, and children left to their own devices until afternoon school started.
Life was peaceful, ordinary, and happy. That was how Mareth would describe her life. Her thoughts were interrupted by Father Rhion.
"Acolyte Mareth, would be so kind as to pick up the blade I ordered from Mr. Galen" he requested.
Father Rhion was a man in his late forties to early fifties. He had short silver hair that was slicked back and was tall and spare, with the stillness of a statue carved for worship. His eyes were of pale amber --- warm, but matured with age. He dressed in black vestments edged with white thread signifying his devotion to the Luminant Faith. He had arrived in this small village of Vel a decade earlier. Mareth was only but a child at that time. Now, she was his assistant in hopes she would one day become a Lector, a priest/priestess permitted to lead the Litany of Dawn in public --- a high honor within the village.
She responded to him cheerfully, "Of course, Father."
"Thank you, Acolyte Mareth. May Saint Lirienne grace you on your trip."
She responded back with a kind smile, before turning away. She did have to be back before the village children came back to the church for afternoon school. Matron Ilyra, the children's teacher, had wanted her to assist with today's lesson. Mareth hurried outside and walked alongside the path to Vel's heart, the Hearth Row. It was a lively place where everyone in the village came to purchase goods and enjoy festivities. On the downside, the walk from the church to Hearth Row was no short passageway.
Then, someone called out to her.
"Mareth!"
It was Attis, a farmer's son. He sat astride a brown horse harnessed to an empty cart. Attis was a young man who assisted his father in the fields, and they were childhood friends. He was someone she could trust unquestioningly. Although, as of recent, he had been trying to get closer to her. It was odd even for her, but she would always care for him.
"Attis, how have you been?" replied Mareth, smiling.
"Doing good. My father's been getting better ever since you made that concoction for him. I've been meaning to thank you ever since, but never found the right time. So, I guess ... thank you."
"You don't have to thank me. You and your family have always been kind to me." she responded.
"Still, I'd like to pay you back. ...Hm, since you're coming out of the church at this time. Are you running an errand for Father Rhion again?"
"That's right. How did you know, Attis?" Mareth questioned, surprised at his observation.
He smiled at her before responding.
"Because, you're always there at first light, helping the orphans. I just guessed the church couldn't start the day without you."
Mareth's lips parted slightly, unsure what to say, before deciding to smile shyly.
"That's… kind of you to say. But they'd manage fine without me."
"Speaking on the matter, do you need a ride to Hearth Row?"
"Would you be willing to?"
"Of course, I would."
"Thank you, Attis."
Mareth grinned at him before getting on the cart. She was thankful to have a friend that cared about her.
Once they arrived at Hearth Row, Mareth had gotten off the cart and thanked Attis again for his assistance. Before, going separate ways, Attis had asked something of her.
"Mareth, would you like to visit our family farm when you're free with your duties? My mother had wanted to give something to you."
"Of course Attis. I'll have to get going now, but may Saint Lirienne bless his grace to you for the rest of the day." she said, warmly before leaving.
She hadn't noticed Attis' eyes lingering on her retreating figure.
***
It took her a while before she finally located Mr. Galen's shop, a smithy. When she entered, it was quiet, it had seemed like no one came to this shop often. That is, until she saw Mr. Galen's short figure. Galen was a dwarf with a muscular build, and was extremely picky with his customers. Father Rhion was one of the select few who could purchase wares from here. While, she didn't know why, she could tell Galen deeply respected Father Rhion.
"Good morning, Mr. Galen. I'm here to pick up Father Rhion's blade!" Mareth chirped.
"Ah, Mareth. It's good to see you again. I have Rhion's Falchion right over on the counter" Galen said in a brusque manner.
Mareth headed over to the counter and Galen slid the box across the counter toward her. She lifted the box from the counter, feeling its solid weight in her hands. It was dark, polished oak, reinforced with brass corners, and lined with crimson velvet inside to protect the Falchion within. The sword stayed hidden, secure, as she carried it within her arms. Every detail --- the snug-fitting lid, the smooth finish, the Galen's meticulous craftsmanship --- spoke of the care with which it had been prepared.
As Mareth was ready to depart, Galen had stopped her.
"Mareth, I've prepared a transport for you right outside, so you won't have to walk with the blade all the way to the church."
"Mr. Galen ... thank you, truly." Mareth admitted with warmth, truly appreciative of him.
"You should go, now. Wouldn't want you to be running behind schedule."
"Of course, Mr. Galen. May Saint Lirienne grace you today."
Galen didn't respond to her words, and went back to smithing. Mareth noted his words and exited his shop to find the transport he had mentioned. It was a carriage --- small and sturdy, its wooden frame darkened by years of travel and rain. Iron bands held the wheels firm, though one creaked with every turn. The driver's seat was worn smooth by use, and the canvas cover smelled faintly of hay and oil. It wasn't much to look at, but in Vel, it did its job. Orry, the carriage driver, greeted her with a tip of his hat.
"Good morning, Ms. Mareth, I'll be your driver for today."
"Good morning to you too, Orry." she said brightly, preparing to enter the carriage.
"Please mind the step." Orry warned.
"I will!" she replied.
The insides of the carriage were narrow and modest, lined with faded woolen cushions that had long lost their color. The wooden walls, though scuffed and nicked from years of travel, were clean and carried the faint scent of pine oil and straw. A few iron hooks hung by the doorframe — one holding a lantern, another a bundle of dried herbs to keep insects away.
When the wheels turned, the boards beneath her boots creaked softly, and the curtains over the small windows fluttered with the movement of the wind. The ride was going to be uneventful, or so she thought.
***
She could hear the Vel train move with a measured rhythm, its heavy wheels striking the rails in steady intervals that seemed to echo throughout the village. Hearing it now meant that she was halfway there to the church. The train ran under the bridge her transport was on, and arrived at Vel during the late morning to pick up cargo and passengers before setting off to its next destination.
After crossing over the bridge, Mareth was getting bored looking out the window only to see the repeating scenery of trees and empty fields of grass. That is, until she saw children?
That wasn't right, afternoon class at the church didn't start yet. Moreover, she didn't recognize their faces, given that the village had a small amount of children residing in it. What bothered her most was how the girl out of the three was carrying an unconscious child behind her back.
Mareth's breath caught. She couldn't ignore that --- not when every instinct in her took hold. Those children needed help, there was no mistaking it. She leaned forward and called for the carriage to halt.
"Mr. Orry, please stop the carriage." She said with urgency.
Orry stopped the carriage abruptly, and didn't get to have a word in before Mareth rushed out of the carriage. She ran towards the children, her face filled with concern, and asked them a simple question.
"Children, what's happened here?"