#getting baptized in secret seems to go against the whole point of being baptized

[asinglesock]

when starchild from ghost quartet said "when I was a baby, I was blessed by a stranger / in waters I didn't understand / and now I'm infected with disbelief and blasphemy / I'll never have a holy land / I am a ghost in the eyes of my God" that felt targeted :/

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 12

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter

LATER THAT DAY

FORANGAL CASTLE, SIGURD’S CHAMBERS

Sigurd gazed down at his hands, staring blankly into the distance as his mind tore itself apart with guilt.

His clothes were still stained with numerous splatters of Gjuki’s blood, and even though Aegenwulf finally decided to spare his life, Sigurd remained trapped in a pit of remorse, suddenly feeling an urgent desire to return home.

...What had he done? What had the Saxons turned him into? Was his mind even his own anymore? What would Eivor think about all this?

Only a handful of weeks had drifted by ever since Sigurd first washed up on Agenbury’s shore, and yet, the man felt as if a lifetime separated him from the past. He hardly recognized himself anymore after everything that had occurred, and considering how things were unfolding so far, part of him wished Edlynne had left him at the river.

He didn’t deserve to be here, or in Valhalla. Backstabbers such as himself belonged in the darkest depths of Helheim, and Sigurd had no idea how he was going to face his brother once all this was over. 

He wanted nothing more than to reunite with the fragments that remained of his family, but in light of recent events, Sigurd was now beginning to question his true motives, and how much survival really meant to him.

It would’ve been a dream come true to see Eivor’s face again, that much was true, but what would it matter if Sigurd didn’t even return as the same man? His brother was fighting to bring back the sibling he grew up with back in Fornburg, and yet, Sigurd felt as if he had become a total stranger.

There was barely anything left of the person he once was, and with Algar’s influence constantly digging deeper into the ealdorman’s mind, Sigurd didn’t even want to think about what he’d have to do to survive in the future.

Things were bad enough as it was. Any worse, and all Hell would break loose.

“Sigurd.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, the viking suddenly realized he wasn’t alone in his chambers and spotted Edric standing in front of him, trying to get his attention.

His brow was furrowed deeply in frustration, and judging by the weary look he wore on his face, Sigurd assumed he had just walked away from some sort of argument. Probably with Aegenwulf himself.

Sigurd glanced up at the man, still somewhat lost in shock. “...Edric? What are you doing here?”

The Saxon frowned in sympathy. “I apologize for intruding like this, but there’s something important you need to know. A decision was made after you left the throne room. Before I tell you about it, though... I wanted to see how you were doing first. That trial was just...” Edric sighed in disgust, “...well, you know.”

He took a seat next to the Norseman, bowing his head low in exhaustion.

“God, what an absolute mess. I knew my father had changed, but I never realized just how unhinged he was. What on earth was he thinking? Forcing two men to fight like a pair of animals. Jesus... if the Danes didn’t hate us before, they certainly will now.”

Edric turned to Sigurd, switching to a gentler tone. “I’m so sorry, Sigurd. If I had known what my father intended, I would’ve stepped in sooner. I would’ve tried to speak with him. I would’ve--”

“--You’re not to blame.” The viking replied, his voice cold with anger. “You did everything you could.”

The other man let out a breath. “Maybe. I just wish it would’ve been enough. I mean, I’m glad to see you alive, but... my God. That poor man. What was his name. Gjuki? What the hell did they do to him?”

“I feared he had already been killed,” Sigurd admitted. “But now, I’m starting to think that would’ve been a better fate.”

“No one deserves what he went through,” Edric agreed. “I still can’t believe my father would allow all this. He used to be so kind, and compassionate. He was always a firm man, but he never indulged in such cruelty. What’s happened to him?”

It didn’t take long for Sigurd to provide an answer. “Your father is no more than a pawn for Algar to use. You wish to eradicate the corruption in Wedenscire? You must get rid of him first.”

Edric picked up on his tone. “Why? Have you learned something?”

The viking nodded. “Before Gjuki drew his last breath, he revealed to me what he found in Algar’s crypt. Apparently, the man is part of the Order of the Ancients. His alias among them is The Colossus.”

Edric displayed a puzzled look. “The Order of the Ancients? I’ve never heard of them. Have you?”

“Yes, actually. Though, my knowledge on them is far from abundant. Before my clan was attacked, my brother pursued some of their members who were operating in Lunden. I also know there are many others spread across England and Norway. They worship a god whose name I’ve never heard, and their motives remain a mystery to me. I have no idea why they would be interested in your father, or how Gareth is connected to all this.”

The nobleman slid a hand down his face. “Christ Almighty. What has my family gotten itself into? I’m not familiar with this organization, Sigurd, but I’ll do whatever I can to learn more about them. If they’re as widespread as you say, there must be something we can find. Something that can put Algar down for good.”

“Just... tread carefully.” Sigurd warned. “Gjuki was on the same path as you before Algar captured him. I don’t want you to share his fate. There’s also the fact that he’ll likely be even more protective of his secrets now that someone has infiltrated his crypt.”

“Of course. I’ll be as discreet as possible.”

The viking decided to switch topics. “Well, enough about that. I’d rather not spare another thought on that bacraut after everything that’s happened. You mentioned you had something else you wanted to discuss?”

Edric sighed. “Right. You’re not going to like it. It’s... Bishop Hundwerth.”

Sigurd leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “What has he done now?”

“He insists that you convert to Christianity. I told him it wasn’t necessary, but I’m afraid Lady Moira’s voice overpowered mine. My father’s decided that you’re to be baptized tomorrow morning, and recognized as a man of God.”

“But I already proved my loyalty,” the other man argued, his tone sharp with bitterness. “Wasn’t that the whole point of pitting me against my own friend? Or was that simply for their entertainment?”

Edric shared Sigurd’s annoyance. “That’s not how the bishop sees it. In his eyes, the only thing you proved is that you’re willing to murder one of your own if it means saving yourself. You may have given your word that you won’t betray us again, but for Hundwerth, the word of a pagan holds little merit. He’d rather trust the promise of a Christian.”

The Norseman rose from his bed, pacing around the room. “So it’s not enough that they torture my people and force me to slay them? Now I must also abandon my gods?”

The Saxon bowed his head in shame. “I’m sorry, Sigurd. The unfairness of this situation isn’t lost on me, but I’m afraid there’s not much else I can do. My words seem to fall on deaf ears nowadays.”

“...It’s not your fault. You’ve already done more than enough for me.” Sigurd placed his hands on his hips, gazing out the window. “I suppose there’s no use in fighting it now. I’ve seen the kind of punishment that awaits me if I resist. I do not wish to leave my gods behind, but...” his voice softened with heartache, “...if this is the cost of survival, then... I’ll do it. I need to get back home alive. I need to see my brother again.”

Edric’s head jerked up in confusion. “Your brother? I thought he was dead.”

“So did I, but Gjuki informed me of his survival not too long ago. He was the only thing keeping us in touch. Now that he’s gone, I’m at a loss as to how I’ll contact my brother again should the need arise.”

The young man stood up from the bed and stepped behind Sigurd, resting an affectionate hand on his arm.

“...We will get through this, Sigurd.” He whispered reassuringly. “I know it can be easy to forget, but you’re not alone in these walls. You have Edlynne, Joseph, Raedan... and me. We’re here for you.” 

The viking held onto Edric’s hand and turned around to face him, finding a sense of solace in his words.

“Thank you, Edric. These are dire times, but your kindness won’t be forgotten in the days to come.” Sigurd pulled the young man close, pecking a kiss on his forehead. “I’m glad I have you at my side.”

Edric smiled in his embrace, resting his head on the man’s chest. “As am I.” 

Falling into silence, the two of them simply stood there for a moment and savored each other’s company, attempting to cling onto any shred of comfort they could find. The entire castle had descended into disarray after Aegenwulf’s unpopular decision to spare Sigurd, and with Bishop Hundwerth preparing for the upcoming baptism, it seemed like peace in Forangal was naught but a distant memory.

There was arguing, debating, contempt, scorn -- and seeing as how Gjuki’s head was now displayed on a pike, Edric imagined that the war with the Danes would only erupt. 

It was Hell on earth inside Forangal’s walls, but with Sigurd there to protect him from any threats, Edric was able to feel some sense of security. It meant nothing to him that the man was a Dane, or a pagan rather than a Christian. He knew Sigurd to be good at heart, and frankly, despite what he expected, he trusted him more than his own father these days. 

He only prayed that the tides of fate would be merciful in the near future. If he were to lose Sigurd to the chaos that was beginning to unravel, Edric didn’t know how he would proceed. That man was the only one willing to help him look into Gareth’s death, and if his instincts were correct, then Algar was at the center of it all.

He would need all the help he could get in order to take that beast down, and if that meant they had to fight for just a little longer, then Edric was willing to endure it. He just didn’t know where to start.

~~~~~~~~~~

TWO DAYS LATER

ELMENHAM, EAST ANGLIA

Galloping towards the longhouse at full speed, Broder frantically stormed his way back to Eivor as rain heavily poured down from the clouds above, shrouding everything in a bleak darkness.

He had been running for his life ever since Algar cornered Gjuki at the crypt, and with the majority of their group now lying dead in the mud, Broder had no intentions of returning to Wedenscire until Eivor himself marched for the gates of Forangal.

He hated the idea of leaving Sigurd behind to deal with his troubles alone, but considering how erratic the ealdorman had become recently, Broder was no longer willing to risk it. Not on his own, at least.

He saw for himself what the Saxons did to Gjuki, and how they treated his corpse. He may have been eager to help Eivor reunite with his brother, but Broder had his own siblings to look out for, and the last thing he wanted was to end up being a mounted head for some Saxon nobleman.

He just hoped he wasn’t too late.

Yanking on the reins of his horse, Broder came to a screeching halt as the animal’s hooves went dragging through the mud, causing the steed to let out a panicked neigh. His body was aching terribly with fatigue thanks to the long journey, but even then, the viking refused to take a break. His mind had been trapped in a perpetual state of alarm ever since Gjuki’s death, and he was adamant to get the news back to Eivor.

Rushing to the entrance of the longhouse, Broder trudged through the storm and practically bashed the doors open, ignoring the curious stares he received from scattered civilians. 

Even though the rain had washed away most of the blood staining his armor, he still remained quite a sight to behold and traipsed through Elmenham’s fields like a walking corpse rising from its grave.

Once inside, Broder spotted Eivor conversing with Oswald and Valdis as the three of them discussed the war, clearly devising some sort of plan. Their voices were nearly inaudible underneath the relentless howls of the wind, but in spite of the interference, their heads still jolted in Broder’s direction upon his obtrusive entrance, causing them to let out a unanimous gasp.

“Brother!” Valdis greeted with relief. “You’ve returned.” Her expression instantly dimmed. “...Are you well? You look awful.”

The man jogged up to them, doing his best not to collapse on the spot. 

“Eivor...!” Broder exclaimed, somewhat out of breath. “There you are. I... I...”

“Easy, drengr,” Eivor said in a calming tone. “Slow down. Tell me what’s going on.”

Broder took a moment to get his bearings, finally recovering from the treacherous ride home.

“...Gjuki’s dead, Eivor.”

Valdis’ eyes widened in horror. “What? What do you mean he’s dead? What happened?”

Broder decided to spare them the details. “We were searching a hidden crypt in Wedenscire, not too far away from Forangal. We thought there might’ve been clues inside, and there were, but...”

Eivor urged him on. “But what?”

The other man shook his head in regret. “It was the ealdorman’s housecarl. An argr snake called Algar. He captured Gjuki and slaughtered the rest of our men. I was the only one who managed to escape.”

Oswald caught onto his last words. “Wait, he captured Gjuki? So he didn’t kill him immediately?”

“No,” Broder confirmed. “Algar took him to the dungeons.”

An alarming thought struck Eivor’s mind. “Wait, what about Sigurd? Where is he now? Is he alright?”

A dour look spread across Broder’s face. “He’s alive, but... Gods. It was madness, Eivor. When Algar took Gjuki in, it didn’t take him long to realize that he was working with Sigurd, so the ealdorman held a trial. They were willing to spare your brother’s life in spite of his crimes, but he had to do something in exchange. He had to kill Gjuki.”

Eivor froze at the news. 

“...Sigurd... killed him?”

“Yes. He did not wish to, but the Saxons left him no choice. It was either him or Gjuki. He chose to comply in the end.” Broder turned to his sister. “...I tried everything I could to save him, Valdis. I did. But it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry.”

The woman crossed her arms, trying to hide her pain. “I--” she choked up, “--oh, Gjuki...”

Broder hesitated to get the last part of his report out. He hated to constantly be the bearer of bad news, but he knew it was necessary.

“...There is one more thing, Eivor. While we were in the crypt, we learned that Algar was part of the Order. There were a series of letters between him and some of the other members in their organization, but he’s burned them all now.”

Oswald paused. “A member of the Order? In Wedenscire? Are you certain?”

“Indeed. They call him The Colossus.”

Eivor mindlessly clenched his fist in response to the report and brought his attention to the king, unable to conceal the fire raging in his eyes.

“Oswald, we must march on Forangal now. We have enough allies.”

The Saxon hesitated. “You’ve rallied a decent army, Eivor, but I’m still not certain if it’ll be sufficient. Forangal is a hefty fortress armed with many defenses. If we’re not careful, it could result in total obliteration.”

“We don’t have time to forge anymore alliances!” The viking argued. “Sigurd needs us. Now. Those Saxons have already butchered Gjuki, and they have the Order among them. It won’t be much longer until my brother is the one on their chopping block. We need to get him out of there as soon as possible.”

Oswald remained unswayed. “I understand your urgency, Eivor, but we must approach this realistically. Not many people walk away from Forangal with their lives, and for good reason. We only have one chance to do this right. Better to wait a little longer and ensure we’re prepared, rather than march straight to our deaths.”

The king turned to Broder. “You were there, Broder. What’s your opinion on the situation in Wedenscire? Can Sigurd afford to wait?”

The man furrowed his brow in uncertainty. “I... I don’t know, my lord. It’s difficult to say. He’s managed to survive thus far, but his captives have become unpredictable recently. Relentless. They’ve even forced Sigurd to convert to Christianity.”

That took Oswald by surprise. “What? When did this happen?”

“Just after Gjuki died. I overheard the nobles in the castle speaking of a baptism before I left. One of them was against the conversion, but the rest decided to go through with it.”

Eivor’s expression flattened with frustration. “You see? We must go now. Before they try anything else. I’m done cowering in the shadows.”

“But what if--”

“--Eivor’s right.” Valdis jumped in. “Those people are animals, Oswald. You’ve seen for yourself what they did to the Raven Clan; what they did to Randvi. If there’s any chance we can save Sigurd from the same fate, we need to take it. We’ve idled for long enough.”

Oswald was at a loss for words. “...I really don’t know how this is going to work, you all. We have enough forces to put up a decent fight, but... assaulting Forangal Castle? That’s a completely different story.”

Broder offered his own thoughts. “Do not be so quick to dismiss the unlikely, my lord. It happens more often than you think. Those are Gjuki’s words. Not mine.”

“Have faith in our strength, husband.” Valdis continued. “We are warriors. Drengir. Children of Odin. We were born and bred for this sort of thing. We will not fall so easily to these Saxons. Let us go.”

Oswald fell silent at his friends’ arguments and sighed in defeat, conflicted on what to do next.

On one hand, he sympathized with Eivor’s eagerness to storm Forangal’s gates, but on the other, he honestly didn’t know if their soldiers could survive such an endeavor. Their army was just large enough that the plan could’ve succeeded with the help of a miracle, but despite his youth, Oswald was world-weary enough to know that battles typically didn’t favor the disadvantaged.

Anything could’ve gone wrong during this assault. Aegenwulf could’ve had more forces than they anticipated, an ambush could’ve stopped them along the way, or -- worst case scenario -- Sigurd could’ve already been dead. There was an abundance of unknowns lurking around the corner, and with so many risks obscuring the path ahead, Oswald wasn’t sure if war was the answer. At least, not for now.

Still, he feared what could’ve happened to Sigurd if they waited too long. Based on Broder’s report, it sounded like the man was going through hell at the moment. If there was any opportunity for them to rescue him from Aegenwulf’s clutches, Oswald felt complied to seize it. 

Eivor did the same for him when he was taken prisoner at Burgh Castle, so it only seemed right to return the favor.

“...Alright, you three.” Oswald finally agreed. “We’ll march on Forangal Castle as soon as we are able. Eivor, summon your allies. Tell them to meet us here. When they’ve arrived, we’ll begin making our way to Wedenscire. In the meantime, the rest of us will focus on the assault. My troops are yours to command as well.”

The viking gave him a firm nod. “Thank you, Oswald. I won’t fail you.”

“I have confidence in your abilities. I just hope that it’ll be enough. As for the rest of you...” 

Oswald linked his hands together behind his back. “Get some rest. And prepare as much as you can. We don’t know what sort of resistance we’ll face in Wedenscire, but I think it’s safe to assume that our forces will be stretched thin. Do everything in your ability to ensure you are ready for this assault, and keep your guard up. We have evidence that the Order of the Ancients is involved now, so Lord only knows what Algar will have up his sleeve.”

Broder stepped in. “I’ll join the assault too.”

“No,” Oswald refused. “you need to rest. You’ve been through enough.”

“With all due respect, your Majesty, Gjuki is dead because of my incompetence. Out of honor, I cannot simply sit by and watch while your people risk their lives for a mistake I made. I’m still here because of that man. This is the least I can do for him.”

The king decided to grant him permission. “...Very well, then. I expect to see you at Forangal. As for you two, spread word of the assault to our soldiers. I want them to be prepared as well.”

Eivor nodded. “As you wish.”

“Good. Then let’s get to work. Sigurd’s life depends on our efficiency, and there’s no telling what will happen once Aegenwulf realizes who’s behind the assault. From what I understand, the man is growing more and more unstable by the day. Brace yourselves for anything... and may your gods watch over you all.”

[jq37]

The Royal Report– A Crown of Candy Ep 13 Family Ties

Regroup

Welcome back to Candia, y’all.

As the cast tries to get a handle on their giggles from whatever shenanigans happened off-screen between episodes, the PCs land back at the monastery of the Spinning Star. All the rescued civilians are grateful and the monks help to patch them up. The group is a little worried their enemies will follow them through the standing stones but only a high level Candian magic user would be able to do that so they’re probably fine. They also learn that all the weapons they stole are basically +1 to attack magical items--not useful to them but maybe for their allies.  

Spearia tends to Joren (and we’re cursed with the phrase “wrist milk”) and then goes Full Mom Mode on Liam with a several minutes long hug. Theo joins the hug so he can ask Spearia if she knows any other Druids that could do that transportation (she doesn’t know of any in Buzzybrook but there could always be others she doesn’t know about) which turns into a discussion about the SPF. Ruby thinks the SPF is on their side but the others are more wary and Rina, as before, is specifically against her. She says the SPF gets her powers from the Bulb and the sharp division between the two is just a kind of distraction from the bigger issue. Ruby calls it a conspiracy theory (though Theo says Lazuli believed something similar) and stalks off. Amethar runs after her but, en route, stops to have a conversation with Joren. 

He tells Joren that Rina is queen now and that he (as in both of them really) need to start doing the smart thing and not just the tough thing. Joren razzes him about the new attitude until Amethar says that Jet is dead which turns him sympathetic and basically gets him on board--it’s not the fight Liam was anticipating. He says that they’re gonna have to make a big show about recognizing Rina if this is gonna work and asks if they have any allies who can vouch. Amethar says the Dairy Islands are with them and they have a crazy plan that involves getting the Book of Leaves (St. Citrina’s Lasso of Truth book).

Theo runs to catch up with Joren and Amethar but, on the way there, catches Ruby and says they need to stick together. Then the three guys go and find Rina. They basically bend the knee to her and say they’re at her service. Rina is not as excited as you might think though. She accepts the endorsement while barely holding back tears, saying that she’s aware the support doesn’t come with enthusiasm but she appreciates it all the same. Then she goes with Gooey back to her contingent of followers to celebrate with them, not seeming like she’s in a celebratory mood at all. 

Cumulus and Liam have gone to the library of the monastery to try and dig into the info they grabbed during the fight and Ruby goes to talk to Liam. She confides in him that she thinks this plan sucks because even if they are able to get Rina onto the throne, it still means they win on the terms of their enemies. They’re still working within the system and the people who killed Jet and killed Preston don’t pay for anything. Liam says he’s still super down for killing all of these people and he really doesn’t think the plan is gonna work. He thinks it’s going to end in war either way. They try to decipher the map but it’s hard and they recruit the monks to help work on it overnight. 

Snicker-Snack talks to Cumulus and says--echoing his own thoughts--that Rina is crazy powerful and a possible heir to Lazuli’s title of Archmage. He wonders if they should swear themselves to her the way they were sworn to Lazuli. Cumulus thinks it might be a good idea and Snicker-Snack says that it’s Cumulus’s call since he’s the most senior monk.

Theo finds Rina again and asks if she thinks they’re in danger of getting ambushed by the SPF. Rina (after getting a head shake from Brennan) says no, not this night but she is worried that the SPF is working with the Bulb. She and her guys will be up all night keeping watch (and partying) so he can, “Go back to [his] family.”

Brain Food

In the morning, the monks have finished looking through all of the info the PCs stole last episode which means it’s time for a good old fashioned info dump. There’s a lot happening so I broke it into sections:

Military Movements

The south of Candia has been totally taken over by Calroy and his guys. He’s fully posted in Castle Candy and every state except for the Dairy Islands has recognized him as a legitimate ruler. 

The only non-traitor Candian troops are basically all at the Great Stone Candy Mountains (bc they were on route to help Jawbreaker). 

As in Ruby’s vision from Lazuli, the invasion of Castle Candy did fall apart due to discord. Specifically, it was a mix of Plumbeline’s troops and Bulbian troops and because the Pontifex held the position that there could be no Concord without all of the states of the OG Concord under the terms of the OG agreement (meaning including Candia) Plumbeline said, “Fine. If there’s no Concord, there’s no reason I have to help you,” and she withdrew her troops. 

So, to be clear, Calroy did a coup. The Imperial soldiers that are there are not there to invade Candia. They’re there doing peacekeeping stuff. The non-Imperial bread soldiers are Ciabatta’s men--he went home post spy session with the girls and used the info he stole to assassinate all the obstacles between him and being dictator for life and then decided an invasion of Candia was a good way to keep the peoples’ approval. Candia was picked for no reason other than it was a sitting duck due to all the other insane stuff that’s going on (chief or which is loss of Concord protection). And the church is there cause...actually, let me start another heading for this because it’s a doozy.

The Bulbian Church

The Pontifex has decided that the Ramsian Doctrine is in full effect. The reason they’re in Candia is because they’ve called a crusade. 

Kerradin has a fancy new title--Mace of the Faith--and is leading it.

She’s called open season on all Candians--not just soldiers, literally anybody. She’s calling for a full genocide. The church’s policy is, if you kill a Candian, your soul is saved. If you destroy Candian standing stones, your soul and your family’s souls are saved. It’s real chilling shit. 

There’s been pushback from bishops and archbishops about the policy--obviously Candian ones but from other countries as well--saying that they can’t support this and please can she reconsider (they can’t really be more forceful than that without risking being killed themselves). 

Calroy, sensing the way the wind is blowing, has sent out an official statement saying that he renounced his pagan ways and wants to be re-baptized into the Bulbian faith.

We learn that the reason the Pontifex is being difficult with Plumbeline about the technicalities of the Concord agreement and why it can’t just be back on is because she wants to stay in limbo for as long as possible so she has a chance to also call a crusade against the Meatlands--both for being so openly pagan and for the killing of Archbishop Raddica (mentioned in I think episode 3).  

There was a lot of money that the crew ignored while looting last episode and that was money to be used to pay Meatlander mercenaries apparently. 

Group Dynamics

So Calroy is kind of courting all three camps here. As I said before, he’s agreeing with the crusade and saying he wants to be baptized to court the church.

Cal is also saying to Ceresia that a crusade is needed to cleanse Candia and a new Concord could be formed if Ceresia were to conquer it and make it a part of Ceresia. Ciabatta in an intercepted letter says that Cal could possibly be governor of Candia as a province of Cersia--exactly what he wants. 

Whenever Calroy talks about the new Concord, he mentions a Concordant *Empress* who could be anyone, which also gives Plumbeline what she wants. He’s basically like that Always Sunny clip about playing both sides so he always comes out on top. 

Everyone is planning a meeting to talk about logistics and a new Concord and all that but Ciabatta doesn’t want to meet in Comida or Vegetania after the whole deal with his name being spoken and rejected by the Book of Leaves. Cal has opened Castle Candy as a meeting place. 

The Pontifex is bringing Kerradin and guards to protect her and the Book of Leaves to make sure there’s no funny business happening (ie: Cal conspiring privately with Plumbeline or something). 

And, to be clear, none of these people seem to like or trust each other. It’s all a matter of being able to use each other for mutual benefit. There’s lots of evidence of discord and resentment. [To that point, here is some very dope art.]

Misc.

The various baddies haven’t been able to figure out watersteel--it seems that Alfredi left something out of her notes and took the secret to her grave. They did figure out the bread constructs though as we saw last episode. 

There are notes about the Sanctus Putris which is a church doctrine that runs counter to the Ramsian Doctrine and it says that to keep the Hungry One at bay, there has to be a certain level of rot in the world.

There is a letter between Onionpatch and the Sanctus Putris dudes saying that they have located the home of the SPF (the Ice Cream Temple) and will get there tomorrow (as in tmrw from their POV). 

Finally, rumors of Rina are floating around and the policy is basically, “Who cares if she exists or if she’s legit or not? If you see her, kill her.” So Emily has gone from being a huge target to...being a huge target. That’s what happens when you play two heir apparents in a row.

And deep exhale. That was A Lot.

Gameplan 

Joren thinks the best plan is to get all their armies together and publicly take the knee to Rina at Manylicks to help legitimize her. Ruby, again, is against this plan because it would mean, at least on paper, being on the same side as Ciabatta. Spearia gets where she’s coming from but says it’s just to get things settled and they can always leave the Concord again once they’re back in control.

Gooey brings up the meeting everyone is gonna be at and Liam suggests getting someone from the Meatlands there so they can force the Pontifex to say on the Book of Leaves that they’re her next target, winning them an ally. Rina pipes up that she has allies in the Meatlands so maybe she can help arrange that. Jawbreaker also wants to just spread the word that Rina exists to make things more politically complicated and give the Dairy Islands (and possibly the Meatlands) a legit reason to side with them/stop the Imperials since the Concord will be back on. 

Rina, unprompted, says again that she doesn’t care about the throne, she’s just anti-Bulb and pro magic. Cara and Ruby kinda glance at each other while that is going on.

At this point, Jawbreaker is fully on board with her and toasts to her as queen. Liam warns her about the target on her back but she says she grew up abused by Bulbian nuns. She can handle herself. Cumulus also officially pledges the service of the Spinning Star monks to her. She’s just picking up allies left and right.

Anyway, Jawbreaker, Spearia, and the rescued townsfolk plan to go for Manylicks to rally the troops. Spearia asks for an escort so they send Jack and his sailors to protect them. Before they leave, Liam has a heart to heart with his dad about how war changes you and forcing yourself to be hard so others get to be soft in which Joren finally calls him the correct name.

Cumulus thinks that, if a crusade is happening, the monastery will be a big target so it makes sense for the monks to gather the artifacts and hang with Rina’s marauders for a bit. They also decide to disassemble the teleportation circle once they leave so they’re more secure.

Ruby and Amethar are up on the parapets of the monastery kinda doing that thing where you’re not fully talking but just being like, “*Huge Sigh*”/”Yeahhhhh” with someone you’re close to. Cara shows up and says she’s going with Jawbreaker and his people to Manylicks while the PCs go for the Ice Cream Temple. Ruby asks how long she’s known magic and Cara says Lazuli taught her. Ruby asks why she never taught them and Cara says she was going to when they matured but since they never did, she didn’t want to give them more tools to run away with. Ruby says maybe they wouldn’t have run away so much if she’d trusted them. Cara basically takes psychic damage from that and Rina, who is near enough that she can see what’s happening, catches her attention for some sympathetic eye contact because she knows what that feels like.

Amethar asks for a moment alone with Ruby and apologies for having been a bad dad. Ruby protests that he hasn’t been one but he insists that he has and says that he hasn’t known what to do to help her process Jet’s death. Ruby says it’s not his fault and there’s nothing he can do. The fact of the matter is she was never alone and now she’ll always be alone. Amethar says that’s not true. She won’t be alone because he’s there for her and Jet still is too, though in a different way. He can’t stand watching her push her friends away at every turn. He asks her to please, just be here with them. Ruby breaks down a little and says that she had to run away as the most important person in the world to her died and the only way she can even begin to live with that is by getting revenge. Oh don’t worry, Amethar says. They will be killing *all* of those people.

Sickly Sweet

The team to raid the Ice Cream Temple is comprised of the PCs plus Swifty, Jon Bon, and Gooey (who is having some mutually confusing dom/sub sexual tension with Theo which is a sentence I hate to type but posterity is the main goal here so I don’t have much of a choice now do I). They teleport as close as they can (the monks disassembling the teleportation mechanism once they get there) and then it’s still another 2-3 hours to get there. It’s very cold, like the Himalayas and everyone takes cold damage just by being there. Rina (Invisible) and Cumulus (tied to a rope held by Theo) are up front to try and keep everyone else from triggering traps as they walk up the steps. 

They eventually come upon gates in front of an arch and a hallway with a huge locked doorway in front of it. And there is a symbol of a huge spoon in front of the door. Rina passes Winterscoop in front of it and it opens. They follow her down the hallway and Cumulus triggers a trap when he takes point but Rina, holding Winterscoop, learns that if she takes the lead, she auto-disarms the traps. 

As they walk down the hall, Rina sees the eyes of the SPF and hears her voice in her head, “I can’t see you, but I know you’re here.” The SPF says the temple was made by those like her (Rina) but she (the SPF) is the only one who’s been there for quite some time and her pupils narrow to slits. 

Amethar sees an image of Saphria who says, “Long way from home, brother,” before disappearing. 

Because of how well lit the hallway is, Ruby currently has no shadow. 

Liam, as they walk, smells a quick whiff of hot chocolate and cinnamon.

They get to the end of the hallway which branches off into three directions: there’s a staircase going up to a door (marked with the Sucrosi symbol for the SPF which Ruby recognizes because Laz shows up as a quick vision and tells her and Theo recognizes as having appeared in the sky before the battle that killed Laz--Rina also recognizes it and it is the SPF’s actual name, not one of her titles, so it seems possibly magically significant), to the right there’s some weird combo of illusion and conjuration magic which makes them think that there’s a combo of true things and tricks and like maybe some of the stuff they’ve been seeing out of the corners of their eyes as they’ve traveled would be there, and to the left there’s a locked door marked armory. 

Ruby uses her thieves' tools and Mage Hand to get the armory door open and it turns out it’s actually a library (which everyone but Theo is disappointed about). Inside, they find a book in Bulbosi that’s filled with with ancient spirits of the other realms--the Jolly Giant, the Hamburger Helper, and (at Emily’s prompting) Wonder Bread. It’s basically a checklist of magical spirits from the other kingdoms that the church has destroyed and further proof that Candia isn’t more inherently magical than anyplace else. They’ve just fought to protect their magic. 

On the last page, there’s again mention of the Dracoria Azucar with an inverted symbol of the SPF covered in spikes and surrounded by magic and then in the middle of the page a chocolate egg which Rina tells Liam is what they’re there for. 

The book suddenly slams shut and flies away. Outside, they hear the door at the top of the stairs open. They get out and walk up the stairs into this chamber at the heart of the mountain. It's a massive room with huge icicles coming down, dim light, and a ton of mist. They're kind of on a platform suspended above a bunch of emptiness. In the middle, there's a tower of frozen ice cream scoops and at the center is a small opening. Surrounding it and floating around it are huge freezer burned ice cream cones and popsicles. At the top of the tower, frozen into it is a chocolate egg (a chocolate smear inside the ice indicating that it was incredibly hot). 

The SPF appears in front of them in her cute glamour bearing the mended teacup, the note from Lapin, and the heartseed Liam left for Preston. She thanks them for coming and apologizes that she can’t bring Jet back but says now she can bring them to Jet. Ruby asks what that means and she suddenly sees figures in the mist--4 adult women with a younger adult woman along with a figure that looks like Amethar’s dad. There’s a brightly colored road made of illusory light going from where they are, down into the mist. The SPF says it’s a pure Candy-only place and she can take them there. The church means to burn everything sweet out of the world forever and this is the only way to keep them safe. She’s taken a lot of other spirits there already and everyone they’ve lost and love will be waiting for them and they’ll be together forever. 

Amethar openly expresses suspicion at the SPF and the SPF says she’s only using the glamour to make them feel more comfortable. Rina says she’d like to see the SPF’s true form and the SPF says, “I bet you would,” seeming ticked off that she has Winterscoop. She compares Rina to Lazuli who wanted to take everything that made Candia special and let it get used and abused by the rabble (her opinion, not mine). Look how that turned out for the Jolly Giant and the Hamburger Helper.

Ruby, in Twinspeak, asks the misty figure of Jet, “Are you real?”

The Jet in the Mist (played by Emily who is on the spot drafted by Brennan to be Jet once again for this moment) says (with the knowledge to back it up), “It’s true, but I don’t know if it’s good.”

With that answer, Ruby gives the SPF a placid thanks but no. She’s grateful that she’s been protecting the magic of Candia but they need it now to keep Candia safe. The SPF says that that’s what she’s doing. If they go into the mist, they’ll be safe. No, says Ruby. If they go into the mist, they’ll be dead. The SPF doesn’t see a difference. Safe and dead? Safe and alive? To-may-to, To-mah-to.

“Are you mad at me?” the SPF asks, childlike.

“No,” Ruby says, evenly. 

The SPF says she’s only ever tried to help. She sent Lapin to protect them even though she knew he’d die and they’d lose everything because she knew they wouldn’t come unless they lost everything.

Ruby pauses for a second that feels like ten minutes.

“Did you kill my sister?”

The SPF looks slightly sheepish. “Would you have come here if she was still alive?”

Ruby does the only thing she can do. She pulls her bow.

Looks like someone just jumped Ciabatta in her to-kill list everybody. See you next week! 

Things I’m Concerned About

I mentioned this in an ask but I’m concerned Cara is about to pull a Cat’s in the Cradle--meaning, she keeps getting brushed off so I’m worried she’s gonna get really hurt and the PCs will suddenly care and it’ll be too late. This fear is based on nothing except what I would do to be mean to my players. I have a semi-similar fear about Rina but I’m gonna let that sit for a bit.

Ruby. Girl. I know what you’ve just been through but...girl. Please be smart here.

I never love a battle map you can fall off of. That always gives me anxiety--especially when your enemy can fly so it’s not equal footing so to speak.

I feel like “concerned” is a bit of a weak word to describe my feelings on a genocide but I named this section during episode 1 before I knew where things were going so yeah. Bad.

Everyone the group hates being in one place is hypothetically very good but also has the potential to be VERY bad depending on how it plays out.

I really wanna know what the Sanctus Putris is planning is to at the Temple. How aligned are they with the mainstream church? Their main tenant runs pretty counter to what they’re doing right now. Are they potential allies? Why would they be communicating with Onionpatch, known close confidant for the Pontifex? Were they trying to sway her with something there?

Five More Things

Woah! Oh man, that whole last scene with Ruby and the SPF? The music? The tension? The constant, calm No’s from Ruby until the SPF Said That and then the instant switch into Terminator mode? What a scene ender y’all! When I watched it again for this recap, I knew what was coming and it still bodied me. The immediacy with which Ruby/Siobhan grasped the, “This is death” thing was so impressive to me. I loved everything about that last 5 mins. So it seems like the SPF is the one who set up that letter. She might have been posing as Cara in that moment, or maybe it was a full illusion--that seems to be her school of magic. I knew this Fae was shady but man! Can you imagine the world where Lapin is still alive at this point? Would love to know his take on this.   

There’s a bit I didn’t mention in the recap when they get back initially and Brennan tries to have the NPCs overrule the PCs on the cuteness levels of the corn monster from last ep that is so funny. Nothing like ganging up on the literal god of the universe you’re playing in. Also funny is him going, “No Zac, this is good,” when he starts listing out the other house spirits/brand names. Gotta love having a captive audience for your carefully constructed nonsense. 

OK, so question. What exactly is Calroy’s plan with the church, huh? Because, you can get baptized all you want, you’re still cake my dude. Is he hoping they’ll let him, what? Die of old age while slaughtering his people? Yikes. 

When Swifty opened his mouth the first time I was like, “Absolutely not,” but now I kind of love him?

So we learn in this ep that all other spirits get their powers from the Bulb or the Hungry One ultimately which is interesting conceptually. “Power is neutral except for how you use it,” is cool and also generally correct imo. Rina mentions the SPF, “Working with the Bulb” at some point and do you think she means the Bulb or the church? Because the Bulb is mindless but she doesn’t necessarily know that. And if she means the church that would also be wild considering what we learned this ep. 

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

My experience within the hierarchy of the Moon cult during its years of expansion in Russia and in the CIS

▲ Mikhail Gorbachev at the Kremlin. Sun Myung Moon and Hak Ja Han are on the right.

by Lev Semenov Russian University professor, ex-Unification Church member, and Priest

A presentation given to FECRIS in Brussels on April 26, 2006
 (lightly edited for readability; some corrections made)

Dear ladies and gentlemen!

I spent six and half years in the Moon cult. Having become a member on July 1, 1990 I signed an application for a total break-up with the cult on October 14, 1996. During this period of time, I was promoted from being an ordinary member all the way up in the cult hierarchy in the CIS and Baltic countries. During my numerous public presentations since I left the cult, my audience would most frequently ask two questions: How I had entered the cult and why I had left it.  Anticipating these questions now, I would like to answer them briefly in the first part of my presentation.

In June 1990 – while I was an associate professor at Tver State University – I was urgently called by the deputy rector who offered for me to take part in a conference in Sofia. Thus, I was officially sent to Bulgaria to an introductory seminar of the Unification Movement. I considered myself a Christian, but just as a vast number of Soviet people, I hadn’t been baptized. So, since I was not a practicing Christian, I certainly wasn’t able to reason and act as a real Christian. Hence when studying the New Testament I was not treating it as Holy Scripture, but just as any other historical text. It seemed to me that I could allow for unlimited freedom of interpretation. It explains why, when I came across a very untraditional treatment of the Bible in the Moon followers’ workshop, it seemed to me a curious play of mind. This unusual interpretation was interesting to me from a Biblical historiography point of view.

The second reason was due to the fact that I felt sympathy for dissidents in Soviet times and disliked the communist ideology. When I learned that Moon was called “the first, that is the main, anticommunist on the planet,” it had awakened my deep sympathy for him and a wish to join his movement.

Within just a few months, I was appointed a National Educational Department Advisor, then an Inter-religious Relations Department Director, I joined the Unification Church Board in Russia, and finally during my last two and half years, I was Vice President of this Board. Twice I was officially offered to be the head of this Board.

How did my disenchantment with Moonism start and why did I delay my break with the cult for so long?

The higher I climbed up the hierarchical ladder, the fewer secrets remained for me in the “inner kitchen” of the cult. I was discovering the hypocrisy and insincerity of its leaders. The last “straw” that broke camel’s back was a new task that I was given. The cult leaders felt Moon’s teaching was deeply alien to Russian cultural tradition. In order to convince Russians to the contrary, I was given the task to become the leader of a group of authors. Our mission was to create a book on the history of Russian culture. In this book, we had to find whatever possible points of Russian tradition that could be associated with Moon’s ideas. Russia saw the Orthodox Church as the base for its culture for a whole millennium. That is why I started studying the Holy Fathers’ Works. The depth of their thought amazed me. At the same time, it made clear to me the primitiveness of Moon’s theology. These are therefore the complementing answers to the question why I had decided to quit Moonism.

The reason why I had not done it immediately will be seen later. I realized that I had made a mistake and had joined a terrible cult. But I understood that I had to redress a wrong done to my compatriots because during my years of work there, I could have influenced some of them to join the cult. Then I decided not just to leave, but also to unmask this totalitarian cult. However, my exposures wouldn’t have had the same weight without documentary evidence. Therefore, I was collecting papers and other proof. My high position in the cult made available to me many of its secrets. Having stayed until late at night at the central office, I was able to photocopy a lot of papers. So after I had left the cult, I used these as proof in the series of open letters, articles, and reports at different conferences. These papers and material became the base for my book about the Moon cult, which I am going to finish this year.

There is one circumstance, which persuaded me that I had chosen the right way to act. In the seven years which have passed since my first public statement against Moon and Moonies, they did not attempt to deny any of my accusations. Every accusation is based on concrete facts and documents that are impossible to deny. Now let’s get directly to the theme of my report.

As is well-known the “Moon Empire” includes about 200 independent projects – religious, political, cultural, educational, media, industrial enterprises, etc. However, all of these organizations are controlled by Moon’s trusted people taking (often privately) prominent positions within the Unification Church hierarchy which all stem from the Unification Movement. The main (if not the only one) goal of this host of projects is to promote Moon’s ideas and to create an authority among the public worldwide. Moon himself, in a speech in Korea in April 2005, “revealed” his “coronation as the King of the world and Universal Unity”; and it was announced to the Russian Moonies gathered in Moscow on July 19, 2005, that Moon and his wife “are the ‘Savior’, ‘Messiah,’ and the King and Queen of humankind from now on.”

All this could have just been another classic case for psychiatry textbook’s megalomania section. However, Moon and his closest surrounding [leaders] continue to fulfill, with scary persistence, these plans for world domination over many decades. A huge social threat was posed by active penetration of the Moon cult in many Russian federal ministries or their institutions, including not only the Ministry of Education, but the Ministry of Internal Affairs, the Defense Ministry, and both Houses of the Russian Parliament – the State Duma and the Federation Council – in the early 90s. In some cases, the same situation continues in Russia to this day.

▲ The book, Rev. Sun Myung Moon, Peacemaker and Unifier, was given out in Russia.

The list of public officials and well-known politicians involved at different times and on various levels in Unification Movement events is indeed long and impressive. It consisted of both former and serving presidents at that time, prime ministers, ministers, prominent parliamentarians, diplomats, political party leaders, public figures, famous scientists, etc. Among them where politicians from the Soviet Union (later Russia), USA, UK, Japan, some South American countries, Belorussia, etc. Their direct involvement in Unification Movement events (mostly gigantic events) promoted Moon’s global image of being a “peacemaker and unifier”, whilst letting him, as a cult leader, camouflage the systematic breach of human rights in respect to ordinary cult members; that means essentially isolation from family, friends, strong blocks on information, cultists lost their former social status, they became completely financially dependent, were deprived of normal sleep, had food limitations, and were denied the free right to choose their own spouses.

Based on my personal experience of those years, and on documents which I had access to, including confidential ones, due to my position in the “Moon Church” hierarchy in Russia, I am able to disclose the nature and methods of the Moon cult’s penetration inside state, parliamentary and public structures.

It is crucial to understand how the Moon’s cult is so successful in involving the prominent politicians and in penetrating inside higher state institutions. To clarify this, let’s describe the situation as a whole. As far as I speak mostly about the political component of cult’s activity now, I’ll describe Moon’s projects in the political realm. I am sorry for the monotony of the list, but hopefully it will bring understanding.

The Washington Institute for Values in Public Policy, founded in 1982. It focuses on important domestic and foreign policy issues. Among politicians whose direct participation in some public activities of this Institute is confirmed documentarily, we see the following persons:

Dr. Eugene Rotow – former Director of the U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency.

Mr. Charles M. Lichenstein – former U.S. Deputy Representative to the United Nations.

Stephen J. Solargz – member of the U.S. House of Representatives.

Eduardo Ulibarri – Editor-in-chief of the Costa Rica newspaper “La nacion Jose.”

CAUSA International, founded in 1980. According to Moonies, this organization’s aim was to criticize Marxism-Leninism, its ideological and political faults, human rights protection, struggle with totalitarianism, help in establishing societies of freedom. By the end of 80s, CAUSA International had conducted workshops in more than 30 countries. The similar goals were pursued by the International Federation for Victory over Communism organized by Moon in 1960s.

In this case the goal officially advocated by the cultists appeared attractive. However, it reveals the readiness of blatant intrusion in the inner affairs of countries with political regimes or ideological climates which are considered inappropriate by Moon. This alone sounds alarming and one wonders about the character and methods and activities of the Moon organizations scattered around the world.

An example of such a direction is Moon’s Citizens’ Federation for the Unification of the Fatherland established in 1987. Its official aim is the re-unification of South and North Korea and the creation of a “free and God fearing state”. Moonies didn’t conceal that they had been constructing House of Prayer for Re-unification and Educational Center for Re-unification “close to 38th parallel”. As is known, this is where the border lies between the two Korean states. One cannot deny that, regardless of the attitude to the North Korean regime, such construction works close to border look suspicious and could be considered to be direct sabotage.

The words said by Moon in his speeches to his followers sound quite ominous: “The whole world is in my hand, and I will conquer and subjugate the world. (May 17, 1973)” and “The time will come, without my seeking it, that my words will almost serve as law. (March 24, 1974)”

Let’s look at Russia. Missioners of the Moon cult had started their underground activities in Russia back in 1970s. In those times this consisted of foreign missioners’ sporadic visits to USSR. They clandestinely recruited adherents. Since 1983 the Moonies’ penetration tactics have involved the insertion in our country of reliable and experienced members of the cult, specially trained for undercover work. They came as interpreters working for organizations operating jointly with foreign countries (like Peter Ladschtaetter, Austrian citizen), foreign language teachers in Moscow institutes (Monica Kunde, FRG citizen), or businessmen (US citizen Thomas Lorita), etc.

▲ Sun Myung Moon speaking during the opening plenary session of the Moscow World Media Conference on April 10, 1990.

1990 was the year that marked the Moonies’ shift to overt activities in our country. In April the Moonies managed to conduct the 11th International World Media Conference (under the cover of their World Media Association – and with considerable assistance by the then Novosti Publishing Agency). During the Conference, Moscow hosted an impressive descent of totalitarian cult leaders headed by “Reverend” Moon himself and his fourth wife Hak Ja Han Moon. Not only have they actively communicated with the Soviet community representatives and establishment, but were also granted an audience with President Gorbachev.

▲ Sun Myung Moon gives an interview to Mr. Albert Vlasov, chairman of the Novosti Press Agency, at the Moscow airport reception room.

The April meeting between Moon and Gorbachev opened the way for the broad and smooth cultists’ penetration in our country. Already in the 1990/91 academic year three thousand students and lecturers from Moscow, Leningrad, Kiev, Tver, and other Soviet Union cities were taken to the USA for two week introductory workshops, and the cult covered all the expenses. The main part of the work with them in America was thoughtful intensive brainwashing to make them adhere to Moon’s ideas. It is no surprise that the first cadres of professional Russian managers for the Moon cult were recruited from these three thousand people who visited the States – Universities had done their best to select the best students for the trip.

Following the same method, the totalitarian cult tried to attract prominent representatives of our society’s elite: the USSR people’s deputies, scientists, journalists, etc. For example, in December 1990, 23 deputies participated in the American Leadership Conference in Washington, 50 deputies attended the next similar Conference conducted in February 1991, and the First World-wide Leadership Conference gathered about 200 USSR Supreme Soviet deputies from all 15 Soviet Republics. Those who visited the USA, or attended the series of so-called introductory workshops organized by the Unification Movement, which were conducted on a grand scale by Moonies in the former Soviet countries’ capitals, quite often have become the agents of influence for the totalitarian cult, “working off” attention paid to them and the big sums of dollars spent on them.

Of course, cultists have boosted their proselyting activities in USSR territories and later in Russia. In May 1992 they succeeded in registering the “Unification Church” at the Russian Federation Ministry of Justice; in April 1994 the Student Inter-university Collegiate Association for the Research of Principles (CARP) was created, and the Women’s Federation for World Peace (WFWP) was registered in June 1994. Over 100,000 Russian citizens visited Moonie seminars during 1991-1993. Those seminars were held in the best Baltic and Crimean health centers. Mostly high school and university teachers, lecturers, and students were among those who attended Moonie seminars. Specialized seminars for Russian University Rectors and mass media workers were held in the summer of 1993 in Crimea. Cult leaders planned organizing special seminars for the Russian Federation Ministries of Defense and the Internal Affairs Ministry.

As a result of the planned cult activity, a certain circle of engaged people had appeared who were able, due to their official or social position, to lobby for the interests of the Moon cult. From the very onset, the Moonies have striven to establish a bond with the Russian Federation State Committee for Higher Education. A cultic program for sending dozens of Russian students to study for free at the University of Bridgeport (in Connecticut, USA) was used as a convenient ground – the Moonies had gained control through financial investment just before that. With all this going on, the Moon cult paid $80,000 for a-four year course for each student. Moonie leaders made a tricky move by allowing the candidates to be selected – guess by who – the  Russian Federation State Committee for Higher Education! Russia PR office Director gladly reports to his transoceanic patrons (and employers): “Sending more than 20 students from Russia to the University of Bridgeport due to the support of the Committee for Higher Education, we managed to guarantee them backing our course. We meet Mr. Bratkowsky and Mr. Guriev (former Vice President for RF State Committee) rather often, and they help us with invitations and multiple entry visas” (extract from Head of PR office report, February 20, 1993, section d) Committee for Higher Education).

Following their favorite principle of leaning on “prospective” members of society, the Moonies turned to the Russian Ministry of Education. Quite soon several people become friendly – ranging from department staff members to Vice Minister A.G. Asmolov, responsible for high schools. With direct support of the Ministry, the Moonies managed to conduct simultaneously over 15 workshops “Spiritual Renewal and High School Education in Russia” in November 1992. Workshops took place in the best Crimean health centers. 21 people from each 89 Russian Federation subjects have attended those workshops – all sponsored by the cult. At this workshop cultists pushed forward the infamous course “My World and I” – targeted at high schools. This course had been introduced at more than 2000 Russian high schools starting from September 1993. Republican Workshops for teachers of Tatarstan (Kazan), Kalmykia (Elista), and other republics and regions were conducted for mass introduction of this Moonie course in the schools.

Having strengthened their positions inside the system of the Education Ministry, the Moonies set out for Russian State force agencies. The General Department for Executing Punishments became the first victim of their penetration. With the support of Colonel Dolgikh – the then Head for GUIN MVD RF – the Moonies conducted several events on a federal scale. Introducing one of those workshops (in Obninsk, on July 7, 1993) Colonel Dolgikh claimed in a clear-cut military fashion addressing to Vice Heads of detention camps and Directors of schools attached to them, that from now on all pedagogical work must be conducted … according to Moon.

His subordinates were fast to react. In a short time, the Moonies had the opportunity to conduct several workshops for deviant juveniles, their parents and staff members in those correctional institutions; the Moscow regional Iksha correctional institution became one of the favorite grounds for the cultists. In 1994, the Moonies actively took part in the Home Affairs Ministry program “Teacher of the Year” at the Novotroitsk correctional institution, Mariy-El Republic. In 1995, similar event had taken place in the Kamyshin correctional institution in the Volgograd region.

The same introductory workshops were conducted for Home Affairs Ministry officers in 1994. The cult leaders were happy to receive at their disposal the second section of methodological book “From experience of learning and pedagogical work in correctional institutions schools. Part 3” issued by the General Department for Executing Punishments and Republican Institution for MVD officers Improving Qualification in 1995. The Moonies titled their section “My World and I – The Path to the Heart of an Inmate”.

The goal desired by Moon – who had created the gigantic network of his “World Empire” – was world domination, the real political power in bigger geographic areas – the bigger the better. A.V. Zhukov writes in the abstract to his PhD thesis on the Moonies’ activities in Russia: “the main striving of Moonies’ organization leaders remains the struggle for spiritual, economical, and political power worldwide…” (p.13). The direct confirmation of Moon’s secret thoughts are in his own confessions. Already in his speech “History and Our Responsibility,” delivered on July 16, 1978, Moon promises his followers: “In the future, the whole world will depend on us.”

With this in mind, the concrete moves made by the Moonies in Russia look scary. After the Home Affairs Ministry, they turned to the Russian Federation Ministry of Defense. Thus, some higher rank officers of Military Academies and representatives of different military state organizations – such as Association for military, political, and historical research, “Army and Society” association, Federation for Peace and Concord – came under the influence of Moon’s cult. Thus, the Moonies’ Conference devoted to elaboration of special learning program and textbook on so-called “Military ethics” for students of military academies has been conducted at the Military University MO RF (ex-Military Political Academy) in October 1994.

Inspired by the successful start of their penetration into the Russian Army, the Moonie leaders in Russia report to their transoceanic boss about the favorable situation for the further penetration into the army structures: “Religious boom in this country has created the wide field for activity of the Fund (i.e. “Inter-religious Educational Fund”). One of the examples is introducing the post for Army officers responsible for relationships between the Army and religious organizations. Such posts have existed in the Russian Army since July 1994, with some 90 officers appointed, but none of them clearly understands how to execute this duty. The same post will be introduced later for lower ranks, and hundreds of officers will need instruction and education in the area of religion and inter-religious relations” (Report on inter-religious work in Russia in 1995, written on November 1994, section 4). The cited fragment of the Moonies’ report makes one think not only about the skillful use of the current situation, but the striking familiarity with inner Army cadre procedure…

In November 1994, Moon’s Unification Church took part in a big Moscow Conference organized by the aforementioned Federation for Peace and Concord and Association for military, political, and historical research. The invitation to take part in the Conference arrived at the International Religious Fund addressed to P. Ladschtaedtter. It was an official letter from the Federation and the Association signed by their Heads. Following Conference outcomes, the book “Religions and Safety of Russia” was issued; where an article by Moon’s church leaders in Russia was published. They tried to impose on the military their own model for the spiritual nourishment of the soldiers, which supposed direct participation of Moonie cultic preachers.

Very indicative is the letter sent by the Army and Society Association to Moon personally as a commemoration of his church’s 40 years anniversary celebrated by the cultists in May 1994. I will cite some remarkable details of this message distinguished by an extremely loyal attitude to Moonism’s leader, and signed by the President of the Association, General-Major Tchaldymov. The General stressed that the Association, which he headed, “supported the Russian Government in reforming the Army in the spirit of the perestroika ideas started by Mikhail Gorbatchev”. The following phrases deserve to be reproduced verbatim: “Having been introduced to the ideas of your teaching by representatives of your Church in more detail, we have found our basic moral goals consonant with yours. On March 26-29 me and my colleague – the Head of “Army and Religion” research center – have been given the honor of participating in the Second Conference for World Peace (that is, Moon had covered all the expenses for their stay in the US for the Conference). Conference outcomes and your ideas “discussion allows for hope to join efforts with the Unification Church in the name of values common to all mankind.” There’s no need to comment on those statements by fortunately only a few representatives of the then Russian Generals.

The Moonie missioners approached the structures of the Foreign Affairs Ministry as well. For example, the RF Foreign Affairs Ministry Diplomatic Academy has conducted the International student Conference on leadership jointly with the CARP Moonie youth student organization on February 1995, at Moscow State University. The cult has sponsored Russian, US, Chinese, North and South Korean, and Japanese students’ participation in it. The tradition of bond between elite Russian Universities, which raise future Russian diplomats, and the Korean-American cult has put down roots and is still alive. There is information on the Internet about Moon’s upcoming visit to Moscow. Some well-known professors, such as Konstantin Dolgov and Vladimir Petrovsky, lecturing at those elite Universities had taken part in the International Leadership Conference conducted by Moon in New York on 10-14 September 2005, and then had read their reports at the Moscow Moonies’ office right after Jack Corley, the big cultic functionary.

Not only has Moon’s cult been purposefully and consistently penetrating inside the ministries and state bodies, but it also has been systematically advancing towards higher representative bodies of Russia and its Presidency. Of course, here Moonies couldn’t get the biggest figures, but nevertheless they have managed to involve some medium range officials who served as the source of effective intelligence and as agents of the cults influence, lobbying their interests; which have quite justified the cultists’ expenses. I’ve already published some facts about the involvement of Federation Council Consultant, a few deputies of the RF State Duma and their assistants, members of the RF President Administration Analytical Center for general politics, Council members for religious expertise, Professors of religious study, legal experts, and some experienced lawyers, functionaries of all sorts of human rights watch organizations, and other volunteers – who nevertheless mostly acted on commercial grounds.

The Moon cult has been actively penetrating inside Russian federal structures – this fact illustrates the hugely dangerous potential of this totalitarian cult.

Of course, the Moonies paid much attention to media, struggling for their positions in Russia. In this respect, very indicative are their bonds with the Media Empire of Gusinsky. In my publications I have already stated about the Moonies’ leaders’ contacts with Mr. Gusinsky as the MOST bank President, and about their contacts with Russian Video Company notorious for lawsuits. At that time the Moonies were regularly broadcasting programs (on Tuesdays – for one or two hours) for Moscow and neighboring regions due to an agreement with the then operating private Resonans radio station. Cultists planned to expand their radio broadcast to cover the European part of Russia or even the whole ex-USSR territory. The far-reaching plans of the totalitarian cult included creating its own Moscow based TV station with powerful modern equipment for satellite TV broadcast for “the whole ex-Soviet Union territory”. There were also ideas of creating a Russian project, which would have cooperated with similar Moon enterprises in the fields of TV, video and radio already operating in Japan and the USA (a report is available which was sent to Moon’s New York Headquarters about PR-activity in Russia for the time span of December 1992 – February 1993). There always were people ready to do favors for Moon in the Soviet and then Russian central television, in the biggest print media and publishing houses (in the early 90s among them were such serious companies as Izvestiya, Literaturnaya Gazeta, Respublica publishing house – former Politizdat).

Consequently to strengthening their positions in power and force bodies, in the mass media, having the necessary support from Moscow scientists and lawyers, the Moon cult tried to become a coordinator of all totalitarian cults active in Russia. I have passed a revealing paper some time ago – a letter from Vladimir Kuropyatnik, a leader of Scientology Church Moscow branch, which he had sent to Moon personally on February 27, 1996. The letter is dedicated to cooperation between the Moonies and Scientologists. I’ll cite one passage from this message: “We are very determined and we will make it no matter what. Your goals are very much our goals.”

Speaking about the harm of theMoonies’ activities to Russian society, we see the threat to national safety on three levels: individual, family, and society at large. I won’t be stopping on each of the three levels now, I’ll just state briefly that human personality becomes dissolved and loses its individual features, turning into a typical “Moonie” under systematical cultic brainwashing. Such a “zombified” agent is ready for mindlessly accepting any directive and implementing any order from a totalitarian cult leader. A person who has been hooked loses all his or her former social bonds, quite often drops out of professional activities, becomes totally dependent on cultic leaders who even choose a spouse for him or her.

Moonies have caused much harm to many Russian families. And many young people have left their homes and their parents under the influence of cultic propaganda. This has led to the creation of self-organized public parents’ committees for saving the young people. Those parents – whose children came under the conditional emotional influence of cultists – have once heard from their children that they were just “physical parents”, whereas “Reverend” Moon and his wife, Hak Ja Han Moon, were their “true parents”. No less troublesome instances for parents happened when their children who were studying at university decided to abandon their studies – sometimes just before their graduation. Many of those young people abandoned both studies and their parents, leaving their families for the Moonie “centers.” Not only parents were losing their children, but young men were leaving their wives as well.

No less is the scale of Moonie expansion for the Russian society as a whole. Moonies have come to Russia in early 90s, ready to fill in the “ideological gap” which appeared after the breakdown of the former ideology. Profiting from people’s natural thirst for spirituality, from which they had been deprived for a long seventy years, Moon’s missionaries started invading this “market,” relying on his Empire’s multimillion dollar power and using the whole arsenal of methods of influence developed by cultists during the years of their existence outside Russia, feeling sort of “spiritual colonizers.”

No surprise that the aforementioned “Divine Principle” has presented modern Russian readers (the children and grandchildren of those who had paid with their blood and their lives for victory over fascism in the Second World War) with the following “historical discovery” which is an integral part of the new “messiah’s” teaching: the Second World War was a battle of “Heavenly troops” represented by the USA, Great Britain and France with “Satanic forces” – that is Germany, Japan and Italy. What has been said about the Russian peoples’ contribution to defeating the Nazi beast? Just that the Soviet Union had “happened to be on the Allies” side, led by the United States and England…”

I’d like to hope that all these facts cast light on Moonie activities, methods, and reveal the true nature their actions. This activity is aimed at world dominance. Of course, this maniac idea of Moon is doomed. But this doesn’t lessen the real danger of the cults’ penetration inside different countries state bodies.

__________________________________________________

ABC Religion & Ethics

Humanism and atheism as civil religions

Luke Bretherton

Tuesday 4 October 2011 10:26 am

In the early 1990s I met the then Russian minister for education. He alleged that a representative of Rev. Sun Myung Moon offered him $1 million as a personal gift if he would distribute textbooks extolling the virtues of the Unification Church in all Russian schools.

The response he related to this offer was unforgettable: “I will not sell the souls of Russia’s children.” However, the minister had the wisdom to know that while he could reject the Moonies offer, he was still left with the problem of how to teach virtue to Russia’s children.

As the conversation developed, it was clear that the minister was seeking some kind of textbook in order to accomplish the task of inculcating virtue. But he was perplexed by the need to find an alternative to the godless ideology of the Communism Russia was rejecting, but without thereby embracing a sectarian dogma. …

Luke Bretherton is Reader in Theology and Politics, and convenor of the Faith and Public Policy Forum at King’s College, London. His most recent book is Christianity and Contemporary Politics: The Conditions and Possibilities of Faithful Witness (Wiley-Blackwell, 2010), and he is currently writing a book on community organizing and democratic citizenship.

https://www.abc.net.au/religion/humanism-and-atheism-as-civil-religions/10101100

__________________________________________________

Press Release by the Department of Communications, Nizhny Novgorod province, Russia

Bizarre entry to Moon’s orbit as empire fell and a cult flourished

In order to rule the world, Sun Myung Moon had to start with Korea.

Sun Myung Moon’s desire to take over the League for his own financial and political ends

Fraser Committee Report on Moon org.:  “these violations were related to the overall goals of gaining temporal power.”

Sun Myung Moon was eager to infiltrate the European Parliament

Group Founded by Sun Myung Moon Preaches Sexual Abstinence in China

Sun Myung Moon’s theology used to control members

Sun Myung Moon: The Emperor of the Universe

Sun Myung Moon organization activities in Central & South America

Sun Myung Moon’s One-World Theocracy

[hanalwayssolo]

Unspoken Definites

A/N: It is I, baptizing my new fictional husband with a one-shot. This is largely inspired by this light novel and a conversation that has spiraled into shenanigans with @blindedstarlight!

ETA: [Link on AO3]

“You have got to be kidding me.” You cup the phone between your ear and shoulder, glancing at the digital clock sitting at your desk. Three a.m. it glares mockingly as half the sheaf of test papers from your class remain ungraded. “You’re telling me, Yamada, that Aizawa is drunk?”

“Yes, and I’m not pulling your leg or anythiiiing!” Yamada cries, and the shrill static makes you wince away from your phone. Judging by the sound of his voice, you’re pretty sure he has also had a few too many. Somewhere in the background, you can hear a wild medley of raucous singing and screaming. “He went overboard with the drinks! Again! You have to go down here,” he pleads. “I need serious backup—“

“I’m in the middle of grading essays,” you say curtly. “All Might’s there, isn’t he? He should be more than enough.”

“He already left! Urgent business!”

“How about Kayama?”

“Midnight’s already wasted as fuck, my friend!”

“Then Sekijiro should—“

“Vlad King’s weeping at the bar counter!”

“And the others?”

“Either passed out or butchering another stupid pop song!”

“Fucking hell.” You sigh. A burst of maniacal laughter echoes from the other line, but is immediately drowned out by a chorus of off-key singing.

When the majority of the UA faculty decided earlier today to go karaoke as a grand culmination of a tiring work week, you had been wise enough to say no. You said no not because of the obvious workload you still had on your plate, nor was it because you didn’t feel like going out. It mostly had to do with the fact that you were precisely avoiding this kind of situation.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

Because the fact of the matter is, the only situation you’re avoiding, if you were to be completely honest, is one that would ultimately involve seeing Aizawa.

“Look—“ Yamada clears his throat, the tone of his voice suddenly serious— “I don’t know what happened between you guys, but please? Make an exception? Just for tonight?”

A strained pause. Frankly, though you are more inclined to deny this absurd request, it’s not everyday you get to hear a pro-hero like Present Mic asking for help—let alone relying on a Quirkless teacher like you from the Department of Management to get this group of drunk heroes out of their shitty situation. But you have to hand it to him for taking you by surprise; he may seem like an excitable airhead most of the time, but for him to decipher the meaning of your hesitation with tact and thoughtfulness is, quite admittedly, the last thing you expected from him.

After careful consideration, you find yourself saying, “Fine.” You let out a defeated exhale. “You owe me big time here, Mic. I’ll be right over.”

The bar-slash-karaoke joint—Cantina, it is called, all decked out in flashing neon lights in the middle of Tatooine District—is already closing up shop by the time you arrive: a scrawny looking manager is barking orders on the phone, waiters busily cleaning tables, a couple of bartenders mopping up the vomit off the rainbow-striped linoleum floor. The stench of cigarettes is nauseating. There seems to be no other customers left. Most of the booths have been vacated, save for the last one down the hazy, fluorescent-lit hallway where a familiar voice belting out a rock song bellows like a cry for help.

You press onward. As soon as you open the door, it feels like you have stumbled upon an unsettling scene with the pro-heroes, all in their corporate attire and at the peak of their inebriation: Present Mic on the small dais, serenading an already sleeping Midnight; Cementoss snoring the night away over at the couch; Vlad King chugging on another whiskey bottle while in tears; Thirteen swimming on spilled vodka; and Eraserhead casually sitting on the corner, having a conversation with his empty mug of beer.

Yamada drops the microphone the moment he sees you by the doorway.

“You’re here!” He hurtles toward you and wraps you in a hug. He smells strongly of sweat and alcohol. “Thank fuck! Now we can go home! Please tell me you brought a car.”

You shrug his arms off of you. “No, Mic, I walked all the way from our UA dorms to get here.”

“Are you serious—“

“Of course I have a fucking car with me,” you sneer. “You know, I’m actually surprised to see that you’re the last man standing.”

Yamada grins proudly. “Well, I know I don’t look like it but I am actually really responsible and kind and amazing—“

“Okay, don’t push it.”

“Oh, fine.” He rolls his eyes. “Now I’ll help these idiots out. You take Shouta with you.”

“Uh, hold up—“ you raise a hand in protest, and you briefly scan the mess of a room— “how about I take Kayama with me while you take the rest of the guys? Aizawa can walk by himself.”

“You kidding me?” Yamada shakes his head. “Look at him. I know that’s his everyday bitch face but that bitch face of his is dead drunk. He’s been giving out compliments to everyone before you got here.”

You quirk a suspicious brow. “Really?”

“Yeah. Check this out.” He turns to Aizawa and says, “Yo Eraser, you think I can beat All Might as the top hero?”

Aizawa looks up at Yamada with a sluggish smile. “You can do anything, Mic. You’ve always been the best.” Then, he turns to you and his red-rimmed eyes widen. “Hi. You’re very beautiful.”

You blink. “Yup. He’s drunk.”

“See?” Yamada laughs. “But drunk words are sober thoughts, no? Besides—“ he nudges you by the elbow— “he’s been talking about you nonstop all night.”

You say nothing. The withering glare you cast in Yamada’s direction is more than enough for his cheeky grin to falter.

“Okay, fine, I get it!” He raises both hands in surrender. “None of my business! Let’s get outta here!”

The walk from the karaoke booth to your car becomes one effortful affair. Knowing he does not possess the physicality to carry his peers, Yamada wakes both Ishiyama and Sekijiro up by screeching on their ears. A questionably rude way to use his Quirk to wake someone up, but considering the situation at hand, courtesies be damned, you suppose. How Yamada manages to pacify their immediate irritation is beyond you; how he even manages to command them to carry both Kayama and Thirteen is much more bewildering at best.

Meanwhile, you pull Aizawa on his feet, sling his arm around over your shoulder, your one arm around his waist. He may possess such a lanky appearance, but he sure is heavy. And made out of sturdy materials. You know this. You know this because you have seen everything he is hiding beneath his usual ragged attire after many sleepless nights in his bed—

Not the time for that, self.

As you drag him out into the parking lot, he tries to lean his head on yours, but you shake him off. Still, despite your unreasonable annoyance, you find yourself looking up at him. A stray lock of his hair has fallen away from his sloppily tied half bun and over his face. You reach for it and tuck it behind his ear, and he looks at you as if it is the first time he is seeing you with a nameless awe and wonder. He smiles. Not his wry and mocking smile, the one he offers to his most aggressive students to teach them a lesson or two. Certainly not that. The smile he gives you is so foreign on his face, so exceptionally rare that your heart misses a beat.

Not the fucking time for this—

“You’re… so short,” he says with a hiccup. His breath reeks of alcohol, but his shirt smells strangely of fresh laundry.

You grimace. If he hadn’t been this hammered, you would have kicked him right in the shin. “Thanks for pointing out the obvious.”

He lets out a small laugh. “But you’re also soft and warm.”

A cold breeze drifts but your cheeks are warmer than ever. “Um, thanks?”

“And you smell really nice.”

“Right.”

With everyone squeezing themselves together in the backseat, dozing off and snoring in chorus, the rest of the drive heading back to the UA premises is almost preposterous in its silence. It is already five-thirty in the morning, and a hint of dawn is spreading like a rosy veil throughout the highway. Over the horizon, the city lights are unblinking witnesses to this misadventure. However, in the passenger seat, Aizawa is wide awake and spends the whole ride staring out the window.

As much as you want to start a conversation, a large part of you decides against it. Or, more accurately, your wounded pride is adamant to keep your mouth shut. The last time you spoke, he was sober and you demanded to define this nameless relationship the two of you had been tiptoeing for months. There should be a line—nay, a Great Wall of China—between being friends and lovers, but whatever boundaries that stood have already been demolished with all the secret dates, the secret gifts, the secret nights tangled up in your sheets.

Was any of it real? It all felt real to you, at the very least. No one would have suspected Aizawa to be capable of such generosity; he is quiet, reserved, extremely private. But within the four corners of his strict privacy, there is an abundance in his affections, a side of him you rarely see with the way he is with others. A side of him you wish you could keep to yourself.

But you suppose that doesn’t matter now. It doesn’t look like whatever this nebulous affair between the two of you mattered to him, anyway. He made that very clear when he walked out of your door just like that. You wish he had said something cruel to hurt your feelings instead. At least that is a pain you can bear better rather than him not saying anything at all.

“Everything okay?”

You almost miss the turn to Heights Alliance when Aizawa speaks up. No, not everything is a much more honest answer, but he is looking at you with tired eyes that you doubt if he could catch you lying through your teeth. Instead, you spare him a glance and with high-pitch brightness, you say, “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

After dropping the others off in their respective buildings—which, to your relief, is relatively easier compared from the struggle back in Cantina—you decide to accompany Aizawa back to his room. He is still a bit woozy, that’s obvious enough; he stops along the way to talk to the rose shrubs and tulips out on the lawn, calling them his students which, despite its sheer hilarity, makes the climb to the front steps of his dorm a monumental challenge.

“Wait—“ Aizawa untangles himself from you as you enter the building— “let me talk to Midoriya for a sec.”

You watch him unsteadily ambling his way to the potted plants by the entrance. “Huh, Midoriya isn’t here. Everyone is still asleep—“

“You should stop getting yourself injured,” he says to no one in particular. “Recovery Girl can’t keep healing you all the time.”

“Shouta, you’re talking to a cactus. C’mon.”

He turns to you with an impish grin. “Hi. You’re pretty. I like you.”

You groan in both exasperation and exhaustion. The lord is truly testing my patience. As you haul him back up, he holds your hand and presses a kiss on the back of your hand.

“My god, it makes me sick how you’re weirdly affectionate when you’re drunk. Who would’ve thought that a fuckton of drinks would warm up your cold-hearted ass?” you say, heaving his whole body by your side. “Now let’s go before one of the kids wake up—“

“Um, Sensei?”

A low voice that neither belongs to you or Aizawa startles you into a sudden panic. You turn, and you see a tall, muscular boy with glasses and in his pajamas staring at you as if he had seen a ghost. Then he looks at Aizawa. His face pales.

Fuck.

“Is… Sensei alright?” the boy worrily croaks. “And does he—you two are—“

“You’re Iida, right?” you ask carefully. You look around the living room and exhale a breath of relief to find that he is the only student in the room.

The boy nods. “Do you need, um, help—“

“No, we’re fine,” you answer quickly. “Can I ask you for something, though?”

Iida nods again, vigorously this time. “Yes, of course!”

“You never saw or heard anything. Is that understood?” There is a silent threat in your voice that makes Iida squirm in discomfort.

“Yes, uh—understood!” He salutes nervously. You spare him a small pat on the back as you shuffle past him, onto the stairs, and into Aizawa’s room.

The afternoon sun drags Aizawa awake in a throbbing daze. His head hurts as if he had been beaten with a thousand pinpricks, his mouth too coppery for his taste. The stream of sunlight filtering through his windows paints his barren room in a thin veil of gold that at first glance, he thinks he is somewhere else entirely. But there is no mistaking that this is really his room: the soulless furnishing of a simple bed, a desk, and a worn-out couch, and the startling emptiness of his space is easy enough to recognize as his own. Still, it does not make any sense. How did he manage to get here? As far as he can remember, he was at the Cantina with All Might and...

Holy shit.

A sharp panic jolts him out of the sheets. He looks down on his hands, his body. Okay. Thank god he is fully clothed. No injuries, too. As he ties his hair back into a pony, he scans the room for something out of the ordinary, something to jog his memory of last night. Nothing seems to be out of place until his attention falls to a figure lying on his couch.

Aizawa rubs his eyes. He is unsure if the sight of you sleeping on his couch is a product of his hangover, but the faint sound of your breaths only proves it otherwise.

As far as he is concerned, the last person he could ever expect to be in the same room as him is you, not after he left so callously after that last argument without saying another word. He knows you deserve better than the way he has treated you. He knows you deserve better than him. You have been patient enough to thaw his cold indifference, brave enough to see past through his sharp edges. He is not easy to like, but you made him believe that he is worth the time. And in the short time he has spent with you, he finds himself wanting more, and the more he tries to make sense out of it, the less he understands this gnawing, aching feeling that never fails to leave him gasping for air.

He walks over to you, sits on the edge of the couch. For a moment, he watches you sleep. He finds solitude in your peaceful face, in the tender rhythm of your breathing. You shift a little. And when he hears his name leave on your lips, his breath stops for a second. An unnameable feeling spreads over him with the warmth of a forest fire, with the ferocity of a storm.

God, you’re so beautiful.

Not a little longer and he sees you stir. When you open your eyes, the first that you see is him.

“Hi,” he says with a small smile.

You sit right up in a panic. “Hi. Fuck—I’m sorry.” You fix your hair and wipe the drool on the side of your mouth. “I, um—I hope you didn’t mind that I crashed here to sleep.”

He shrugs. “It’s okay. Yamada called you to pick us all up, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you. And sorry for the trouble.” He reaches for the back of his neck, looks away. Then, he asks: “I didn’t happen to do something stupid last night, did I?”

You laugh. “I don’t think you’d really want to know.” In a sudden hurry that startles him, you get up and begin to gather your things. “Anyway, there’s a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom, in case you still have your headaches. And please eat something decent. I should get going—“

“Wait.” The word leaves him sharply that it slices throughout the room.

You stare at him, eyes searching and urging for him to continue.

“I…” He falters. With a heavy breath, he braves through the silence and says, “I was hoping if you could stay.”

You purse your lips, shaking your head. “You know, since we’re here, I think it’s about time that we stop this… whatever this thing we have.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m tired of this. Besides, for a Quirkless like me, I’ll only be a liability to a pro-hero like you—“

“You were never a liability to me.”

“Then what am I to you?”

“The fucking love of my life.”

In long, steady strides, he closes the space between the two of you and he takes your face in his hands. He lifts your head and lets his lips graze your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, as if this is the only way for him to memorize the warmth of your skin on his.

“May I?” he whispers under his breath. “I’m sorry if my breath stinks—“

“Just kiss me, you asshole.”

He smiles. And in this scorching tenderness, he presses his mouth on yours, kissing you as if this is the only time he has left, as if you are the only rational and logical thing that could ever matter in this life or the next.

[charleymountbatten]

The Journal of Charlemagne Mountbatten

Thoughts on my friends, an updated list: [since the last one might have been was a dick move on my part]

Astraea: Astraea is a hard shell on the outside. Her unwillingness to open up and to trust is understandable. The fact that she let me in at all is probably the greatest gift I could ever receive from her. Because yeah, she’s cunning, and opportunistic, and manipulative in her own uncharismatic way. But gods, she is trustworthy, once you’ve earned her trust in return. She’s so smart, and brave. She thinks things through and doesn’t just charge in blindly. The party has so many hot-heads (myself included) that we need her to balance us out, and I am so grateful we have her. And she is good. Unflinchingly good. She says she doesn’t understand love, but with her (secret) warmth, her protection, her endless patience with me, her utter delight at making me smile when I need it, and how much she tries to help others (no matter how begrudgingly she does it sometimes) - she doesn’t have to. I know she cares about me. That’s more than enough. I care about her more than I can say.

Poltak: I fucking love this guy. Never in my life have I met anyone who pisses me off more and who makes me instantly forget that fact. He’s hilarious, and knows how to party, and has been responsible for some of the happiest and funniest nights of my life. He’s a natural leader who cares deeply about those under his charge and those who he counts as his friends. I trust him with my life, knowing that I am genuinely safe in his hands. I appreciate his methods, even if I don’t always agree with them. I don’t know why he chose me to be his God Father, seeing as I don’t share his faith, but from what I can tell it’s a gift given to someone who is trusted enough to watch over, defend, and guide the one being baptized. I won’t let him down. He’s my best friend. No matter how much we butt heads (as a fighter and a diplomat are apt to do) I don’t think anything could ever change that. I’m so lucky to have him in my life.

Corellon: Corellon can be haughty and prickly, but I’ve come to know them too well to be put off by it. It’s all an act. They have little self-confidence and can’t understand why anyone would like them in the first place. It becomes a bit of a vicious cycle- self loathing leads to a self-fulfilling prophecy, but before they left things were starting to get better. They are a key part of this party, and a dear friend. They genuinely do care. Any time they acted like a dick, they corrected the behavior as soon as it was brought to their attention. They’re not a brawler like Poltak, but they are necessary to the success of a fight. And when we get out in the world, there is no one more skilled at forestry and nature than them. They are beautiful, still without a doubt the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met, but far more importantly they are a genuinely wonderful person. I could kill their father for how much he belittled them and made them think that they are worthless. Corellon has more value than the lot of their family put together, and though they still act tough, I think we have all wormed our way into their heart. When they return to us, I fear things will be as bad as ever for them. But I won’t ever give up on them, and I think at this point everyone else feels the same way.

Theren: Theren might just be the more adorable person in the world. I genuinely mean that. And he’s grown so much since we first met! His spells are getting increasingly powerful, his confidence in himself is blossoming, and despite every knock he’s had he’s somehow kept his vibrant personality. I do sometimes wonder what exactly his thoughts on his relationship are, and at this point I’m too scared to ask. I have also realized that I never actually get to spend time with Theren outside our light shows. This really saddens me. I’m loud and obnoxious and he’s quiet and studious, but we really do hit it off together. When we escape this city, I should take him to a bookshop. I think he’d really enjoy that.

Nels: I wish I was closer to Nels. We had such a lovely chat when we were first reunited and spent the whole afternoon together. She’s a lot of fun and has such a happy and positive personality. I think we take that for granted sometimes. She’s quiet, and I wish she’d come out of her shell a bit more. I’m happy that she seems to be doing so with Poltak and Theren. Maybe I can invite her out for drinks and bread, or something. I like her sense of humor, and how pretty her birdcalls are. She’s clutch in a fight (except against cats), and with how many disasters there are in this party, it’s nice to have someone calming to balance it out. We really, really need that.

Igor: Igor is a lot more fun than his stoic persona lets on. He’s driven by logic, which I don’t always understand (being the messy emotional bitch that I am), but I think we balance out pretty nicely. He’s got a goofy side, and he lets me bring it out. He’s a lot of fun to play chess with, and the fact that he actually seems to like wearing my gaudy costume is either a sign of a wonderful sense of humor or a complete lack of one- and I fucking love it either way. I am glad we’ve become such good friends. I don’t spend nearly enough time with him, and I know a lot of the time he has to come up to me. He definitely has some anger issues he’s working very hard to keep in check, and I think he feels like he has to prove himself no matter what. I don’t think the party helps with that, sometimes. I know I don’t. But I hope he knows how much I care about him. And I hope he knows that I appreciate his obsession with trying to plan out everything, even though nothing ever actually ends up going according to plan (and we rarely do what he suggests anyway). May that optimism never leave him.

Robin: The whole party hates Robin right now, and I understand the logic. If she had escaped with the pipes, they might have been trapped in that Apollo hell-scape for all eternity. Honestly, I doubt that would be the case. I’m sure Ashley would have helped eventually. Or they would have found another way out. But nothing is a guarantee, and I’d probably be more angry too had I been a victim myself. I still wonder, though, how willing a player she was in that disaster. I don’t know much about her patron, but the fae are not to be messed with lightly. For as much hell as she could have caused us, I do wonder how much more hell she endured for failing in her own mission. I hope she’s alright. She doesn’t strike me as evil, no matter what everyone says. To be fair, I don’t think she’s good, either. I don’t trust her. If it came down to her patron or us, she’d kill us in half a heartbeat. Like any of us wouldn’t do the same, though, in her circumstances. 

Ashley: I don’t understand him, and it’s certainly not for lack of trying. Ashley has been through hell. I don’t know much about the war (I was so young when it ended) but I did hear stories from fellow bards and travelers about its atrocities. I don’t know where he served or what he did, but I know it was bad enough that he drinks just to get through the day. I wouldn’t mind any of it, except that he gets so upset when I don’t know what’s going on in his head. It’s hardly my fault! He’s never actually confided in me. Gods, he can be such a dick. Never admits when he’s wrong, never apologizes when he hurts you, treats you like an idiot if you don’t see things his way or understand his logic. I could hate him, if I didn’t fucking adore him so much. He cares. When it counts, he really cares. He goes out of his way to help people. He’d die for each and every one of us. He’s charming, frustratingly charming. And honestly, he probably feels more than all of us put together, if he didn’t try to drown it all in liquor. I know, in the end, he’s a great man. I hope someday he’ll be a good one too.

Kyr’zhan: I honestly think Kyr’zhan is the first person in my life to ever see me for who I want to be. He became my friend not for the music, or the persona, or the title, or anything else, but for me. He broke down all my walls, and he is earnest enough that I’m not even scared that he did. He doesn’t judge me for my past, or even get mad when I fuck up now. He offers advice, corrects what can be improved upon, and never once made me feel bad about myself. He’s endlessly compassionate, and in the short time I’ve known him he’s given me a sense of self-worth and confidence I’ve never had before. Considering how people treat drow and how he constantly must hide his face out of fear for his life, his faith in the good of the universe is endlessly inspiring. He has a quiet sarcasm that I find hilarious, and he sees the beauty in everything. Nothing seems to bring him down. Even his nerdiness is cute, damn him. And despite not knowing Corellon, he’s gone above and beyond to help save them. He’s like a comet, shining light on everything around him as he goes on his way across the stars. I’m going to be devastated when he leaves. Even if this is just a fling, and not true love, I could live a hundred lifetimes and not meet anyone quite like him again.

[knittastically]

A Lioness Amongst the Wolves Pt 14

As always thank you for reading, I love to read your comments and if you could reblog that would be fantastic. 

Warning:  Mention of miscarriage and  death of a newborn

Jehanne is grumpy, I can tell it just from the look on her face and she frowns at me as I walk past her to escort Blanche from the Chateau. As Blanche turns to say goodbye she leans in and drops a kiss to my cheek, I stiffen slightly for I am not completely reconciled with her and she knows it.

“Shall I see you on Sunday Isabé?”

“I expect so, I will be at Mass with the Baron”

“When does Raymond return?”

I am losing patience, I can’t stand this forced, polite conversation, I don’t like myself for it but the wound of her not telling me who she really is has cut me deep.

“I have no idea”, I shrug “it will doubtless be when the King gives him leave to come home” My voice is flat and clipped.

Blanche’s smile never drops, her voice never wavers and she fixes a smile on her face. “I am sure he will be home as soon as he can Isabé.” She takes hold of my hands but I pull them away after only a brief moment.

“I must go, there is much to do and we have spent a long time talking with each other, Jehanne is waiting.”

She is being dismissed by her own daughter but she holds herself in check and gives little away, though her eyes are a little glassy.

“I understand my dear, I won’t keep you any longer”

She nods “Until Sunday then” and makes her way down to the steps, to where Julot waits for her to help her up into the saddle. Does she look up at me and wave, I have no idea for I am already back in the hall.

“You, look like shit Isabé” Jehanne stands hands on hips and stares at me with a sour look on her face.

“Hmmph, and you have a face like an Alaunt chewing a wasp.” I spit back at her.

Laughing she links her arm through mine and pulls me against her side “It will all come right about you know she is the same woman that raised you, what difference does it make what name she goes by she has always loved you.”

“You have clearly been talking to the Baron, he said almost the same”

“He is right, you should reconcile yourself, for fear it eats away at you; so are you going to tell me about it or not”

“This is what I like about you Jehanne” I waggle a finger at her. “Straight to the point, as always you just jump in with your big feet and ask”

“I see no virtue in waiting to hear a third hand tale” she winks “which would doubtless be wrong”

“Well if you really want to know I will tell you as we clean, it’s nothing very interesting really” 

We make for the chamber next to mine, it looks like it has been used as a storage room for years and before we can begin every stick of furniture, every pot, chest and tapestry needs to be hauled into the corridor. It is so damned hot that we are sweating and lathered like draught horses in minutes.

“So who is your father Isabé” Jehanne’s voice is bright with excitement and curiosity.

“Oh that is the one thing Blanche was careful not to tell me, no matter how often I asked she evaded or even flatly refused to tell me”

“But for God’s sake why would she not tell you?

“All she said was that he had made her promise not to and he would tell me himself when he felt the time was right” I sling a chipped jug out onto an old mattress, my aim is good but there is too much force, it bounces onto the floor and shatters. I cannot even be bothered to swear, just roll my eyes and hiss breath out in a long sigh.

“So I may never know” I could feel the tears ready to fall and I dash them away with the back of my hand. 

Without another word I start to push at one of three remaining chests, trying to move it towards the door, Jehanne shakes her head at me and comes to help.  Grunting and groaning we shove and heave them into the corridor.

“Isabé, sit down for a moment, sit and talk with me” I lean back against the cool wall and let myself slide down to the floor. Jehanne follows suit and sits close, our arms touch. For a moment I just hug my knees to my chest and then it all spills out.

Their meeting in ’87, a pretty farmer’s daughter and the youngest son of a wealthy official. A love affair cut short when, as was the way, he was packed off to a life of celibacy, obedience and prayer at Jumièges Abbey. His swift move from postulant to Junior and then his appointment as Cellarer was remarkable, no doubt his family’s generous gifts to the Abbey of both land and money eased his path and gave the Abbot reason to keep him. Though by all accounts he was a handful and often kicked against the goads of authority.

I give an unladylike sniff and let loose a hiccoughing laugh. 

Jehanne hugs me closer, “So he was troublesome and rebellious” She smirks at me.

“Hmmm, it seems he was always at odds with his superiors” I grin back at her, “He  didn’t stay a Black Monk for too long.”

“Then you must be your father’s daughter,  I can see where both your obstinacy and sense of justice come from!”

She gives a false yelp and feigns hurt, as I smack her arm but she is laughing at me and of course she is right. I continue the tale of how he came back to Rouen to find that Blanche had left to go and stay with her Sister and Brother in Law, Marielle and Thomas Pelletier. That he had no time to search for her as he had taken service with the Baron and joined the ranks of his company, all of them seemingly  hell bent on getting themselves killed in a Holy War. Already under orders to leave the soldiers were ready to move out, he had no option but to go.

“But surely he was not a fighter, not a soldier” Jehanne frowns at me.

“Oh, it seems he never gave up his training and practiced in secret but of course he was found out, another mark against him.”

I manage a weak smile, then shiver a little and squeeze at Jehanne’s hand.

“Isabé, please, if you don’t wish to tell me more then don’t, I know I am a nosy baggage but I have no wish to see you in distress.” 

Burning tears prick my eyes and now I begin to feel some remorse for how I have behaved to Blanche. “It did not end well Jehanne.”

I lean into my friend as she slides her arm about my shoulders.

“Marielle was overjoyed, she too was expecting their first child and was glad of the help, it did not matter to her that Blanche was not married and it seemed she was settled and safe. The birth was hard and the child survived for only a few hours but Thomas named her Ève, and at least she was baptized, but Marielle was so very weak and only lived for a few more days. Blanche is sure that she gave up on life, that she died of a broken heart as much as much as the fever.”

The tears start again, I let them fall fast and hot as I remember the pain and heartache of losing my own child so early, that poor scrap of life. Jehanne understands for she was there, my dearest friend, who helped me, a naïve girl who did not really know what was happening. 

I think on how harrowing it must be, to carry a Child all that time only to see it lose the fight to survive and I wonder if there is there a God? 

I push on, stuttering out my words with a ragged, uneven breath, telling of how Thomas was good to us at first, letting us stay on after I was born and that he doted on me until something evil worked into his brain and he sought solace in wine, more so after the anniversary of their deaths. To him Blanche was responsible, she had not done enough, had not been vigilant enough. He called her a whore and a slut and wondered how he could have allowed such a lecherous bitch take care of his beloved Marielle.”

Jehanne gasps in her breath. “The Arsehole, the bastard” what was he thinking?” She hisses between her teeth then strokes at my hair and makes soothing noises. 

“We could not stay, not when he started to become free with his fists or his belt. Blanche was in fear for our safety and the only place she could think to go was Madame Bouvier’s. One night when Thomas passed out again from too much wine, she bundled up only what she could carry, though she made sure to take some coin and he was so drunk he did not even realise she was rifling through the coin pouch on his belt.” 

“She should have taken the whole purse from that shit”

I Shake my head at her,” No she would not do that she took only what she felt was her due”

“Remember” I rest my cheek atop my knees and look across at her. “His heart was broken and it seemed that his mind was following.”

She snorts at me and her eyes flash with anger, “Don’t you dare, don’t you damned well dare make excuses for him Isabé”

I ignore her, for I never heard Blanche speak ill of him.

Recounting how with a sling across her body to carry me, Blanche walked away from that place, pausing only to say a prayer at the grave of Marielle and Ève. I tell more the story before I can forget the things Blanche has told me, the nights sleeping in barns or even in the open, that she begged rides on carts when she could and for a while joined with a group of nuns, then later walked with Pilgrims heading here to Rouen to seek a blessing at the Cathedral before they set off to Santiago. There were always plenty of people on the road and it seems that on the journey back here, I became Isabé Pelletier her niece, child of her late sister. 

The pain in my head has worsened, like an ever beating drum the thumping sensation is relentless, and my eyes are gritty and sore.

“Isabé, you look so weary, stop now, tell me the rest later hein”

“I think I shall burst if I don’t tell someone whilst it is fresh in my mind and who better than you my friend,” I smile broadly at her “My sister” 

I see a flush settle on her cheeks, “Don’t be so silly Isabé.”

“Truly Jehanne, you are like a sister to me” Her blush deepens and she shakes her head.

“But you survived Isabé”

“Indeed, Madame Bouvier confirmed Blanche’s story to whoever asked and no matter what anyone thought in private, no one challenged her to her face. It was she that told Blanche my Father had left to fight in the Holy War” 

“When Hénri returned from fighting, Blanche helped to care for him, I think he had always held a place in his heart for her, twice he proposed marriage, and twice she refused.  Finally she told him she was waiting for my father’s return but when he heard the name, he had to break the news to her that he had seen him fall on the battlefield and that although he had watched his body carried away he was sure he had not survived.”

“Poor, poor Blanche” I sigh, “to hear such news after waiting so long, it must have felt like a blow.”

Tears are still not far away and my voice cracks, “Yes a short love affair, but I know now that he was the only man she truly loved, indeed still loves, Hénri knows it too.”

“But your father is alive is he not?” 

“Oh yes and somewhere in Rouen, he returned many months after the other survivors and found Blanche married and already pregnant with Guillaume.”

“Sweet Mary Mother of God, he must have hated her for that.

“No, No Jehanne it seems that in spite of being rebellious he is also a very forgiving and practical man, for that matter so is Hénri and he never forbade my father the right to visit Blanche or me, though I have no memory of anyone in particular, we had so many visitors once we moved to the Manor.”

“Do you know why he returned so long after the others?”

“Blanche would not say, it seems that is histale to tell.”

I hear the bitter note in my voice, I can’t help it for I fear that I shall never know the truth of it.

Jehanne scrambles to her feet and reaches down to clasp my hand, standing quickly I grow dizzy and sway a little as everything goes black.

“Isabé what is it, are you well? 

“Just a little light headed”

“For God’s sake when did you last eat, I know you had nothing before you went to the Mason’s yard”

As I frown at her I think back.

“I don’t know, yesterday perhaps, yes, yesterday, midday.”

“Idiot, all this upset and upheaval, the cleaning, Raymond going to Paris and not least Blanche”

“That’s why I forgot with all this shit happening” I snap back at her, “Christ, you’re not my mother, so don’t speak to me as if you are.” I stare wide eye at her and bite at my bottom lip as I realise the stupidity of what I have just said.

“Jehanne I...” She cut’s me off, but she smiling.”

“Kitchen, Now!” She bellows at me. “I will carry on here”

“Alright, Alright I’m going, I need to speak with Fournier anyway”

Jehanne rolls her eyes and shakes her head, then leans forward to kiss my cheek.

“You will need to be fit for Raymond coming home, he will want a wife who can match his energy and from what I have seen so far he has plenty of that” She winks and leers at me “Now go”

I make my way down the stairs and across to the screens passage. A blast of hot air hits me as I enter the kitchens, in the centre of the room the Seneschal stands straight as a spear and whilst everyone else wilts in the heat he seems indifferent to it.

Shorter than Fournier by at least a foot, the Chef stands toe to toe with him and cranes his neck. He is clearly agitated, though with all the noise I can’t hear what he is saying.  I smile for what he lacks in height the smaller man makes up for in build, his ruddy, sweaty face is contorted into an angry mask and as he speaks he waves his arms around. This would hardly matter were it not for the fact that he clutches a large knife in his right fist and in his left, a cleaver, both of which seem to swipe perilously close to the Seneschal.

Fournier stands as calm as if he were being addressed by a venerable old Aunt, when he speaks it seems to infuriate Chef all the more, until finally he quietens, gives a curt nod  and stomps off to another part of his domain.

The Seneschal misses nothing, he knows I’m there, I saw him slide a sideways look at me as I entered the kitchen and he strides across and bids me good morning.

“Good Day to you Monsieur Fournier, if you have time I should like to speak with you about the wedding” I smile up at him. “I may be the Bride but I know nothing of the arrangements and as Sieur Raymond has been called to Paris not even the date is settled.”

“Of course I have time Mam’selle, but it is just Fournier.”

I nod my head and notice his grey eyes are almost silver in this light.

“First though if I may, I should like some food, I have been so busy that I have not eaten since midday yesterday”

“We must set that to rights Mam’selle , what can I have brought for you?” 

“I must admit I have no real appetite some cheese and bread will suffice” 

He waves a kitchen maid over and speaks in a low voice, as she scurries away he guides me across the kitchen to where a large table and two chairs are wedged in a corner. 

“Mam’selle my office.”

“Forgive me, but I should have thought that as Seneschal you would have your own private office”

“Oh indeed I do, close by the Baron’s quarters, but this is convenient for the day to day business of the Chateau and everyone knows where to find me. The other is for more private matters with the Baron or Sieur Raymond, besides I like the bustle and the noise in here.”

He gestures towards the chair nearest to me “Please, sit” He waits until I do before he settles into the other.

The dark wood of the table is battered and ink stained, on it an earthenware jug, two beakers, ink pot, quills and four neat stacks of parchment sheets arranged in front of him. Each, one weighted down by some object, an unusually shaped and coloured stone, a small wooden box, a carved stone hand missing two fingers, and on one, what looks to be the remains of a child’s toy, battered and broken now but unmistakeably a small wooden horse. Something about that discarded toy strikes at my heart, it makes me feel desperately sad.

Taking two sheets of parchment from the stack beneath the stone hand and one from each of the others, he runs a long finger down the columns of words and figures on each sheet and reads out each item. His attention to detail is impressive.

As he speaks my food is brought across, so much for bread and cheese, I widen my eyes and smile at him. A dish of peaches, fresh young cheese and warm bread, a dish of honey, thick slices of ham, a dish of almonds with spices, enough for three at least.

I pull some bread, spread it thickly with the cheese and drizzle it with a little honey then sink my teeth into the soft, sweet, salty, tangy whiteness. “Delicious, thank you” “My pleasure” He leans back in his chair “So Mam’selle as you see everything is well underway.” His smile is broad and generous. “Whatever supplies we cannot provide for ourselves will be brought in, they will begin to arrive tomorrow, though of course it will be only be those items which will not perish in this heat. The rest we can arrange when.” he smiles across at me “When Sieur Raymond advises me of the date”

“I understand perfectly Fournier” and I smile back in sympathy “I too should be delighted to know exactly when he has decided drag me before the Priest.” I am rewarded by a rumble of laughter and his eyes glitter “Indeed Mam’selle, indeed!  Though I am given to understand that the Archbishop will conduct your wedding at the Cathedral. As for quests the number is already at,” he rifles through his lists “One hundred and fifty three and should His Majesty deign to grace us with his presence, the number will increase markedly” I gasp, “His Majesty?” my voice is no more than a squeak. Fournier pours wine into a beaker and passes it to me, my fingers tremble as I raise it to my lips to take a sip. “Sieur Raymond is held in very high regard by the King, so personally, I think it is more likely than not that he will attend.”

“Then thank goodness we have started to clean the Chateau.” I sip at my wine and watch him from under my lashes as he rearranges the sheets of parchment.

“I think you will be a good friend Fournier, another ally”

We sit in silence as I eat, enjoying the delicious, simple food.

“I must go Fournier, thank you for the food and for what you have told me” I rise to leave and he accompanies me to the screens passage.

“Should there be anything else you need Mam’selle, you know where to find me”

I smile up at him, “Oh you have everything well in hand, I don’t think for one moment I shall need to trouble you much at all”

He nods, smiles “As you wish Mam’selle but you are most welcome here at any time and I have some ideas for the feast that you may like to hear, I was” he chooses his word “I was discussing them with DuFour as you as you arrived.”

“Yes I saw, is he always so excitable?”

“Oh sometimes far worse but,” he taps the side of his nose “Humbert DuFour is a master of his craft, he is an artist, the King has tried to entice him away more than once.

“He really is that good?”

“Oh indeed and I know he would be delighted if you would come and taste some of the wonderful dishes he is creating for your special day.”

I look across to where Chef DuFour is working, rapt in concentration, his brow deeply furrowed

“I will not disturb him now, but would you tell him please that it would be my pleasure?”

“Of course Mam’selle, though I fear it will make him even more unbearable, God help us” His laugh rumbles up again.

“Thank you for your time Fournier, for everything.”

“It is what I do” He shrugs and bids me good day.

There is a brightness to Fournier’s eyes, a soft indulgent smile on his lips and as Isabé walks away he smiles and whispers.

“How could I not do this for my own Daughter?”

Raymond and his Captain Mathieu Descoteaux ride side by side. A Sadness works deep into Raymond, sadness and disappointment, that Guillame of all people should be working against him, it has cut his heart.

“Keep your eyes on him when I cannot Mathieu, I hope I may yet save him if he is not in too deep” Mathieu gives him a searching look, Raymond nods, for if Guillaume cannot be pulled from this mire there is only one solution “If needs be then he must die, either at my hand or yours Descoteaux”

“Understood Sieur, Understood.” And with a nod the Captain reins away to ride a horses length behind his lord.

Raymond, pulls a corner of Isabé’s veil from his tunic. It is a little grubby now but still carries her scent of roses and he breathes it in, then unseen, he presses the cloth against his lips before tucking it away again.

“Sweet Christ all I want is not to have to do this shit anymore, to be home with you in my arms”

He closes his eyes for a moment, smiles and whispers her name.

**To reach the position of Cellarer as a Benedictine Fournier would have had to serve a much longer period than he did. From Postulant to Novice and Junior could have taken at least 4 years if not longer. So I’m taking licence here and using the premise that family would have gifted the Abbey a substantial sum of money or land and that would have “eased” his progress. I have tried to keep other timelines correctly fitted, but hey my sandpit my rules.

[clio-of-rohan]

I don't understand my upbringing. My parents did their best to raise me in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints, and yet, my upbringing was not that of an average mormon child. 

When I was seven years old, I forget why, but my parents left me with my great grandparents. Conversations between a seven year old and a man in his seventies are known for being a bit awkward, so my grandfather spoke to me of my upcoming birthday, and asked if I was going to be baptized. I was confused, "Well, I'm turning eight." I replied, as if that answered his question. Then he said something to me that I still have yet to forget, "but are you going to get baptized? You don't have to just because you're the right age, it's your decision to get baptized or not."

I don't remember how I responded, but that is what planted an idea in my head. What if I didn't want to be in the church? I first began to imagine what my life might be like if I were to choose something else. 

My parents took me to church, helped me to pay tithing, taught me how to fast, and I practically learned to read from the Book of Mormon. And yet, they kept me apart from the church. My mother would teach me things in private that did not line up with what I learned in church, my father would tell me when I should disregard what someone said in church. Looking back, it seems as though they were desperately and simultaneously bringing me to church, and shielding me from it. 

They even gave me different values. The church taught blind submission, and to never question the holy texts, but my parents taught me their values. They taught me to be compassionate. They taught me that justice and the institution were separate. They made me understand that my body was mine alone. They taught me to value personal freedom, and secular education, to take responsibility for my actions. They taught me that my rational ability to make decisions was more reliable than dogma. The church taught me that I was inherently evil, that I didn't deserve salvation and Jesus was just so nice that he would save me anyway. My parents taught me that my worthiness of love was not negotiable, that I deserved happiness.

They raised me to be good, not because of the church, but in spite of it. As I deconstruct my religious past, more feelings come up that I had suppressed. During my only trip through the temple, I remember feeling scared, and confused, and frustrated. I was powerless, bargaining away my values so I could get out faster. I often wish I would have turned around. As people are performing rituals around me and asking me to take secret oaths, could I have said no? I was in emotional anguish the whole time, but I did what I was told, and my family was waiting for me on the other side. As they held me, I felt safe again, and I told myself it was for them, that the relief made the entire process worth it. 

To be totally honest, I don't understand my parents' position in the church. They seem to kick against the pricks with regularity, and yet unwilling to leave. They seem to support me in my apostasy, to advocate for me from within the church, but they won't openly rebel. There are days when I think I've betrayed them by leaving the church that they've stuck with for generations, and other days I wonder if this was the point, that they, and the people before them were screaming at me as silently as they could, to turn around and run. Did they not feel the choice? Did my parents distill all of their rebellious attitudes and give them up so I could get out? 

I still sometimes question my decision, but the truth is, I am happier out of the church than I ever was in it. I still love my family that is still on the other side of the proverbial chapel accordion dividers. They made me who I am, for and in spite of the church.

[cromulentbookreview]

Binge! Part 2: The Re-Binging

I’m often put off by long book series - considering how often I complain about being suckered into the first book of a series, this isn’t surprising. However, sometimes I’m willing to put in the time to binge a whole series.

Like, for example, the Barker & Llewelyn series by Will Thomas.

So I binge-read the first 10 books of this series (well, 10.5, there’s a novella called An Awkward Way to Die ) in one long, dizzying binge last year. And, lucky for me, there’s a new book out: Lethal Pursuit! Pretty much exactly one year from the release of Blood is Blood! 

But! If you haven’t read the first 10.5 books, here’s a review:

BOOK 1 - Some Danger Involved: Your average detective enquiry agent-duo origin story featuring brilliant detective and his new snarky Welsh sidekick!

BOOK 2 - To Kingdom Come: Barker & Llewelyn go undercover and build bombs for the Irish!

BOOK 3 - The Limehouse Text: Barker & Llewelyn face big trouble in London’s 19th Century Chinatown!

BOOK 4 - The Hellfire Conspiracy: Barker & Llewelyn fight human traffickers, secret societies and such!

BOOK 5 - The Black Hand: Barker & Llewelyn fight the Italian mafia!

BOOK 6 - Fatal Enquiry: Barker & Llewelyn fight Barker’s almost comically evil arch-nemesis!

BOOK 7 - Anatomy of Evil: Barker & Llewelyn fight Jack the Ripper!

BOOK 8 - Hell Bay: Barker & Llewelyn Present: Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None!

BOOK 8.5 - An Awkward Way to Die: Barker & Llewelyn solve a case in, like, 20 minutes!

BOOK 9 - Old Scores: Barker & Llewelyn Present: Japonism in Late-19th Century England!

BOOK 10 - Blood is Blood: Barker is put temporarily out of commission by an explosion! Llewelyn must solve the case himself! Who should show up to help but Barker’s long lost brother??

BOOK 11 - Lethal Pursuit: Barker and Llewelyn are hired by the Prime Minister himself to transport an ancient manuscript to Calais. Sounds easy enough! Except Barker seems more interested in investigating the death of the man who brought the manuscript to England in the first place…

So! Lethal Pursuit! It begins with Hillary Drummond, recently arrived to England from Germany (somewhat newly united! Kind of!) he’s on the run from some blue uniformed youths after the satchel he’s carrying, which contains this book’s MacGuffin an ancient, and very valuable manuscript. Drummond almost, almost makes it to the Home Office when, gasp! He’s run through with a sword. Then he walks into traffic and is run over by a cab.

Or, as it’s known in London traffic: Tuesday.

Meanwhile! It’s January! 1892! Llewelyn is a happily married man, as he loves to mention roughly every two pages. Along with being a happily married man (did he mention that he’s married now? Because he is) he’s also now a partner in Barker’s Detective Private Enquiry Agency. Barker has been moving a bit slower since his leg injury during the events of Blood is Blood, but, instead of treating Llewelyn like a full partner, Barker continues to treat him like an assistant. Which rankles Llewelyn a bit but hey, at least he’s married to the love of his life Rebecca. Only they still live in Barker’s house - he’s renovated the first floor for them and everything. Anyway, Barker and Llwelyn receive a summons from Prime Minister himself! The British government has the MacGuffin, and they want nothing more than to have the manuscript sent off to the Vatican archives and forgotten. But Barker is more interested in the mystery of who killed Hillary Drummond and why. Rather than immediately deliver the manuscript to Calais like the Prime Minister asked them to do, Barker hangs onto it. See, this manuscript is, apparently, a new gospel. Which is important because...reasons?

OK, so after 11 books, I’ve noticed that the Barker & Llwelyn series involve a lot more religion than I know anything about. I mean, when it comes to the religious category on Jeopardy, my answer is always “Jesus.” I’ve never read the Bible the whole way through - I read Acts of the Apostles in high school for an assignment, for which I had to actually go out and buy a Bible because the one we had was a family heirloom that couldn’t be opened without falling to pieces. In my lifetime I’ve attended a grand total of two church services - one when I was baptized at the ripe old age of 7 (I guess from ages 0-7 I was naught but a sinful hellbeast) and once in Germany I attended an Easter mass in a thousand year old cathedral because it was literally the only thing open on Easter Sunday in the whole town. Upper Franconia is suuuuper Catholic, you guys. Anyway, I took communion at that mass just to see what the body of Christ tastes like (burnt toast, I was disappointed). Does that mean I’m Catholic now? Hurray for gold-plated everything and indulgences? I mean, I’m not even 100% sure what I was baptized as back when I was a 7-yr-old unbaptized hellbeast…Lutheran, maybe? I think? I do enjoy posting lists of complaints on peoples’ doors. I mean, I could check, but that would require getting up and I both don’t want to and really don’t care all that much. Anyway, long story short: religion is not my strong suit. I don’t know the difference between a Baptist and an Episcopalian and a Methodist. Perhaps I should but honestly…eh. My point is, when Will Thomas writes about a manuscript that might be a new gospel written before Luke or Matthew or whoever...I just sort of smile and nod and go "yeah sure OK" and have zero idea what that might actually mean or its religious significance. I just hear “1000 year old manuscript” and think “that sounds awesome, gimme.”

Back to the book: this manuscript is so valuable, the people after it are willing to kill for it. Which puts Barker & Llewelyn in an awkward position. Even more awkward is the fact that Rebecca’s family, who seemed so cool in the last book, have now decided to shun her for marrying Thomas, a gentile. As usual, Barker & Llewelyn are caught between a rock and a hard place. Can they deliver the manuscript safely to the Vatican? Can Thomas repair the relationship between himself and his in-laws? Will Rebecca ever learn how to make a decent Pain au chocolat? Will we ever, ever meet Thomas’s massive Welsh family? Will Rebecca ever demand to get to know her small army of brothers- and sisters-in-law? Will Barker ever propose to Philippa? Will I ever learn the difference between various sects of Christianity? Find out tomorrow in Barker & Llewelyn: Lethal Pursuit!  Same bat time, same bat channel!

I love this series. I am well and truly hooked. Barker & Llewelyn are a more down-to-earth Holmes and Watson. There is just the right amount of action, historical detail, and mystery to satisfy any Sherlockian desperate for some 19th century English mystery. I don’t know of any other book series, save Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries series, where I’ve stuck around past the 8th or 9th book. So many books! Not enough time for serieses! I mean, sometimes I entertain the thought of binging all 900,000 Discworld books, but there are so many other things I’d like to read, too…I wish I were a faster reader. Better yet, I wish I could be like the Doctor and just flip through a book and absorb all its contents at once. That’d be awesome.

Still. I adore Barker & Llewelyn - I will absolutely be there for any book they’re in, even if the series goes the full Anne Perry and goes on and on for like, 20+ books. I’m here for it. And I am on pins and needles for the next book. I really, really, really want Thomas to reconcile with his family in Wales. I want Barker to actually acknowledge that Philippa Ashleigh is his girlfriend. I JUST WANT MORE, DAMN IT!

OK, for lack of anything else to say, let’s fancast this thing.

OK, so Barker would obviously be played by Graham McTavish, aka Dougal from Outlander.

Admit it, he’d be absolutely perfect, right? Come on. I mean, just look at that face.

Thomas Llewelyn would be played by Taron Egerton because he’s Welsh and  absolutely pretty and tough enough to be Llewelyn

Yesssss.

Mac would be played by Paul Ready because Paul Ready is beautiful and I love him and would cast him in anything. Plus, I could see him as the finicky perfectionist Mac. Plus, I still ship Mac/Thomas, and I think he’d play well against Taron Edgerton. By which I mean they’re both gorgeous and I’d enjoy watching them.

Jeremy Jenkins would be played by Adam Nagaitis because he’s awesome and he’d be perfect as the squirrley / drunk half the time Jenkins.

Ho would be played by Benedict Wong because he would be perfect, though I’m not sure if my fantasy BBC/ITV/Netflix series budget would have enough money to get Benedict Wong. He’s got Marvel money now.

Rebecca Llwelyn nee Cowan nee Mocatta would be played by Jessica Brown Findlay because, eh, why not. I’m still traumatized/pissed off about Sybil’s death on Downton Abbey.

Tchéky Karyo as expert chef Etienne Dummolard because I can seriously picture him going into a long French tirade and throwing shit whenever Barker disrespects his cooking.

Michelle Gomez as Philippa Ashleigh, Barker’s Girlfriend, because I would love to see her and Graham McTavish as Barker snipe at each other.

Gemma Chan as Bok Fu Ying aka Miss Winter, Barker’s ward, because she is the perfect combination of elegance and badass.

Gaten Matarazzo as Soho Vic because I’m absolutely sure he could pull off a British accent and annoy the shit out of Thomas,

And this dog as Harm. Look at this dog!

Awww!

RECOMMENDED FOR: Anyone fond of a fun 19th century mystery-solving duo.

NOT RECOMMENDED FOR: People who dislike mysteries, detective private enquiry agent duos.

OVERALL SERIES RATING: 4.5/5

TOTALLY UNBIASED VICTORIAN MYSTERY / MURDERINO FANGIRL RATING: 5/5

LETHAL PURSUIT RATING: 4/5

RELEASE DATE: November 12, 2019

ANTICIPATION LEVEL FOR NEXT BOOK IN THE SERIES: Olympus Mons