#working backwards from his current fixations and hangups to a Source whee

[arikos-of-caelid]

Fingers of Fate

While the young, auburn-brown haired and gold-flecked, dark-blue eyed orphan boy Arikos had lived in the small but well-maintained chapel in a corner of the Lands Between for as long as he’d remembered. It’d been quite the special occasion when the old crone of a Finger Reader had summoned him, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Your fingers…let me read them, young one, so that you may know the place Grace has given you.”

Grace…the sacred guidance that led those in the land on their path. He’d long heard of it, but got the impression it was something only the Older People really got. So to be told as such, as young as he was, barely even over a decade old, was special. How could someone that special deny the crone taking his fingers into her hands? Arikos beamed up at her, figuratively and literally, as the motes of gold in his eyes began to shine subtly brighter. He waited, with bated breath, to hear her words.

“You are a blade held between the Fingers; to bring justice to the enemies of the Order, and keep the long fought for peace in these lands.”

A blade…the stuff of a warrior, a fighter. He gasped for a moment; it seemed odd in his immediate perception. He didn’t feel very strong; indeed, he felt more comfortable brewing the nearby red lilies blooms into tea for the travelers, worshipers, and soldiers that came to the chapel for refuge and healing.

But now was no time for doubt. He looked up, nodded at the crone, as if to inquire: tell me more. 

And so the finger reader nodded back, squeezing the fingers Arikos had offered more tightly and seemed to tremble momentarily before speaking again.

“A blade of the lands of Caelid, under the eye of General Radahn. He who conquered the stars; after his father now King Consort Radagon, and in the spirit of First Lord Godfrey.”

Yes, this was what this land was called. The soldiers that so often visited, were the ones under that General’s command. The Redmanes, he believed they were called. Yes, that was right, those were who the red flowers were named for. But this chapel wasn’t a place where they made armor and swords. This is where they taught the truth of the world, of the one goddess Queen Marika, of the life-giving Erdtree that watched over the lands, of the Golden Order it stood as a symbol of. Of the Two Fingers and of the Greater Will they were an envoy to. He didn’t understand all of it; he figured he would, once he was older. And it definitely seemed like Arikos needed to now, for fulfilling whatever Grace seemed to demand of him. He trembled slightly, and the trembling finger reader running her fingers along his seemed to subtly amplify his anxiety.

The crone’s next words seemed to, in part, answer some of what had arisen in his heart of hearts.

“But the battles to be fought are not in the open light anymore. They lurk in the shadows, the enemies with hidden faces and sins. Your eyes shall winnow them, storm them in the darkness where they hide.”Hiding. In the darkness. Where things weren’t so obvious. Oh. 

So he wasn’t supposed to be a soldier then. Arikos was…supposed to be something else. Some kind of an agent of this chapel, of these Fingers, then. To give something back to the place that had taken him in and given him care. That made more sense.

He didn’t know why then, of course, what enemies those were and why. Why something like this would be something people wanted to destroy. But, he was supposed to find that out, understand, if this lady’s words were any indication. And so once again, the young boy waited with bated breath. And then came the most severe of the Crone’s words.

“But you must be careful, child. Lest your heart stray from the path of true Gold, and all be rent to disaster.”

At the time, certainly, that warning seemed especially absurd. But he took it to heart in his own way: the enemies couldn’t win the fair way, so they had to do things dirty to break it down. So he had to fight on that same territory, so they couldn’t destroy his home, this place, the people like that. Yes, I think I can be a warrior like that. This really is my destiny, then. “...I accept this. This path of Grace, and where it may lead,” Arikos said, his high young voice nonetheless full of a serious tenor beyond his years.

And with that, the dark blue of his irises was now fully subsumed by bright, shining gold. The crone finally released his fingers, and nodded. 

“Yes, indeed…let the words of the Fingers guide you from here on out, young Confessor.”