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[Bartholomew]

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Musings before the Night Sky

Bartholomew gathered the papers and notes for the sermon scheduled for one week from tonight. Tucking the notes and taking a quill and ink well, he headed to the roof. The calming he found sitting on the grass between the southern benches centering the North Star over the central obelisk in the roof aided his concentrations. Looking over the other four obelisks on the roof highlighted four other random sections of the northern sky. Crossing his legs and snuggling against the southern wall, Bartholomew forcibly inhaled as much air has his lungs could hold, then slowly released the breathe in a strained and measured rate. Repeating the process seven more times, totaling eight, the number of the Virtues, Bartholomew felt a warm relaxing aura throughout his body. There was some tingling in his feet and hands signifying his state of concentration were complete. Now he set to reading and re-reading the sermon draft many times.

The bold wording was just as unsettling to him now as when he wrote them, but he saw no other path, no real choice. Still, the nagging question kept screaming within his mind, “Was it his place to question the driving forces behind others? Should he be the one to instigate such a fuss? How would he know if he had done good, for once done there would be no turning back.” Leaning back he weighed the term wrong in the repeated context in the sermon and concentrated whether it was his right to call anything wrong in the dealings of other people. He realized that it might be his place to determine virtue, and are not things lacking in virtue also be considered wrong? But still, how could he, a lowly preacher of virtue, the Celebrant of the Holy Church of the Virtues, presume to decide things of this weight, of this importance. The ramifications were dizzying. He allowed these thoughts to echo in the background of his mind as he moved on to consider more of this dangerous and inflammatory sermon.

Suddenly a fearful thought crashed into the center of his mind, crowding out all other considerations. What if this revelation were true? What if this sermon was simply his personal affront to the events of the other day? What if the ant-virtuous acts of the Dark Order outside of the gates of Dark Cove were driving this sermon? Could it be simple anger and self-pity that was driving this sermon? Was he simply looking to blame others for things beyond his, or possibly their, control? “No! This cannot be the case! Never would I turn to such a petty rooting or desire. Would I?” These thoughts were still quite disturbing. Grabbing hold of his thoughts, Bartholomew returned to his delving into this sermon, but still these self-doubts and self-questioning echoed throughout his mind.

As he read further, suddenly Bartholomew let out a piercing scream as if possessed. This outburst startled Bart, as well as a number of deer and birds near to the Church. Trying to settle down and slow his racing heart he pulling out his handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. Still shaking, Bartholomew cupped his hands over his knees and pulled them close to his body. He remained balled up tight until the shaking stopped, then he released his knees and repeated his relaxing breathing technique, eight times as usual, once for each Virtue. This last paragraph, he decided, was the one that scared him the most. Would he turn in years from now and see this as a wise move or the undoing of everything in Sosaria?

Reading through the sermon one more time, and still the force and determination held within his words was troubling to him. Looking over the obelisk to the night sky, focusing in on the North Star, Bartholomew weighed the words one last time. Shaking his head, he gathered and ordered his papers one last time and headed back to his office. Still feeling uneasy, he muttered to himself, “Maybe I should leave a blanket up on the roof for comfort, I feel I’ll be spending some time night-gazing.” Placing his papers securely in one of his chests, Bartholomew tried to put his thoughts away with the papers and ease his mind to allow him to get off to sleep. But sleep was not going to come easily and the thoughts were not going to let go of him. This would be a long week.
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Bartholomew; Celebrant of Virtue {HCV}