Chapter 38

  With a smile plastered on his face, Hektor tried his best to appear graceful and noble as warranted. All the while silently hoping that others wouldn’t pick up on his anxiety.

  Fortunately, being on the move afforded Hektor some obscurity. That same obscurity was ripped away from him for he was travelling in an open carriage. With an escort of guards, no less.

  It was a damn parade! He was being paraded.

  The saving grace, if that, was that Gwen sat beside him. Everyone only had eyes for her and were openly gawking at the beautiful Croft heiress in all her glory. A queen and temptress rolled into one.

  And while close vicinity to such an idol ramped up the attention, Hektor was unceremoniously overlooked. Some thought him to be Gwen’s servant even. And yet, quite a few had knowing expressions at working out Hektor’s identity.

  Gwen looked to be in her element, a natural at being the center of attention. For the day, she had decided to act out in a manner of girlish charm and pairing it with bubbling exuberance. She had the audience thoroughly bewitched with her beauty, doling out shy but blossoming smiles as she waved to the crowd.

  Nothing for it, Hektor endured the antics and did his best to play along. The procession was planned to show a united front to the public, to paint a picture of the happy young couple together out and about the city on a date.

  It was all propaganda and crucially necessary. They had to bring the mob in on it to sell the plot that Gwen Croft was spoken for and that she had the backing of Sabina Ashworth as her mother in law. Getting the public on their side was half the battle. The other half was the aristocracy and, well, that was a tad more complicated.

  Playing his role, Hektor made a show of whispering to Gwen. “Sorry,” he apologized with a forced smile. “I should be doing better.”

  Playing up her part, Gwen laughed demurely and swatted playfully at Hektor. “You’re doing fine. You should hold my hand, though” she suggested.

  Hektor tried to match her enthusiasm. “My palms are drenched,” he spoke unwittingly as if sharing in on a joke, discreetly donning his gloves. He then lifted Gwen’s hand to his lips in a gentlemanly fashion. The hooting and whistles that resulted from the crowd almost had him snatching his hand back.

  Gwen chuckled, noting that Hektor’s shyness could be seen as endearing by the onlookers. She bestowed another wave to the crowd to give Hektor a moment to recollect his composure.

  Up close, Gwen could see the toll it was taking on the boy. He was sweating even with a cool breeze and had to constantly correct himself from fidgeting and snapping at every abrupt noise.

  Looking to him, Gwen only felt pity for the boy. A good thing it was that Hektor was able to sell the act from a distance.

  With small fanfare, they eventually reached their destination. The Church of Three Graces.

  The particular church was one of the many of its kind spread across the city in various districts. They all shared the same elegant minimalistic design, this one made of white marble with artistic flair given to the masonry.

  The church made for an odd structure and stood out amongst its surroundings with its three towers triangulating around the domed roof. Its construction and upkeep, uniformly pristine and of the highest quality. And yet, it was a study in contradictions.

  For its importance, the church discarded the imposing for an inviting and homely charm to its design with vast windows providing clear and open views of the indoors. There was a distinct lack of grandeur and ornamentation that always came to be with places of worship.

  The carriage stopped at the stairs leading to the wide entrance. For the occasion, the crowds were ushered back by the guards as Hektor disembarked and offered his assistance to Gwen.

  Together, the two of them slowly climbed the stairs, milking their entrance. Another ploy of propaganda to advertise the young couple visiting the church on their first public appearance.

  Beyond the entrance, they were greeted by a middle-aged man wearing scholarly robes who bowed to greet the pair. “Welcome to the Church of Three Graces,” he invited in a rich voice.

  “Thank you, Scholar Hiram,” Hektor spoke respectfully with a familiar tone. “Gwen, this is Scholar Hiram. Beyond being a Scholar of the Church, I had the privilege of having him as one of my tutors in the past. Scholar Hiram, this is Miss Gwen Croft,” Hektor introduced.

  Gwen and Hiram exchanged greetings.

  “Would you like a tour?” Hiram offered plainly.

  “We do not wish to overstay and prolong the inconvenience of our visit,” spoke Hektor. “If you would allow me to accompany Miss Croft, we would like to pay our respects and take our leave shortly after.”

  “As you wish,” Hiram spoke formally, but came close to give Hektor’s shoulder a squeeze before stepping aside.

  Hektor beckoned his arm in invitation. “Shall we, Gwen.”

  They entered the main hall and it was immediately apparent that the surroundings did not lend themselves to a conventional church hall. It resembled a museum more than anything else.

  The wide-open space was meticulously sequestered to hold exhibits. The majority of which seemed to contain some form of written documents in a glass casing. There were also the more ancient wooden and stone carvings of inscriptions spread throughout the collection. Portraits and historic paintings hung on glass panes segregated by stanchions with velvet ropes marking the boundaries.

  Dominating the center of the hall, under the domed roof, stood a sculpture of three androgynous stone statues. Elevated, they were eight feet tall and without any distinguishing features. But for small differences, they were almost perfect copies. They stood on a slowly rotating platform with their backs to each other, facing outwards forming an equidistant triangle.

  Before anything else, Hektor walked up to the revolving statues and offered a solemn bow.

  Ithica was an odd entity in that it was a secular nation under a monarchy. And it had a most unusual inception.

  More than five hundred years ago, the nation that came to be Ithica was little more than a collection of feudal states under the rule of dozens of self-proclaimed kings of their fiefdoms.

  The twelfth century was a particularly gruesome era in said region, with all of the territories turning into warring states. The reason of conflict was a common one; religious conquest.

  For amongst the dozen or so fiefdoms, there were numerous faiths interspersed across the territories. Suffice to say, it didn’t take much to incite any ruler to zealotry with bloody consequences.

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  What resulted was a state of war that lasted well into three decades! All at the whims of nobles who conscripted the populace and marched them to war in accordance to their own beliefs.

  It was during this bloody era that the seeds of what came to be the Ithica nation were sowed.

  Alec Evander was one of the young heirs of a northern fiefdom who saw the futility of war and sought to find an end to the massacre. He gathered likeminded young noblemen and ladies to form a secret coalition with the purpose of bringing peace to the territories.

  As the years passed, these heirs gradually went on to inherit their fiefdoms. When the time was ripe, they unified under Evander’s banner, for the first time naming themselves the nation of Ithica.

  With the war very much a bleeding memory, the scholarly and philosophical King Evander passed the decree that all nobility under his banner cannot preach or advocate any religion to the masses. While everyone was free to practice their faith, the nobility were outlawed to show bias towards any religion in a public capacity.

  It was the first step taken to prevent a repeat of history where nobility were sanctioned from waging wars of zealotry on accounts of treason.

  Following up in his later years, King Evander would pen a doctrine that would go on to become the foundation of the Three Graces, which in turn became the creed of modern Ithican.

  The Three Graces started as a philosophy that represented the monarchy, the nobility and the people. Under such a creed, all three were equal and answerable to each other. Each having their own roles and part to play for the benefit of the nation. Essentially a series of checks and balances to ensure that all facets of governance, from the monarchy and nobles to the populace held each other accountable to their responsibilities.

  Over the centuries, as Ithica grew both in territory and populace, the philosophy of Three Graces spread far and wide, growing ever popular amongst both the masses and the aristocracy. It evolved to become something very close to a native religion and was instrumental in Ithica remaining a secular government.

  In time, the Three Graces came to be a cultural defining trait of Ithican nationality, much like their language and art. For whichever faith an Ithican adhered to, they followed the creed of the Three Graces as a social norm.

  Thusly, Ithican society came to be more reserved and private in their worship. Beyond places of worship, religious dates and festivals, open displays of religious acts came to seen as a minor cultural taboo. Those that committed such a thing were seen as discourteous and ill mannered.

  The biggest transformation, however, had descended on the Ithican aristocracy. Over generations, the Ithican nobility diluted their fervor towards religion and instead subscribed to the creed of Three Graces as a doctrine of governance. The hereditary nature of aristocracy meant that almost all born of a noble linage took the Three Graces as their scripture by birthright.

  “Are you religious?” Gwen interjected into the silence.

  Hektor respectfully backed away from the statues before answering, “No. I am still too young.”

  The odd reply had Gwen curious. “Why do you say that?”

  Hektor moved to one of the displays of an encased parchment from over three centuries ago. This one was a philosophical musing on the swift action of leadership at the behest of elderly council.

  “I would not presume to speak of others, but mother had me study the faiths of our nation before I could become a practitioner,” Hektor shared, his attention divided to reading the document on display.

  Gwen was intrigued, more observant of Sabina’s actions than by Hektor’s upbringing.

  “Which gods or goddesses call to you then?”

  Hektor reluctantly turned to face Gwen. “None, I’m afraid.”

  “You’re an atheist?” Gwen asked in surprise.

  “No. Not like that. I believe in a greater power and I have faith. But I do not subscribe to religion. Not yet, at least,” Hektor answered truthfully. “And yourself, Gwen?”

  “My family offer prayers to Fortuna,” she answered easily.

  Hektor anticipated the answer. The goddess of fate and luck was particularly popular amongst merchants and shopkeeps. He wanted to ask her the same question, that whether she was pious or not, but he was inclined to avoid the uncomfortable topic of religion all too readily.

  With time to kill, Hektor and Gwen strolled the hall, taking in the exhibits. One far corner led to a small library with a restricted section on the first floor.

  “These are the private rooms for counseling,” Hektor gestured to a series of doors in an adjoining corridor. The discreet rooms were used by visitors who needed guidance or had complaints to share with the Scholars of the Church. The Scholars in turn offered them advice or took action where merited on their behalf.

  “The door at far end leads to the offices,” Hektor added. “It is a shame to see the church so empty. It takes away from its charm,” he noted, not pleased at having the church vacated for their charade.

  “Do you visit often?” Gwen asked at Hektor’s tone.

  “Not for a while. I did spend some time here as part of my lessons with Scholar Hiram,” he clarified.

  “Lessons?”

  “Yes. About the Three Graces and how the Church functioned,” Hektor explained. “For a few weeks, I apprenticed as Scholar Hiram’s assistant and observed his work.”

  “That is an unusual education.”

  Hektor shrugged. “I can say the same about you.”

  Gwen conceded the point with a nod. Private tutors and advanced of alchemy were not the most widespread or available of resources.

  Hektor desperately wanted to ask Gwen questions on wizardry and about the Isca Academy in the capitol. But he refrained, fearing that his curiosity may not be appreciated. That it might be perceived as an interrogation by Gwen. It wasn’t worth the risk of possibly alienating her further.

  “Hektor,” Gwen called out.

  Hektor turned and was surprised to see a rare expression on Gwen, one of hesitation and awkwardness. A complete opposite to the confident and graceful creature that she was.

  ‘I must apologize,” she spoke.

  Hektor was confounded by the abrupt twist. “For what?” he blurted.

  Now it was Gwen’s turn to be confused. Suddenly she found herself admitting her guilt and then having to justify it.

  “For my poor manners the other day?” she half asked, half replied. She grew all the more embarrassed at seeing Hektor make an effort to remember her folly.

  Doubt crept up on her. Was Hektor that dense or that she simply didn’t catch his eye?

  Before she could work out her disappointment, Hektor spoke up, “Are you referring to your,” he paused to choose his words carefully, “your interest towards the other man?” he inferred of her flirting with Shane.

  The embarrassment piled on Gwen, who was forced to admit, “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “I was rude and inconsiderate and I apologize.” She repeated herself, managing to do so without biting her tongue in humiliation for her bruised pride.

  “Thank you, Gwen,” Hektor forgave readily. “No need to dwell on it,” he offered amiably.

  The easy pardon irked Gwen. Here she was forced to admit fault while Hektor couldn’t be bothered and was handing out forgiveness without a care. Her apology felt hollow, cheap and unnecessary.

  “May I speak freely?” Hektor interjected, stalling Gwen’s rising anger and annoyance.

  Gwen gave a stiff nod.

  “Ever since I was involved in all this,” he gestured between Gwen and himself, “I have been told repeatedly to stop getting in my own way. May I be bold enough to offer you the same advice?”

  For a moment Gwen just stared back in incomprehension. And then all at once, the wind left her sails and her anger evaporated. As did her feelings of being wronged. In its place came shame upon the fact that she was being schooled and looked down upon by a child.

  The most infuriating thing was that Gwen could see that Hektor was right and that she was in the wrong.

  Seeing the vulnerability in the prideful woman, Hektor felt guilty at causing her grief.

  “You are not used to pretending, Gwen. No wonder you are bad at it,” Hektor imitated Nazeer, trying his hand at teasing her in good humor and lifting her spirits.

  Gwen looked to Hektor, unsure what to make of the boy in front of her. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Hektor became a little guarded at her tone and stopped channeling Nazeer. “You are a powerful and independent woman,” he hedged carefully. “It is only fair that you will struggle at pretending to be something else.”

  The comment went some way to placating Gwen and she nodded to herself. “Thank you,” she said, picking up on the compliment.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Gwen was compelled to revise her opinion of Hektor. Once again. “How did you become like this?” she couldn’t help but ask about the strange boy.

  Hektor looked to her questioningly. Only for Gwen to realize her rudeness. It seemed she was prone to making mistakes in front of Hektor.

  “I meant how did you become so clever so young?” she tried to salvage her error.

  Hektor didn’t mind her slip. “All to do with the people around me,” he said with a small smile, as if in on a private joke. He had been very literal with his answer.

  For all the good people in his life, Hektor had also been influenced by the wicked. Just as he wouldn’t be the person he was without his mother’s love; he might have been a different person altogether if not for Reginald’s cruelty when he was ten.

  The good and the bad, both, shape a person.

  Not for the first time, Hektor’s unusual manner stumped Gwen. Was he being intentionally obscure? Or was he putting on airs in front of her?

  Gwen dismissed her assumptions even as she thought them. No. She suspected that Hektor meant what he said. That Hektor truly believed in the people closest to him.

  That brought about a different barrage of questions. Was Hektor just parroting those better than him? Or did he possess a genuine intelligence that belied his age?

  Gwen was inclined to believe both.

  However, the idea of Hektor surrounded by people who cared for him, loved him, whom he trusted and felt safe with, didn’t sit well with Gwen for some reason she couldn’t explain.

  Unbeknownst to her, Gwen was envious. And it was a strange and curious thing for Gwen Croft, the woman who had everything, to be jealous.