The Choice of the Chosen - 2. Chapter 2

The Pantheon chooses those who have potential. Each Chosen has the obligation to fulfill their potential and prove themselves worthy to serve their deity.

Eve trembled with shock, even minutes after he had heard the sound of the suite door closing. Half-naked as he was, he didn't dare to look. Instead, he still clutched the dress to himself and scolded himself for being an idiot for not checking before he took off his travel clothes, covered in road dust. On the other hand, were the luggage porters too stupid to close the door as they had been told to do?

After another shaky breath, he slipped into the dress and pulled it halfway into place before peering out of his bedroom into the drawing room. He was relieved to see that the door really was closed. The man who had walked in had also looked shocked, but still...

With a renewed shudder, Eve stepped back into the bedroom and slipped into his light blue shoes before tightening the side laces of the dress. Then he put on the coat-like dark blue overdress and buttoned the button tab from the neck down to the navel before carefully arranging the fabric of the two skirts. Afterwards, he combed and braided his long, dirty blonde hair, knowing that he would have to do this many times a day in the winds blowing at sea. With silver clasps he pinned the maiden's crown of white silk flowers to his head and was glad for Adam's permission to remove the fine lace veil, for its fluttering in the wind would have looked terribly silly, not to mention the fact that he would have to take it off for meals either way.

The sound of the main door startled him, but before he had even turned around properly, Adam was already calling out:

"Eve! Are you ready?"

Reassured that it was just his brother, Eve exhaled deeply. "Yes," he called back and took the gloves off the bed, made of dark blue lace and just as silly as the rest of his clothes. He had just slipped into them when Adam appeared in the doorway.

"Put a jacket on. It's windy on the upper decks, even here in the harbor."

"Of course." Eve inclined his head in agreement. Adam had already given the instruction earlier, so the jacket was waiting on the bed. Dark blue velvet settled heavily on his slender shoulders as Adam helped him into it.

"Good, now come on," Adam said coolly, after he had closed the three huge silver buttons for Eve.

Obediently, Eve clasped Adam's arm and together they walked at a measured pace through the ship, whose corridors were bustling with activity. Eve had learned not to be impressed by the hustle and bustle and chaos, had learned to look at it as if it was none of his business. And as long as Adam was with him, he couldn't do anything else anyway without invoking his wrath.

As they climbed the main staircase, the ship's horn sounded, the long, drawn-out sound vibrating through everything.

"The first signal to cast off," Adam remarked.

Eve thought it was rather early, because when they had arrived on the ship not so long ago, there still had been a lot of people waiting to board. But he remained silent, holding only his skirts with one hand and Adam's arm demurely with the other.

He hoped he wouldn't run into the thoughtless intruder just like that, but then again, he had been too well dressed for them not to run into each other at some upper-class event. Adam would be anything but pleased when he heard about the incident, but what were Eve's chances of settling the matter- meaning a formal apology- without Adam finding out? Right, bad.

With these thoughts, he walked on, paying little attention to his surroundings, only to Adam's barely noticeable bodily signals. He had no idea what the deck they ended up on was called, but he didn't care. More important was the view. He looked out over the harbor of Santa Cecilia, over the town itself rising up a gentle hill, and to the pastures and fields beyond. It was several days' journey to his childhood home, and if his parents and Adam had their way, he would never see it again; priests were never sent to their communities of origin. Moreover, there were very few Chosen of THE MAIDEN who ever left the Temple Island anyway.

Eve stood stock-still, holding on to the railing and staring at the mainland. He hated his existence. He hated his brother. He hated THE MAIDEN. And apart from his growing despair, he had nothing to offer that could provide him with a way out of his predetermined future.

~

The dining room of the upper class was divided into two parts. One half was an open hall, the other half was divided by many semi-walls into smaller and larger alcoves. Beckett could not imagine this hall ever being full, even if all the beds in all the available suites were booked.

Benjamin put his hand on the small of his son's back and motioned for him to move on. "I asked that we sit with someone. For the sake of company," he said. What he didn't say was that this company meant possible suitors for Beckett's hand.

Beckett nodded mutely. He understood his father's concerns. After his nephew had died in the winter, Beckett was the future lord's only heir. For Benjamin and Beckett's grandfather, Lord Andrew Carlyle of Sommerset, Beckett's dream of the priesthood had died with little James. For his part, however, Beckett believed in his destiny - THE SAGE would not turn him down at the temple if he really wanted to serve.

"It really is impressively beautiful here," Benjamin remarked to the waiter, who led them to their table.

"Thank you, sir." The waiter half bowed without pausing. "We are doing our utmost to make the journey with the Lady Peppermint as pleasant as possible. And food is a very fundamental part of life."

"True words." Benjamin nodded.

Beckett forced at least half a smile. The hall glowed in various shades of green and gold, large windows were magically reinforced to withstand the force of the ocean, and even the plants in their large and small, bolted-down pots carried magic.

Earth magic calling to Beckett, which Beckett longed for after just a few hours.

"Your table, Mr. Carlyle," the waiter announced, pointing to an alcove with a bow.

"Oh." five people said simultaneously in different tones.

Beckett had taken it for granted that he would meet the young lady of his misadventure here in the hall, but he was extremely uncomfortable having to sit at the table with her. How embarrassing it would be if his father thought of her as a suitor!

The same young lady had turned pale and looked frightened all over again, her pale skin and white maiden's crown a strong contrast to the dark blue jacket. She sat stiffly next to her companion, who, judging by his facial features, was her brother and whom she actually towered over. He, however, looked slightly confused.

In the eyes of the others, it was probably more important that Benjamin's older brother Arthur and his son Samson were also sitting at the table. Beckett didn't know the details, but Arthur had been disinherited. Without a grandson and with Beckett in the temple, after Benjamin the lordship would fall to Arthur's elder son Alfred.

"Hey, Becks. Uncle." Samson grinned cheekily up at them.

"Samson." Beckett nodded at him. "Uncle." Despite the grudge between his grandfather and his uncle, the fact that he not only knew the latter and his sons, but knew them relatively well, was down to his grandmother. She had insisted that the family stick together despite everything, and because of her frail health, everyone involved had gruffly given in.

"Arthur." Benjamin stepped up beside Beckett and rested his fingertips on the back of a chair. "I'm honestly surprised to see you here."

Arthur smiled a little condescendingly, casually propping himself up on the table with one elbow. "In the normal dining room, I was told there was a separate reservation here in the name of Carlyle..."

"And of course you couldn't say no..."

"Of course not." Slowly, Arthur's grin took on the same cheeky expression as his son's.

Benjamin gave a disapproving snort.

"Um, excuse me, ma'am, sirs, is it in your interest if I bring the evening's wine?" the waiter asked shyly between them.

Knowing his father, Beckett would not have been surprised if he'd had Arthur and Samson removed from the table. But Benjamin nodded regally. No family drama in front of strangers. "I kindly request it."

"I'd like that," the miss's brother agreed.

After a half bow, the waiter started to move, Benjamin pulled back his chair to sit down, but Beckett, who had completely forgotten his prepared words due to these unexpected circumstances, blurted out:

"I would like to sincerely apologize again, miss. For my mishap earlier. It was not my intention!" Then he choked down the next words already creeping onto his tongue when he saw the for two heartbeats almost panicked look on her face.

"No harm has been done," she replied with a shaky smile - and a voice that was really far too deep for a normal woman. "Please don't worry, sir."

Beckett's answering smile was no less shaky. The longer he looked at her, the more she confused him. When his father cleared his throat softly, he regained his manners. "Please let me introduce myself. Beckett Carlyle, Chosen of THE SAGE." He indicated a bow.

It was then the brother of the miss who nodded back. "Adam Hargrove. Please forgive me too, Mr. Carlyle, my brother is easily flustered." His smile was barely polite. "Everett Hargrove, Chosen of THE MAIDEN."

"Delighted to meet you," Beckett replied, confused. He bowed his head in greeting and looked at Everett, who lowered his head, blushing. His features were indeed strikingly angular for a woman and his chest was flat, but Beckett had been successfully fooled.

However, because he had once taken over the conversation, he had to continue according to propriety. "My father Benjamin, my uncle Arthur, and my cousin Samson, Chosen by THE KNIGHT."

"A pleasure," they all murmured more or less simultaneously.

Beckett and Benjamin sat down, with Beckett sitting next to Samson, who continued to grin at him. Except for Samson's excessive eagerness for mischief, they actually got on well together.

"I'm glad you accepted the open invitation, Mr. Hargrove," Benjamin said, and Beckett could see from his face that he was disappointed to have another Chosen at the table instead of a possible bride.

"It was very kind of you to extend such an invitation in the first place, Mr. Carlyle," Adam Hargrove replied. His smile was still cool, making Beckett wonder why he had responded to the invitation at all. "Our parents tend to keep Everett away from everything. I was hoping he could make the acquaintance of some future novice brethren."

Beckett managed to keep a neutral face. Partly because he didn't want to torment his father, partly because Everett pressed his lips together as if he didn't like it at all.

Samson, however, snorted. "I'm certainly not going to join the priesthood, not voluntarily. What did I train to for twenty years only to go and languish in a monastery?" Not very subtly, he flexed his admittedly impressive arm muscles.

"A Chosen of THE KNIGHT would make a good Templar, wouldn't he?" Mr. Hargrove objected critically, and Samson grimaced.

"It would be honorable, but not fulfilling." Arthur seemed to voice Samson's thoughts.

"That decision ultimately rests with THE KNIGHT himself," Benjamin interjected gently. "As with all other deities. Even if I pray for THE SAGE to leave me my heir."

The wine arrived and the conversation turned to alcohol, then to food and politics and finance. Beckett didn't say a word, nor did Everett. But while Beckett at least listened, maintained eye contact and passively participated in the conversation, Everett seemed to be somewhere else entirely.

Perhaps, Beckett thought later, when they had a light almond cake for dessert, he should also ask for forgiveness for addressing Everett as Miss. And at the same time ask what form of address would be appropriate. After all, he seemed to personify THE MAIDEN.

Then he startled when Benjamin nudged him gently. "Hm?"

"I would have been interested to know what kind of studies you have turned to, Mr. Beckett," Mr. Hargrove repeated his apparent question politely.

Beckett, slightly taken aback by the form of address, although it made perfect sense with four Mr. Carlyles at the table, nodded. "Magic. I study magic. Both that of my own talents - metal and earth - and in general."

"An interesting field." At that, though, Mr. Hargrove looked as if he meant the opposite.

Nevertheless, Beckett nodded in a well-mannered fashion. There were enough people who had no love for magic. His own father appreciated the benefits, but understood nothing about it.

"Truly chosen and blessed," Samson mocked good-naturedly, patting Beckett on the arm. Samson was a Chosen, but he had no magic; in fact, the combination wasn't exactly common.

Beckett pulled up the corners of his mouth, but he couldn't help but notice how Mr. Hargrove and Everett both looked tense in different ways. Everett, in particular, looked as if he wished he were far away.

This time it was Arthur who neatly changed the subject. "Well, Mr. Hargrove, what do you say to a drink and a good cigar to mark the beginning of such an important journey?"

"I thank you for this invitation too." For perhaps the first time that evening, Mr. Hargrove's smile looked genuine. "Perhaps I'll join you later, gentlemen, first I need to make sure my brother has everything he needs. He's easily overwhelmed by new circumstances and has never been away from home."

"Of course," Arthur said, nodding.

"Please don't feel pressured," Benjamin added, genuinely concerned.

While the others exchanged polite and awkwardly drawn-out pleasantries, Beckett eyed Everett. He was a handsome fellow, but although he had kept his face emphatically neutral except for a few small moments, his overall demeanor seemed lost.