The Monastery is the story of a prince raised by a cobbler. Set in a world where an Empire has been enslaving country after country for centuries, it follows the tale of young Susant, a boy born into the last free country in the world, his journey w...
A soft rain pattered the ground as Dohna, garbed in unrevealing raiment and hooded, walked through the streets of Kingdom. Although she could hardly believe the story the Queen had told her, she felt a strong sense of love alongside the trust she was being given. She hadn't had to think about where she would take the child, as she knew in her heart where the Queen meant for him to go.
Dohna was one of the many that worked in service to the Queen. In a sense, they all looked up to the Queen and were more than fond of her. She had come from common birth, the same as them, and had made her way onto the royal throne. But that was not the reason they loved her. Many of those in service to the Queen were once orphans, and shortly after her crowning, she took many of the children off the streets and gave them a place in the castle. There they found their homes and their professions, and they all still loved her dearly to this day.
The man who had once taken care of the orphans had been a dear friend to the Queen all her life. After most of the orphans were adopted, he passed on his responsibility to another and became a cobbler who lived near the center of town. No matter which hardship he faced, the man always wore a kind, compassionate smile. He had found his passion and craft at a later age, and since then, had worked diligently.
However, several years before, Dohna had heard that before the man could have children of his own, his wife had passed away from a sudden sickness. Since that day, the man hardly spoke, and despite the smile on his face, she could always sense the sadness in his heart. It was with this man Dohna would leave the child; for it was with this man, she knew the child would learn to smile in the dark.
Dohna came to a stop and looked up at the window of the cobbler's shop. It had a warm light glowing from the inside. She smiled and walked toward the front door. The soft cry of the baby could be heard from the cradle.
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The rain fell softly outside the man's window. Inside, the smoke of incense drifted past a painting of a grand mountain crowned by snow. The old man sat cross-legged in one corner of the room, holding a picture frame in one of his hands.
A teardrop landed on the picture, revealing it to be a younger picture of himself and his passed wife. With all the care of a mother handling a newborn, he placed the picture back where it had been.
Turning to a golden statue of a god with four arms and a smile on its face, the old man lifted his hands in prayer and bowed his head. His body went very still as he felt and listened to his breathing. A second teardrop fell onto the ground next to his feet.
"All my life I have lived compassionately toward others. I work a simple trade, taking care of the feet that carry people through their lives. I had a beautiful wife, one whom I loved more than life itself, but . . ." He bit his lip, trying to control the tears that were starting to fall down his cheeks. "It's so hard . . . for me to ask for help." He sobbed. "But since she has been gone, the wounds have not healed. I have lived in this loneliness for so long that it has become a part of my shadow, leaving me only in the deepest of my sleeps." He raised his eyes to the little golden statue.
"Please," he said softly, "isn't there anything you can do to heal my loneliness?"
At that, the old man heard a faint rapping on his front door. Quickly rubbing and clearing his eyes, he bowed his head three times to the golden statue before standing. He made his way down the stairs, hearing only the soft tapping of the rain on the roof.
Opening the door, the old man was surprised to find no one standing there. Just as he was about to close it, he heard the soft crying that only a baby can make. Looking down, he saw a baby boy, staring up at him with big brown eyes.
For a long moment, the old man merely stood there. Then he slowly fell to his knees and ran his fingers across the boy's head. Feeling the tears return, the old man looked up at the raining sky and smiled.
Dohna watched from the shadows across the way. She smiled as the old man carefully lifted the cradle and took the boy inside his home. She felt warmth in her heart as she turned to leave, and knew that the boy's journey was only just beginning.
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Ahoy my friend! Thanks for reading The Monastery!
If you would like to meet the creators, artists and storytellers of this tale, see exclusive concept art from our cosmos, along with check out our other high-fantasy book/manga series, The Curseborn Saga, you are welcome to come join our Discord, which can be found through the Official Monastery Novel LinkTree!
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