The Perfect Heir [ONC 2024]

Chapter Two

Reflection Day was a sacred day in all of Nilvarin. A day when honest folks, working people, tradesmen and a few noble bloods with some semblance of a conscience, all spared a few minutes in the goddess's holy abode to confess their lengthy misdeeds without fear of reparation.

In the city of Pom, Bon Tedoia sat cross-legged in one of the white-walled confession rooms in the high temple of the goddess Ilmonya. There was a thick black curtain temporarily fixed before him by way of anonymity between him and the not-so-much shameful confessor that would sit at the other side of the curtain.

Most times the confessors had a tinge of regret and a healthy dose of remorse in their voice. Other times, which was most of the time, they didn't give a shit. Bon had the impression that to those kinds, confession was just a chore to be done or a duty needed to be fulfilled but who was he to judge? He left that to the goddess.

It was early into the day, and he had barely just listened to a quarter of the men and women lined up outside his door. A confessor sat at the other side of the curtain, and unfortunately for him, the person a woman was of an irksome category. The kind that was consumed by an unhealthy dose of melodrama and persistent self-condemnation of their person for their unrighteous acts.

"I didn't mean to! She provoked me. I was going to walk away but she wouldn't let me. I didn't... It was an accident. Oh, goddess. My soul is condemned. Condemned, priest. I will rot in Mudfell for this." An irking series of sobs succeeded her barely coherent words. It had been like that for over an hour and a half.

Bon was unable to stifle a yawn, one he quickly transitioned into a word of heartfelt sympathy. "Oh, child. Do not condemn yourself, for the goddess forgives all who would come before her and lay their hearts bare before her humble servants."

More sobs followed by sniffling. Sensing an end to this session, he quickly added, "Go now, and know in your heart that you have been forgiven and forgotten. Your soul cleansed of every taint and condemnation."

"Thank you, priest." More sniffling, then a rustle of cloth as she rose from her cushion and left the room. The moment the door closed, Bon rushed from his seat and hooked the bolt from the inside. He had heard enough confessions for one day.

Still in his river-grey priestly robes -with a giant bloodred V running from his shoulders down to his midriff - he used the back exit made for a priest's coming and going at his convenience. The lobby was empty and he seized the opportunity to excuse himself from the temple before another priest spotted him and dragged him into yet another pious duty to the goddess.

"Ilmonya, you know my heart and how much I wish to serve but I am not suited for this sort of service." He said to himself with a conviction he didn't feel. Some part of him knew he ought to work on his piety. Maybe a few more decades from now when I'm getting old and becoming ensnared in the treacherous clutches of time and greying hair.