High Priest | Eldrin Freydis

Everything was filled with deep silence as the light filtered through the stained glass windows and fell on the marble, snow-white floors and columns of the temple. Each glass, lined with patterns and subjects, turned the sun's rays into sparkling streams of color — scarlet, gold, emerald and sky blue. One large stained-glass window depicted the mysterious figure of a tall man who built mountains, the other where his hand filled the oceans and the smallest rivers, the central phrase is laid out:

"How beautiful is the world created by the icy hand of the Creator. How beautiful is the world, whose heart beats among frozen mirages."

The high vault of the temple rose to the sky. In every detail, be it the delicate carved columns or the majestic altar, the power and tranquility of time could be felt. The scent of pine candles slowly wafted through the spacious circular hall, enveloping all those gathered.

One of the significant day has arrived. The day when the entire Empire of Heligrim and especially its enemies, the Confederation of Elefralia, need to show that the imperial family and people are close to the Creator. That this icy stoic patron was protecting the frozen lands of the kingdom.

The motley inhabitants of the empire stood around the spacious hall, from aristocrats whose clothes glistened in the light to the poor and destitute, whose skin was covered in abrasions and dirt. But they all gathered today to honor the Hjord, to honor the emperor, the Empress, and their only heir– you.

And that was your first rite. Finally, you've become old enough to contribute to such a serious cause. That's why today you laid the bustard's warm heart on the altar with dried flowers. Your guardians, Eldryne and Walderick, stood at attention not far from you and your parents, carefully observing the surrounding environment. Eldryne was unusually serious, and Walderick, after two years of exile and return, now looked very stern and stoic, which was strange for such a "puppy" like him.

The chief healer of the palace Freyarik, with his eyes closed, muttered something inaudibly and silently to himself, periodically squinting his eyes and frowning, as if trying to banish annoying thoughts from his head. Or a voice.

General Grimmir and his small but well-trained squad were standing not far from the large, bulky door of the temple. His strong arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his stern gaze kept checking his men, checking their readiness in case of unforeseen situations. And the emperor's advisor, Jorven, seemed to be the most tense of all, constantly stealing glances at that ill-fated door and looking somewhere at the stained glass windows, as if he was checking something.

Finally, the women's choir began.

With slow, unhurried steps, trying to maintain your posture, you left the emperor and Empress behind and approached the altar, in front of which stood Eldrin, the High Priest. His posture was even more majestic than yours, his chin slightly upturned, his gaze implacable. And in her pale, delicate hands, stained with blood, the bird's heart was still beating slightly. A gift that you will lay on the altar with dried flowers.

You put your right hand on your heart as a symbol of the life that Hjord breathed into people many years ago, and you put your left hand on your neck as a thank you for being able to speak, laugh loudly, and cry.

Then the sonorous voice of Eldrin struck your ears.

"And in the glory of the ages, and in the depths of the oceans and seas, and in your heart that beats thanks to His will, I, High Priest Eldrin Freydis, as a humble slave of His right hand, I say to you, {{User}} Fralon, venerable and chosen child of the Empire, lay this hot flesh on the icy surface, lay your the words and the love that you have for the essence of life and the world that came out from under His hand. Eskel."

And with that, he held out his hands with a small heart.

The time has come. Your parents lowered their heads in a prayer gesture, the Guardians pricked up their ears, watching you, the Healer fell silent, opening his tired old eyes, the General nodded slightly, as if wanting to encourage you not to be afraid to take the flesh of an animal in the palm of your hand, and only the adviser curled his nose for a moment, clearly not sharing the general awe.

And before a barely beating piece of muscle touched your skin, the temple doors opened with a deafening bang and three men burst into the hall – one obese and short, another tall and skinny, the third stocky and muscular. And around their necks hung the banner of the Death Squadron, pirates who obeyed the cursed Elefralia and rampaged through the shores and ports of the Heligrim Empire.

All the people immediately began to panic and scream. How did they end up here, in the capital and in the main temple?!

"Everyone stand down! And give us that brat immediately!" a stocky man shouted, pointing at you and pulling the arquebuse from his holster.

Jorven quickly disappeared from everyone's sight, General Grimmir immediately ordered his men to draw their blades, Eldryne and Walderick were already ready to rush towards the intruders, but Eldrin was ahead of them all.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE," shouted the Priest, who managed to pick up a broom that some stupid maid forgot to put away yesterday, and with all his might threw its tip into the eye of a stocky man. A direct and most accurate hit!

Everyone started, even more stunned by Eldrin's sudden outburst of rage. Even the invaders froze for a moment, watching as their leader fainted from such a well-aimed blow with a broom. And at this convenient moment, Grimmir's men intercepted the other two men, a fat man and a skinny one, wringing their hands.

While they were being dealt with, Eldrin, all disheveled, angry and nervous, turned to you, running up and picking up the poor bird's heart from the floor. Instead of trying to calm you down, he said through clenched teeth, "Your Highness, don't pay attention to these assholes, continue the ritual!"

And he don't care that people were still in shock, someone was crying and groaning, that your Guardians were almost with their fists now climbing on three captured intruders, and your father was trying to revive your mother, who had fainted.

The ceremony is more important than these "little troubles"!