Eyes of Overheaven

  Augusta, 28, 1787

  The Noble Capital of Magina

  The Streets of the Old Capital were crying. The rain had been going for days, drowning out the sunlight and the light of the people. In the outskirts south of the city the poor and downtrodden a sickness began to bud. A demon of pestilence has come to spread and feast on the weak. A dark clamor of noise began to fill the streets, and the shelters began to fill up.

  The same day in the city of Endia

  The streets of Endia was the very picture of a modern cosmopolitan city. The streets were filled with the smell of fresh morning bread and coffee from the coffeehouse. Artists sold their wares on the streets, and exotic food vendors shared their expensive meats and spices.

  On the streets on business for the church were some of the adult staff; they were shopping for children. They had been working harder than usual, the hospitals were overcrowded, the church had stepped in, and the younger choir members were overworked; they needed a morale boost to keep going. As the group made their way down, they were on the lookout for the smell of fresh jasmine, as Mother Ward’s favorite shop would be open for the day.

  “Look over there.”

  One of the staff had spotted the shop. It was decorated in eastern osmen arts and painted in expensive colors. It had the sigil of permission, a sign that it had permission from the church to operate in the area. As they entered the shop, it was filled with the smell of fruits, nuts, and sweets. It had a mix of Vespucian tables and Lutècen chairs.

  Behind the counter was a young boy, no younger than eight. He had short, shaggy hair with a wooden spoon wrapped around his head and wore a large oar around his back.

  One of the tallest teachers came forward to the counter and spoke with the boy.

  “Hello, I am Brother André. We are here to pick up an order for Mother Ward.”

  The boy just looked at him blankly.

  “The head of the exorcists?"

  The boy looked in the book next to him and checked it, shaking his head in a way that clearly said "no," which made Brother André rethink his approach.

  (Okay, if she didn't put it under that name, then perhaps she put it under her full name?)

  “How about Stella Ward? Is it under that name?”

  The boy looked again, and for a second time he shook no.

  “Okay, Brother Thomas, I'm out of ideas; see if you can find this order. If not, we will have to continue our search elsewhere.”

  “Fine.”

  As Brother André stepped back and let Thomas go up to the counter, the bespectacled man spotted a peculiar sight: a painting of a young woman wearing expensive foreign clothing. On her head was a familiar birthmark. And it clicked, a potential icebreaker.

  “Do you know a woman named Nura Akpinar?”

  The mention of that name had sparked something in the boy and made him go into the kitchen.

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  “Thomas, how do you know that name?” Brother André asked, deeply confused by that sudden turn.

  “I didn’t. I saw a shop that had a painting of Osmen Royalty. I didn’t think he would react like that.

  “Oh! I’ll be right there!”

  The owner was a large, chubby man. His magnificent beard was stained with the smell of roasted nuts. His outfit, in contrast with his shop, was rather plain, with the only thing making him stand out being the apron, which was a patchwork clearly made with love, likely by his own children.

  “Oh, I seem to see, little Nur’s flock. It is nice to know my elder sister's work is done well. I know what you want. Just give me a few moments.”

  The large man left and quickly returned with trays filled with fresh jasmine cookies.

  “First batch of the day, free of charge.”

  “Ur. Thank you. Do you have the rest of Mother Ward's order?”

  “Yes! Yes! We have most of the order right now, but Ice isn't cooling properly, so it will be getting not done yet.”

  “Oh! Oh! How long will it take?” The smallest teacher asked.

  “Unfortunately it will be another hour or so. I would suggest heading to Atsu’s or Balci for fresh ice cream."

  “Aww!” Hearing that news made the short woman pout, not unlike a puppy dog; it wasn't helped by the fact her cheeks were rather large to begin with. Something the Chief noticed.

  “Don’t worry. Their products are far better than mine. Come, come sit down. I need to know how Little Nur is doing.”

  At the large man’s behest, the group of 4 sat at the largest table in the interior.

  “I believe introductions are in order. My name is Rehmi Badem. What are yours?”

  Brother André, the most sociable among them, took the lead in introducing the group.

  “Thank you for the warm hospitality, Rehmi. I'm Brother André; I am a member of the teaching staff and a member of the choir.”

  “I am Sister Sophia. I just transferred here and have yet to be assigned an order.”

  “I’m Sister Elena. I tend to the church grounds and help take care of the infants.”

  “Brother Thomas. I help in finding and researching Machina for the church and council.”

  Rehmi's face lit up with a warm smile as he shook hands with each of them.

  “Excuse me, Monsieur Rehi.” Sister Sophia called the shop owner. You are related to Little Nur, correct?

  “I understand my sister's church name. No need to force yourself for my sake.”

  “Okay. I'll correct myself. Mother Ward is an incredibly private person and doesn't reveal much about herself to anyone but Father Michal. So we took on her request to learn more about her. Never in a million years would anyone think she would have her family so close by.”

  Rehmi’s expression turned somber, not losing a smile but hiding hints of melancholy. “Well, unfortunately, my sister is an incredibly private person. Even growing, she has dealt with problems both mundane, political, and arcane. It is only thanks to her that our family escaped the southern clamor.

  “But we haven't had a clamor in over two centuries.” Sister Elena said, confused at his use of "clamour," something used in the context of demons.

  “Unfortunately, demons aren't the only source of calamity.” Rehmi clapped his hands and summoned a tea set from the kitchen.

  “But now is not the time for tears. Let us drink some tea and get to know each other better.”

  The conversation flowed like the tea, effortlessly, with Rehmi regaling them with tales of his own children's adventures. Each adventure was marked by the patchwork apron he wore. As they chatted, the group felt a sense of ease they hadn't experienced in a long time, surrounded by death and departure from the church.

  As the hour passed, Rehmi checked on the ice cream and returned, his expression apologetic. "I'm afraid it's still not quite ready. But I assure you, Atsu's and Balci's ice cream shops are just around the corner. You won't be disappointed." The group nodded understandingly, and Rehmi continued, "Tell me, how is the choir doing? I've heard they're working tirelessly to support the hospitals."

  Brother Thomas's expression turned somber. "Yes, it's been a challenging time. The hospitals are overcrowded, and the children are doing their best to keep everyone's spirits up." Rehmi's face turned sympathetic. "I'm sure they're doing a wonderful job. I'll make sure to send some extra treats their way. Perhaps a few sweets to brighten their day?"

  As they prepared to leave, Rehmi handed each of them a small package. "A little something for the children. A token of appreciation for all their hard work." The group thanked him, feeling a sense of gratitude for the kindness of this familiar stranger.

  As they walked out of the shop, they noticed the rain had begun to clear, casting a warm glow over the city. The smell of fresh bread and coffee wafted through the air once more, invigorating their senses. The group made their way to Atsu's ice cream shop, where they met with a familiar presence in front of them.

  “Brother Simone? Is that you? What are you doing here?” Brother Thomas asked. It was odd to see the reclusive man outside of church grounds.

  “It is an emergency. The old capital is under demon incursion, and we need to organize a response as soon as possible.

  The news of this sudden calamity so close to home had sent the group into shock. Sophia nearly dropped the gifts for the children before catching herself. Brother André regained his composure and first gave his gifts to Simone, and the old man understood.

  “Tell the kids they are doing a good job. And that we love them.”