In Nomine Epicus ~ A Letter to the Bishop (Ver 2.0)
With a deep sigh, the Cardinal folded the letter back up, looked to the sky and said a small prayer, then headed to the quarters of his overly curious underling…the Bishop. The Cardinal had hoped that after the events in the Holy Court some years ago, that the Bishop would have given up his quest for knowledge…knowledge that clearly, was not his for the receiving.
Until this day of course.
The Cardinal had received a letter from abroad, and was requested to give it to the Bishop in hopes this would end the Bishops overly curious nature. The Cardinal hoped that was going to be the case as well.
Knocking loudly when he arrived, the Cardinal took a deep breath as the Bishop answered the door.
“Your Eminence, greetings, I…I was not expecting a visit from you today.”
“And that would have been a correct assumption as well Bishop,” the Cardinal replied interrupting him curtly, “however I have received a letter for you.”
“Oh?” The Bishop replied curiously, “My apologies for the misdirected mail Eminence.”
“Oh it was not misdirected at all,” the Cardinal began, “I was to read it first, then deliver it to you.”
“You read my mail?”
“No…I censored your mail Bishop.” The Cardinal replied matter of factly
“…”
“Relax…it’ll make sense shortly.” The Cardinal began, “However, I require a vow of silence from you at this time.”
“Your Eminence?”
“A vow of silence Bishop,” the Cardinal said again with a slight glare, “Or I will take the ‘old mans’ letter and burn it.”
“Old man?” The Bishop asked curiously, “To what old man are you referring Eminence?”
The Cardinal only glared at him again as a reply.
“Oh!” The Bishop replied now realizing whom the Cardinal was referring too, “Then my vow is given Your Eminence.”
“Good…” the Cardinal began, “Break it, and you shall spend the rest of your days in prison. Am I understood?”
“Clearly Cardinal.” The Bishop replied with a bow.
Handing the Bishop his letter, the Cardinal again said a small prayer, then turned and slowly walked away mumbling “I sure hope you know what you are doing my friend.”
The Bishop quickly grabbed his readers, then sat in his chair and opened his letter.
Greetings Bishop, I do hope this letter finds thee in good health, not just surprised as I feel you will be. You see, it has come to my attention that you have been meddling in affairs that do not concern you. This action simply will not inherit, and I respectably request you cease immediately. Some things Bishop…some things should just be left alone…alone, as they are Bishop.
Oh forgive me, allow me to introduce myself. My Name is Luttuoso, or as you have come to know me as, I am the old man you have read so much about. That is simply what they call me now, but yes, as I have come to learn from the person I used to call Selima, we had names once long long ago.
My brother Burrasca has little but contempt in his heart for you, and my sister Mirella even less then that. They of course have had the privilege of meeting you, if one can call it that, I have not and do not ever plan too I assure you of that. And Sibillia, she would sooner kill you where you stand, then too ever lay eyes upon you. You would be wise to never cross her path Bishop, for she has brought down bigger and more powerful men then thee that is for certain.
Now…my hope Bishop, my hope is that after you read this, your over zealous sense of curiosity will be appeased, and you will leave us alone. ***
I don’t remember my birth…not at all, only that it was so long ago, and that the sands of time have washed away any real evidence that I ever was at all. I do however remember the first time I was reborn like it was yesterday, and I remember the last time I was reborn as well. A concept you seem to have a very difficult time grasping…especially for a man of faith such as you are.
What I do remember of my first life however is sketchy at best. And since Sibillia seems hell bent and determined not to enlighten me or educate me any further at this point, there are holes in both time and events.
My first real memory of life is that I always had a sword in my hand, and that I was sworn to allegiance and as protector of someone. Someone I had yet to meet. I knew of her, I knew her name, I lived in the same house as her, but I did not meet her for many years.
Each day someone would take me into the courtyard after the chores were done, and each day I was shown the right and wrong way to handle a sword. As I got older, sometimes there were two of them, and sometimes there were three. Each had they’re own very different methods of training me, but each always agreed on one thing. I…was to protect Sibillia with my life…or die trying, how ever the event may unfold at the time.
Now, it was on a particularly rainy day once, when I was out training, that I heard a slightly sarcastic, but forceful voice for the first time say, “He needs to keep his left arm up higher. Do I have to show him how to do it myself you bloody idiots?” This voice would prove to haunt me in ways I could never have expected, and in some ways, it still does today. It was Sibillia’s voice, and she was not happy with how my training was progressing. I remember wanting to turn around and look at her, but I was instructed not too, so I lowered my head respectably until she left.
As the years passed, I only ever heard her name mentioned. I would see her standing in the window watching me on occasion, but she always did it at a time when the sun was behind the house, and I could not get a clear view of her features or her face. Anytime I was in the house, she was either in the library, where I was not permitted to go, or she was
elsewhere as I was often told when I would work up the courage to ask.
As one would expect, as time went on, I surpassed my instructors’ skill with a sword, and my regular training ceased. Now, that is not to say I was never tested constantly and with more and more intensity each time, but…eventually, I could walk the grounds of the estate as far as the river whenever I wished, and no one would ever challenge me.
Once again, on a very rainy day, I took it upon myself to go for a walk to the river. I would often go there, and just sit on the rocks, or just stare into the water listening to the sound of the flow. This time however, this time there was a sword and a scabbard on my favourite rock. As I got closer to it, I saw that the scabbard was inscribed. “Luttuoso” It appeared it was for me.
“Pick it up, no doubt it’s a perfect fit to your hand.” I heard as my heart skipped a beat. It was Sibillia’s voice.
Doing as I was instructed, I unsheathed the sword and held it firmly. I had never seen a sword like this before. Black steel…through and through…a katana blade, with an Eastern handle. And yes, it was a perfect fit to my hand indeed.
“To what do I owe the pleasure M’lady?” the first real words I ever spoke to Sibillia.
“Don’t ever call me that again.” She was quick to reply as I felt her sword appear at my throat, “Its Sibillia. Just Sibillia…am I understood?”
“Clearly…”
“Good.” She replied as she sheathed her weapon, “I’m going into town, and you…” she added with a pause and a half grin, “…you are coming with me.”
“As you wish…” I replied, or something like that anyway. I was actually too distracted by the fact she wasn’t nearly as old as I had imagined her to be.
You see Bishop; I was Sibillia’s bodyguard in those dark times. And believe me when I say…she needed one as well. I don’t think I once ever came back to the estate from that point on, without blood on me somewhere from someone. Sibillia, for reasons I am still unsure of, always had assassins after her. And though we were not as brother and sister then, I had sworn my life to her all the same.
It took me a very long time to rationalize that in my head, and even longer to accept the fact that I failed in that duty as well. Failed in such a way, that the very same person I had sworn my life too, brought me back again so I could fulfill that oath. An action…that would change us forevermore…and has. You see Bishop, Sibillia either out of contempt, or adoration…simply would not let me go the way I did, thus, the essence of the person who was and is Luttuoso, now still resides within me.
I don’t remember a lot about my death, only that there was a
storm, and anything other then that, Sibillia refuses to tell me, or let me remember. But Bishop? Being re-born is a terrifying experience, not to mention excruciatingly painful as well. And if that isn’t enough of a deterrent for you, try having 1200-year-old memories
However Bishop, I do remember a different
storm though. As clearly as I remember my name. And with the passing of this storm, came the burial of Sibillia, and the arrival of the
Harbinger. Burrasca, he who would eventually be my brother. My first words to him, “The Warrior Cometh”. For I had known about him from Sibillia, and he of me, but we had never met until that day. I had prepared for this eventuality as well, and though I understood what he was capable of, I sorely underestimated the strength of his personality…
Somewhere between the first and second storm, Sibillia had reborn him as well. I was not around then, and when I did return, he was not present. I spent much of this life being told about him by Sibillia, so when she passed on, I was much older then he when he finally arrived, hence the ‘old man’ reference that is still prevalent to this day.
And just as I was not around when he was born, he was not around when our sister was born either. I remember that time well. I had completely objected to what Sibillia was about to do, but Sibillia is Sibillia, and there isn’t much any of us can do to change that, so against my objections, Mirella was born…or, reborn as it were. Sibillia said she was necessary. A necessary anchor for our survival. A statement I never fully understood for many many years to come.
There are still many lost tales and many stories from that dark time until present Bishop. Some are hidden, some are too confusing to grasp, and some…some we just do not ever repeat ever. Not even to each other. But it is all their Bishop…everything there is to know about us. Sibillia guards many of our secrets well, and the Warrior hardly ever speaks of those times at all. And our sister…she is doing just as Sibillia said she would…she is anchoring us to each other.
That however Bishop…that is another story altogether…for another time
I feel it prudent to warn you about something now though. The four of us are on the same plain again. It’s the first time in as long as any of us can remember, that when we sense each other, it is not just a memory, it’s the persons actually existence we sense. And as Sibillia is often fond of saying, and I often fond of writing, we are drawn to each other, and always find each other. And no matter what lifetime it may be…we always come back Bishop, so tread lightly.
***
Removing his readers the Bishop stood up and inhaled deeply. Though not everything he wished to know was conveyed to him in this letter, he did feel a certain sense of closure all the same.
Slowly he then walked over to the fireplace and let the letter fall from his hands. As he watched the flames engulf it, he silently chuckled to himself when he realized that the words of the old man, were not so unlike a certain conversation he had once had with a certain once nameless “Warrior”
