Sir Arthur Tranlingway thought very highly of Reitzlake Cathedral.

  It was big.

  And that was good.

  Few places outside of the Spiral Isle were built with minotaurs in mind. Which was only fair. Most minotaurs were happy to stay exactly as they were.

  After all, the Spiral Isle was a tropical island famed for being a bastion of honour as well as the birthplace of the pineapple sorbet. And when everywhere else had fewer palm trees and much smaller doorways, it was only expected that few ever saw the need to leave its golden shores.

  The questing knights of the Spiral Isle made up most of them. But most didn’t mean all. And so Sir Arthur had come to see one of those who’d opted not to take the vow of knighthood.

  His greaves padded loudly against the stone floor.

  As he walked, sisters offered their nods.

  They were of different faiths, but the virtue they defended was the same. As a result, it was with utmost respect that Sir Arthur traversed the great hall, taking care not to disturb those praying at the pews.

  It was beautiful, if not quite as majestic as the cathedrals boasted by this kingdom’s neighbours. And compared to the Great Temple Colosseum upon the summit of Mount Oros, it was little more than a village chapel.

  But for all the marble columns it lacked, it made up for in history.

  It was there upon the mosaic tiles upon the ceiling, the cracks upon the woodwork, and the pride upon the head sister’s smile as she offered a bow just before the main altar.

  “Greetings. Welcome to Reitzlake Cathedral. Home of the Holy Church in the Kingdom of Tirea.”

  The minotaur returned the bow.

  “Thank you, sister. I apologise if I’m disturbing you at this time.”

  “There is nothing to disturb. We of the Holy Church never permit our doors to close. Our purpose is one of service. And to that we offer towards all who would walk amidst our halls. Do you require healing, by any chance?”

  “Perhaps tomorrow,” said Sir Arthur with an appreciative nod. “But fortunately not yet.”

  He straightened his back.

  Suddenly, the calm expression he wore faded beneath a hue of concern.

  “I am Sir Arthur Tranlingway, Knight of the Order of Fortitude. I received a letter informing me that my younger brother has been taken under your care. It mentioned that he’d been pulled from a pond and was currently recuperating.”

  To his surprise, the sister clapped her hands in joy. A fresh bloom of warmth appeared on her cheeks beside her smile.

  “Ah, I see! You must be here for Brother Henry!”

  Sir Arthur blinked, momentarily puzzled by the odd phrasing to refer to his own sibling.

  Regardless, he nodded while swallowing the many queries he had. Although he knew the sister could answer, he wished to hear them from the lips of his brother first.

  At least until he was forced to ask for a more accurate account.

  “Indeed, I am. There’s much I wish to thank the Holy Church for. The compassion shown in aiding my family will not be forgotten. But for now, may I request to see him, provided it is possible?”

  “Of course.” The sister gestured to the side. “He can be found in the 5th annex. It’s to the arched door to the left of those pillars. The smaller one of the two. You may enter without knocking.”

  The minotaur offered another bow.

  “Thank you, sister.”

  A moment later, he politely assumed a wide berth around those praying as he went to the door indicated.

  It opened with a gentle push, a tiny creak sounding as he entered a much more humble part of the cathedral. The light dimmed at once, the stained glass replaced with little more than slits in the walls. But although the musk of pews was not present here, the air of solemnity was no less.

  Especially given the studiousness of the only one praying.

  Sir Arthur Tranlingway’s eyes could only widen.

  “Henry … ?”

  Before him, a figure as large as himself rose from his kneeling position.

  The minotaur turned. And suddenly, Sir Arthur could only feel a cold wave of despair run through him.

  His younger brother was now wholly garbed in the attire of the Holy Church. A stretched robe was draped over him like a poorly fitting curtain, his arms lost in sleeves which cupped together in a pose of piousness.

  That could mean only one thing.

  He was up to no good.

  “Henry!” Sir Arthur strolled forwards, exasperation in his steps as he threw his arms up. “What is … What is the meaning of this?”

  Suddenly, all image of his calm exterior was lost amidst the pale shafts of light.

  He was mortified. Because the truth was that the Spiral Isle gave birth to more than just chivalry. There could be no valour without danger, no songs without silence and no knights without knaves … and his younger brother was sadly one of them.

  Far from taking up the path of a questing knight or even the tour advisors which were always in demand in their homeland, he’d instead left to embark on his own misadventures. To traverse without ambition other than to humour his whims.

  But this … this was too far.

  “I cannot believe this! You have … You have falsely donned the robes of the Holy Church! This alone is something that would draw gasps, but that you would deceive the same ones who shielded you from the drunken mischief you fell into is beyond dishonour! How could you resort to such duplicity?”

  Sir Arthur was beside himself with grief.

  Whatever scheme he was seeing, there could be no justification … and yet instead of immediately dragging his younger brother back towards the Spiral Isle, he could only suddenly step back.

  Because what he received in return was a smile more shining than any he’d ever known.

  “Brother, there’s no duplicity in this,” declared Henry, his eyes matching the vigour in his voice.

  Sir Arthur could barely stand.

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  He’d been struck with every instrument known to minotaurs and humans, his armour now repaired more times than his horns had been waxed. But seeing his lax brother beaming with a fire in his soul was more shocking than any hammer or sword.

  “... Henry! What is the meaning of this? I was told you’d been pulled from a pond!”

  A good-natured chuckle met him in reply.

  “You were told true. A most beautiful and harrowing experience that was. The moment I felt myself dragged upon the docks, I felt as though the hard wood was as soft as a wild meadow.”

  “Then you may feel more of it elsewhere. I’ve come to take you away, so you may do no more mischief.”

  “Indeed, Brother? And what an excellent choice that would’ve been, had you but seen me mere weeks ago. For Henry Tranlingway was a rogue without redemption. A scoundrel without remorse. Who you see now is different. I am now Brother Henry. And I serve as an apprentice cleric of the Holy Church.”

  Sir Arthur gawked.

  Not because this was another one of his brother’s wild schemes. But because he was being entirely genuine.

  “You … You are being earnest, aren’t you?”

  “I am, Brother. More so than I ever have in my life. And as you’ve witnessed much of it, I must offer my apologies. But I hope to do more. I’ve found my calling, much as you’ve found yours. Perhaps now, I might even right the wrongs of my past.”

  Sir Arthur raised his arms in utter confusion.

  “Henry … what happened? How did you find yourself in a pond? … Did you drink from it?”

  “I did not.” A pause. “... Well, no, I did. Lots. I distinctly remember spitting out some goldfish. It was deeply uncomfortable. But given the height that I fell, it was very much the least of my concerns.”

  “You fell?”

  “Indeed, Brother. I fell. I fell like a newborn minotaur dropped by a stork. But other than the 11 broken ribs, the twisted shoulder and fractured pinky I suffered, no harm was done. On the contrary, far from losing anything, I found the missing part of me in the artificial trench I’d created. A peace I’d long been searching for.”

  Confusion and all the questions he didn’t wish to ask flickered through Sir Arthur’s mind.

  … All of them concerning just how drunk his brother was.

  “Peace? What is this peace that you found? In all my memories, you’ve never once cared for anything.”

  “That is untrue. For I cared only for myself. I have changed now. I have found purpose. A reason to exist which called out to me in the darkness, guiding me from the depths of my own hubris.”

  “I don’t understand. You were never a pious minotaur. Yet you speak as if you’ve seen the light.”

  “Seen it? … No, Brother. I have touched it.”

  The minotaur robed in the vestiges of a low ranking cleric raised a palm as though to gather the sparkling dust. He then curled it into a fist, triumphant and proud.

  “I flew, Brother.”

  “What?”

  “I flew. Like a dove soaring through the sky, the air lifting my arms. In that moment, I tasted infinity. A gasp of freedom further from the knowledge of minotaurs than dusk is to dawn. I witnessed all the world beneath me, and every petty want, squabble and desire was revealed to be smaller than a leaf upon the horizon. I saw everything as it was meant to be seen. A palette of colours richer than any brush could paint. Neither gold nor silver can compare to the rivers coursing amidst coasts and mountains as pure as snowdrops or the beaks of the migrating ducks as they flew alongside me. I was the lowest minotaur, yet I became the highest–blessed when I should be cursed. The light enveloped me as I rose, and so too as I fell, lighting the goldfish pond like the warmth of Mother’s watery porridge. Now even as I stand, I see the world in a different light. And I wish only to protect it.”

  A din followed, so silent that even the prayers from the great hall sounded as loud as a cacophony.

  All Sir Arthur could do was blink.

  “How did you … fly?” he asked in all earnestness.

  Immediately, shame doused the smile upon his brother’s face.

  “I did wrong. I built a labyrinth outside Reitzlake. Afterwards, I extorted those who unknowingly entered into offering a handful of silver crowns to escape.”

  “You did what?”

  Sir Arthur despaired.

  This was beyond misbehaving. It was simply law breaking.

  “Yes, I was a fool with neither fear nor thought. So confident was I in my work, I never once considered that my actions would invoke a wrath as great as any storm.”

  “You trapped the wrong person,” said Sir Arthur, groaning into his palm. “Who was it? Some roaming champion? A famed mage? A dragon in disguise?”

  “No. It was a small girl.”

  “Excuse me?”

  A nod of seriousness was joined by a palm measuring out a height just below the waist.

  “A small human girl. I believed her to be a wealthy traveller, and sought to entrap her like I did so many others. Yet for my folly, I feared it would be the end of me.”

  “... She made you fly?”

  “Yes. With her sword.”

  Sir Arthur’s mouth widened. All the more so as his brother visibly shuddered.

  “She hurled me, Brother. Like a twig cast by a catapult. At first, I saw her conjuring a darkness deeper than any labyrinth. A ball of doom which swallows all light like a cold flame consuming life. It was awful. I thought I saw the final calamity of our time. The key to unlocking the next Great Sundering. But as I flew, I realised it was but the shadow cast by the greatest light. The sun shone in my face as I soared. And I glimpsed the heavens smiling upon me. I now believe that girl to be a messenger of Lady Lumielle. For what she delivered to me was the road to redemption.”

  A quiet hum of satisfaction filled the air as a robed minotaur peered upwards, his smile as sure as the newly lit warmth in his eyes.

  Nothing else was said. But little else was needed.

  Sir Arthur finally understood.

  His brother … had gone utterly bonkers.

  Somehow, a human girl had managed to induce enough terror into a minotaur that he had become pious. And while he held hopes that such a thing was good for everyone, the idea that his own younger brother had been hurled through the air simply wasn’t something he could ignore.

  Questions needed to be asked.

  He needed to find this girl. To assess the measure of her. To see what danger she posed. Because although he knew little of Lady Lumielle or her ways, he found it difficult to believe that her messengers were so combative.

  After all, if launching naysayers into the air was a regular practice, he imagined that the Holy Church would be considerably more revered in the Spiral Isle.

  …. He was, of course, completely correct.

  Bwoooomph!

  Because several witches in huts, a mystic who was a toad and a shaman who turned out to be a fraud later, Sir Arthur Tranlingway’s greaves accidentally squashed a fallen shop bell.

  Within a bakery far too small for his size, his eyes looked over the groaning figure of a lady covered in a dusting of flour and shame. The greatsword in his hand remained silent and stern, its sharp edge unneeded for the conversation ahead.

  Not even when he’d found who he was searching for.

  A small human girl with a sword.

  And also an adventurer.

  Perhaps there were many like her in the Kingdom of Tirea. But Sir Arthur Tranlingway knew without a hint of doubt that she was responsible for allowing his younger brother to see the light.

  After all, he was a Knight of the Order of Fortitude.

  To be resolute was his calling. And to be rewarded for it was his due.

  There were few coincidences on the road. And even fewer when it concerned wind techniques as curious as what the girl had briefly displayed.

  But that wasn’t all.

  There were flashes of martial ability beyond what his eyes could see. To parry a knife thrown at what was effectively lunging distance was highly impressive. Yet to deny a crossbow bolt at the same close range was absurd.

  She was clearly highly skilled and trained. Yet as he stared at the comparatively tiny girl, it was for more than her ability with a sword which caused him to take note.

  Although her frame was small, the shadow she cast was greater than those of his ancestors whose statues ringed the Great Temple Colosseum.

  It was, frankly, quite disconcerting … and also slightly frightening.

  But it was as his younger brother said.

  Shadows could not exist without light … and while there really wasn’t much light shining upon her whatsoever, he had no doubt from the care she showed for the local people over the thought of cakes contaminated with harmful magic that there existed little room for wickedness in her heart.

  That’s why–

  “Oh ... okay, then.”

  Sir Arthur Tranlingway deemed his quest complete.

  His next would prove far more challenging, however.

  Using the opportunity the adventurer had granted, he’d need to help liaise between his freshly redeemed brother at the Holy Church and the various heralds of the Great Pantheons.

  There was much conversation to be resumed and started anew. And although few ever spoke of the Kingdom of Tirea, he saw no reason why it couldn’t prove an excellent host.

  In which case, he needed to pay a visit to the home of the kingdom’s royalty as well.

  … Wherever that was.

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