Kael came by about noon, and the two of them shared a short meal. They talked about family and childhood dreams: Kael had always looked up to the Paladins of the Seven who would go out and fight the demon king's forces, or the knights who would command the lines. His own father, apparently, was a soldier who was frequently on the Southern Walls and told him stories of the war being fought there, and who had retired between Astaire and the southern walls to run a farm.
"How about your mother?"
"She's an herbalist. Lives with my dad and sister outside of town," Kael said. "How about your parents?"
"I…" Jein thought for a moment. He didn't really want to talk about his mother and father. "Well, they're still around."
"What do they do?"
"Drink and sleep," Jein said.
"Really? What are their destinies?"
"I don't know." Jein answered honestly, "I think my dad said that he was meant to be a Blacksmith, and my mother an Herbalist."
"But they don't follow their destinies?"
"No," Jein answered. "Almost no one in the slums does."
"Ah," Jein saw Kael's body recoil a bit. "You're from there…"
"Yeah." He said. "Why?"
"My dad says that you're all apostates."
"I'm not. There's a lot of kids there...a lot of sick people and a lot of people who scream at nothing...but there are a lot of apostates."
"Does that mean you're going to turn apostate?"
"No."
"Uh-huh. No wonder it smells so bad in here."
"Does it?"
"Like a winery."
Jein looked to the bubbling alembic: full of wine, slowly being dissolved.
"It's that," Jein said.
"Uh-huh." Kael chuckled. "I bet you're a drunk like your father."
"Take that back," Jein demanded.
Kael snorted.
"What? That you're a slum dweller just like your daddy?"
"I am not." Jein clenched his fist. It trembled beside him.
"You are! All you slum-dwellers are the same."
Jein's jaw clenched next. Jein pushed himself off the bed beside Kael and swung at the boy. His fist slammed against the boy's cheek and laid him out on the bed. Kael dropped his soup on the ground and held his cheek. Anger rushed to his head, and he nearly pushed himself up, but Jein shoved him down again and landed another solid punch on the boy.
"I am NOT like my dad!" Jein yelled, clenching his fist again and pulling it back to land another
The door flew open, and Gillium rushed in. He grabbed Jein's arm and pinned him against the wall.
"What in the hells is going on here?" The Advent demanded.
"I am NOT like my dad!" Jein repeated.
"What the fuck, man, I was just playing around." Kael stood up and held his cheek.
"Kael, get out."
Jein tried to push back against Gillium. He huffed as The Advent pushed the irate boy further against the wall.
"Fucking Slum-dwelling piece of shit…." Kael held his cheek.
"Kael!"
"It's true! They're all apostates."
The older boy spat on the ground as he left.
"Now, Jein. Calm down." Gillium said.
The boy's shoulders were heaving. His eyes were red, and tears were beginning to roll down his cheek.
"I hate this place." Jein slammed his head against the wall. "I hate this cathedral, and I hate this city."
"You don't mean that, kid."
Jein gritted his teeth and slammed his head into the wall again.
"Jein, stop it."
Jein slammed his head into the stone again, and Gillium threw the boy on the bed.
"Stop it!"
Jein sprang up and ran straight for the wall again: a visceral growl in his throat: he tumbled over the table, and Gillium grabbed hold of his shoulder and tossed him to the floor.
"Boy! Calm down!"
The heaving of The Boy's shoulders began to slow down as his breath began to steady.
"When I'm out of here, I'm never coming back to this shitty city." He muttered, as he shielded his eyes: warm tears began rolling down his cheeks. "I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I want to leave."
"You'll be leaving soon, boy...now what started this?"
"Kael said that I'm just like my dad."
Gillium looked at the boy and at the room.
"I'll talk to him, alright? Just stay in your room until you calm down."
"How much longer?"
"How much longer for what?"
"Until the conclave gets here — no, until my brother and sister land in the capital."
"Two weeks until the conclave comes, and about a week and a half before your brother and sister are safe in the capital."
"I'm sorry…" Jein said, with his lip trembling. "I'm sorry, Gillium."
"It's okay, kid."
Gillium reached out and healed the small lump forming on the boy's forehead. Lights danced for a moment in Jein's head, and a conviction formed in his mind. As soon as he was out of Astaire, he would forget about Kael and the Cathedral and these miserable weeks of imprisonment. He'd live and care for his brother and sister. No one else in the world will ever make him feel this way again.
Gillium left the room to speak to Kael, and Jein was left lying on the floor.
"Thom, Kei...I hope you're alright."