Sacrifices Prologue II: The Commission

My father, God love him, believes I am good with the written word. I’m honored that he thinks so, even though I’m just a lowly scribe following my aunt's path in serving the Almighty in the abbey. I have barely reached my nineteenth year and still have much schooling ahead of me. But when the King heard of my passion for writing, he commissioned me to put the history of his rule to paper. I faltered, dumbstruck that the ruler of our people would ask this of someone so lowly as myself. His friendship with my father did not have to extend to kin, but that’s just the type of person the King was. He did not see station; he did not see Mystic or mortal. He simply saw the soul.

The King insisted that nothing of his rule should be left out. He wanted everything from the prophecy of the Kandai, which was told decades before his birth, to the day his wife, bless her soul, left this worldly life, to be put down on parchment to be archived for all eternity. No flaw, no evil of his own heart was to be overlooked. I wondered why he would ask for such things to be included, for what could he have possibly done? Beyond being my ruler, I knew him personally. He was a good man, second in my life only to my father. I was shocked to hear him tell of his past transgressions. However, I could not bring myself to find fault with him. The events in his life, his choices of long-ago, are what had led him to be the great man I knew him to be; a man I respected even more for sharing such honesty with me. And so I set out to write what he asked of me.

This version of the tale I have written is in fact the second draft. The first was written as all histories are written, with dates, names, events and where things all occurred. When I handed it over to the King, I was proud to have researched all I could to ensure the most accurate information was included. He kindly told me that although my facts were correct, the writing was rather dull. So, wanting to succeed and provide him with what he desired, I asked him how he thought it could be improved.

“Tell it as though you yourself were there.” He said.

But, alas I had not been. So again, I asked how he would prefer it to be written.

He seemed to ponder something within himself before he smiled softly to me. Then he removed the chain from around his neck and held it out for me to take, “Wear this until your task is complete and you will find what to write. But once you have done all you should, return it to me, for it holds much worth in my heart.”

I did as he asked, knowing nothing of what to expect or how it should happen. I wore the necklace that entire day and kept a keen eye, watchful for any change, any sign that something extraordinary would come to my mind to spark my Muse. But as far as I could tell, nothing happened. I was quite discouraged.

After completing my duties for the evening and attending evening Mass, I settled down to bed. I could hardly fall asleep because I was thinking of how disappointed the King would be with me. I was sure the next morning I would have to meet with him and tell him that I was unable to connect with whatever it was he thought the necklace would show me. I forced myself to close my eyes and ‘save tomorrow for tomorrow,’ as the Great Book puts it.

When I awoke the next morning, my opinion that the necklace had no power was greatly changed.

I was not prepaired for the intensity of the things that I saw. Having been Mystic borne myself, I had always been atune to my dreams, and this was unlike any dream. It wasn't like a memory either, for memories fade. This was so much more. Also, I didn't preceive it as though I was actually there; it was more like I simply existed. I wasn't just seeing what my ears could hear or eyes could see; to the marrow of my soul, I was simply being. If the wind shifted its direction, I was aware. If a thought was uttered in the mind of a stranger, it was known to me. If a feather fell off the back of a sparrow, my ears could hear it land on the earth.

I can only compair this experience to what one might think the Almighty can attain. If anyone else were privy to an experience such as this gift that has been so gratiously bestowed on me, they would understand the greatness of Our Lord. Who but God could keep track of every breath, utterance, or thought? I only followed the lives of a few through this dreamlike experience. Through it alone, I am dumstruck at how the Almighty is able to keep track of the universe. But that is why we leave such concerns in His hands, is it not?

Here I am babbling on about the wonders of the Almighty when I have this story to complete. I shall perhaps write another book on that subject, but for now, back to my commission.

That first night wearing the necklace to bed, I did not dream of much or for very long. My mind must have found it too overwhelming to take so many sights, sounds and feelings all at once. But knowing I had a job to complete, and also so that I would not forget all that I had seen, I was scratching out the details to parchment even before the dawn broke.

My task was not easy. How to convey all that I saw in my dream was the most difficult thing to decide. How do you put every sight, every sound, every fragrance in the air that I was able to sense through that dream into the written word?

And then, I felt that I knew too much and should not write such revealing or revolting things down. Although the King had told me he wanted his faults to be displayed, I questioned his decision. Why would he willingly open himself to vulderablity?

In excitement and uncertainty, I spoke to the King that first morning, but only to make sure that what had come to me in the dream was apart of the history he wanted me to scribe. He confirmed that everything I had described was exactly as it had been.

“Write it as you told it to me today,” The King said when I had calmed from my enthusiasm of explaining it all.

I again did not fully comprehend, “You mean, tell it like the storytellers in the marketplace when they give their tales?”

“Aye. But they tell stories to entertain. They only include the most exciting bits. Yet, the everyday activities of the hero can be just as important to the final outcome. What you write could be so much more than their words.” He must have seen the quizzical look upon my face, for he went on, “Let the necklace guide you as it has guided me so often. When the light of its heart shines true, then you will know your task is done.”

I still did not know what he meant until this very night. As I write this, the heart of the stone brightly gleams with a radiance that would shame the sunrise. Forgive me that everyday of what my lord allowed me to view is not accounted for, but it was not his intent. The necklace emphasized to me when my words strayed from its desired end---or at least now I belive that's where the occasional burning sensation in my chest originated. Everyday rifraf is summarized, if it is included at all. However, even though certain ongoings were excluded in my telling, this tale is far from brief. I find it wonderous, and you might agree with me, that it has only taken three years to complete.

And so my task is done. I shall return the necklace to the King at daybreak. It has been three years to the month that I was given this task; I never realized that so much had happened to the King in his twenty-two years of rule.

I have done my best to tell his tale and can only hope that he and all who read its pages are satisfied and possibly come to know themselves better.