The courtyard of the Monastery of Saint Guillaume le Paisible was ornamented in only the finest architecture. From the depictions of angels, demons, monsters, and humans in the midst of fierce battle to the astounding faces of young monks praying and pleading, the complex and full-bodied sculptures were nothing short of a large and expansive mural interpreted in stone instead of paint. The main bridge, Le Pont de la Paix, was made completely of stone as well, numerous arches supporting it as it stood over the head of the Saint-Guillaume, acting as an aqueduct as well as a bridge which fed “blessed” water into the very city of La Soleille itself.

The capital was shaking that day with the hustle and bustle of the numerous townsfolk when Clément at last finished crossing. The anticipation of it had been brewing within them for months now, not a day went by where they weren't reminded of it; but now, it had finally come. People were talking about it, posters could be seen on every wall, the thought was on everyone’s mind: the Domain was upon them.

“We need to win this time.”

“The other factions’ve had their way with us for far too long.”

“Forget it. The past half-decades’ selections’ve given us nothin’ but regret; this half-dee ain’t gonna be no different. Mark my words.”

“Hey now. Let’s not throw in the towel just yet.”

“Thirty years’re thirty years, mate. That’s not called ‘throwin’ in the towel’, that’s called ‘lookin’ at the facts’.”

These words and many more emanated from the mouths of the townsfolk as Clément quietly began to make his way to the academy. They spoke angrily, regretfully. It was hard to tell if the grudge they were holding was against the other factions or against themselves; and truth be told, he didn’t very much care to find out.

“Care for a paper, fire Cœurbon? Just a coin.”

Stirring him from his passive listening of the townsfolk’s conversation and stopping him dead in his tracks, Clément looked down to find a young blond-haired boy with a wide smile pulling on his robes with a bag of newspapers at his side.

“Gabriel, how many times must I tell thee? ‘Tis not ‘fire’, ‘tis ‘friar’.”

“Toss a coin and I might just remember that for next time,” responded the young boy, shooting Clément a hopeful glance. He rolled his eyes and plopped a coin in the paperboy’s palm who swiftly handed him one of the newspapers from the stack and ran off cheerily.

“I’d better get back to that myself,” thought Clément; but no sooner had he begun walking that a voice cut through the citizens’ chatter.

“Clément! Clément!”

Turning around quickly to see who was calling him, he found a big, burly man with brown hair, a stout body, and thick beard waving to him from atop his horse drawn wagon.

“Mr. Dubois?”

“Clément, it is you. I mean, of course it’s you. Don’t no one else walk around here dressed for mass on a weekday.”

The horses’ gait was brought to a stop right at Clément’s side, their rider looking down and offering the young man a warm smile before asking:

“Where to? You on your way to the academy?”

“That I am.”

“Hop on. I’ll give you a lift. I’m headed that way anyways.”

Without so much as a word of protest, Clément took his seat next to Mr. Dubois and, with a whip of the reins, they were on their way. Clément shot a look back and took note of the sizable sheet behind them, the silhouette of something unusual detailed in every fold.

“It’s for today’s selection. Your academy commissioned it and I’ve been entrusted with takin’ it there.”

“I see.”

“Will you be at the selection, Cœurbon?”

“Most definitely. I have to be. It’s my duty after all.”

“That and keepin’ us in your prayers, right?”

“That as well.”

“Then do us both a favor, Cœurbon, and start prayin’ this selection goes well for us, lad. I don’t know how much longer I can take havin’ to answer to those other factions.”

“Ye sound...desperate.”

“I am, mate. Six half-dees’ll do that to you. You bought a paper, right?” he asked, motioning to the newspaper still in Clément’s hand. “Read it aloud to me. What’s it say?”

Clément unfolded the paper and immediately had misgivings about sharing any of its information with Mr. Dubois. Tracing the words with his eyes, he bit down on his lower lip in reluctance, his eyebrows pressing down on the space between them.

The Domain of Kings is here! Another half-decade of second-class citizenship for Humanity?

“Nothing ye would like to hear, I’m afraid.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mr. Dubois let out an exhausted sigh.

“Just what you’d expect. Bad enough we’ve been on a thirty year losin’ streak, but now they gotta make sure we don’t ever forget it, either. Even the townsfolk around these parts’ve lost all semblance o’ hope. How do you do it, Cœurbon?”

“Do what?”

“You know. Face them. The angels. The devils. The mystics. The other factions, basically. How’re you able to so easily just coexist with them in the same place, able to just accept how they look down on and mock you?”

“It cometh with being a disciple, I suppose. Humility is par for the course, which is why I believe Father Michel insisted on my enrollment as an ambassador instead of an alumnus.”

“You wouldn’t’ve wanted to be an alumnus anyways, right?” he said, motioning to Clément’s right eye.

He took a moment to put a hand over that darkened pupil, reflecting back on his night terror from this morning.

“Truer words have never been spoken.”

“I don’t blame you. Still so surreal to think ‘bout it was only a year ago that Father Michel brought you here; but I think you’ve adapted quite well to it all, innit? Still, I just wish someone’d come along who could give those other factions a mighty good thrashin’. You know what I’m sayin’?”

“Someone from the academies?”

“No, not them. No offense to you, Clément; but those academy lads just ain’t cut out for nothin’, you know? They’re all snobs who think they’ve won a lot in life just ‘cos mummy and daddy paid to have’m learn how to prance around with a sword and shield in hand. They talk plenty, but talk’s cheap.”

“I see. Then whom would ye have redeem us?”

Mr. Dubois looked up into the sky, a sparkling glint of joy and hope gleaming in his eye.

“Like from stories of old.”

“What say ye?”

“You know the kind, Cœurbon, you know the kind. I’m talkin’ ‘bout the kind o’ lads you’d read ‘bout all the time in old tales. Humble folks from small, insignificant hamlets. The kind who go ‘bout their day, never doin’ nothin’ to no one, gettin’ stepped on and pushed around by everybody else, till one day: bam! It turns out they’re the chosen one! It turns out they’re the one who’s been called by fate to save the day and free the people! And they do it! They defeat the oppressors and mock those conceited, pretentious rich folk right in their stupid faces! That’s the kind o’ person we need, mate! Someone who could rock this whole status quo nonsense right to its core, flip the table over, and turn the whole world upside-fuckin’-down!”

His blood racing and his hair standing on end, he looked back to Clément and found him staring back at him with a surprised gaze and a wide smile.

“You’re laughin’ at me, innit?”

“What? No, no. I would never.”

“Yes you are, Cœurbon, don’t lie to me. Everyone does.”

“Then ‘tis a good thing I’m not ‘everyone’, hm?”

“D’you think I dream too big?”

“Better is it to dream too big than not to dream at all.”

“Ha ha! See? That’s why I like you, Cœurbon. Nevertheless, maybe I’m just crazy after all. Maybe I should just accept things as they are. At best, maybe my hero’s only ever gonna exist in my big dreams.”

“Well, I’d not say all that.”

“Oh?”

“La Soleille is a big city. Lérèves, an even bigger kingdom. And the world beyond, even bigger than that. Who knoweth truly? Mayhaps your hero truly is out there somewhere. Mayhaps they are already here amongst us; watching the world; waiting to answer the call; biding their time until destiny bringeth them forth.”

“You think so?”

“With all my heart, Mr. Dubois. As I said: the world is huge; expansive; infinite in all its possibilities; and we know not always what surprises lie in store for us.”

“Hm. I s’pose you’re right, lad. I s’pose you’re right. I always do like havin’ a chat with you. Makes the time go by quicker. Speakin’o which: we are now arriving at The Mixed Academy of La Soleille. Please check your surroundings before exiting the vehicle so as to ensure no personal belongings are left behind. Thank you very much for choosing Dubois Transport. We wish you a pleasant stay.”

Clément couldn’t help but chuckle as Mr. Dubois gave him his best steward send-off and, following his recommendation, made sure to leave nothing behind as he stepped off toward the hallowed gates of the esteemed institution.