Chapter Text
The temple was impressive. Its massive front doors were framed by large stone columns supporting a pediment ornamented with various owl figures surrounding a giant eye. Next to the building, Martin looked minuscule. He felt so. That was probably the point, he thought. A simple reminder that humans were nothing compared to the Gods. The effect was all the more impressive with the growing darkness of the evening.
Taking a deep breath, he walked through the doors and into the temple. Inside, there was nearly complete silence, except for a few whispers. This place was not made for talking. Those who came here either roamed the library, desperate for an answer to their questions, or came to make an offering to their God in hope of protection from the other Gods. Whether the price was worth the result was to anyone’s guess.
Martin walked past a few people, ignoring the feeling of being watched, and made his way deeper into the temple. He arrived in front of a door, and knocked. A man opened and invited him to enter the office.
“Ah, Martin, right on time. Come in, come in.”
“Mister Bouchard, hello. Thank you again for your trust.”
Elias Bouchard had the same imposing presence that on the day of Martin’s interview. The High Priest exuded confidence and composure, and even though Martin was taller than him by a few centimetres, and a lot broader, he felt small next to him.
“How’s your mother?” Bouchard asked.
“She’s… She’s going to be better now, I hope.” Martin tried to ignore the sting in his chest at the memory of his mother leaving in a carriage that morning, not bothering to even look back at him.
“Yes, I’m certain she will be in good hands. It isn’t the best care centre of the city for nothing, after all. Now, follow me.”
They left the office, and walked through dark corridors lit by candelabra.
“I have asked Rosie to draw up a list of your daily tasks, you will find it in your private room. You won’t have to worry about cooking, as our chef will take care of that. Even so, you may use the kitchen at any time as long as it doesn’t disrupt the cooks in any way.”
Martin nodded silently. He listened carefully at everything Bouchard told him, making mental notes of the most important details. He needed this job, and he couldn’t afford to get fired because of a stupid mistake. A knot formed in his stomach. This was going to be very different from any of his previous jobs. He had worked many manual jobs. Long, exhausting days on the docks, cold nights assisting the street baker, anything that meant he could bring money home for his sick mother. Some people said it was her own fault that she got touched by the Crawling Rot. They had said she should have made more offerings, should have sought the protection of the Gods.
Bouchard kept showing Martin different rooms and wings of the temple until he stopped in front of a gigantic, half-opened door.
“And here we have the library.”
From where he was standing, Martin could see more books that he had seen in his entire life, and it was barely the first shelf. He had no doubt there was a lot more inside, especially given that it was one of the biggest libraries of the country. He was eager to walk through it and finally, finally, try to further his education. After his mother became sick, he’d had to leave school to work. He knew how to read and how to count, of course, but his knowledge came to a brutal stop after that. However, despite his excitement, a twinge of nervousness settled in him. What would he think of him?
“Of course, the library is open to the public, and you are welcome to visit it at your own leisure. You can borrow any book you want, but know that the Archivist always has priority.”
For the first time since Martin arrived, Bouchard mentioned the Archivist. The Avatar of the Beholding. Perhaps one of the most powerful of the fourteen Avatars.
The man Martin was going to work for.
He felt his stomach churn. He knew he had to serve the Archivist, to do and obey as he was going to be told, and that responsibility was now weighing on his shoulders.
“Right.” Bouchard said. “I will now show you your room. It is adjacent to the Archivist’s private apartments.”
Martin was led to a completely desert corridor on the other side of the building. Bouchard opened a richly decorated door that led to a large antechamber. Inside there were three doors.
“The door in front of you leads to the Archivist’s quarters. The one on the right is for you.”
“What about the left one?” Martin asked, curious.
“That one is for the Archivist’s use only.”
The High Priest opened the door on the right, the smallest of the three. Behind it was a room, with a simple bed, a wardrobe and a small desk decorated only by a candle. All in all, it wasn’t very different from when Martin lived with his mother. There was also a piece of paper on the desk, and Bouchard fetched it before giving it to him.
“Here is the list of instructions for your daily tasks. These must be completed every day, so make sure to keep it in your mind.”
Martin took a quick look at the list. Mostly, it was keeping the place clean and functional, and making sure that all of the Archivist’s needs were met. The first part wasn’t particularly difficult, there was nothing he wasn’t able to do, but the second part…
“Right.” Bouchard said, placing a hand on Martin’s shoulders, “Make yourself at home, I’ll go and inform the Archivist you have arrived. Rest well tonight, and I’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
Martin thanked him again, and the High Priest left the room.
***
The next morning, Martin woke up early and went to the kitchen as was indicated on his list. There, he could see a half-dozen people at work, starting the preparations for the day.
“Ah, you’re the new one.” A voice came from his side.
The woman shoved a tray with several plates and bowls in his hands.
“I’m Rosie, nice to meet you, et cetera, et cetera… This is for him, your food is right there.” She pointed a large table in the corner of the kitchen. “Eat quick, and bring this to him. If you want, you can have what’s left when he’s finished, so usually nearly everything.”
Martin went to the table, placed the tray on it and started eating. It was porridge with a few berries, and he ate while watching the cooks working. After a minute or two, Rosie came to him.
“So, Martin, was it?”
“Yes, nice to meet you.” He said, extending his hand for her to shake. “Say, any tips or pieces of advice for me?”
She took a moment to think while he finished eating.
“I have never met him personally, all I know is that as long as you know your place, you should be fine.”
They talked a bit more about some of the things Rosie did know from previous servants.
“Now go, you’ll be late.”
Martin nodded, took the tray and made his way back to the Archivist’s quarters. He entered with a nervous sigh. The room was enormous. Huge bookshelves covered the walls, a few couches in front of them, and there was a large table on the left side. There were also several doors, leading to other rooms he had no doubt were as huge as this one. Martin placed the tray on the table, looking around for anyone, but he was alone. Well, except for that ever-present feeling of being watched, but that was to be expected in a temple of the Eye.
Martin chose not to linger, and instead went for his other tasks of the day. He went to the fireplace near the table and relit the fire, adding a few logs and cleaning some of the ashes that had soiled the floor in front of the hearth. He did the same for the candelabra in the room, and when he was done, he got up and walked towards one of the doors. It opened on a large room, with stone tiles on the walls and the floor. Several closets filled with soaps, bath salts and soft towels surrounded a large bath the size of a pool that looked like it had been carved directly into the ground in the middle of the room. The water was lukewarm and perfumed with a smell Martin couldn’t quite place.
He felt a twinge of pain in his chest when he saw how well the Archivist’s apartments were decorated and furnished. Back home, he didn’t have any of this. No warm baths, no rich breakfast every morning, and definitely no servant to take care of the house.
A trapdoor in a corner of the room caught his attention, and he knew that was where he had to go for his next task. He opened it and went down the stairs, reaching a heavy metal door located about right under the pool. Opening it, he was met by a wave of heat that made him sweat nearly instantly. On the other side of the door, there was a small passage that allowed him to go around a large furnace placed under the pool to keep the water hot. The furnace had several openings on each side, which allowed him to feed the fire inside equally on all its surface.
It took Martin a few minutes down there to finish what he was doing, and when he emerged through the trap door, he didn’t notice the person standing in the door frame of the room.
“So you’re the new servant.” The person said.
Martin jumped in surprise, letting out a startled sound. He turned to see who had just talked. The person was skinny, with a brown skin covered in scars, long hair attached in a messy bun that barely held up, a white shirt with large sleeves and tight dark trousers. Their eyes were a deep brown, nearly black, and their face was cold, severe, and beautiful.
It took Martin barely a second to realize this was the Archivist, and he bowed, looking at the ground nervously.
“Yes sir. I’m sorry, I didn’t notice you were here.”
“I told Elias I didn’t want one…” The Archivist muttered, exasperated.
Martin didn’t know how to answer to that. He kept looking at the ground, wondering if he would dare to look up.
“I’m not some sort of sun, you can look at me.” The Archivist sighed in exasperation, as if answering his silent question.
Martin slowly raised his head, not really sure of what he could do without being considered rude. There was a moment of silence during which both of them looked at each other, before the Archivist rolled his eyes.
“Well, get back to work I suppose…” He said, turning away and going back to where he came from.
Martin stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. Well… So much for a first impression… At least he managed not to get smitten or whatever the Archivist’s powers allowed him to do. Thinking of it, Martin knew nothing about his powers. He’s heard rumours, sure, but very few people had actually met the Archivist, and those who had rarely boasted about it. He had certainly never met anyone who’d had an encounter with the Archivist.
He’d heard that some people willingly went to him to get rid of a curse pronounced on them by the Gods. Of course, there was no guarantee it would work, and it usually came at a very high price. He was an Avatar after all. An incarnation of the Gods, not quite as powerful, yet so much above any normal human.
Martin tried to shrug off the shiver that moved through his spine at the idea that he just met someone so powerful and important, and decided to go back to work. He left the bathroom and ended up back in what he would later call the living room, although it was empty most of the time. There, he saw the Archivist place a pile of books on the table, next to the tray of food that had barely been touched. Then, looking at Martin with the same annoyed eyes, he told him:
“Take these to the library. They’ll know which one to bring back. I’ll be in the office, do not disturb me.”
He then left the room by one of the doors Martin hadn’t tried yet, and once again, Martin was left alone, wondering if he had done something wrong or if his new master had simply decided to despise him for no reason.