Below stretched the Rhône valley, a sunlit mosaic of vineyards orchards and villages with slate roofs. This realm was shaped by endeavor a stark contrast to the quiet sanctuaries of stone and ice. Alexander moved into it as if setting foot on an unfamiliar inviting coastline. The atmosphere was heavy, with scents of soil maturing grapes and the aroma of burning wood. Sounds layered upon sounds: the clatter of a cart, a woman calling to a child, the rhythmic chop of an axe.
He wore his hood raised his face obscured by shadows the woolen cloak concealing odd scars and the persistent paleness from the highlands. He exchanged a day's work chopping wood for a meal of bread, cheese and a bowl of stew at a farmhouse bordering the valley. The farmer, a weathered man, with eyes didn't ask any questions merely nodded gratefully for the help. It was the ordinary human contact Alexander had experienced in what seemed like ages. It was terrifying in its simplicity.
That night he rested in the farmer's hayloft the dusty aroma soothing him to sleep. He imagined the river stone, heating up in his palm glowing with a golden radiance. He awoke feeling a pressing urgency. The stone, in its pouch was merely a stone.
The following town was a trading center situated at a bridge junction. Alexander navigated the packed plaza, a presence, amid the crowd. He caught snippets of chatter—rumors of a winter approaching of illness sweeping through the neighboring valley of unusual lights spotted near the lofty mountain passes. His tale had not yet spread here. He remained anonymous.
Then he noticed the banner.
It was suspended outside a stone chapter-house close to the town's church. A radiant sunburst, against a background. The emblem of the Radiant Host, the church of the Angelic decree. His breath caught. He stepped nearer staying at the perimeter of the gathering.
Two men donned in the sunburst tabards of lay-brothers were positioned at the entrance their expressions serious and somber. A modest group had assembled.
"…not a legend " one brother declared, his tone resonating. "The Abyss awakens. The omens appear in the thawing ice and the out-of-time mists. Yet hope remains! The Messenger arrived! He moves within us collecting the artifacts to lock away the shadow!"
A whisper spread among the gathering.. Anticipation.
"Have you spotted him?" a woman shouted.
The brother's expression became grave. "He dwells in isolated spots, along hidden trails.. We have to prepare! We need to cleanse our souls give our might! The Host is assembling the devoted, the powerful, in body and soul to serve as a fortress when the last moment arrives!"
Assembling the devoted. Alexander felt a chill surge through him. He realized the truth—this was no place of worship. A center, for enlistment. The Angel wasn't merely expecting him to fulfill the Trinity. He was building a legion. A mortal force, prepared to wage a battle of absolutes. The unintended victims would be the very world Alexander cherished and protected with his stone.
He began to withdraw. A grip fastened onto his shoulder. It belonged to one of the lay-brothers, a man whose eyes shone with the fervor of a zealot.
"You " the brother stated, his eyes piercing. "You carry the appearance of the realms. Slender. Alert. Have you traveled to the mountains? Have you noticed any indications?"
Alexander. Drew his hood down further. "I'm merely a wanderer. A worker."
The brother's hold grew firmer. "This moment calls for than effort, friend. It calls for commitment. It calls for dedication. Come, converse, with the Chapter Master. Even wanderers have witnessed events."
They guided him toward the chapter-house entrance. A pure intense fear pierced him. Entering meant being identified.. Even more dreadful, being recruited into the very crusade he had abandoned.
He set his feet firmly resisting the brother's hold. "I possess nothing to give."
"Each person has a contribution to bring to the Light!" the brother asserted, his tone growing louder attracting attention.
It was on the verge of turning into a spectacle. Alexander's thoughts sped up. He couldn't engage in combat. Escaping was impossible, without exposing himself as a mark.
Suddenly a fresh voice, silky and tinged with humor broke the silence. "Brother Markus! Release my cousin at once I beg you. He's a man, scared of his own shadow much less sacred battles."
Giovani Azaria pushed through the gathering, a warm grin lighting up his face. He wore made yet functional merchant attire with a ledger tucked beneath his arm. He gave the lay-brother's arm a pat, a movement that somehow loosened his hold on Alexander.
"Giovani?" Markus, the brother blinked his enthusiasm briefly puzzled. "Is this your cousin?"
"The family's sheep " Giovani exclaimed dramatically. "Roams away into the hills to converse with goats. Afraid of any form of authority. I promise you'll hear nothing but stutters from him." He leaned closer as if sharing a secret. ". Just between us I caught an intriguing whisper near the Gemmi Pass. Something, about a cave that emits a glow at night… might be worthwhile to send some of your brothers to check it out? It could be a clue."
He skillfully led Alexander aside from the doorway and the bewildered sibling holding Alexander's arm securely as he guided him. He smiled broadly. Waved at the gathering. "Blessings, to everyone! Proceed as you were!"
He guided Alexander around a bend and into a lane, between two grain storage buildings before letting him go.
"You " Alexander exhaled, a mix of fury and relief battling, within him. "What's your purpose here?"
"Trading " Giovani remarked, flicking dust off his sleeve. "Knowledge is a kind of currency. This town is running a clearance on fear and faith. Very lucrative." He locked eyes with Alexander sharply. "You meanwhile are a walking insolvency. Do you even know the reward, for a ' Messenger'?" The Radiant Host shows no mercy to traitors those who have touched their sacred artifacts and abandoned them atop a mountain.
"I didn't abandon. I stepped down."
"Wordplay, to a zealot armed with a blade." Giovani shook his head. "You must vanish. Completely. The compromise you've settled on is about to turn into a massacre zone. The Angel has finished waiting for you. He's taking action.. The Abyss will retaliate similarly. Mortals caught between will be collateral."
Alexander glanced back at the square the banner lingering in his sight. "They're people. They don't get it."
"They grasp both terror and hope for redemption " Giovani amended. "A potent mix. You can't protect them from the conflict by gripping a stone, Alexander. You need to remove yourself from the situation " He dug into his belt. Produced a small leather-bound package. "A fresh identity. Documents, a background. Employment as a scribe, in a monastery library located in the north. Remote, peaceful. Filled with tomes and zero inquiries."
Alexander gazed at the packet. It represented an escape route. A quiet tranquil form of oblivion. To conceal himself to immerse in reading to let go. He could grasp his stone. Leave.
He glanced at Giovani. "What, about the cost?"
"The cost " Giovani stated, his grin turning into an expression "is that you never get involved again. You lead your existence. You allow the game to unfold. You become an observer." He extended the packet. "It's the agreement that ensures your survival."
Alexander gazed at the package beyond Giovani toward the lively sunlit plaza where individuals existed, cherished and dreaded completely oblivious to the heavenly and infernal maws ready to snap shut around their realm. He recalled the farmer, the flavor of the broth the heft of the axe, in his grasp.
He had not descended from the Weisshorn to conceal himself.
Gradually he extended his hand. Yet it wasn't, toward the packet. He grasped Giovani's wrist dismissing the proposal.
"No agreement " Alexander stated, his tone soft yet resolute. "I refuse to be an observer."
Giovani's eyes grew wide then squinted, analyzing. "So what are you?"
Alexander pressed the pouch against his chest. "I'm the pebble, in both camps' shoes. The uncomfortable reality. I'm unsure what that signifies for now.. I refuse to conceal myself."
He let go of the trader's wrist. Spun around leaving the alley behind not heading toward the chapter-house but moving toward the bridge and the open road.
Giovani Azaria observed him leave, a sincere and completely puzzled smile appearing on his face. He slid the identity packet back, into his belt.
"A pebble in the shoe " he whispered to himself laughing softly. "How terribly irritating.. How incredibly incredibly fascinating." He shook his head as his merchant's intellect immediately began analyzing the fresh unpredictable factor Alexander had turned into. "The bounty on your head has just tripled, my friend.. The worth of your forthcoming move is now completely, beyond estimation."
He melted back into the market crowd, a man with new, premium merchandise to track. Alexander Magnus walked on, towards the next town, the next choice, the next moment of his fragile, defiant, noisy life. The war for the world was coming to the valleys. And he would be there, not with a relic, but with a witness.