"My name is Albert," he continued, speaking quietly so that only the three of them could hear. Bernard and Jukka introduced themselves likewise, while he paused, choosing his words with some care. "I will help here until the twenty fifth... and then I will leave Triskellian and begin the Walk of One Thousand Lights."
Both Bernard and Jukka gasped in unison. Neither had gone on such an arduous pilgrimage, nor had they really expected to in their lifetimes; it involved starting at Triskellian and following an outwardly spiraled path to visit every temple - but only traveling at night by torch or candlelight. "That is an impressive act of devotion," Bernard said enthusiastically. "You must be a very pious man."
Albert chuckled and shook his head. "No, I'm not, though I hope to become one. I have much to atone for, and a great weight to be lifted from my soul. The Walk may not be enough to do it, but I can't keep going on without trying." A note of desperation crept into the hedgehog's voice, and his blunt fists tightened as if to restrain themselves.
Bernard wasn't going to ask why, though he desperately wanted to know what would drive a man like this to such lengths. Propriety and curiosity warred within him, until it was Jukka who spoke his thoughts aloud. "What weight do you mean? Do you want to take confession?"
Albert shook his head once, firmly. "No. I mean, I have. But it is not enough. I killed my own son in a fit of rage, took a hammer to him in our workshop. I was in jail for some time, and I wanted them to kill me. But they didn't. Now I have to do this, and maybe there will be something left over for living, after it's done. Maybe not."
Jukka made the sign of the octagram before he could stop himself. Bernard did not react outwardly at first, letting this news sift through his thoughts. It was a rather curious shift, to think so highly of this apparently selfless man one moment, then to find him possibly dangerous and loathesome; but he would not judge or condemn, he reminded himself. One must have compassion, and if one were only compassionate to those who were easy to like, the sentiment was worthless. It was just not at all easy to force oneself to think the way one should, instead of the way one did; but he was used to things not being easy, that constant exertion, comforting in its constancy. It was a pain he had learned to seek, perhaps to crave.
"I will pray for your journey and your cleansing," Bernard finally said, breaking the silence between the three of them. "Will you write to me, and tell me what you see and learn on your pilgrimage?"
Albert looked surprised at the request, and took a little while to answer. "I will..." He seemed ready to ask why, but in the end he did not. "I will send the letters here." His small eyes, shadowed in the dark of the night, seemed to gleam then as they captured the light of the candles. He turned suddenly, and looked out over the throng of people pressed into the cathedrale's grounds. "I'll go help some more," he murmured, and walked off into the crowd, merging with it as one more penitent searching for answers on a cold and snowy Solacia.
Both Bernard and Jukka gasped in unison. Neither had gone on such an arduous pilgrimage, nor had they really expected to in their lifetimes; it involved starting at Triskellian and following an outwardly spiraled path to visit every temple - but only traveling at night by torch or candlelight. "That is an impressive act of devotion," Bernard said enthusiastically. "You must be a very pious man."
Albert chuckled and shook his head. "No, I'm not, though I hope to become one. I have much to atone for, and a great weight to be lifted from my soul. The Walk may not be enough to do it, but I can't keep going on without trying." A note of desperation crept into the hedgehog's voice, and his blunt fists tightened as if to restrain themselves.
Bernard wasn't going to ask why, though he desperately wanted to know what would drive a man like this to such lengths. Propriety and curiosity warred within him, until it was Jukka who spoke his thoughts aloud. "What weight do you mean? Do you want to take confession?"
Albert shook his head once, firmly. "No. I mean, I have. But it is not enough. I killed my own son in a fit of rage, took a hammer to him in our workshop. I was in jail for some time, and I wanted them to kill me. But they didn't. Now I have to do this, and maybe there will be something left over for living, after it's done. Maybe not."
Jukka made the sign of the octagram before he could stop himself. Bernard did not react outwardly at first, letting this news sift through his thoughts. It was a rather curious shift, to think so highly of this apparently selfless man one moment, then to find him possibly dangerous and loathesome; but he would not judge or condemn, he reminded himself. One must have compassion, and if one were only compassionate to those who were easy to like, the sentiment was worthless. It was just not at all easy to force oneself to think the way one should, instead of the way one did; but he was used to things not being easy, that constant exertion, comforting in its constancy. It was a pain he had learned to seek, perhaps to crave.
"I will pray for your journey and your cleansing," Bernard finally said, breaking the silence between the three of them. "Will you write to me, and tell me what you see and learn on your pilgrimage?"
Albert looked surprised at the request, and took a little while to answer. "I will..." He seemed ready to ask why, but in the end he did not. "I will send the letters here." His small eyes, shadowed in the dark of the night, seemed to gleam then as they captured the light of the candles. He turned suddenly, and looked out over the throng of people pressed into the cathedrale's grounds. "I'll go help some more," he murmured, and walked off into the crowd, merging with it as one more penitent searching for answers on a cold and snowy Solacia.
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