The Vampire & Her Witch Chapter 1783: Admitting Failure

Just a few days ago, the great cathedral had felt vast, and a single spoken word would have echoed across rows of empty pews during Marquis Bors Lothian’s funeral. The ceremony had excluded almost everyone who couldn’t claim noble blood by birth or marriage, and the few commoners who had been allowed to attend were all people of considerable status.

Tonight was different.

Every pew was filled to the limit with people packed shoulder to shoulder in the neat, orderly rows. Some children even sat in their parents’ laps just to make a little more room. The wings of the cathedral were packed just as full with every acolyte, priest, and sister who wasn’t currently tending to the masses gathered in the chapels or on the grounds.

Aubin couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever seen the cathedral so full. It hadn’t been like this for the funerals of any Lothian Marquis, nor for the most celebrated weddings like Ashlynn Blackwell’s. It hadn’t been like this for the high holy days in Midsummer, and it had never been like this in the depths of winter.

But it could have been.

That thought burned in his heart like a searing brand as he watched people crowding in to stand in the outer aisles, finding a place wherever there was room in order to hear the most important sermon he might ever give.

Tonight, the Church had opened its doors and its kitchens, offering nourishment for the body and the spirit, and the people had come out in droves...

"This is what we should have been doing all along," Aubin said as the Temple Guard closed the massive doors, preventing anyone else from cramming into the already over-filled cathedral.

"We’ve spent so long lording above them; we’ve forgotten how much they rely on us to guide and shelter them," Aubin said as he stood up from the simple chair set well back from the altar where he and Ignatious waited to begin their sermon.

"Take on only the blame that belongs to you, Brother Aubin," Ignatious said. "The grounds are full of people in need of hot food and dry beds because their lords failed to provide for their people’s wellbeing, not because the Church failed to extend enough charity. The Church may bear some blame as well, but it took many people to produce this many people in need of comfort tonight."

"I will be happier," Ignatious said with an encouraging smile. "On the day that the only people in our pews are the faithful, because it will mean that we’ve healed the wounds inflicted on the common people, and no one is forced to pay lip service to our faith just to fill their bellies before bed or find a place to sleep."

"I hope to see that day, Brother Ignatious," Aubin said, making a final adjustment to his white and gold ceremonial robes before he approached the altar. Looking out at the masses in the pews, all looking at him expectantly, it was hard to feel confident that they could accomplish so much in his remaining years...

But then, he didn’t have to. He could entrust that which he couldn’t finish to Ignatious, or perhaps Loman Lothian... There were those who could take up his burdens when the time came to lay them down. But that time hadn’t arrived yet, and as long as he could draw breath, Aubin was determined to struggle onward, to make the world a better place, at least for everyone in this small corner of it.

"The nights are long and dark," Aubin said, stepping up to the altar and raising his hands to call for quiet. "And so the Holy Lord of Light scattered stars across the sky to guide us. That you are here tonight means you have followed the stars he laid out for you. You have followed the Light, and it has led you home."

Aubin’s words were formal and familiar to those in the congregation who were devout enough to attend evening observances in the depths of winter. As he spoke, a quiet hush fell over the people sitting in the pews, broken only by the occasional coughs or the sounds of children demonstrating the infinite patience of the very young.

"Some of you have come here tonight because you are afraid," Aubin said, easing into the words he’d prepared over the past few days. "You have heard of the raids in Hanrahan, Dunn and the Summer Villa. You want to know if the enemy will soon be at our gates."

"You are afraid that your lords cannot keep you safe, and some of you worry that even the Church cannot protect you through these long, dark nights," Aubin said, giving voice to the worry he saw reflected in dozens of faces.

"I’m sorry," Aubin said, bowing his head low before the assembled congregation. "The enemy has long been inside the gates, and we’ve failed to keep you safe, from the lords and their lackeys who tormented you within the city’s walls to the priests and Inquisitors who betrayed your trust; we have failed to protect you," Aubin said solemnly.

"One day," he told the crowd that had been stunned into silence. "I pray that you can forgive me for what I’ve allowed to happen."

"What’s wrong? Are we in danger?" a man near the front asked.

"High Priest, you’ve always been good to us. What... what happened?"

"It’s the lords’ fault for failing us! The Holy Lord of Light protects us!"

"Be quiet, let him speak!"

"You all have a right to answers," Aubin said, raising his arms up high. "And you will hear them. But I have no right to tell this tale... I stood silently by on Midwinter’s Night and did so little while others did so much... And so I turn to High Inquisitor Ignatious, who helped to rescue us from the dark," Aubin said, standing aside and gesturing for Ignatious to join them.

"Please, Brother Ignatious," he said. "The pulpit is yours..."