This time, Patricus' seeming to ignore him did not grate. Armande had some time in the Chong rann before coming to the papal apartments, and the serenity of his inner chambers, the quiet and cold of the stone floors and walls had seeped into his soul. He was utterly at peace and his mind was open to all. His vision seemed heightened, the smallest details now trumpeting themselves loudly.
The Pope's scrutiny of his book, the movement of his fingers to touch a line, the pursing of lips, the fervor made things clear. He was searching for some serenity. It made sense, of course. To find out the world was not what you thought would rock anyone. He remembered it well- and he had been secretly groomed for the truth!
Some semblance of pity warmed in him. Lost in time, he seemed not to notice the monks placing the food in front of him or of the guards leaving. They were alone and the quiet was complete except for their breathing.
And suddenly, the Pope came to himself, surprise at the food and Armande evident on his face. Armande then joined him in eating and it was his turn. The man was an ascetic. Interesting. He wondered if the man was following in the steps of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. When the man had been murdered, it had been discovered that he wore a hair shirt of coarse wool underneath his robes. The neverending chafeing and irritation a continual mortification of the flesh. Likely not that exactly. Becket's skin was pocked with lice and other vermin as a result. Patricus did not appear to be in constant agony.
But the blandness of the meal was intentional, as if fine tuned to the greatest degree of lack of flavor. Armande's respect increased. But he would have to go slow so as to not overwhelm.
He didn't really need to think on the question. He had expected it or something like it. One does not find out their is a secret organization within your own and not want to know who and what they are.
He sipped his water to clear his throat before speaking. "What I am going to tell you, your Holiness, will seem fantastical." The honorific was needed at this point. If their relationship progressed to where he wanted, it would stop being needed. "Something out of myth and legend. And in one sense, that would be exactly correct. For indeed, the origin of the Athari is rooted in the myth and legend of the ancient past."
He took a moment to assess how Patricus was taking this. Then, continuing, "The word 'Atharim' comes from an ancient language and means remnant. A remnant of what, though, is lost to us. It is what we have called ourselves for more than ten thousand years. But our purpose is and has always been the protection of mankind. From creatures like the one you saw, the dead ones I showed you. But also..." and here he did pause. This was where it was going to start sounding outlandish.
His voice was pleasant and his cadence measured so as to make it clear these were not the ramblings of a mad man. "...also from men and women. Specifically, men and women who were able to use the power of God to enslave and oppress humanity. The legends of old, the stories of the Titans and Olympians, the Lords of Xibalba and Huizilopoctli, of Set and Annubis, of Brahma and Siva, they are all true, in one sense. Humans with those names lived in the distant past. The legends and myths of today are merely distortions that have occurred over the vast distances of time."
He let some of his anger show. "These men and women used their power to create empires, to subjugate others, to use people as slaves to cater to their every whim. They battled among themselves, laying waste to hundreds and thousands of innocents. They thought nothing of those they claimed to rule. They developed weapons that used their power, devised the creatures like the ones you saw below, to use in their battles. Mankind was in danger. But the Atharim stood up, and using cunning and their own weapons against them, gradually defeated them, exterminating them."
Some pride did fill his voice at that last. "Since then, we have continued to serve as the bulwark to protect mankind. Those creatures are still around and we hunt them whenever we find them. And we vigilantly keep alert for any sign that the gods have returned."
It was bare bones and likely the man had questions. But it was enough.
The Pope's scrutiny of his book, the movement of his fingers to touch a line, the pursing of lips, the fervor made things clear. He was searching for some serenity. It made sense, of course. To find out the world was not what you thought would rock anyone. He remembered it well- and he had been secretly groomed for the truth!
Some semblance of pity warmed in him. Lost in time, he seemed not to notice the monks placing the food in front of him or of the guards leaving. They were alone and the quiet was complete except for their breathing.
And suddenly, the Pope came to himself, surprise at the food and Armande evident on his face. Armande then joined him in eating and it was his turn. The man was an ascetic. Interesting. He wondered if the man was following in the steps of Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury. When the man had been murdered, it had been discovered that he wore a hair shirt of coarse wool underneath his robes. The neverending chafeing and irritation a continual mortification of the flesh. Likely not that exactly. Becket's skin was pocked with lice and other vermin as a result. Patricus did not appear to be in constant agony.
But the blandness of the meal was intentional, as if fine tuned to the greatest degree of lack of flavor. Armande's respect increased. But he would have to go slow so as to not overwhelm.
He didn't really need to think on the question. He had expected it or something like it. One does not find out their is a secret organization within your own and not want to know who and what they are.
He sipped his water to clear his throat before speaking. "What I am going to tell you, your Holiness, will seem fantastical." The honorific was needed at this point. If their relationship progressed to where he wanted, it would stop being needed. "Something out of myth and legend. And in one sense, that would be exactly correct. For indeed, the origin of the Athari is rooted in the myth and legend of the ancient past."
He took a moment to assess how Patricus was taking this. Then, continuing, "The word 'Atharim' comes from an ancient language and means remnant. A remnant of what, though, is lost to us. It is what we have called ourselves for more than ten thousand years. But our purpose is and has always been the protection of mankind. From creatures like the one you saw, the dead ones I showed you. But also..." and here he did pause. This was where it was going to start sounding outlandish.
His voice was pleasant and his cadence measured so as to make it clear these were not the ramblings of a mad man. "...also from men and women. Specifically, men and women who were able to use the power of God to enslave and oppress humanity. The legends of old, the stories of the Titans and Olympians, the Lords of Xibalba and Huizilopoctli, of Set and Annubis, of Brahma and Siva, they are all true, in one sense. Humans with those names lived in the distant past. The legends and myths of today are merely distortions that have occurred over the vast distances of time."
He let some of his anger show. "These men and women used their power to create empires, to subjugate others, to use people as slaves to cater to their every whim. They battled among themselves, laying waste to hundreds and thousands of innocents. They thought nothing of those they claimed to rule. They developed weapons that used their power, devised the creatures like the ones you saw below, to use in their battles. Mankind was in danger. But the Atharim stood up, and using cunning and their own weapons against them, gradually defeated them, exterminating them."
Some pride did fill his voice at that last. "Since then, we have continued to serve as the bulwark to protect mankind. Those creatures are still around and we hunt them whenever we find them. And we vigilantly keep alert for any sign that the gods have returned."
It was bare bones and likely the man had questions. But it was enough.