Of mice and men, and of the men who eat the mice

He suddenly woke up in a bed, unaware of his demise, which he thought might have been a little bit better than continuing with such a dreary life.

Sunlight gleamed through a small stained-glass window at the edge of the room, bathing the once-polished wooden floor in a bright yellow glow. Lifting a hand over his eyes, Lumière sat up in the bed he had awoken in, and knew that he was still alive because of it.

The red sun meant he was still a denizen of a cruel world.

Placing his hands against his cheeks, he pulled down on his skin as if to tear away the fatigue from his eyelids. Despite the continent being in its age of constant rainfall in the weather cycle, his skin had nearly dried out, so dragging against it felt like rubbing his fingers against paper, and so he felt amused.

"You're awake, finally." A soft voice said jovially.

Lumière glanced to his side to see a woman dressed in stark-black robes and a headdress that covered the entirety of her hair, except for a small strand of blonde that fell down her forehead.

"What is it to you, Sister Alinde?" Lumière sighed out loud.

"Now, it means you can help with the morning service." She smiled, her head tilting to the side.

Although her expression was full of pious happiness, Lumière could tell that her smile was full of some sort of teasing trickery. She was like a loving, caring devil.

Reaching into the singular pocket her robes had, she pulled out a pair of circular black-framed spectacles and placed them softly on Lumière's blinded face, ruffling a hand through his dark-brown curls. His dull greyish-blue irises expanded, and from his perspective, he could begin to see her face clearly. She waltzed about the room for a bit, her long black robes shifting with each step.

"You forget so many important things…" Sister Alinde sighed aloud. "I have to thank the Goddess you're still in one piece, don't I?"

'I wouldn't blame the Goddess for my survival… that's surely all my doing.'

"Aren't you disallowed from having pockets?" Lumière asked of her in a surprised tone.

That was a practice of the Goddess of Thorns, disallowing material possession in such a way. In the eyes of the core tenets, it was to be free of lust and greed. Although, there was some minor sort of disdain for

"Perhaps the Goddess told me to have pockets, so that you may be spared the trouble of faulty eyesight." Sister Alinde winked in return.

He let out a sigh, and his focus returned to sitting up in bed.

Lumière's whole body felt like the sludge that pooled at the edge of the street in the afternoon rain. As he sat at the edge of his bed, which had been stuffed with straw to keep it soft and warm, his legs which fell off the side felt weak and limp.

Yet, as he placed the back of his hand against his dull-aching forehead, he could not seem to recall the day prior.

"How long did I sleep, Sister Alinde?" Lumière asked of the nun.

"No more than a night, which I'm sure is more sleep than you deserve."

'This woman…' Lumière cursed in his mind. 'Doesn't she know how hard I work to support this place?'

"Where's Father Benedict?" Lumière asked of the coy nun, a dozen more questions piled up in his mind that he chose to keep tucked away.

As she walked towards the door, placing her soft, long fingers on its bronze handle, she turned towards him and spoke simply.

"Out on the hillside, as usual." She replied. "The sun has just barely risen, after all."

As soon as she had finished her reply, she did not leave immediately, hanging at the side of the door with a quiet longing in her gaze as she stared at the sleepy-eyed liar who sat softly on the bed.

"Are you going to keep standing there? Do you want to see me dress that badly?" Lumière chided with a soft, joking smile.

"It's nothing I haven't seen before." She winked once more, her face growing slightly blushed, before shutting the door behind her and leaving the magician in the quiet reverence of his room.

Without wasting any time, Lumière immediately ran to the chipped wardrobe which sat in the corner of his room. It had been lined carefully by him with lavender sachets with the flower petals collected from the garden to protect against moths.

He pulled a ruffled white shirt over himself, with black cropped trousers held up by suspenders, a long black coat with chipped buttons along its sides, and a black flat cap nestled atop his head of messy hair.

Eyeing the simple polished wooden table at his bedside, Lumière debated inwardly before opening its singular drawer and retrieving a silvery glistening item from its contents. It was a simple pocket watch with a singular engraving on its surface; a single sentence that read 'Everything is okay'.

He tucked it gently in his front pocket after winding it with a soft smile.

Then, he stepped out of his room, walking down the monastery's hall until he reached the front door, opening it to meet the brisk morning air.

'Now, where is Father Benedict…?' Lumière thought before his eyes were lain upon the figure of the familiar man.

Father Benedict stood at the wayside in the distance, upon a hill of wilted, greyed grass. With a smile on his face, he held a ladle in his hand, dipping it periodically into a steaming pot to distribute a thick, viscous liquid to those who held their bowls out.

Nearly a hundred people had gathered outside the monastery. During the night, its interior could only fit about thirty people. Children, pregnant women, and the sickly were given priority. More often than not, the men and the elders of Cobblers Street were left to the cold.

This meant that the first to the line were those who craved the warmth of the porridge- those who had been left out in the night.

A chill morning wind brushed against the grass, and as he shivered nearly aloud, Lumière pulled the collar of his coat over his neck, pressing it against his pale cheek.

After a short bout of walking upon the grass which seemed to nearly crunch underneath his boots, he stood before a tall man with long white hair that fell down his shoulders. He wore a black long coat of the same fashion as Lumière's, with white robes tucked carefully underneath. Around his neck, he wore an iron pendant given to each priest by the council of the holy church- a crown of thorns, representing the Goddess.

Although, unlike other priests who preached their words around the city-state of Leiden, Father Benedict was not old and pale-skinned, covered in wrinkles, and frail. His skin was clear and silky, and he could still move about well. It was because the priest, Father Ainsworth Benedict, was nearly the same age as Lumière, somewhere around twenty-six. While they had grown up together, and despite Lumière having kept a close eye on his life, he did not know exactly how Ainsworth had become a priest at such a young age.

Still, Lumière treated his ordained title with a modicum of respect. Even if they were friends, it was something he poured the whole of his heart into, and Lumière would never choose to demean that.

"Father Benedict," Lumière spoke with a soft tone of voice, trying desperately to stave off the yawn that hung upon his lips. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Lumière." Father Benedict spoke in return. "Are you feeling all right now?"

"All right…?" Lumière responded sheepishly as he ruffled a hand through his messed hair, "What do you mean-"

His words were cut short.

Suddenly, his mind flashed with images grey in colour, as if he was watching the scenery of his life's events one by one. Familiar whispers resounded in his mind, booming in the distance with a veracity that made his ears want to bleed simply to drown out the noise.

"{..//.#..-}"

His brain shook vigorously, and for a moment, he seemed frozen in place.

As the whispers faded away into the distance, and colour returned to his vision, he looked back towards Father Benedict and smiled softly.

"Yes, I'm doing fine, Father Benedict."

Such was the spun tale of a liar.

"You terrified us last night, fainting at the door." The Father shook his head. "Honestly, I can't tell whether you're ill, or a fool sometimes. You were screaming 'murderer' before you passed out, like a real lunatic."

Lumière took a seat beside the Father in the grass, his mind filled with countless thoughts that seemed to weave over one another, like a haze that obscured his rationality.

'Murmurs…? Murderer…?' Lumière thought as he looked at the hillside before him. 'Did all of this happen last night…? Why can't I remember it clearly then?'

Still spooning warm porridge into the shakily extended wooden bowls of those that had gathered, Father Benedict turned towards him.

"It's a wonder that we can give out so much kindness to this world, isn't it, my friend?" Father Benedict spoke exuberantly.

"This is the world of the Goddess…?" Lumière spoke grudgingly, staring at the hillside with sleepy eyes where many had gathered just to receive a singular meal within their day. It was the only one that was somewhat guaranteed to them, all because of the Father's kindness, and because Lumière had sought employment for that purpose.

"The sun still shines, doesn't it, Lumière?" Father Benedict smiled. "Isn't this the beauty of the Goddess's work? There's only so much she can do, I'm sure… that's why she's allowed us to be so charitable, with what little we have ourselves."

"If I chop the hands off of a man, and give him a slice of cake, how will he eat it?"

The Father looked at Lumière with a confused expression, and noticing this, Lumière bit at his lip as he spoke once more.

"The aggrieved… how can they afford space in their hearts to enjoy the sun, when their world is already this cruel?" Lumière said in a harsh tone of voice.

"Perhaps that is our test, Lumière." Father Benedict spoke with furrowed eyes, setting down the ladle as he paid full attention to the magician. "Why do you feel we're so entitled to an easy life?"

"I don't think it to be simple entitlement, but we revere the Goddess so much, for what little we've been given…"

'Should we be so satisfied with 'more than nothing'?'

'As for the Dwindlers…' Lumière thought as he turned his attention towards those who had gathered upon the hillside.

"They spend their whole lives outside… don't you think that for once, they would like to enjoy their breakfast inside?" Lumière asked of him.

"If so many people were to eat inside at the same time, the monastery would very quickly start to smell of porridge, wouldn't it?" Father Benedict laughed suddenly, his mood shifting. "Such a thing… is it really that befitting of the Goddess's status? Moreover, can we even fit them all?"

He looked a little dejected as he spoke.

'So even you have your boundaries, you holy bastard…' He sighed inwardly.

Since the blood-red sun had come up, out of their burrows and hiding places, many creatures ran about on the hillside. Most of them were mice, ones likely carrying disease and plague that would bring about sickness in any who interacted with them. They were disdainful, but in Lumière's heart, as long as they kept a distance, they were slightly adorable.

'It's animals alone that can move my heart, but why must they stay so close to me…?' He lampooned within his thoughts as he moved his feet about to avoid the scurrying creatures.

"There are so many mice around here…" Lumière groaned as he shook off the furry creature that tried desperately to climb up his boot.

"Perhaps we should start eating them as well." Father Benedict laughed softly, speaking in a joking manner.

"We do eat them." A man said suddenly, appearing behind the two.

There was a sudden chill on the back of Lumière's neck- as if the rain-bitten air had grown a frosty attitude. All the hairs on his arms stood up, and he could feel as if there was an astute danger present behind him.

As Lumière and Father Benedict turned around, they met the sight of a man cloaked completely in black, as if the sun was an enemy he tried desperately to hide himself from. He towered over them, seemingly twice as tall as they were sitting down, and the bloodshot eyes he peered down upon them with were blood red, almost glowing like the crimson sun.

"And you don't get sick?" Lumière spoke sheepishly, trying to keep a friendly demeanour between himself and the man while he tried to accurately measure his intentions.

"If we don't get sick from eating them, then it is a good day." The man spoke once more. His tone was gravelly and still, unwavering in its monotone fashion.

"Then why eat them if there's such a risk?" Lumière spoke, already knowing of the answer.

"The alternative is starving." The cloaked man shook his head.

"Are you here for a warm meal?" The Father asked of him suddenly. "Or, is it another matter you wish to levy?"

The blood-red eyes that peered from underneath the cowl seemed to shimmer with confusion at his question.

"Why am I here…?" The man murmured. "Why… why am I here…?"

He placed a hand suddenly against his head, as if pain rang out intensely within his mind. His steps staggered, and Lumière shot up suddenly to support the man so he would not fall to the ground.

After a short time, the man shook off Lumière's grasp and then bowed to him as if to thank him.

"Sorry, I've suddenly remembered something. I have to go. Thank you for your help." The man spoke as he bowed.

Immediately after, he adjourned from the hillside and disappeared into the lonely and silent cobblers street.

'He was strange, wasn't he…? But in this world, who isn't a bit strange, given the stringent circumstances of living?'

The man's words reminded Lumière of something suddenly.

'Ah, it's about time, isn't it?' Lumière thought suddenly, his eyes widening. 'There aren't many clocks outside around here, so I didn't even think of paying attention to the time… I'm going to be late.'

"I have to go, Father Benedict." Lumière smiled softly, turning towards the priest as he spoke. "I won't be back before sunset, so don't feel the need to wait for my return."

"I'll always pray to the Goddess for your safe return, so I need not wait idly for such a thing." The Father spoke in return assuredly.

Although, it all but assured Lumière, whose belief had waned in recent years. So, steeling his heart towards the world, he stepped away from the hillside, his long coat fluttering in the morning wind as he confronted life with a stern expression.