After being re-introduced to the head practitioner, the Representative turned around and headed for another building, followed by her entourage. What was missing was praising chants and somebody tossing flowers everywhere she went. Hawthorn helplessly looked down at us, as if we just asked him the most challenging riddle the world had to offer. Fear not, old man, we’re equally confused! Let us share this moment of confusedness in silent contemplation.

Well, except for Lilly, of course. She was as excited as a pet dog knowing they were about to get a treat, impatiently walking back and forth, waiting for its master to reward them finally. “So, what happens now?” was her equivalent of repeatedly asking, “are we there yet?” and poor Hawthorn needed more time to gather himself.

Meanwhile, the other boys and I kept nervously glancing back at the gates across the practice field. Rain began to fall, but most student practitioners remained on the court. The head practitioner noticed our yearning looks and finally managed to say something. “You’ll return home, I promise. We will need to write down your names first, though.”

“Aaw, why, sir?” Valerian dared to ask. “She’s not around anymore, just- ouch!” Yup. Lilly fiercely knocked her left elbow into his ribs.

“Valerian! Nobody cheats on Representatives!”

“I’m afraid, she is right, Valerian,” Hawthorn added. “Come follow me, kids.” And so we did.

The building itself was erected in a square layout. There were no doors – instead, the side facing the court had a column-like structure. You could, therefore, enter from any point. The middle area, however, had the biggest gap. When we walked in, we stood in darkness. After adjusting our eyes, we glanced at a vast, open space. There were some steps on each side of the walls that led downwards to the center of the building. Two massive stone pillars held the roof in place. Everywhere, scholars and practitioners were sitting on the ground, meticulously studying ancient scripts. The conversation volume was pretty low. If fellow members of the Order needed to talk, they spoke in solemn whispers that were drowned by the drumming of the rain on the reed roof. The center itself was open, with the rain pouring down into a small basin. This hole was the primary light source of this building. Otherwise, no lanterns were hanging on the walls or columns. Some practitioners had small oil lamps or candles in front of them as they read their books and scrolls, but besides that, the room was pretty dark.

None of the practitioners looked up when Hawthorn brought us inside. They were way too busy pretending to look studious. Blegh. Even now, whenever I enter a temple and come into the main hall, I’ll find all these people sitting there, reading their stuff. Nu forbid if you approached them and wanted to discuss that theoretical crap profoundly. They’ll stare blankly at you and, at most, recite the last few sentences they’ve read. But you need to look important, right?

Hawthorn gently nudged us to the right. In the corner of the building, a bald, middle-aged man was writing something on a scroll. The wax of the candles was dripping generously on the left side of the paper, firmly attaching it to the ground. As we approached him, the scratching noises of the pen became audible, before they came to a sudden halt.

“Master, what brings you here?” The man’s tone was friendly, yet there was subversive aggression beneath it all. He probably wanted to say, “Son of a harlot, why are you bothering me with a bunch of street kids?” but respected Hawthorn too much.

“Basil, good to see you.” Hawthorn slightly bowed in response. “Please note down the name of these children and prepare a sum of 100 coins each as a token of gratitude for their parents. The Representative has decided to send them to the Pilgrimage.”

The man scratched his head and bothered to look at us more closely. “I take it that we will not need to announce we are recruiting children for the Pilgrimage anymore?”

“Precisely. As is customary, a town only sends up to five children on the arduous journey.”

“Great, at least we don’t need to deal with overzealous parents and all that crap!” is what the bald practitioner had probably wanted to say, but he managed to condense it down to two words: “Very well.” He summoned us over one by one, recording our names, where we lived, and who our parents were. By the time he was done, the sun had begun to set. As the Order didn’t want to send us off alone with a large sum of money, our parents were called to the temple to collect us.

My parents looked the most worried of them all. While they acted friendly upon receiving the leather bag with 100 silver oval plates in it, their facade dropped the moment we left the vicinity. I still remember how my mother tightly grabbed my wrist and that it hurt, but I didn’t dare complain. I knew I was in trouble when she almost literally dragged me back home. Even my father had a resigned look on his face as he silently followed us through the dark alleys back to our house at the other end of the town.