Further Beyond: Ascension

Solsday, 1st of Julius, 470th Year of the Fifth Era

Parulian awoke in the morning with a splitting headache. It felt as if his head was a nesting ground for whatever creatures that were now trying to burrow their way out of it. That or like someone was tying a tight rope over his head determined to crush it. Whatever the exact analogy was, he wasn't too appreciative of his son Jakobus waking him up.

"Errmmm… ughhh!! Can't you just leave me alone for a bit..??" Parulian groaned as he massaged his head.

"Father, it's only an hour left before church starts and everyone else has gone already…" Jakobus said as he was busy donning his own shirt and ulos.

"...I think I'm going to skip the liturgy this time, son. My head is killing me… urghh…"

"How much did you even drink last night? Anyways, why not just go, among? The hospital is right next to the church and we can get one of the healers to cure your drunkenness." His second son didn't care at all about his objections as he helped raise him up from the ground.

"Ow! Ow! Hey, slowly, Jakob…! Alright, alright, I'm going…" Parulian still held his head as he allowed his son to help him get dressed.

"Honestly, I hate that I always have to be the one to stay behind and help you every time this happens… You're the king now, but I barely feel like anything's changed."

"You say that like I do this every other day."

"You don't, but it's still annoying every time it happens. Maybe things will be more peaceful once we move the king's hall and we have servants there."

Parulian tensed as he heard his son mention moving to the king's hall. He had intentionally been avoiding the subject with his family as he still didn't feel like it was time to move. As much as he could, he wanted to stay as far away from anything that would remind him of his late father. It was still too fresh.

But his son was right in some aspects. He was indeed the king now and his responsibilities would only keep growing. If the new king didn't even show up for the first regular church service what would the people say? It would only be lending credence to people sympathetic towards Partogi's point of view.

Parulian frowned as he was reminded of that damned traitorous brother of his. No, such a man didn't deserve to even be called his brother. It was a good decision to keep Tiur and Tigor away from him lest they be corrupted by his views eventually. It would've been better if someone like that were to be bound on the neck to a boulder and be tossed into the river.

Jakobus had helped him put on the regalia that his father used to wear. The king's dark-coloured ulos and talitali. As much as Parulian disliked having to do it, there were still things and traditions that he had to upkeep for the sake of the people. Despite how much he was hurting, he still had to put on a strong face.

"Oh, and I almost forgot. Mamak already prepared you that tea you've always been drinking lately. Maybe that'll help alleviate your current headaches somewhat." Jakobus handed over a cup of tea to him. "Though we prepared it an hour ago so it might not be that hot anymore.."

"That's okay." Parulian said as he utilised a little of his fire aura to heat up the cup causing it to let off a little bit of steam. Just a little was enough. A warrior's use of aura might not be as direct or concentrated as mage's use of mana, but it was enough.

As Parulian took a sip from the cup of tea, that calm, dulling sensation he would get from it returned. It really did help with his inebriated disposition. He still didn't know what the exact properties of this tea was but it was quite pleasing to him.

"Do we still have any of the tea leaves and seeds?" Parulian asked.

"Mamak said we only have enough left for one cup for you."

It was unfortunate. Parulian would have to say goodbye to his newest favourite drink. Getting more of it would require making a request to the Saorma and at this current point, Parulian would rather run around the village buck-naked than do that. It would mean that he'd have to go forward with his reign without that bit of relief.

Parulian was supported by Jakobus throughout their walk to the church. Luckily, they had arrived just in the nick of time before the service started. Parulian quickly took his seat next to his wife while he instinctively left a space between himself and the edge of the pew to his left. It was a muscle memory of years sitting next to his father for church.

"I'm surprised you actually decided to still attend church." His wife said as she sat cross-legged.

"Your second son is very persuasive, dear." Parulian answered.

"You caused us quite a bit of trouble last night. I hope you realised. Sudung and Ara had to help us haul you over back home. It was embarrassing, especially for someone who's supposed to be our king." The sharp tone in his wife's voice was clear as day.

"...Thank you so much, my love. What would I ever do without you by my side." Parulian leaned in to kiss his wife on her cheek. Though she still acted annoyed, Parulian knew she was a big softie inside. Eventually, she let out a sigh before caressing his own face.

"...Please, dear… You – more so than anyone else here – need to step up and be strong. We are all saddened, but you are our king. If not you then who else? Are we going to have to start relying on Josi?"

"Yes, dear, I know… It's a working process. I just… I just need more time…" Parulian nodded, but that didn't wipe away his difficulties.

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His father's death had only made him realise one thing the most. And that was the fact that he wasn't half as strong as he thought he was. He still didn't feel like he could be that single source of strength for the clan. Not in the way his father was. Just how did his father do it? To be so strong despite everything he went to?

Parulian felt truly weak. His father had gone through things much worse than him a hundred times over. Not only had he lost his parents, but nearly his entire clan as well. Parulian never knew what the source of his strength was as it was before they had even converted to christianity. Perhaps if Parulian were in his father's shoes at the time, he would've just decided to end it all for himself at that point… But he couldn't afford to do that for he still had so many people depending on him.

It hadn't been several days since his family was last at church for his father's last rites, but now everything felt surreal. It was a regular service as usual, but to him, everything felt somewhat empty. The songs didn't feel the same, the music didn't feel the same, even the youngsters in the naposo choir weren't the same.

Things had changed too quickly and he wasn't yet ready for the whiplash.

Not even the reverend's sermon managed to pull Parulian out of his apathetic feeling. He couldn't afford to pay attention to it. All of it felt like a blur. It was to the point that he had skipped the service's 'koor ama', having Mardomu conduct it in his stead.

When the service ended, his wife had gone on to mingle with the other women as usual. Things were beginning to go back to normal. For some at least. Parulian himself was still quite lost on what he was supposed to do.

Train for his duel tomorrow? He had neither the will nor the drive. He had started thinking to himself, so what if he wasn't the Hulubalang? What did a title like that even mean? Sure the other kings would pay his late-father some lip service but besides that? Everyone was still effectively independent of the role.

…But he still had to do it. For his father's sake. And for the sake of the legacy his father had built. A legacy his own brother looked so keen on destroying.

Parulian had stood up as he slowly staggered towards the front of the altar. It was then he stopped in his tracks before dropping on both his knees. His eyes focused upon the hanging figure of his God upon the crucifix.

Parulian was of course a believer in the religion he had been brought up in since he was a child. But he would be lying were he to say that he was the most devout. He participated in all the rites and prayers and all that and he was also an avid reader of the scriptures that the Archbishop had translated. But up until that point, he had never been put into a situation that felt so hopeless to him.

Even when his own mother died a few years back, his father was able to put on a powerfully stoic front. He knew his father loved her a thousand times more than he did, but he still had the strength to act as a beacon of hope, a stronghold for his family.

Though perhaps his father was too adept at holding his emotions all inside. That's probably what hastened his disease and sickened condition compared to the rest. Not letting anyone else in to share his burdens.

But now, Parulian truly knelt in front of the altar. He was at the end of his rope in terms of how he was to deal with it all. From the Halaklands that was tethering on the brink of religious war once more, to his younger brother who was hellbent on unraveling everything their father had worked on.

The betrayal he had felt inside was too much to bear. The sacred scriptures were clear on the concept of 'forgiving one's brother' even were he to trespass against him seven times a day and seven times he had returned to him. But Parulian wasn't strong enough. Not once had his brother returned to give anything close as to an apology. He didn't even think what he was doing was any wrong. How was Parulian supposed to forgive his brother then?

With all of these thoughts clouding and muddying his mind and his thoughts, Parulian could do little else but fold his hands and bow his head towards the altar.

"Dulo ma au on o Tuhan, bege anggukon… (Pass me not, o gentle saviour, hear my humble cry…)" Parulian sang out as he was at a loss to form his own words for prayer. "Ro do ho tu angka dongan, topot nang au on… (While on others Thou art calling, do not pass me by…)"

Parulian's tears were dripping upon his folded hands as he cried out in the hymn.

"Jesus Tuhan, bege anggukkon, Ro do Ho tu angka dongan topot nang au on! (Saviour, Saviour, hear my humble cry. While on other's Thou art calling, do not pass me by!)"

As Parulian was singing and crying, he noticed piano music starting to be played accompanying his prayer. He shot a quick glance and noticed his nephew Hesekiel playing the piano. He was a quiet boy but had his sweet spots. The playing was beautiful indeed but it just made the pain all the more real.

"Tu adopanMi O Tuhan, marsomba au on… Sai asi rohaM O Tuhan, jangkon ma au on! (Let me at Thy throne of mercy, find a sweet relief. Kneeling there in deep contrition, help my unbelief!)"

""Jesus Tuhan, bege anggukkon, Ro do Ho tu angka dongan, topot nang au on. (Saviour, Saviour, hear my humble cry. While on other's Thou art calling, do not pass me by!)""

While Parulian sang the chorus, other voices had come in harmonizing along with him. When he looked up, he saw his most trusted lieutenants standing there, singing along with him. Mardomu, Ronggur, Hasudungan, Hariara, even his brother-in-law Hamoraon was there singing with him. Without him even saying anything, the rest of them continued with the third verse of the hymn.

"Denggan ni basaM O Tuhan, papos rohangkon. Mandapothon Ho O Tuhan, pahisar au on. (Trusting only in thy merit, would I seek thy face; heal my wounded, broken spirit, save me by thy grace.)"

""Jesus Tuhan, bege anggukkon, Ro do Ho tu angka dongan, topot nang au on. (Saviour, Saviour, hear my humble cry. While on other's Thou art calling, do not pass me by!)""

"Ho do siapuli roha, ni na marsak i. Na soada tudosanNa, Ho haposanki. (Thou the spring of all my comfort, more than life to me. Whom have I on earth beside Thee? Whom in heaven but thee?)"

""Jesus Tuhan, bege anggukkon, Ro do Ho tu angka dongan, topot nang au on. (Saviour, Saviour, hear my humble cry. While on other's Thou art calling, do not pass me by!)""

As the men sang the final verse and refrain, Parulian could no longer hold it in as he fell forward sobbing out. In response to this, his lieutenants knelt beside him as they embraced him. The final one to arrive and embrace him was none other than the Archbishop himself.

Archbishop Ludwig didn't say much to add to anything. Rather, all he did was give Parulian a reassuring smile and a gentle, warm embrace.

In his heart, Parulian felt somewhat embarrassed. Embarrassed that someone his age with a married child still needed this level of emotional support. But at the same time, he also felt gladdened. Gladdened that there were still people outside his own family willing to support him so thoroughly.

And with all the challenges that were to come his way, Parulian needed all the support he could get.