I Just Wanted to Nap, But They Built Me a Religion

It's been a few months since Ezrel passed his swordmanship class, and now there is a new tutor who has arrived and claims want to study him

This new tutor arrived in gray robes and the smell of certainty.

He had soft hands and stiff shoulders, and he spoke like a man who thought he knew all knowledge about all ninety-nine gods.

----

When he first arrived..

He did not bow to Ezrel.

Or his sister and mother.

He only bowed to their father.

That was the first mistake. 

And a sign of arrogance.

They never call him.

He was the one who came without invitation.

Lysette stood quietly by the pillar, hands folded, head tilted, watching.

She had read three noble behavior manuals this week.

None had prepared her for the level of idiocy she was witnessing.

"I've come to confirm what others will not question," the tutor said with a half-bow.

"To determine whether the child's nature aligns with the recognized blessings of the 99… or if it is something foreign"

"Either it was heretic or not."

Father raised an eyebrow.

Mother sipped her wine.

"Ezrel is calm under pressure," she said.

"Revered in the capital. His silence is guidance."

"He naps through treason," Father added.

The tutor frowned. "I believe in truth through divine blessing."

"Then you came to the wrong house," Father said, and motioned him toward the living room.

Ezrel was already there.

Sprawled sideways on the cushion, still chewing the last bite of toast.

His socks didn't match. His shirt wasn't buttoned properly.

He looked at the tutor.

Then closed his eyes again.

-----

The tutor goes to Ezrel.

He lit incense.

Laid out scrolls.

And started to read from the six notes he had prepared at once.

And Ezrel answered exactly as expected.

"Which god marked you?"

"None."

"Do you hear them speak?"

"I hear birds."

"Do you believe your blessing is holy?"

"I believe I'd like to go back to bed."

Lysette didn't laugh.

She never laughed other than when she was with her brother.

But her fingers twitched slightly in approval.

The tutor tried harder.

He read prayers in four dialects.

Lit candles inscribed with glyphs.

Even brought out an inscribed jewel to scan Ezrel's aura.

Ezrel yawned in its direction.

The jewel cracked down the center.

That should've been enough.

But it wasn't.

Because the tutor was still standing.

Still skeptical.

Still breathing.

He retreated to the guest room after the second attempt.

Lysette followed, barefoot, silent, pressing her ear to the door.

Inside, the man prayed.

Not to Ezrel. Of course not.

To the gods of order. The gods of structure. The gods with names etched into every cathedral wall.

"My lord help me to restore my strength," he whispered.

"Let your light clear this fog. Let truth reign."

Nothing answered.

Then he said something strange.

A name.

Not a god's name.

Not even a true prayer.

Just:

"Ezrel Dormir… if you are what they say…"

Silence.

Then stillness.

Lysette stepped back as the door creaked open from the inside.

The tutor emerged, face pale, eyes wide, hands trembling.

She tilted her head.

He didn't speak.

Not yet.

Later, they gathered in the living room again.

The tutor walked up to Ezrel, who hadn't moved from the cushion.

Still half-asleep.

And then…

The tutor bowed to him.

He whispered:

"I didn't believe..."

"I thought... the world was being fooled by you."

"But it's not. I was."

"You are more than they say."

Ezrel opened one eye.

Then sighed.

"...Okay?"

Am I supposed to say something?

He sighed internally.

"No rest today either, I guess.

That was all.

The tutor left before sunset.

Lysette sat at the edge of the stairs, chin on her knees.

She watched him go.

And thought:

"Finally."

"That's what the priest should've done from the start."

She didn't know why he changed. No one knows about it.

Didn't know that the Mother of Silk had touched his spine like a finger pulling at silk.

No one needed to know.

The only thing that mattered was this.

Another one had knelt.

Another one had joined the trend.

And Ezrel?

Ezrel was already asleep again.

Log 388 – Observed by the Wrong Eyes

I watched the thread move where no thread should move.

The candle dimmed.

The doubt was stitched into faith.

I believe he doesn't know what he's doing.

But I also believe the world does not care.

-----

In Divine Realm

Nyemari sat upon her throne, fingers idly twining invisible thread.

She smiled.

"Huhu... I did a good thing today."

"I helped you gain a follower, little stray."

She leaned back, eyes half-lidded, amused.

"So cherish my gift, won't you?"

"Cherish my successor."