Today was perhaps the most important day in any church orphan's life... Baptism Day.
Moros sat impatiently in the church hall. It echoed of angelic hymns and reeked of nervous sweat as he and the other orphans waited to be called into the testing chambers.
"Nervous?" A girl beside him asked.
Moros just stared at her for a moment before nodding.
She began chuckling, before letting out a sigh. "Same."
They both stared silently as the next group of orphans walked past the bronze doors behind the altar into the testing chambers.
It was said only those of the highest faith would react to the baptism and be enrolled as an apostle into the academy. But everyone knew it depended on whether you had a spiritual rite, or a calling to one of the sanctioned denominations.
Though it wasn't like Moros understood what that really meant anyway.
All he knew was that spiritual rites meant he would be able to swing around massive holy swords like the knights he often saw on the Tele-Visual boxes. Or, if he had a calling towards one of the denominations, wield the magic of their god.
"Next, group," a priest announced as the last group of orphans stepped out. Some of them had solemn looks on their faces, and carried a set of folded brown clothes in one hand, and a book in the other.
Those who had come out empty-handed were crying. Already the hall was filled with sobbing. Everyone stared to those in pity.
Even if the church provided a minimum living income to all citizens of Veldiran, everyone knew it would be a life of constant struggle.
"Move up," the girl beside Moros whispered as the seats ahead of them cleared up.
Following the current pattern, they would be in the next group to be tested.
"Oi, by the way, where were you last night?" The girl beside him asked. He and her looked eerily similar... even their expressions and way of speaking were the same.
He furrowed his brows. "You mean the dumb plan to sneak into the armoury?" he asked. "Whichever idiot came up with that is not the sort of person I'd follow."
"Ouch," the girl gasped in mock outrage.
Moros's eyes widened. "That was you?!"
"Quiet down, you trying to get me executed," she interrupted. "Anyway, as expected almost all of us couldn't wield a god damn thing in that place," she continued.
"Of course, you guys couldn't. Why do you think the baptism is for? You need sanctified blood to properly draw on the blessings."
Laura scoffed at that. "Don't tell me you actually buy any of this. They just do this to indoctrinate us into their cult."
Moros sighed. Of course he understood there was some truth to it, but he also understood he had to respect this city's way of life.
After all, the church didn't owe refugees like him and his sister anything. They were lucky enough to have been accepted into the orphanage, much less get a real shot at gaining magical power.
"But anyway, one of the other boys saw something when he touched the weapons," she said with a faraway look.
"Saw something? Who?"
Laura subtly held up her finger, pointing to a boy three rows behind them. He had dark circles around his eyes and was muttering something to himself.
"John? Yeah... he does seem a little... off," Moros whispered.
"Some of the others were saying weird things... something about heretic callings."
Moros's expression darkened. "Unsanctioned denomination."
He held his sister's hand. "Well, he knew the risks involved in touching blessed weapons. It wasn't your fault."
Laura let out a tired smile. "Only it is. And... he wasn't the only one," she replied.
"I saw something too."
Moros froze. "What? Why didn't you tell me earlier? What if..."
"Next group!"
Laura let out a deep sigh as she stood up.
"Wait, you can't seriously be considering..."
She patted him on the shoulder. "It's probably nothing. We aren't even from here; the odds I have a denomination, heretic or otherwise, are low," she whispered.
"Hurry along children," the priest announced.
"The next time we see each other; we'll be apostles. One step closer to getting our home back," she whispered, fluffing his hair before walking past him towards the testing chambers.
'Laura.'
*
Moros was directed into his testing chamber. A simple room with wooden flooring and ceiling and no furniture to speak of. A single nun stood waiting for him, standing in front of a pit of... blood.
Moros stared at it hesitantly. He could see streaks of red vapour floating above it... the room had a sweet metallic smell that sent shivers down his stomach.
"Your name is Moros?" The nun asked; she hadn't even bothered to greet him.
"Yes, a pagan name I know. I'm a refugee from one of the fallen cities, but I can assure you I have fully converted to the faith," Moros lied through his teeth.
The nun fixed her glasses. "There is no converting, child. Everyone is born of the faith; you merely found your way back home," she replied.
"However, I am required by scripture to perform a theoretical exam on all those born far from the faith," she added.
Moros couldn't focus on her words; he was still staring at the blood pit. "That isn't... human blood, is it?"
She looked back over her shoulder. "You should know what kind of blood that is," she replied, looking back at him. "So, lets start with that."
"Apostle candidate Moros, to prove you have read and understood the scripture. Tell me..."
"What kind of blood rests in the baptism pit?"