Father Rhion was a man of religion, not coincidences. Despite that, he couldn't ignore the amount of times the number three appeared in his life today.
In the early morning, he rang the bell three times after reciting the Litany of Dawn. Afterwards, he had requested three things from his affiliates: Acolyte Mareth to pick up his blade, Matron Ilyra to teach the children about Saint Lirienne, and Attis to pick up supplies for the church. Then, he visited three homes of farmers who wanted to adopt a child from Silver Lily Orphanage.
When he came back, he found three children in the infirmary: two who were fighting each other to death, and the other who was holding their neck in pain.
The infirmary was a mess. Fragments of glass from a broken cabinet were scattered across the floor, and the furniture was in disarray.
Acolyte Mareth was torn in between stopping the two children or assisting the child with their injury. To make that decision easier, he stepped in, and separated the two children --- a girl, and a boy. They stared at him in shock.
While they were silent, he ordered Acolyte Mareth to tend to the wounds of the child.
"Acolyte Mareth, bring the boy to another room and attend to his wounds."
"..um. Yes, of course, Father." Mareth said, stunned slightly at his timely intervention.
She carried Leslie and rushed out of the infirmary.
Now, he had to deal with these two children.
"...And what, pray tell, is this chaos?"
Neither of them answered. Instead, the boy bit his arm in pursuit Father Rhion would let him go. He didn't.
"...ah. Well, he's a bit violent." the girl noted.
"I see." he said, sharply.
He sighed softly, and let go of the girl.
"Follow me." he remarked, while holding the boy.
He exited the infirmary and walked to his office. The girl followed him.
"How long until you realize your efforts are fruitless endeavors, child?" looking at the boy who was still biting his arm.
The boy was unresponsive and Father Rhion sighed, yet again. With a flick of his fingers, the nearest candles in the room lit, and a subtle pressure filled the air, invisible but undeniable.
The boy stopped biting, as if he sensed a silent authority pressing down upon him. Father Rhion put the boy down, and sat down behind his desk.
"Sit." he ordered the children.
They both complied and sat down in their chairs.
"Let's try this again. You tore the infirmary apart, frightened Acolyte Mareth, and one of your companions was choked. Would either of you like to explain?" he questioned.
"They started it!" the boy snapped.
"You can talk, you p**ce of s**t!?" the girl snapped back.
"You stupid sheep weren't supposed to escape me, you were my prey!"
"That's called not dying, you little-"
"Language." Father Rhion proclaimed, raising his voice. "Both of you."
The boy huffed and crossed his arms, "I was supposed to eat them. Then...they..they made me into this!"
"I see. What a tragic provocation." Father Rhion said, dryly.
The boy flushed in embarrassment. The girl almost snorted, catching herself.
"I am Rhion, but you may call me Father. What are your names?" Father Rhion requested.
"Mira."
"...My name is Zephirael the Blood Hunter."
"..."
"..."
Both Mira and Father Rhion looked at Zephirael awkwardly. On the other hand, it seemed that Zephirael was quite proud of his introduction as he was grinning.
Regaining his composure, Father Rhion began lecturing them again.
"Mira. Zephirael. Two children without parents, without introduction, and without manners." the man intoned, folding his arms. "Do you know where you are?"
Neither of them replied.
"You are in the Orphanage of Silver Lilies --- under Saint Lirienne's protection. Children here do not bite their peers. They pray, study, eat, play, and sleep. Preferably in that order."
"I'm not staying here." Zephirael responded, catching onto Father Rhion's words.
"No? Then where will you go?"
"Anywhere."
"And starve by morning?"
Zephirael puffed up his chest, and his shoulders were tight --- like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
"I can hunt."
"I see. And what do you plan to eat in the streets of Vel? Pigeons?" Father Rhion asked, mockingly.
Mira's lips twitched despite herself.
Then, he turned to her. "And you, Mira. You seem the calmer of the two. Did you intend to kill him as well?"
"...No. Just wanted to stop him."
"Good. Then that's one moral victory today." He sighed, brushing off his sleeve. "You'll stay here tonight --- all three of you. Acolyte Mareth will arrange your quarters. Tomorrow, we'll decide what's to be done with the three of you."
"I said I'm not going to stay here!" Zephirael shouted in anger.
He lunged forward suddenly --- fast, fist ready, ready to take a swing at Father Rhion.
Rhion didn't even flinch. He simply raised one finger --- and the boy stopped mid-motion, frozen like a puppet with its strings cut. Zephirael's limbs trembled, and he couldn't move. Something invisible was binding him. Slowly, his expression went from ire to fear.
"Attacking priests is generally discouraged." he remarked.
In time, he let the boy go from his spell. Zephirael collapsed, and was struggling to breathe.
"Breathe. In…and out." Father Rhion said gently.
The boy gasped --- air rushing back into his lungs --- and stumbled back, glaring, panting.
"Good. Now that your temper's had its tantrum, we can proceed like civilized creatures."
Zephirael scowled and turned away, crossing his arms, sulking in silence. Mira stared, caught between awe and confusion.
"...What did you do?" Mira asked, with subtle curiosity.
"Nothing remarkable. He was wielding his rage against others--- I simply reminded him to control it." He stated. "You'd be surprised at how many people have forgotten to do that."
"...I see."
He got up from his seat, and gestured toward the door.
"Come. We are going to the dining hall. I assume the both of you are hungry ever since the both of you fought."
Zephirael was wary, and looked directly at Father Rhion.
"You're not gonna… eat me?"
"Do I look like a man who eats children?" he asked, confused.
"...a little" Zephirael whispered.
Rhion blinked, surprised. "I will take your words into consideration."
***
When they arrived at the dining hall, Mira could see Leslie eating with Mareth. He had bandages arounds his neck and was at ease compared to earlier. Although, when he saw Zephirael, he tensed up.
Mareth walked over to them.
"Father, have things been resolved between the two children?"
"Mostly, Acolyte Mareth. I brought them here to eat something."
"I see, Father."
" Could I talk to the boy?" he asked, hinting at Leslie.
"Yes, of course." she replied, thoughtfully.
She introduced Leslie to him, and afterwards they left the dining hall. Now, it was just Mareth, Zephirael, and Mira.
Mareth turned to look at them.
"Shall we get something to eat?" She smiled.
"Alright." Mira responded.
Zephirael didn't say anything, but was being strangely compliant.
Either way, they followed Mareth and began eating the porridge she had prepared them --- or, at least, Mira was.
It didn't take long until Zephirael started acting up again.
"I can't eat this!" he complained.
"Why not? Mareth spent a good amount of time making us these." she retorted, annoyed.
"I can't eat this mushy white thing. I need to eat human flesh."
"Seriously, you still think you can eat humans while you're like that."
"Yes."
"Have you even tried the food?"
"No, I don't need to. I know it's going to taste bad."
Mira was reconsidering the ultimatum. How was this brat going to become a half decent person at this point? She was already considering to kill him.
"Um..Children, please calm down. Zephirael, if you don't like this meal, I can just make another dish for you." Mareth interrupted, kindly.
"Ver-"
"There's no need to. He has to learn to eat." Mira stated, not letting Zephirael finish his words.
"Sheep, I'm not eating that white mush."
"Just try eating it first."
He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just kept staring at the bowl.
Mira exhaled sharply through her nose, then snatched up his spoon.
She scooped a chunk of the porridge and motioned it toward him.
"Open your mouth."
He turned his face away.
"No!"
Mira hadn't waited for him to finish the word before she grabbed his jaw with one hand, rough, forcing it open. He struggled, muffled protests spilling between her fingers, but she didn't stop. She jammed the spoon in, pressed her palm against his mouth to keep it closed.
Mareth stared at them, unsure what to do.
"Swallow." Mira instructed.
He thrashed, pushing at her wrist, but she only pushed harder. His eyes watered. A choked gulp, and he finally swallowed.
There was a moment of silence between them.
Mira let go of him. He gasped, coughed once, and glared at her --- ready to spit something back, but he froze.
He licked his lips, and blinked.
"…It's not bad."
"Now you like it ?!"
That's when Zephirael grabbed the spoon from her hand and started chewing down his bowl. Why didn't he try it the first time? The brat was unbelievable.
Mareth patted her backed, "That was nice of you. Thank you for helping him eat."
"...No worries, I guess."
Was she being nice?
That seemed unlikely. Although, she was hungry, and she had already finished her bowl.
"Ms. Mareth, could I have another bowl?"