Chapter 45: Ch45 He Ran
The apprentice’s scream ripped through the chamber. "S—saint!" Her hands shot to her mouth as her wide eyes locked on the empty window.
Rushing forward, she leaned out, expecting to see a broken body sprawled on the stones below. Instead, her breath caught in her throat.
"W–what...?"
Luther wasn’t dead. Far from it. He was dangling like a cat clinging to life, his hands gripping a lower window ledge. He slid down, boots scraping the stone wall, then pushed off and landed on the temple grounds with a rough roll. Dust puffed up around him.
When he looked up, his golden-marked ears glinted in the light, and the stunned apprentice’s eyes widened even further. Luther smirked, brushing his shirt off with exaggerated calm.
"See? Perfectly fine. Ten out of ten landing," he said, loud enough for her to hear. Then, with all the grace of someone who had no idea what he was doing, he turned on his heel and bolted.
"HE’S RUNNING AWAY!" the apprentice shrieked, nearly fainting.
At that very moment, a knight strode into the room, helmet tucked under his arm. "Apprentice, I was assigned here to—"
"Sound the alarm!" she cut him off, pointing wildly at the open window. "The saint escaped!"
The knight froze mid-step, blinking. "The... what?"
"I said the saint ran away! NOW!"
That snapped him into motion. Dropping his helmet with a clang, he dashed down the hall, his heavy armor clanking like a smithy in motion. Breathless by the time he reached the bell tower, he grabbed the thick rope and yanked with all his strength.
GONG! GONG! GONG!
The heavy iron bell roared over the temple grounds.
Luther, meanwhile, was tearing down a corridor, his shirt flapping wildly behind him, loosed.
"Great," he muttered between huffs. "Just great. Out of all the insane things that could’ve happened today—nope—couldn’t just wake up, eat bread, maybe nap. No! Now I’m the runaway saint!"
Apprentices along the halls smiled and bowed at first.
"Saint, bless you!" one said, pressing his hands together.
"Saint, grant us peace!" another cheered.
"Saint, stop running!"
Luther skidded mid-step. "Wait, what—?"
Behind him, the clang of boots echoed. Shouts filled the temple.
"There he is!"
"Don’t let him escape!"
The friendly smiles turned into shocked gasps. The apprentices who had just been praising him suddenly dove at him.
"Oh, come on!" Luther yelled, vaulting over a kneeling girl. He landed with a grunt and bolted down another corridor.
The temple, usually serene, had descended into utter chaos. Elders, knights, and apprentices poured out of every doorway.
"Block the west wing!"
"Seal the courtyard!"
"Saint, please, return to your room!"
"Return my foot," Luther snapped, weaving through a group of startled priests.
He ducked under an elder’s swinging staff, nearly lost his footing, then dove into a side hall. It led him into a massive prayer chamber filled with rows of candles and statues. The flames flickered as the door behind him banged open.
"Saint! Don’t resist!"
"You people have a funny way of showing respect!" Luther barked, shoving over a rack of candles to block the path before darting through another exit.
The chase became a whirlwind.
Through kitchens where startled cooks dropped trays of bread.
Through courtyards where praying worshippers shrieked and scattered.
Even through the library, where a furious elder nearly fainted as Luther vaulted over stacks of ancient scrolls.
"Mind the books, you maniac!"
"Sorry!" Luther shouted back. "Actually, no, I’m not sorry!"
Everywhere he went, more people joined the chase. Knights clattered behind him, their armor rattling like a marching band. Apprentices shouted encouragement and insults in equal measure. Elders raised their staves, trying to slow him with spells.
Luther ducked, slid, jumped, and cursed his entire existence.
"Why me? Why me?!" he wailed mid-run. "I didn’t sign up to be anyone’s saint, savior, or—AAAH!"
A spear whizzed past his head, embedding itself in the wall.
"ARE YOU PEOPLE TRYING TO KILL ME?!"
At last, breath ragged, he burst out into the outer grounds. His heart leapt.
The gates.
Finally, freedom.
"They’ll never catch me now," he muttered, half-crazed. "I’m almost there. Fresh air. No more chanting ’saint bless us.’ No more—"
His hand stretched toward the iron gate—
—and a firm grip clamped onto the back of his shirt.
"Where do you think you’re going?"
The voice was calm. Too calm.
Luther froze. His stomach plummeted. Slowly, he turned his head.
Aithur stood behind him, his hand fisted in his shorts pocket, eyes sharp with authority.
"Aithur..." Luther said weakly, a pitiful laugh escaping him. "Fancy meeting you here. You know, I was just... uh... exercising. Running clears the mind, they say."
Aithur’s gaze didn’t waver. "Running? Looked more like escaping."
"Tomato, tomahto," Luther muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Luther," Aithur said sternly, tightening his grip, "where were you going?"
"Ah. See. Funny story..." Luther’s shoulders slumped, his face turning to the side as he let out a long, dramatic groan. "I was going anywhere but here."
The chaos of the chase finally caught up to them. Knights and apprentices flooded the courtyard, elders panting and sweating as they stumbled in behind. The bell still echoed above, like the world itself had decided to humiliate him.
Dozens of eyes locked onto Luther— the so-called saint caught red-handed.
He gave them all a sheepish wave. "Heh. So... about that whole ’chosen one’ thing—"
Aithur’s hand pressed down harder on his shoulder. Luther flinched. "Hey, hey! Easy on the fabric, this is expensive saint material!"
"Luther," Aithur said again, voice low, "stop making this harder for yourself."
"Oh, trust me," Luther groaned, throwing his head back toward the sky. "This is already as hard as it gets. First, a nightmare. Then, waking up with golden tattoos. And now—" he gestured to the crowd, his eyes wide and full of sarcasm, "—this circus!"
He sighed dramatically. "You know what? Forget it. Maybe if I just—"
Before anyone could stop him, Luther twisted free with a sudden jerk.
Everyone shouted at once.
"Saint!"
"Don’t move!"
"LUTHER!"
But the boy didn’t care. His eyes darted back to the high wall of the courtyard. His expression hardened with reckless determination.
They thought he was cornered. But they didn’t know Luther.
He muttered to himself with a grin. "Well... when in doubt..."
And before Aithur or anyone else could grab him—
He jumped yet again.