Olyvar's Dangerous Path - Baths of Betrayal - Pt 3

Weariness weighed heavily upon Inquisitor Olyvar as he made his way through the cobbled streets, having spent hours preaching near the bustling market after his encounter with the Watch the night before. Despite his exhaustion, a glimmer of satisfaction shone in his eyes. He had managed to convince some local preachers to accept an anointing of Pride and spread his message of acceptance to their congregations. It was a small step, but a step nonetheless towards a more tolerant Highguard.

As he walked, lost in his thoughts, Olyvar's attention was drawn to the sounds of children playing nearby. A group of young ones skipped and sang a rhyme about the Lineaged, their innocent voices carrying the cruel words through the air like dandelion seeds on the wind.

"Sharp horns, gold eyes, stop your ears against their lies... Knife ears, stag's horns, rue the day that they were born..."

The words stung, for they spoke of prejudice and hatred, the very sentiments Olyvar fought against. He approached the children, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten, and as he neared, their innocent laughter faded. They looked up at him with wide eyes, as if realizing they had sung something wrong.

"Children," Olyvar said gently, "do you know what that rhyme is about?"

One of the girls shuffled her feet, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "It's about the Lineaged, sir," she replied hesitantly.

"That's right," Olyvar nodded, crouching down to their eye level so they could plainly see his piercing blue eyes and spirals upon his cheeks. "But you see, those words can hurt. They can make the Lineaged feel sad and unwelcome."

"But Mama says they're bad people," a boy protested.

Olyvar sighed softly, understanding the weight of prejudice even in young hearts. "Not all Lineaged are bad, just like not all humans are good," he explained. "They're just different, and that doesn't make them evil. It's their actions that determine who they are, not how they look."

The children exchanged uncertain glances, seemingly torn between what they had been taught and what the Inquisitor was saying.

"Think of it this way," Olyvar continued, a smile forming on his tired face. "What if someone made up a rhyme about you, saying mean things? How would that make you feel?"

The children looked uncomfortable, shifting their feet in the dirt.

"We should try to be good citizens," Olyvar encouraged gently, "and build up others instead of tearing them down. That's what Pride teaches us."

He paused, hoping his words were sinking in, and then added, "You have the power to be kind and understanding. Remember that, and you'll make Highguard a better place for everyone."

The children nodded, and one of the girls spoke up, "We'll try, sir."

"That's all I ask," Olyvar said, a sense of hope and determination returning to his tired eyes. "Now, why don't we find another skipping game—one that includes everyone, no matter how they look?"

The children brightened at the suggestion, and soon laughter and joy filled the air once more as they skipped together, leaving behind the hurtful rhyme in favour of inclusivity and acceptance.

As Inquisitor Olyvar walked away, he couldn't help but feel a glimmer of pride in his heart. He knew the road ahead was long and challenging, but moments like these, when he could sow seeds of change in young hearts, made it all worthwhile.