--Death--

Kyrillos walked past the cleft in the mountainside, and came upon a circle of trees. The Alps were peaceful now, the Italian countryside was dotted in this Alpine green; the turning of cold winter to warm spring. The past year had been hard on the Byzantine. He had seen fighting to no end; the Ostrogoth revolt, the invasion of the Franks and Alamanni, Narses. Though he hated him, Narses was forced to respect Kyrillos. Kyrillos was the Strategos' most effective commander, the captain of the Byzantine cavalry. Similarly, Kyrillos was forced to respect Narses. Though cruel and a tyrant, Narses career as Strategos was unblemished. He had pacified the prefecture of Italia, and slowly beat it to submission. After 6 years, the northwestern frontier was finally at peace.

A pond laid in the middle of the circle, and at it's shore, a young girl. She was kneeling, praying, virgin and clean. It had been months since Kyrillos had known a woman's touch, the soft, lulling sensation of her fingertips, the gentle ebb and flow of her breast, her heartbeat, her soul. The man approached her, and called out:
"Little darling, why play here? You must be far from home. Come to me, I will take you."

The girl turned to him, clutching vines of Alpine flowers in her hands. She replied:
"This is my garden, and I am bid to tend it. Do you wish to pray?"

Kyrillos laughed, “Yes that is why I am here, to pray,” He clutched his growing erection against his thigh and said sarcastically, "Where shall I pray, little one?"

She motioned him over, and rose to her feet. She walked towards him, her vines of flowers dragging behind her as she did so. She looked up into Kyrillos' eyes, and smiled lovingly. "Next to me," she said, and laid a kiss on his rough, scarred cheek with her soft, gentle lips, "But first, I must bind you here."

He licked his cheek, and now Kyrillos had the virgin's taste on his mind. He dropped to his knees of a force not his own. Kyrillos looked up to the girl, and she took his hands in hers. She wrapped them in the vines of the flowers that she carried, and kissed him once on the forehead.

She tied the flowers around his wrists, and Kyrillos was held in place, as though shackled to the ground. He fell on his face, and cried. The angel looked into his eyes and blinded him with her light. She touched her fingertips against his mouth, and made him quiet. She spoke:
"Let us pray..."

***

--The Future--

Where he was, he did not know. Kyrillos entered the city, dressed in his oversized tattered cloak. He had been driven here by the Holy Spirit that had visited him on his travels in Cipangu and Cathay. Curiously, Kyrillos managed to slip past the constables at Bootham Bar unnoticed. He looked around and saw the bustling city, yet he was still unaware of his specific whereabouts. Then he saw a familiar building. On it was an inscription in Latin. It read:
IMP CAESAR DIVI NERVAE FIL NERVA TRAIANVS AVG GERM DACICVS PONTIFEX MAXIMVS TRIBVNICIAE POTESTATIS XII IMP VI COS V P P PORTAM PER LEG VIIII HISP FECIT
"For the Imperator Caesar Nerva Trajanus Augustus Germanicus Dacicus, son of the Divine Nerva, High Priest, [having received] tribunician powers twelve times, hailed Imperator six times, consul five times, Father of the Fatherland, the gates throughout (this fortress) were made by the *Ninth Hispanic Legion*."

(NPC note: This building can be found in St. Samson's Square, nearest the Minster, with this inscription, to this day)

The Ninth Hispanic Legion had been stationed at Eburacum during the days of Trajan. So that's where I am, he thought to himself, Eburacum. He was in Northern Britannia, south of Caledonia. Without warning, one of his visions came on:
"My son, the artifact that you seek is in waters of this land, far to the south. But it is not the time of acquisition. The artifact has been baptized, and the spirit can not go to hell, yet it has sinned mortally, and cannot go to heaven. It shall remain on Earth until the time when you can shrive the spirit, and set it free. Your place is here in Eburacum, and you must find she that is Life. Only she can free the spirit from purgatory, and it is one quarter your son that the spirit shall become."

***

--The Now--

When he awoke from the vision, Kyrillos was back at Bootham bar. For the second time that day, Kyrillos did not know how he had gotten to where he was, but now he was most definitely somewhere else than where he had been before. This time around, the two guards eyed him over suspiciously. "You there, what is your business in our city?"

Kyrillos looked straight at the man's eyes from deep inside his cloak hood, and watched the man lose colour from his face. Kyrillos hissed at him in his Greek accent, "I come on the business of the redeemer, the holy most high, our lord and savior. What is YOUR business in this, YOUR city?"

The man looked afraid and shocked. He cleared his throat. "I am Edar. I am a city guard. It is my job to know the goings on and goings off of this fair city," and with a little more courage added, "what is your name?"

Kyrillos smiled underneath his hood, "You may call me Cyril. I wish to speak with Gildas. He is in the Minster, is he not?"

Cynfyn shook his head. Gildas Badonicus was a great scholar: whether or not Cynfyn knew this was not important. "No he is not. He can be found at the Abbey of St Martin. Do you seek an audience?"

Kyrillos pulled back his cloak, and watched as the two men gasped. The second guard vomited, while Edar went even paler. Age had not been kind to Kyrillos. His skin had become pale, thickened, and hardened, leaving him with a scaly hide all over his body. More than that, it had cracked all over the place, and scars marked it in its entirety. Kyrillos smiled.

"No, that is alright. I think I will go up to see him on my own."

With that, Kyrillos flashed the two constables with a surprisingly straight set of teeth, and made his way towards the gates.

"Hold!" cried Edar, duty serving to muster his courage. "All who arrive must report to the castle, by order of the King. We have not had visitors for many weeks: King Marant desires to learn where you have come from and what you have seen." The other guard had finished retching, and stumbled back towards the gate.

Kyrillos ignored this comment, lifted his hood back over his head, and walked towards the abbey. Edar motioned Cynfyn to block the Greek's path, but Cynfyn just stood there, shaking his head, eyes wide, face paled. Edar moved to stop Kyrillos, but instead was met by a short palm strike to his nose, followed by a loud crack, and blood. Edar keeled over, grasping his broken organ with both hands. His eyes were clenched shut, but he knew Kyrillos was kneeling over his body. The Greek placed his left hand across Edar's neck, and clutched both of the carotid sinuses.

In a voice not his own, Kyrillos started, "I am he that lives, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death."

Kyrillos stood over Edar now, and glanced at Cynfyn who was standing very still. Kyrillos turned the unconscious Edar over, put the body's hands at their sides, smiled, and spoke to the constable. "He is not dead, his nose will heal, and I will speak to Gildas. Tell Marant that if he sends his entire garrison after me, his one-hundred knights, then he will be one-hundred knights fewer by the day's end. I know how he treats guests, and I will not play into his ambition."

Cynfyn nodded, clutching the gate wall behind him, and allowed Kyrillos to continue.

"I will speak to him later, but when it is convenient for me. Until then, tell him, rejoice, you heavens, and you that dwell in them. Woe to those that inhabit the Earth and the sea! The devil is come down to you, having great wrath, because he knows that he has but a short time."

With that, Kyrillos pulled Cynfyn's face into his hood and kissed him on the cheek. The guard fell into Kyrillos' arms in a dead faint. Kyrillos crossed him, and whispered, "You are forgiven."

Kyrillos laid him against the gate wall, and placed Edar next to him. He licked his lips uncontrollably, stopped, smiled, and walked down the path to the Abbey of St Martin...