Aphrodite's Acolyte Read Online Free

thirty minutes.” The man waddled back to his horse-drawn carriage, hopped in, and started away.
    Fidel cleaned himself up then put on his finest blue and red robe, sporting the colors of the kingdom. He knocked on his parents door to advise them of his departure. He didn't get a response so he opened the door. His parents were not home, not unusual considering their professions. He picked up his rucksack and headed out the front door.
    The carriage driver motioned for Fidel to get in as he slowed to a stop. Fidel hopped in the back of the carriage and the driver carried on his way, turning several times through the city, then finally up the path to the keep, a path Fidel crossed less than a day ago.
    As they approached the front gates of the keep, Fidel requested the driver to stop. Confused, the driver halted the carriage and turned to question Fidel, only to see the elf jumping out of the carriage and running into the dense forest along the road. A few moments later, Fidel returned with his seven-foot long staff.
    Fidel smiled at the driver as he walked up, “I left this here yesterday. Thank you for stopping!” Fidel hopped into the carriage, chuckling at the confused driver's expression. The carriage started forward toward the keep.
    Once the large walled doors of the outer perimeter of the keep opened, Fidel was awestruck by how large the castle complex appeared. The forest surrounding the castle did a very good job at hiding the size of the walled structure, roughly the size of a small town. The carriage continued on through the gates. As the carriage rolled on, they passed a half-dozen iron workers and their forges. Fidel found the loud and rhythmic clangs of the blacksmiths at work quite relaxing. Memories of his first father's labors bounced into his mind with every clang.

 
    Lined along the dirt street, shortly beyond the blacksmiths, a very large barrack stood tall, no doubt housing at least ten score of soldiers at all times. Guards lined the wall on platforms built for patrol, just high enough for a soldier of normal stature to look over the barrier with minimal effort.
    After the barracks, rows of small cottages dotted the landscape. A library of sorts and a stable resided immediately before the tallest central building, a single large circular building made of stone, four times as wide as Fidel's own house and at least five times as tall. The wagon stopped immediately in front of the draw bridge of the keep.
    “This is your stop!” The driver shouted. Fidel hopped out of the carriage and thanked the driver. The driver advised Fidel he would return when summoned and rode off toward the stable. The drawbridge lowered over the small moat surrounding the keep, inviting Fidel to enter the castle. Fidel complied and strolled into the keep, his attitude hopeful at the outcome with the meetings he was about to attend.
    Chairs lined the walls, no doubt for visitors to sit down and wait for their audience with the Lord of Harlow's Hovel. The entire first floor was painted with a mural depicting a human slamming his fist into the ground and a large spout of water shooting into the air. The trees immediately surrounding the wall of water were bent over to the ground, almost perpendicular, and the timbers further out showed all their leaves torn from their branches. Further in the distance, a fire appeared to roar, burning down all the vegetation.
    Fidel came to realize the mural was a depiction of the legend of Harlow's Hovel. The legend stated the god Heracles, disguised as a beggar named Harlow, responded to the prayers of Zeus' faithful followers to send water for the people of the town.
    From directly behind, Fidel heard somebody clear their throat, bringing him from his concentration on the legendary scene. Fidel turned around to see his father standing behind him.
    “I thought I said we would get you a new walking stick?” Methvas questioned with feigned annoyance.
    “Would you give up such a fine stalk of