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When the venerable St. Dumas stepped away from the Templar Knights, he sought to create a brighter future. He had reached enlightenment, spoke to the Lord and heard his message. To spread his gospel he laid a path stained with blood for his devout brothers to follow. To honor Dumas was to honor God, it was to honor His messenger, to follow the path that every Azrael and Brother had walked before. This is what Ludovic has been told. This is what the Order taught him, it is what he will teach his son, and he will teach his.
He had shed his vestments, hid them away from Jean Paul before he came home. Today he is not an Angel, but a messenger, just as Dumas was centuries ago. He’d shared his knowledge with Jean Paul for as long as the boy had been alive— subliminally, as the Brothers had instructed him. Today, he did not hide behind machines or manipulation, and that brought him a strange sense of pride. His faith would be his sons, his tradition, it would be bestowed directly from father to son as the teachings of the Order ought to be.
He sat Jean Paul down, cupping his hands carefully to contain the frogs. They wriggled in his hand, their wet feet slipping against his calloused skin. Jean Paul looked up at him from behind his glasses, his eyebrows knitted together as he waited for Ludovic’s “gift.”
“What.. is it?” Jean Paul looked down at Ludovic’s clasped hands, his voice was low and tentative. Nervous.
“A frog.” Ludovic said simply, opening his hands just enough for Jean Paul to see one poke its head out. Jean Paul cringed, sinking into his chair. He didn’t much like frogs. Ludovic frowned at Jean Paul’s reaction. He brought it closer and watched how the boy shrunk away.
Why was he so scared? It was only an animal.
“Today is St. Dumas Day.” He looked down at the frog then back at Jean Paul, as if expecting him to understand from that alone. He adjusted his hold on them, presenting the smaller one to Jean Paul and keeping the larger one in his free hand.
He’d picked a froglet, something small and barely a land creature. He figured it’d be easier for Jean Paul to swallow when they celebrated.
“St. Dumas..?” Jean Paul gulped, hesitantly taking the froglet from Ludovic. That name felt familiar, St. Dumas. Jean Paul felt as if it were etched into his very soul, but he couldn’t place why.
“St Dumas. You know him, just as I know him, and my father knew him.” Jean Paul didn’t quite understand what Ludovic meant by that, but he nodded regardless. “Centuries ago, he was enlightened. Now, we are too, as his servants.”
“When he was enlightened, the Brothers say he ate a frog. Today, we will honor him and do the same.” He pointed at the froglet loosely clutched in Jean Paul’s hands, saw the way his lip quivered as he held the creature.
“W-why did he eat a frog?” Jean Paul stammered, tempted to let the thing leap from his hands and free them both from this responsibility.
Ludovic paused at the question. He did not know. The brothers hadn’t taught him that, they only said that St. Dumas ate the frog. He shook his head and pointed at the froglet again.
Jean Paul choked out a sob, the longer he looked at it the more disgusted he felt. It was slimy, wiggling in his hands to try and break free. It was just as scared as he was, if not more so. How could he eat it? It looked like it was only a baby. He felt hot tears stream down his cheeks, he looked up at his father and pleaded.
“I don’t want to eat him. He’s scared!” He held the froglet out to Ludovic and turned away with his eyes clenched shut. He waited for Ludovic to take the creature away from him. He didn’t.
Ludovic’s brow furrowed as he saw Jean Paul’s reaction. He did not understand the hesitation, the fear. This was something honorable, this was something sacred that only they two could share. Why would he turn away?
“It is only an animal. It does not feel.” Ludovic said flatly, chewing on his own frog to show him that it was safe.
Jean Paul cried and whimpered quietly as he watched his father crunch on the creature. The sound was nauseating and the view was worse. When Ludovic had finished, he watched Jean Paul expectantly. He leaned forward as he waited for Jean Paul to follow his example.
Jean Paul screwed his eyes shut once more, resigning himself to his fate. He bit down onto the froglet and gagged. He could feel it dying in his mouth, its blood pouring onto his tongue. He killed it. It was an innocent creature, and he had killed it. If this is what it was like to be enlightened, he hoped to be ignorant as long as he lived.
When he swallowed the frog, he doubled over and vomited. He sobbed so hard his body shook as he looked at the regurgitated remains on the floor. Ludovic felt a pang of.. something. This was weakness, were they with the Order, Jean Paul would be punished harshly. And yet, Ludovic could not bring himself to scold him.
He had denied their tradition. Jean Paul exhibited frailty unfit of any man, let alone an Azrael, but Ludovic did not reprimand him. He was not angry. He felt a sort of sinking feeling as he watched his son curl up on the floor. He would not comfort him, but part of him wanted to.
“I’m sorry, father.” Jean Paul garbled an apology, and Ludovic knew that in his heart, he would forgive him.
Perhaps he was weak too. Perhaps neither of them were enlightened, not in the way the Order needed them to be. There was both shame and comfort in that. Jean Paul did not understand their mission, not yet. And Ludovic hoped he would never need to.