Written for BioWare’s Dragon Age Asunder Writing Challenge.
Benedict liked his name. It meant ‘blessed’ and, though some might consider him more ‘cursed’, he thought his name represented optimism on the part of his parents. In a way, the day of his birth, they had given him three gifts, life, a name and hope. As he grew into a child they gave him love and faith.
Shortly after his eighth birthday, as Benedict sat and waited for the templars with as much patience as a small boy could muster, he pondered his newest gift with fright and awe. The villagers were afraid of him, and secretly, Benedict was afraid of himself.
“It is a great gift,” his father said. “But you must learn to use it wisely.”
A small book appeared in his father’s hand, one Benedict recognised. A thumb perpetually stained with grime moved across dog-eared pages and selected one seemingly at random. Benedict knew, however, that his father’s choice was never random. Though barely educated, he could read and tally the number of turnips he dug from his lord’s fields, Benedict’s father knew every page in that book by feel and he always seemed to know the appropriate Verse.
“All men are the Work of our Maker’s Hands,” he read.