Yerendeyth had woken up before sunrise, like he was accustomed to do from his early upbringings with the monks of Boreale. Since he had left his homelands, since his exile, he had allowed himself to slack, to sleep in until even after sunrise, to neglect his exercises and his meditations. All those things had come to represent his resentment for the Monks of the Order, how they were stuck in their ancient, orthodox ways, insisting on perpetuating foolishness for eons on end. It had become a sort of rebellion to shun their ways, even the rituals, those daily routines that did hold merit, as Yerendeyth traveled south in search of a new home. But now that it seemed he had found it, his new home, Yerendeyth found himself slowly drifting back to these small familiarities: rising early, training daily, meditating and constantly challenging both body and mind.
But today, Yerendeyth completed his morning rituals with more haste than usual, for he had other duties to attend to. Arriving at the Widu Temple in the dark, he unlocked the gates and swung them wide open, the heavy mahogany doors grating and grinding in complaint. Standing in the archway for a few heartbeats, Yerendeyth took in the interior and nodded in approval at what the staff had done to clean up the place. With long, purpose-filled strides, the Dracos made his way to the back to prepare the Holy Drinks, light the candles and ready the donation boxes, keeping an eye out to see if the Deacon was about to aid him in these tasks.
It was a few moments before sunrise and Yerendeyth stood behind the pulpit in the ceremonial dress Dwayberry had found so comical. He rested his big, clawed hands on the sides of the pulpit and watched patiently as the temple filled with the faithful. There were not many, but he had expected as much. Going over the list of past attendees, Yerendeyth had noticed a steady decline in the faithful attending mass, but that was one of the many things he was determined to change. Nodding a greeting to all the faces as they entered and took a seat, Yerendeyth started his first sermon as soon as the first rays of sunlight broke through the tinted mirrors.
"Today, I would like to talk to you about power."
"Power is only for those who deserve it, those who take it for themselves and hold on to it. If you do not take power for yourself, you have no right to complain about the actions of those that do, for you are free to challenge those in power if you believe you can do a better job than they. If you want something, it is considered your duty to work tirelessly towards achieving that goal, irrelevant of how difficult said task is, or how long it will take: for if something is truly worth doing, it is worth spending a lifetime trying to accomplish it and another lifetime trying to perfect it."
"If you believe something in Widu is crooked, it is your duty to rectify it. If you believe someone is not doing their job properly, oust that person and do the job yourself. If I had not done so myself, you would not be attending this mass on this day. I call upon you all to run for mayor, sign up for the town council, apply for deacon... or priest. Speak your mind loud and clearly and let actions mirror your words."
"If we all reach for power and the strength to change Widu to our image, inevitably, the strongest and most worthy of us all will come out on top of the struggle and lead our town towards greatness. Our downfall lies not with inner struggles, nay, our worst enemies are apathy and placid obedience."
Pausing for several seconds to let the words sink in, Yerendeyth scanned the crowd, reading the expressions on the faces of those gathered, hoping that those that did not agree would challenge him and initiate a debate on the matter.