The Hundred Reigns

Chapter 91: The Church of the Stars (3)

Mastemo spent the rest of the flight testing Simon’s elemental affinities, like Belzemine before him.

“This is quite odd,” the High Confessor noted after Simon completed the exercises. “I can see the Light is strong with you, but your affinity for the element itself is abysmal.”

A quirk of using Anathemic Secrecy to hide Simon’s immensely powerful dark aura behind a veil of false light, no doubt. “Is that unusual?”

“It is. I suppose spending years of your life in Frightwall atrophied your natural talent, or that your family’s dealings with the Dark suppressed your Visionary gifts as they did with Prince Thalas.” Mastemo dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. “No matter. The Light refracts in many colors, and your other strong affinities should prove sufficient. Many prayer spells align with other elements.”

“I know Inquisitor and Priest Classes can use spells unique to them,” Simon said. “Is that what you are referring to, Your Excellency?”

Mastemo nodded slightly. “Mages usually classify magic in sixteen branches depending on the medium used to cast the spell: Thaumaturgy, Necromancy, Psychism, Diabolism, Chronomancy, Astromancy, Arithmancy, Conjuration, Rituals, Runes, Performances, Geomancy, Shamanism, Witchcraft, Divination… and Prayer. In many ways, prayers are the opposite of diabolism. Whereas the latter focuses on harnessing the power of demons and the Abyss, prayers derive their power from eidolons, dryads, and other entities of the Worldsoul.”

“The Worldsoul?” Simon recalled the name from Lauriane’s lesson on Vassal Crestone creation in a previous reign. “That’s the name of the manatree network.”

Mastemo let out a brief sound of amusement. “The Worldtree is far more than a mere amalgamation of dryad roots. It is a plane of existence aligned with the Light, not unlike how the Abyss is an extension of the Dark, shaped by the souls and memories of all life on this world. This is where the eidolons are born.”

“So eidolons are the same as demons, they just come from a different plane?”

“Yes indeed,” Mastemo confirmed. “The same way the ancient elves drew from archetypes born in the Worldsoul’s depths to create the Noble Crestones, the faith of men can often create false gods. That is the nature of eidolons. By believing in them, we mortals give them shape and a small portion of our mana, which sustains them the same way demons feed on miasma. Our more primitive ancestors established a symbiotic relationship with these creatures in the past, offering worship in exchange for protection… until Crestones made them obsolete.”

Interesting. That echoed Asterion’s claim that the Zodiac Fiends were born of people’s fears, given shape and substance by Abraxas. They were the eidolons of the Dark.

“But that relationship goes both ways,” Mastemo said. “Eidolons can lend back some of the mana they accumulated in the form of spells to their worshipers. That is the nature of prayers: by reaching out to an emissary of the Light, we invite them to act on our behalf.”

“Then what’s the difference between priests and summoners?”

“The difference is that prayer is exactly that, a prayer,” Mastemo clarified. “The creature you call upon is under no obligation to listen or lend you its power, whereas summoners more directly bargain with and compel them to act a certain way. Everyone can learn to cast prayer spells, but only Visionaries may summon eidolons to do their bidding.”

Simon began to grasp the concept. Prayers were not unlike his own brands, where he granted cultists a portion of his power in return for their service, whereas summoners could outright bind their ‘gods’ the same way he had enslaved the Stone Muse with the Seasonal Key ritual. He wondered if he could bind eidolons with such spells…

“So if I pray to the Light, it will grant me spells?” Simon asked.

“Yes… and no,” Mastemo replied, “The Light is a unifying force with countless faces, like the Dark. It works its miracles on a higher layer of existence than us mortals, so we must rely on intermediaries to receive its blessings. We instead pray to megaliths as a proxy to the divine.”

Megaliths… Simon recalled that those were enormous chunks of manaliths charged with potent elemental energies, and catered to by virgin vestals. Vassal Crestones used to be carved from megalith chunks until the empire refined its more effective mining processes under Balzam Magnos.

Mastemo detailed to him the basics of prayer spells. Their main draw was that they didn’t require mana to cast, since the eidolon, dryad, or megalith provided it. In theory, everyone

could cast them.In practice, getting the entity to listen and act on one’s behalf required them to sense the caster’s faith, since empowering the equivalent of a tiered spell was an investment on the ‘deity’s’ part. This usually involved building a long relationship of trust through normal prayers meant to praise the entity and receive its attention, bribing them with sacrifices or small offerings, regularly showing up to their temples, and so on. Cleric, Paladin, and Summoner Vassal Classes streamlined the process by strengthening the person’s connection to their chosen deities through levels.

All in all, Simon was less than enthusiastic about that particular spellcasting branch. The benefits of casting unique spells without spending mana didn’t even begin to compensate for their unreliability. The idea of relying on another entity’s judgment on whether or not he could even use his magic didn’t sit well with him. It required a degree of trust he found difficult to achieve with anybody, let alone a dryad or eidolon.

But well, knowledge was knowledge.

“You will begin your training by practicing simple prayer spells affiliated with your elemental affinities, since this will ease the process,” Mastemo said upon glancing through his stained glass porthole. “We have arrived.”

Simon glanced through the porthole to witness the tallest man-made structure he had ever seen.

Said to be one of the great wonders of the world, the Lighthouse of Valendre was an ancient and primeval structure that had existed long before the Doom. Built atop a massive waterfall where the continent’s greatest river fell into the northern sea, the massive stepped tower rivaled manatrees when it came to size and grandeur, its white marble and gilded walls shining brightly in the sunlight. Terraced hanging gardens and farmfields built all over the structure’s many balconies grew food for its inhabitants, alongside artificial ponds housing fish and water reservoirs.

The Church of the Light had done more than merely restore the tower when they stumbled upon it centuries ago; they had built fortifications around it and raised it higher to the sky, so that it could pierce through the clouds and scratch the very heavens. The glow of a massive megalith crystal came out of its second-highest floor and provided a guiding beacon to ships docking at the ports below the waterfall; the highest floor, meanwhile, housed the most accurate observatory in the entire world.

Simon had heard that the higher one rose in the church’s hierarchy, the higher the tower levels they could access. If so, their hierarchy must have had countless strata. Ascending to the summit from the base would be as tiring as climbing Valne’s Mount Colt.

The Radiance docked at a special pier built at the top of the waterfall, where a large group of priests and armored templars led by their leader, Beatrice the Godsblade, waited. Simon had glimpsed her once or twice in Frightwall when she escorted Mastemo on official business. A tall, muscled, and middle-aged woman with a stern face matching her bulky white armor, she had long platinum-blonde hair tied in a braid and an icy blue left eye. The right side of her face was covered by a black eyepatch since she lost it in her youth. Rumors said she had refused healers’ proposals to regrow it to constantly remind herself of the price of failing the High Confessor, but no one knew the truth of it.

“Your Excellency,” she said, planting her claymore into the ground as she and her soldiers knelt before their leader. “Thank the Light for your return. I pray you had a good stay in Frightwall.”

“I wouldn’t call it good, Beatrice, but it was certainly eventful.” Mastemo turned to present Simon’s group. “Let me introduce you to Lord Simon Magnos, our new recruit for the Templar Order, and his retainers. One of them should be familiar to you.”

“Greetings to you all,” Beatrice replied politely, frowning at Eole and sparing particular attention for her one-time squire. “It is good to see you again, Meredith.”

“The pleasure is shared, Lady Beatrice,” Meredith replied with the kind of respect she usually reserved for the Overlord. “Returning here is like visiting my second home.”

“It would have been your only one if you had chosen otherwise,” Beatrice replied with a hint of reproach, her stern gaze turning to Simon next. “I am told His Majesty Balzam Magnos wants you to join the Templar Order.”

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“He does,” Simon confirmed. His father’s death was still a closely kept secret at this point in time. “Although I must say this is all new to me.”

“Take your time to familiarize yourself with life at the Lighthouse,” Mastemo said. “Beatrice will show you around and explain a Templar’s duties to you. Treat him as you would your personal squire, my friend.”

“Your Excellency’s will is law,” Beatrice replied.

“I must confer with the Confessor Conclave with haste to discuss new developments in the capital,” Mastemo informed Simon’s group. “My attendants will see to your accommodations.” He then switched to Elvish. “We shall continue our conversation after I have settled more urgent matters, Lady Eole. Make yourself at home in the meantime.”

“Your Excellency, if I may,” Simon said. “I’m told the Lighthouse’s library is the greatest on the continent. I would like to investigate my dreams there, if that can be arranged.”

“You will have access to non-restricted areas as an honorary squire, but some wings are restricted to Templars, Priests, and Confessors,” Mastemo warned him. “I cannot make an exception, even for House Magnos.”

Disappointing, but not unexpected. Mastemo hadn’t budged when asked by Balzam Magnos, so why would he make an exception for Simon? “Thank you for your trust, Your Excellency.”

Mastemo excused himself, and Beatrice invited Simon’s group inside the Lighthouse. What he found inside was a hive of activity, of vibrant halls of painted checkerboard patterns of gold and marble tiles, of painted cathedral domes representing great scenes of the Church’s history. Hundreds of priests, soldiers of the faith, and other faithful workers traveled along stone ramps on their way to their duties. Simon wondered how many of them secretly answered to Shabram’s Imperial Intelligence.

“The Lighthouse is seven hundred floors tall, all of them linked by stairs, magical doors, and enchanted elevators that open to individuals based on their mana signature,” Beatrice explained during their tour. “You will be allowed access to the first three hundred as an aspiring squire, Lord Simon, but your retainers will be limited to the visitor areas on the first hundred.”

Simon nodded obediently, but began to struggle with a general sense of unease. Something he had never quite experienced before. On one side, the Overlord inside him felt threatened, exposed, observed by sacred power; and on the other, he felt welcomed, called by something below.

Trapped between Light and Dark.

There’s something strange about this place, Simon thought. Wait… didn’t Father’s demonbarrow map put one in Valendre? Could a Zodiac Fiend have been buried under this place’s foundations?

His unease grew as they ascended, and the strange source of darkness calling out to him dimmed in power while the holy power from above pressed on his shoulders. Simon was convinced that the Lighthouse had to at least house a dungeon or the equivalent somewhere in its depths.

Lady Beatrice guided the group to a comfortable set of rooms that would serve as their quarters. Accommodations were simple: individual beds in separate rooms around a central, carpeted room with its own balcony.

“These will be your quarters until you officially join our ranks, Lord Simon,” Lady Beatrice said, “I assume you are at least familiar with the Templar Order?”

“In passing,” Simon replied.

Although he had never been too interested in theology, Simon had taken time to catch up on the history of the faith prior to his departure. From what he read, the current Church of the Light was the result of a schism that followed the Reformation, when Mastemo and most of the Confessors agreed to recognize Balzam as Overlord and emperor of Endymion in return for making their faith the state religion. The ancient organization, which had grown in prominence since the days of the prophet Pharis, split in two with slightly different doctrines.

To justify the Overlord’s existence after spending centuries denouncing it as evil incarnate, the Church of the Light adopted the doctrine of luminous supremacy: the Light was superior to the Dark, and tolerated the latter’s existence as a way to test the faithful. The Overlord was thus an unwitting servant of the Light existing to punish the people’s sins, no more unnatural than death.

Meanwhile, those who condemned the new direction fled west to become the Holy Orthodoxy, which espoused the doctrine of dualism: that the Light and the Dark were opposing forces trying to improve or befoul the universe respectively, and that people’s choice would determine which of them triumphed. This movement was strongly affiliated with the White Unicorn and continued to decry the Overlord as an abomination.

Meanwhile, the Templar Order had originally been founded by a Paladin—the irony—to serve the Church’s Confessors, protect their believers, and drive out evil in all of its forms. The current incarnation was organized into three major ranks, with squires being at the bottom, Templars being the knights who had made their vows, and the elite Godsblades who led the organization on the High Confessor’s behalf.

“As a squire, your duties will be to assist me in any way I ask,” Beatrice explained. “You will not be allowed to call upon your retainers to assist you with your work or else you will never learn proper discipline, though you may continue training with them during your free time.”

“I understand,” Simon replied, having expected as much.

“To officially join the Templars, you will need two things: my patronage and success on the Templar trial. To pass it, you will have to succeed in a rigorous martial trial and a written exam, learn to cast a Tier I Prayer spell without the use of a Class, and then recite binding knighthood vows to the megalith. If the crystal accepts you, then you will receive your Templar Crestone and join our order in full.”

Simon bit his tongue. The martial test and written exam shouldn’t be an issue, considering his hidden Class and training, but his miasma-only restriction on spellcasting might hamper the Prayer spell part. Not to mention that he had no idea how a megalith of the Light would react to a secret Overlord making empty vows in its name.

“How long does the training take?” Simon asked.

“It usually takes an initiate three years before they are considered ready to pass the Templar trial,” she replied, smiling faintly upon noticing his scowl. “His Excellency seems to believe you will beat the odds, so it is up to you to prove that his trust in you is not misplaced. Meredith was ready to pass it in two.”

“Only because of your strict tutelage,” Meredith said, the two women sharing a knowing smile.

“What will my vows include?” Simon asked.

“You will swear to abandon most of your worldly possessions and family name to entirely dedicate yourself to the Light, to serve the Confessors, and to protect the faithful and the Church,” Beatrice answered. “You will be allowed to marry and father children, though this practice is rare and discouraged due to your other commitments. Fraternization between the ranks is also forbidden. The Church will also ensure you will be taken care of in your old age or should you be crippled, but you will otherwise serve until death. Templar vows to the megalith are magically binding, so do not expect to betray them without a cost.”

In short, the Templar Order demanded absolute commitment from its members. Simon would have balked at them without the knowledge that the reigns would undo everything.

“You will meet me tomorrow at dawn at the training ground for your assessment,” Lady Beatrice said with a tone that brooked no opposition. “Meredith is familiar with our facilities and can guide you.”

She’s not all too happy with me being there, Simon thought. He could tell Beatrice was only putting up with his presence for now because the High Confessor had ordered it. I’ll have to earn her trust somehow, especially if I require her approbation for the trial.

Lady Beatrice left them to settle in afterwards, with Meredith clearing her throat the moment she closed the door. “Do not take Lady Beatrice’s sternness for disrespect, Your Highness,” she said. “She is usually very selective when it comes to her squires. I am certain she will warm up to you once you prove yourself.”

“I hope I can impress her,” Simon replied with confidence. He turned to Eole, who was looking at the view outside. “Are you happy with our accommodations, Eole?”

“I enjoy the balcony,” she replied with a small smile. “A pity I cannot visit those higher than the hundredth floor. The view from the summit must be amazing.”

“Perhaps the High Confessor will allow us to visit one of the upper areas in the future, though I wouldn’t wander too far for now,” Simon replied. It didn’t hurt to ask either way. “I have something to do, but you and Leonard can make yourselves at home. I’m sure he’ll be delighted to hear your songs.”

“If you say so,” she replied, a little uneasy. She took to looking at the sky with some anxiety.

She fears for her people, Simon realized. That tower’s observatory was located high enough that its astrologers should have at least glimpsed the kish tribe’s floating island in the past. Their knowledge had meant little in a world without airships, but now that the sky was the limit of imperial conquest… It may be a blessing that the Church is too focused on the lower world to look up to the one above for now…

Leaving Eole and Leonard for now, Simon had Meredith guide him to a circular elevator meant to take him to the library on the three hundredth-floor. His retainer checked a panel covered in a list of plates indicating the floors that apparently served as a switch of some kind, and frowned when the first three-hundred glowed at her approach.

“It reacts to me,” Meredith said. “They haven’t removed my previous authorization.”

“So you can follow me upstairs?” Simon inquired. That could be useful one day…

“I shouldn’t,” Meredith replied. “The Library’s unrestricted section is on floor three-hundred. You do not need my presence.”

“I think this is fine if you escort me,” Simon replied. “If anything, I am sure the Church will be thankful that we identified a vulnerability.”

Meredith scowled, but relented. “As Your Highness wishes.”

She pressed a switch, and the elevator ascended upward for minutes on end. Meredith confirmed that manaliths fueled a highly complex mechanical system that moved elevator plates around the structure. They eventually reached an immense room of neatly organized bookshelf corridors divided into sections including ‘theology,’ ‘philosophy,’ ‘history,’ and so on. The head librarian read over notes behind a large desk. Simon mistook him for a young scholar with long black hair and dark eyes shining behind a pair of glasses, until he spied two leaf-curved ears.

An elf.

“Meredith,” the librarian said upon noticing them, his voice as flat as a plain. “I thought you had left the Church.”

“I have. I am merely escorting my new master,” Meredith replied politely. “Lord Simon, this is Izulon, our librarian and head scholar. Izulon, let me introduce you to Lord Simon Magnos.”

The elf quizzically raised an eyebrow. “Magnos?”

“I am but a bastard, and a squire-in-training,” Simon replied with a polite nod. “I admit this is my first time meeting a male elf.” Except Patriate.

“I am surprised Your Highness met another of my kind at all. We are few and far between in these lands nowadays.”

“Izulon has been part of the Church of the Light since its earliest days.” Meredith smiled faintly. “He couldn’t bear to part ways with the library.”

“Yes, most of my kindred fled to avoid persecution or to fight the Overlord, but I served the Confessors for so long that they agreed to let me continue my work undisturbed.” The elf skipped straight to business. “Are you looking for something specific?”

Not one for pleasantries, Simon thought. At least he wasn’t part of the elf conspiracy according to the intel he gathered. “I’m looking for books on particular arcane subjects.”

“Which ones?”

Simon grinned. “Foresight and chronomancy.”

Izulon blankly pointed at a massive maze of bookshelves on their left.

Well… this might take a while, Simon thought, albeit with undiminished enthusiasm. Good thing I'm a bookworm.