novelraw Chapter 96: The Church of the Stars (8)
Chapter 96: The Church of the Stars (8)
Much like their namesake, the Cobweb seemed to be everywhere.
Simon did his best to avoid staring at Silk and showing his unease at her presence; not because he feared her, but because she shouldn’t be here. She had to either be in Valne or Magvolia at this point in time, not in the High Confessor’s office. How could she be in so many distant places at once? She had to either have a teleportation ability, or a small army of body doubles running around.
Moreover, the fact that Mastemo knew a shifter trafficker well enough to invite her into his office raised many red flags.
“Beatrice, Simon, let me introduce you to Elsa Nightingale of the Bert Trading Company,” Mastemo said, waving his hand at the assassin. “I have commissioned her organization to search for specific artifacts.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” Silk replied with utter insincerity.
Artifacts?Wait… did the Church commission the Cobweb to collect the Zodiac Fiend crystals? Simon suppressed a scowl. What game are you playing at, High Confessor?
“Are you familiar with the tributaries of Bujan and Fablan?” Mastemo inquired.
“Yes, Your Excellency,” Beatrice replied dutifully.
“Only in passing,” Simon admitted. “I’ve visited neither of them.”
“That does not surprise me. Both territories agreed to surrender to His Majesty Balzam in exchange for relative autonomy. Keeping access to their nation’s Noble Crestone was part of the accords, among other privileges.” Mastemo steepled his fingers. “What most are not aware of, however, is that these treaties include secret clauses relating to Bujan’s sacred Mount Perun and Fablan’s Royal Mausoleum.”
Simon’s head perked up. He recalled that Mount Perun was one of the highest mountains in the world and that Fablan’s Royal Mausoleum was the place where they entombed their first king, but little else.
“Access to these places is restricted by imperial army detachments by order of His Majesty, officially to protect populations from monsters dwelling in these areas and protect sacred grounds,” Mastemo explained. “However, Miss Nightingale informed me that the true reason is to safeguard two particular artifacts of interest to the Church.”
Demonbarrows. Those two places were demonbarrows. Simon recalled seeing Bujan and Fablan on his father’s maps of them.
The Church was investigating the Zodiac Fiends.
“Both of these artifacts are dangerous tools of the Dark and thus belong in Church custody,” Mastemo concluded. “I am first sending you to Bujan with a squad of templars to recover the one hidden on Mount Perun by any means necessary, and Fablan will eventually follow.”
“Forgive me, Your Excellency, but wouldn’t this violate Endymion’s treaty with Bujan?” Simon inquired, trying to gauge the High Confessor’s intentions.
“It is an unfortunate necessity, and why I can only entrust this mission to you, Beatrice,” Mastemo conceded. “No word of what you do there can get out, or else we would find ourselves in a very difficult position. Do you understand me?”
Lady Beatrice nodded calmly, the hidden message not lost upon her. “There shall be no witnesses, Your Excellency.”
One way or another, her tone suggested. Simon could tell this wasn’t the first time she received such an order.
“Miss Nightingale and I have arranged for a Bert Trading Company ship to transport you to a hidden, smuggler's cove near Mount Perun,” Mastemo said. “You will gather a team of our best templars, infiltrate the mountain, recover the artifact, and return here with teleportation gems. You will leave tonight at sundown, and Miss Nightingale will brief you on what we learned of the mountain’s defenses.” He turned his head to Simon. “And you will take our new recruit with you.”
Simon all but bolted out of seat. “Me?”
“Forgive me, Your Excellency, but while I do not doubt Simon’s talent, he is nowhere near ready to partake in such an important mission,” Beatrice argued. “He has only just received his Crestone and needs to level-up first.”
“Simon is the very reason why I decided to proceed with this operation in the first place.” Mastemo turned his mirror mask to focus on his newest recruit. “I believe his unusual prophetic gifts and connection to the light megalith will be powerful assets in your quest.”
For the first time since the discussion began, Silk suddenly appeared to pay attention to Simon’s existence. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. “Is that it? The light megalith blessed you, Lord Magnos?”
“I am a lord no longer,” Simon replied evasively. Catching the Cobweb’s attention was the last thing he wanted. If they hear anything about Eole…
Simon’s heart skipped a beat. Of course they would learn about Eole. The Cobweb had to have heard rumors about her presence in the Lighthouse if one of their agents could visit the High Confessor’s office. This was bad.
And this secret mission on top of it… what was Mastemo thinking?
“Your Excellency, I don’t think I’m ready,” Simon argued. “I need more time and training.”
“You will not gain levels without field experience,” Mastemo replied. “You appear to us in a time of need with powerful abilities. This is not a coincidence. I do not believe the Light would grant you such boons if it wanted us to keep you in a tower, and I suspect your powers will prove decisive.”
Either he has a truly unshakable faith in me and the Light, or he knows more than he lets on, Simon thought while shifting in his seat uneasily. It has to be some kind of test…
“If you have no more questions, then the two of you are dismissed,” Mastemo told Beatrice and Silk. “I leave it to you to pick the most appropriate team for this operation, Beatrice.”
“As Your Excellency commands,” the Godsblade replied before exiting the office. Silk sent Simon a small sideways glance before following in her wake.
“You are free to speak your mind,” Mastemo said once the doors closed behind them. He must have sensed Simon’s suspicions.
“With all due respect, Your Excellency, I have heard rumors about the Bert Trading Company back in Frightwall,” Simon said. He was wary of overusing the ‘dream vision’ excuse. “My sister says that they partook in shifter trafficking and other unsavory activities. They are honorless criminals who will betray us for enough coin.”
“That they might, yet even thieves and sinners have their use. There are places where the righteous cannot dwell nor enter.” Mastemo looked at the sky beyond his window. “Simon.”
“Yes, Your Excellency?”
“The Light forgives the penitent, but it does not hesitate to burn those who revel in wickedness. If the Bert Trading Company tries to betray us as you fear, or if anyone becomes witness to our operation… it is in your purview to eliminate them.” Mastemo stressed the last two words, his voice sharper than steel. “Too many lives are at stake if this artifact falls into the wrong hands. You must understand that.”
It was only a matter of time before the High Confessor showed his more ruthless side. Simon would be lying if he said he wasn’t looking forward to the possibility of slaying Silk during a reign for her organization’s countless betrayals. “I will keep that in mind, Your Excellency.”
“I sense that it is not for us that you truly worry.” Mastemo’s voice softened. “You fear for young Eole’s safety.”
Simon didn’t deny it. “I am. She was sold into slavery once, and such thieves would kill to put their hands on a kish.”
“Yes, I understand. You have my word that nothing will happen to Eole so long as she remains in the Lighthouse. She is quite safe here.” Mastemo clasped his hands. “I will assign her a small escort to ensure her safety, and I suggest you assign young Leonard and Meredith to her protection too.”
“You do not want me to take them on this operation?”
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“They are loyal to the Overlord, not to us,” Mastemo replied shrewdly. “There can be no chance of the artifact falling into any other hands than ours. Meredith and Leonard are good people, but they are not of the Church.”
In short, Simon was part of an institution now, which meant only absolute loyalty to it would be tolerated. “I understand,” he replied. “But if I may ask, this artifact… is it linked to my visions?”
“I believe so,” Mastemo confirmed. “Besides the fact that such artifacts belong safely sealed in our vaults rather than left in the open for adventurers to pilfer and misuse, your and Her Grace Euphemia’s visions of a black comet have aroused my curiosity. If the artifact is what I suspect it to be, it should help us to uncover part of this great mystery.”
So Mastemo was taking Simon’s visions seriously enough to investigate Abraxas. This reassured him. With luck and diplomacy, he could access the observatory and hopefully observe the comet when it approached the planet.
“Your faith in me honors me, Your Excellency,” Simon said.
“You should try to have as much faith in yourself as the Light and I do in you, Simon.” Mastemo studied him a moment before speaking up again. “There is another matter I wish to address with you in private.”
Simon frowned. “What is on your mind, Your Excellency?”
“Your marital status, Simon.”
Simon would have been more surprised had Norbelle not already warned him, but the suddenness of it all still gave him pause. “I must admit finding myself a wife is not on my mind yet, Your Excellency.”
“You are a young man with an esteemed bloodline and full of promise,” Mastemo praised him. “A woman completes a man, Simon. Besides the fact that we must ensure your gifts are passed on to the next generation, we will need all the allies we can gather to defeat Louis. Time is not on our side.”
He had a point on that front, and Simon immediately thought of a possibility. “If the Church needs to form more alliances, I am well acquainted with Anna Paimon of the Berwick Islands…”
“I would broker this match if I could, my boy, but Lord Paimon is unfortunately obsessed with putting his grandchild on the Crimson Throne and will settle for nothing less than a fullblooded prince,” Mastemo lamented. “However, I have been considering a handful of other potential parties. One is the heiress of the Shax family.”
“Antonine?” Simon shuddered at the very thought, and though he already guessed why the High Confessor would propose this match, he chose to feign ignorance. “Is she not betrothed to my half-brother Thalas?”
“Yes… I have received word from Her Grace that she seeks to annul that betrothal in favor of another match.” The nature of which annoyed Simon to his core. “I warned Her Grace that the Shax would not take this insult idly. If we offered you as a substitute, perhaps we can prevent the Shax from falling into Louis’ arms…”
Simon would rather bed a vampire than Antonine de Shax, unless it meant cuckolding and humiliating Thalas… a thought which immediately brought to mind his father’s letter and sucked out all the spiteful pleasure Simon might have gotten out of it.
“Antonine and I will not get along,” he confessed. “And settling for a bastard after losing her engagement to Thalas will put salt on her wounds. The Shax will resent us either way.”
“Is that so?” To his credit, the High Confessor actually took his opinion into consideration. “In that case, I have also been thinking about another party; Princess Satine Renais.”
Simon blinked. “The exiled princess of Magvolia?”
“Indeed. She has ties with the White Unicorn and our misguided brothers-in-faith beyond the Dragonsea. With the loss of His Majesty Balzam and the Overlord Class, this could be the occasion to mend the rift between the Light’s flock, reconcile with the White Unicorn, and earn Magvolia’s support for our cause.””
That… that made sense. That had been more or less the Church Party’s strategy to cause a revolt in Magvolia and overtake the War Party. Simon admitted he had never considered that possibility, mostly because he had just sacrificed her to a demon hardly a few reigns back. That made things rather awkward.
The idea of marrying Satine so soon after what happened in the Darkwood left him uneasy, even though it might indeed provide a path to peace with the White Unicorn in the future.
“Either way, think about it further, my child,” Mastemo decided. “Whatever you choose will be pleasing to the Light.”
After the meeting, Simon immediately went to his retainers to inform them he would be away for some time on a ‘theological seminar’ mission on behalf of the Church.
While Meredith and Leonard warily agreed to keep watch over Eole in his absence, the news saddened the kish. “Are you certain I cannot come with you?” she asked uneasily. “If I offered my services as a singer…”
“I would take you with me if I could, but His Excellency was clear: this is a training retreat for Templars only,” Simon lied. “It shouldn’t take more than a few weeks. I will be back before you know it.”
“Weeks can feel like years in the presence of strangers, Simon.” Eole bit her lip. “Meredith and Leonard are kind, but… I will miss you.”
So would Simon, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable leaving her alone in the Lighthouse either, even with a trusted escort. The Cobweb might try something in spite of Mastemo’s promises, and the High Confessor’s association with them didn’t bode well for her future…
“Eole,” he said in Kish, taking her hand and placing his sister’s teleportation crystal in her palm. “Should anything happen… should you fear for your life for any reason… then shatter this. It will send you to a safe place.”
“A… safe place?”
As safe as it can be if you’re desperate enough to use the device. “Tell the people you’ll meet there that I gave this to you for your own protection. They will help you until we can meet again.”
“I see.” Eole nodded, hiding the crystal under her cloak and then plucking a feather off her wing. “Take this in return for your gift.”
“A promise for us to meet again soon?”
“Yes, and a token of my friendship.” Eole smiled kindly. “I shall pray for your safe journey and return.”
Simon hadn’t even left yet, and he was already eager to come back.
After settling things with his retainers, Simon spent what little free time he had before departure browsing the forbidden archive for more information on Visionaries and the Abyss. Most of the restricted information on the former mostly covered gruesome dissections of saints after death or ghastly experiments to reproduce their powers by unsavory individuals, alongside theories that Visionaries were merely a rare quirk of nature rather than a sign of divine favor.
All the books Simon could peruse at least agreed on one thing: while a Visionary’s third eye greatly improved their ability to observe mana in the air compared to normal people, the organ itself was insufficient to explain the depth of their gifts. These seers all possessed an anomalous mana signature, either because of their soul or other factors, which no amount of biological manipulation could reproduce. Attempts at organ transplantation did not transfer the gifts to the recipient, for example.
Simon couldn’t find any record of a Darkblood and Visionary combination either prior to Norbelle. Justine Eligos was right; she represented a whole new and unique avenue for this field of research.
When evening came, Simon joined Lady Beatrice and three other Templars on a merchant frigate ship: a masked fellow with claw-gauntlets for weapons; an eight-foot tall colossus in heavy plate armor, wielding a two-handed sword in one hand and a shield in the other; and a slim swordswoman whose brown hair flowed down a masked, veiled helmet.
“Simon, let me introduce you to Silence, Barbas, and Cubirah,” Beatrice said. “You will serve with them under my command during this expedition. As our most junior and newest recruit, an order from them is an order from me.”
“A pleasure to serve with you,” Simon replied with a bow.
The giant, Barbas, grunted in response. “Must we truly take an unbloodied whelp on a sensitive mission?”
“This whelp can cast higher-tier prayers than you, Barbas,” Cubirah mocked him, while Silence simply kept his arms crossed.
“Simon’s role will be to support us with spells and his other gifts,” Beatrice replied calmly. “We will go over the mission and our battle tactics on the way. We have nearly two weeks of sailing ahead of us.”
An airship would have been faster, but far more noticeable, Simon thought before speaking up. “What of the mermaids? Bujan’s waters are infested with them.”
“Miss Nightingale guaranteed she could obtain safe passage.” Beatrice sneered with disdain. “Smuggling runs aren’t unusual on her crew’s part, from what I understand.”
As expected of the Cobweb. Either way, Simon climbed aboard the frigate alongside the other Templars. The ship, the Maidenfair, departed by sunset and took them away onto the high sea. Simon watched the Lighthouse shine in the distance through the porthole of the cabin he shared with Beatrice.
“We will continue your training during the journey, and you will start by wearing your Class outfit at all times,” Beatrice warned him. “This will strengthen your connection to your Class and help your body grow used to the constant mana drain.”
Simon nodded obediently, as if he were a novice who hadn’t learned these lessons a long time ago. A knock on the door caught his attention, though he had to suppress a scowl when the door opened and a loathed face showed up.
“Are the accommodations to your liking?” Silk asked in her ‘Elsa’ guise. Simon could have almost mistaken her for a normal merchant without his previous reigns’ memories.
“They are sufficient,” Beatrice replied sharply. She saw no point in hiding her dislike of the criminal, which warmed Simon’s heart. “We will keep to ourselves and so shall your crew. Loose tongues will be cut short.”
“Worry not, my men will keep quiet. His Excellency’s payment was most generous.” Silk smiled at Simon next. “He seems to trust you a great deal.”
Simon squinted at her. Something… Something felt wrong with Silk. He couldn’t quite explain it, but a sudden sense of disquiet washed over him.
“I hope to prove worthy of His Excellency’s faith,” Simon replied, trying to figure out the issue. Silk never bothered with pleasantries the other times he encountered her.
“I’m sure you will. I have heard rumors that the light megalith itself blessed you with weapons shining brighter than the sun.” Silk feigned idle curiosity. “If I may be so bold, could you show it to me? I am curious.”
What’s her game? Simon glanced at Beatrice, who shrugged the matter off, then decided to play along by grabbing his mace. “Lightstone of the ancients, holiest of graces, I beseech thee to grant unto my blade your Blessing of Light.”
His mace’s head glowed like the sun, as promised. Simon half-expected Silk to show wariness at his power, maybe concealed distaste considering her association with someone like the Prince of Spiders, or maybe idle curiosity. She did none of those things.
Silk instead looked unbearably pleased.
“What a wonderful shine, Lord Magnos,” she said, her smile widening until it reached her eyes. “I will follow your career with great interest.”
It was then, at the very moment Simon saw her lips stretch, that he realized what bothered him so much.
This wasn’t Silk.
This woman looked like her, shared her voice and some mannerisms, but the smile… the smile was different. Sharper, more wicked, and lacking the cold professionalism of the real assassin. The way she carried herself too, was close, but slightly off in a way only someone who had encountered the real Silk often could tell.
Simon had been thinking about the problem the wrong way. It wasn’t that Silk could be everywhere at once.
It was that there was more than one ‘Silk’ scurrying around.