Chapter 63

No matter where in the Alstroemeria Lord Cleric Cyrillus happened to be, he always looked out of place. His body was wide, his arms and legs thick, his neck all but nonexistent beneath ropes of muscle. His head was so bald it shone, and his face was obdurate and runneled with scars. He looked like a warrior known for brute savagery, wholly in his element on the battlefield alone, and for a long time, this was true.

Cyrillus had strode across battlefields without number, a mace in one hand, a clerical Book of Detestation in the other, shouting out prayers to the Goddess, shouting curses and banes at the enemy, urging his battle-brethren to greater heights of heroism and duty, until the Cardinal Cleric, the man responsible for every cleric, warpriest, and chaplain stepped down and named Cyrillus his successor. Faced with a lifetime role of a bureaucrat, he wholeheartedly refused the appointment and was forced to take on the role of instructor.

He had been one of four instructors that taught Katarina, when she had been brought to the Grand Cathedral twenty years prior, and it was to her that he directed his thoughts this morning, as he took his walk around the Grand Cathedral. Katarina had begun to draw attention to herself in a way that he had, before he had been forcibly retired. It was likely that the Alstroemeria would want to retire Katarina and have her as an exclusive instructor to the Witch Hunters.

It made sense, after all; aside from her late master, no other Witch Hunter had survived as long as she had. Witch Hunters had been taught by a collective of instructors in the past, though none of the instructors themselves had been Witch Hunters. It made sense to get the most experienced Witch Hunter they could find and force her to teach others, especially one as decorated as she was.

"Katarina, if you're out there, stay away from the Alstroemeria." He half-prayed. He guessed she wouldn't easily make such a transition. Frankly, she was too wild. She would chafe, complain, and likely do something stupid, like leave.

He glanced over the gardens, and frowned- someone was marching towards the temple in a direct line- they ignored the stone paths, they cut across lawns, stepped through the low hedges, and cut across the flower beds. As they drew closer he could see that they wore a long cattleman's coat and broad hat. He frowned angrily. It was customary to remove the hat when on lands consecrated to the Golden Lady.

As they approached, his frown deepened to a grimace. It was a woman, she wore trousers like a man; worse, they clung to her hips and legs obscenely. She walked like a man, with a hipshot grace that was wholly out of place with a woman. He caught a glimmer of sunlight on gold at her throat, and he relaxed somewhat. A Lady of the Church, likely an Inquisitor. Whoever she was, It was likely she'd been given dispensation to wear trousers.

The woman drew closer, and he could spy a longsword on one hip, and gun on the other. She smiled and lifted the brim of her hat.

He took a breath; the woman was radiant. It wasn't beauty, she simply shed an inviolable aura of serenity and imperious dignity that filled her and spread outwards.

"You shouldn't frown like that, Cyrillus." She said by way of greeting.

He blinked a few times. The woman had eyes like polished jade, and her hair was a silvery white, streaked with blonde.

"Are you one of mine?" he growled, forcing himself out of his daze. "I'll be setting a penance for trampling the flower beds; don't think I didn't see you do it."

She barked a dry laugh, totally alien to the countenance she beamed at him. "I haven't been your pupil in more than ten years, old friend."

"...Katarina?" He forwarded hesitantly. She nodded at that.

"The same. In the flesh." She replied. "I've come to get my Writ and Warrant updated." She informed him, face turning serious. "Can you do it?"

He frowned at her. "You've changed." He replied warily, hand involuntarily reaching towards his belt for a mace he no longer carried.

She nodded easily at that. "I've already been through the Rites of Inspection with Alayne." She replied. "Clean bill of health."

He gave her a puzzled look, and she raised an eyebrow. "I was worried the changes were..." She bobbed her head and glanced to the side, and he nodded at the unspoken addition. She'd been worried that whatever changes had been done to her had been the result of magical mutation, and had seen a priestess.

"I can't." He replied to her earlier question. "As much as I'd like to. If you were a regular Witch Hunter, there wouldn't be a problem. But you've moved up in the world, Katarina. You're a Justicar Witch Hunter, now." He gestured to her, indicating that she should walk with him.

"I don't understand how that's different." Katarina replied.

"Wholly different." He replied. "There haven't been many Justicar Witch Hunters. Only two in the last century, and I'm sure you can guess who those are." He remarked significantly, to which she nodded.

"Just offhand, I think you have to go through a review panel. Oh, there'll be no problem there." He added, with a sidelong glance at the Witch Hunter, "A High Inquisitor will likely have to stand in for the High Lord Inquisitor, but you'll also be facing myself and Nadette."

His face went through a number of expressions as he framed his next bit of information. "You'll also likely have to face a panel of Cardinal Bishops, perhaps even a Lady Cardinal from the Book." She flashed him an alarmed look.

"Katarina, a Justicar Witch Hunter isn't just a martial title from the Arm of the Sword. Your authorities and responsibilities also increase." He advised. "You'll learn from all of us. I'll probably pass along the Catechisms of Detestation, the High Inquisitors will likely upgrade your clearance and Nadette will probably give you a proper weapon."

"Proper weapon." Katarina mocked sardonically. He cuffed her absentmindedly, the reflexive response from long years dealing with petulant and mouthy acolytes, and they each stared at the other in a moment of shock.

"I'm talking about one that's been consecrated and blessed, Katarina." He finished quietly. "Annointed."

Katarina frowned at all of that. "Rather than the Catechisms, I think I'd rather learn about the Litanies of Glory." She replied, looking up at him. "I know a little already, what I've been able to figure out on my own, but I've reached a roadblock." He gave her a baffled look.

"Glory? You shouldn't have an affinity for that." He disputed, moving his hand in a cutting-off gesture. "It goes against everything I've been taught about-" He began, and cut himself off. "We'll talk about that in a minute." he grumbled, and she smiled and bumped her shoulder against his companionably.

"Tell me about the Cardinal Bishops." She murmured, and he nodded. "Keep in mind I'm pulling this from memory, Katarina." He advised, and she nodded. "Your authorities in the Church will be equal to theirs. So there'll likely be a panel of Cardinal Bishops that will examine your conduct, and they'll decide whether or not to accept you." He advised.

She groaned and rolled her eyes at that. "I'm fucked." She moaned. He gave her a skeptical glance.

"The Cardinal Bishops will look over the reports of my interactions with all of the churches from here to Einsamkeit, and they'll see how well those have gone." She said by way of explanation.

"Yes, well." Cyrillus remarked with a cough. "Once that's done, you'll get a whole new Writ and Warrant. One of the authorities you'll get is the right to a retinue, up to..." He trailed off, tapping his finger against his chin in thought. "Seven or ten, I can't remember which. But a group of people. Warriors, Paladins, Clerics, Mages, other Witch Hunters, whatever. They'll be under your complete authority."

She rolled her eyes at that, remembering the peacock in Aston, Alejandro don Diego and his talk of a 'retinue'. "I haven't ever taken an apprentice and you want to saddle me with a whole knot of people?" She scoffed.

"Well, after all that is done, what will likely happen is they'll give you the title... and then force your retirement." He advised. "They'll say- demand, really- that they need a pure Witch Hunter instructor, and they've nominated you to the position."

She gave him a glum look at that, and he barked a laugh. "Your punishment for living so long, Katarina." He chided gently.

"Can I retire now?" She asked. "It vexes me that I'll have to leave things unfinished, but better I go home to my family than ...that."

He thumbed his chin. "If you're serious, let's get you out of sight before someone sees you." She nodded, and they hurried to the Chapel of the Shield, a boxlike cathedral set off to the side of the titanic central cathedral that handled the administrative functions of the military arm of the Anglish Empire.

Once in the Administrative Records room, Cyrillius pulled out a number of documents, and they went over them together. "Move and countermove." He announced, and Katarina perked up. Cyrillus had warpriest, a battle-cleric that had spent uncountable years warring in service to the Anglish empire. Part of his curriculum was strategy at every level. "If their goal is to move you into the position of an instructor, and your countermove is retirement, their most likely response would be to allow you to retire... and then forcibly reactivate your commission."

"What?!" Katarina exclaimed. He nodded.

"Impossible." She argued, but Cyrillus simply pointed out the clauses. "In times of war or necessity..." he began, and gave a side-eye at Katarina. "We haven't left a "state of war" in centuries. You'll be 'reactivated' and forcibly moved into an instructor's role, for a minimum of two years. Minimum. No escape for you there. Running away would be desertion and warrant a charge of heresy."

Katarina slowly closed her eyes and rubbed them with thumb and forfinger. "Fuck."

They left the records building, and returned to the temple. "Tell me about your needs for Norn." Cyrillus urged.

The cleric gestured to Katarina, and they moved through the airy open spaces of the temple. Like her sister, Katarina's hair had been completely white, her eyes the exact shade of pale green. They both had imperial, regal looks, with high, clear foreheads, aristocratic cheekbones and carried themselves with a haughty composure, but that's where the resemblance ended. Katarina was a pragmatist, her beauty weathered from her long travels outside, whereas her younger sister was bubbly, with an effervescent personality, her body soft and unmarred by dirt, scratches and scars.

Katarina had also gone through changes in the woods east of Norn, plagued with visions, her hair had turned from a flat white to a lustrous silvery hue, streaked with gold.

"Your sister?" he asked, and she shrugged. "Partially. She abandoned her post in Norn. The Church there has been behaving suspiciously as well. Their report of her disappearance came months after it happened." She paused. "And they didn't report either of her accomplices." She finished.

He nodded. "I'll remember you in my prayers today. Unfortunately, I haven't heard anything about her, except what you probably know already. She was serving in the north, in our temple in the city of Norn. You mentioned an investigation?"

"Yeah. I opened an investigation with my Inquisitorial authorities. When I get my Witch Hunter authorities updated, I'll need several of your paladins, some clerics unafraid of tramping about in the woods, and the command of a hundred troops."

He blinked. " Katarina, I don't want you to think of me making light of your request, especially considering your status, but this is... highly unusual. You've never needed to requisition things of this nature before."

"Ah. Yes. Well, I was hunting up in the northeastern reaches, five days east of Norn and I was nearly overwhelmed. There's demonkind up there. Also fouled dead, though the two may not necessarily be related. The behaviour of the Norn Church is... odd, so I need to do this without their influence. For that, I need men to blunt the undead forces and clerics and paladins to banish demons. Where there's demons there's mages, make no mistake."

He nodded, with an analytical expression on his face as he made his calculations.

"Firstly, unfortunately, most of our forces are diverted to other campaigns; the cleansing of the beastmen and demihumans in the southern lands takes precedence, you understand."

He stopped at an ornate confessional fountain and lightly touched the rippling water with a fingertip. "There's also the rumor of Urthan raids north of Aston; we've needed to send a sizable number of forces up there to investigate and enforce the Lady's peace." his hands moved restlessly for a moment, then he slid his hands into his sleeves and turned to face her again.

"Still, though. I'll give what I can, which unfortunately isn't much at all. My request for twenty additional paladins was fulfilled in a problematic way- I only received one, and only a knight-errant at that. Armilla Chancy. As far as clerics, I can spare none, and as for the army, when you resolve the issue of your Witch Hunter authorities, Your Writ will give you the relevant authority to appropriate whatever resources you need. I'm sorry that I cannot fulfill your request as you intended."

Katarina sighed and rubbed her temple with a leather gloved hand.

"Let's..." She stopped abruptly and switched topics. "Show me this Armilla." She said, with an exhausted edge to her voice.

"Do you need time to rest and refresh yourself? Perhaps some quiet meditation?"

She briefly thought of the four days she'd spent in a drug-induced daze at Alayne's manor. She shook her head.

"No. My exhaustion comes from my burden, my friend." Her face relaxed for a moment, revealing a woman that was tired and careworn, yet still beautiful, one that could sing hymns with talent. Her face hardened and cleared and her hand fell to her gunbutt.

"No, no rest. The longer I rest, the longer I drag this out unnecessarily. I'd rather that messy business be over and through with, so that I could move on."

He patted her shoulder, and gestured to the hall. As they walked, he examined her critically. Witch Hunters were a chaotic and unpredictable lot, free spirits roaming about with only the leash of the church keeping them in check. Indoctrinated from a young age to hunt down unsanctioned or rogue magic users in the name of the Golden Lady, they were given considerable freedom and a more ... liberal interpretation of the doctrines that were taught in temple.

"Is there anything else you need? Weapon or armor maintenance, perhaps?" He asked as they entered the barracks that housed the churches' militant forces, eyeing the pistol on her hip. Her hand brushed it casually, and she shook her head in negation. "No, I took care of that yesterday. I also took the liberty of visiting Lady Caine."

His bushy eyebrows rose, and his hands jerked in their sleeves. "Did you now." He remarked in a strangled voice.

Katarina nodded. "I'd heard she resigned as High Lady Inquisitor." She replied. "I count her, like you, as valuable and trusted friends and allies." She replied simply, keeping her voice light and casual, but focusing her attention on him without looking directly at him.

He nodded. "I have always been your ally, Katarina. Since you were but a stripling of a child." He replied.

Armilla's quarters were little more than a cell; there was a simple cot on the far side, a footlocker for her few belongings, a stand for her armor, a simple desk and a chamberpot in the corner. There were no other furnishings. As an errant, she had yet to take her tests to receive the title of paladin, and as such she wasn't accorded any luxuries. The woman in question was sitting at her desk, poring over a large book.

"Armilla." Katarina spoke, and the woman looked up. Barely fourteen or so, she had an uncomplicated face framed with short reddish-brown hair.

"Yes?" She asked, and as she met Katarina's gaze, her eyes narrowed. "I'm afraid I don't know you. You haven't the look of a priest, cleric, or acolyte." She eyed the longsword on Katarina's hip. "The wearing of weapons is forbidden here." The tone of her voice dipped flatly at this last remark, and Katarina guessed that Armilla was calculating the time necessary to reach her own sword.

Katarina shrugged and reached into her coat and brought out her Writ and Warrant, and tossed it indifferently to her. Her Writ and Warrant was a sheaf of papers, kept safe in a blessed and consecrated leather scrollcase. The papers identified her as an agent of the Golden Lady, identified her purpose, and also empowered her to requisition manpower and resources, as necessary, within limits, from anyone. Armilla shuffled the papers around, and placed them back in the case.

"A Witch Hunter. Your kind are somewhat few." She remarked disinterestedly. Katarina nodded. "Indeed, our tests are more grueling and lethal than yours are, paladin-in-training." Katarina replied airily.

"I don't understand the point of this. Did you come to these rooms with the express purpose of antagonizing me? If so, you have sufficiently completed your task. I'll request you leave so that I may attend the tasks that have been assigned me."

Katarina chuckled a little, and then leaned against the doorway, hooking her thumbs into her belt. "I showed you my Writ so that you would know who I am, but I didn't come here to mock you, so you can get that out of your head. I've received permission from Cyrillus, the head warpriest here, to appropriate you." Armilla rose from her chair at this, a word of protest forming. Before she could voice it, however, Katarina raised her hand in a forestalling gesture and rode over her protests and continued. "As of now you are under my authority and will follow my orders without question or reservation."

Armilla clamped her lips shut and glared at Katarina sullenly, plunking back down in her seat.

"At this point, your orders are simple: Stand by for now, with the expectation that we will be leaving." Katarina explained. "I have an appointment with the Book of the Golden Lady shortly. Afterword, I hope to be leaving for Norn. I don't expect much from you, simply to follow the Code. You should be capable of that, correct?" Katarina inquired curiously, lounging casually against the doorway. "We're going north to Norn, and from there we'll be travelling east, where we will meet our foes. Your job will be to blunt their forces while I seek the heart. Simple, really."

Katarina could see the struggle on Armilla's face. She wasn't used to being treated so off-handedly.

"Collect your armor and weapons, requisition a horse from the stable under my authority, go to the quartermaster here, and request..." she trailed off in thought. "Lend me your desk and writing implements." Armilla rose and stepped away from the desk, allowing Katarina to sit. Armilla closed her door, and changed into the padded vest and leggings worn under her armor, and then began the process of strapping, latching, and buckling the molded bronze.

Katarina mumbled as she wrote, occasionally tossing in, "Hmmm, and we'll need..." and "Oh, yes, that too." Armilla glanced over at the list, half-expecting to see scrawled and lumpish characters, barely coherent. Instead she could see a ladylike hand that was both elegant and legible.

Shortly after Armilla had donned her armor, Katarina glanced at Armilla, and her eyebrow rose. "Bronze?" she examined her armor and ran calculations in her head. "You should have Red Steel at the very least." She turned back to her list and added a line. The shock on Armilla's face was almost comical.

"Requisition these things from the quartermaster, get familiar with your new armor and weapon, and stand by for further instruction." Katarina ordered, and then relaxed a little. "It may be as long as two months before we can leave, but perhaps shorter. Sharpen your skills but prepare to leave at a heartbeat's notice." She added. "I'll check in with you as I can."

She left the knight-errant's quarters and went to the small temple for the writing and sending of correspondence, where she wrote out a quick missive to Alayne in an older code she was familiar with. The message appeared innocuous, a random selection of specific words, but it let the former High Lady Inquisitor know she should retrieve Katarina's things from the boat.

She stepped outside of the small temple and eyed the Grand Cathedral apprehensively, fists on hips.

"Well," She remarked with a sigh, "I'd best get on with it."

Once in the Grand Cathedral, she was accosted several times by people who wanted to know her business. She simply gestured at her holy symbol and waved them off, and they scurried away. The interior was as ostentatious, breathtaking, and ornate as the exterior, with carved stone and exotic wood paneling. Banners of the Anglish Empire hung at regular intervals. Ponderous chandeliers dripping with crystals hung from the rafters, dense racks of candles, backed by polished brass sheets shed warm light everywhere. Censers wafted perfumed smoke down in regular intervals. The walls were carved in the likenesses of holy saints, ancient noble houses were represented with their war banners, multicolored light filtered down from the titanic stained-glass windows depicting heroic acts of the Saints.

From the gallery, she would need to move through the central transept and take one of the staircases to the upper floors. In the central heart of the cathedral, there was a massive statue over twenty feet tall of the Living Saint Celestine, who had been chosen by the Golden Lady to champion her cause in the worlds beyond seven hundred and eighty-one years prior. Celestine wasn't the first saint; there had been many before her. In fact, she was only the most recent Saint. She was the greatest of them all however, for the simple reason the Golden Lady had transformed the paladin into her immortal Champion, the first Living Saint in all of Anglish history.

Celestine presided over a great golden bowl polished to a brilliant shine. A full ten people could fit into that thing if they were allowed. Surrounding the bowl were smaller statues of the lesser saints; Katherine, Silvania, Alicia, Andrianna.

The bowl itself had been meant for a brazier. The eternal flame of Glory would burn in its depths for all time, day and night, a sign of the pact between the Goddess and Her peaople. Gradually, over the centuries, the practice had faded into obscurity. The bowl was still a central part of the essential construction of each cathedral of the Anglish Empire, but no blaze was kindled within anymore; no one even understood why it was necessary that a brazier be installed into a church to begin with. They understood the form, but not the function, and they had forgotten the purpose. It had fallen to Katarina to remind them.

The fire in Katarina's breast surged painfully at the sight of the brazier, bringing beads of sweat to her brow. "Not yet." She whispered painfully. Not yet, but soon.

An acolyte stopped her in the hall on the second floor.

"Excuse me." He puffed, sweat sheening his brow. He clutched a missive in his hand. Katarina flicked her heavy braid over her shoulder.

"What do you want, acolyte?" She demanded curtly. "I'm extremely busy."

"Might you be the Witch Hunter, Katarina Pav- Pav..." He stammered over her last name.

"Do you want a broken arm?" She asked in reply. He goggled at her in shock. "What what?" He stammered.

"Whether or not I'm Katarina Pavlenko is wholly dependent on whether or not you want a broken arm." She replied patiently. Inside, she giggled.

"No!" he cried, and cradled his arm protectively.

"Well then, on your way, and good luck finding her." Katarina replied, and made a shooing gesture at him.

He gave her a baffled look and bolted for the stairwell.

"Oops. Shouldn't've told him my last name." She murmured to herself. "Wonder how long it'll take him to figure that out."