ARC 3 - HALLOWED

CHAPTER 7 - FATE'S MEETING

“Hello, Waker.”

The girl's voice was silvery despite the softly spoken greeting. Her hand still singed his and Raegn recoiled, pulling his hand from her grip. She looked at him with a cocked head, much as a child might stare in wonder at a parent—or a bird of prey might look at its meal. Her smile reached into his soul as the Light from her hand had done, but this time it pulled against him rather than burned him.

“Waker?” Raegn choked.

She nodded and took a step closer. “Tell me, what was it like to meet the Divine?”

Raegn shuddered at the blunt reminder. This girl had either heard a rumor or was significant enough in the Order to know the truth. It was possible, he supposed, that a Crusader or Justicar might have the affinity to emulate the feeling that Camael had given him. Either way, if she was trying to intimidate him he’d not give her the pleasure of success. He stood his ground and stared downward as her face drew close, studying him.

Another girl, this one with long brunette waves beneath the same type of hooded cloak, appeared from behind the blonde girl’s shoulder. She took the blonde girl by the arm and gave a gentle tug. The warm smile she offered Raegn gave a feeling of gentle warmth and disarmed him of the ire he’d held in defense.

“I’m sorry if she bothered you,” the brunette said. Then, turning to blonde girl, continued, “Come, we should be heading back.”

The blonde girl allowed herself to be led away without another word, yet gave him a longing glance as she departed. They weren’t headed to a table, Raegn realized, but out of the hall entirely. He watched as they left, their movements more graceful and elegant than simple walking had a right to be. The brunette leaned in and whispered something into her companions ear as they neared the exit and the blonde girl might have given him another quick glance as they crossed the threshold, but they were too far for Raegn to be sure.

With a sharp sniff he turned his attention back to his original goal. He transferred the fruit from the basket he carried to a large bowl on the table and snatched two of the jam-filled pastries before retreating from the Crusader Wing. The trip to his room was shorter without the detour through the kitchens and once he was back in the relative safety of the Templar wing he took the first bite. The texture was blissful, but the taste of ash lingered in his mouth and ruined the delicate flavor of the dessert.

The pre-dawn bell stirred Raegn from his short slumber. He could feel the weight of fatigue still pulling at his eyes and counted himself lucky that his room was on the northern side of the Templar Wing where the sound was loudest, else the warmth of his blankets might have kept him bound to his bed through the tolling. He donned the usual Order attire: light gray pants tucked into brown boots and a gray and white tunic for a top. In a small moment of foresight, he tested the window, finding it cold to the touch and the scenery beyond the glass lending itself to the same. In Bastion they likely would’ve seen a decent falling of snow by this time of year and it seemed even the fertile lands of the Cradle could not fully escape the frigid grip of the cold seasons. He chose a thicker cloak and grabbed a pair of gloves before leaving his room to answer the previous night’s summons.

The Dawn Gate on the Church’s southern side was aptly named. Raegn strode under its tall archway of shimmering white stone and waited while leaned against the outer wall of the Church, watching the sun climb above the horizon. Its rays plastered themselves across the gate that towered before him and reflected through pieces of stained glass. A mural set into the triangular architecture depicted the rising of the sun and the dawn of humanity, both blessings of the Light. The passageway was formidable, both in its size and its beauty.

His hand idly reached towards his waist, searching for the pouch he’d tucked there. He was disappointed to find that he’d already eaten through the pieces of bread and small bag of dried fruits he’d snagged from an Initiate headed up from the kitchens. With a sigh he tucked the pouch beneath his belt and folded his arms to keep his hands warm, watching the gate for some sign of a Crusader. The girl with short, charcoal-colored hair was not who he expected to see. Judging by her reaction, she felt the same. The moment she recognized him there was a hiccup in her stride and her back straightened as she finished her approach.

“What are you doing here?” Tera asked, though it seemed more a challenge than an actual curiosity.

“Answering a summons. The same as you, if I had to guess,” Raegn said with a shrug.

She huffed, but didn’t belabor the issue, instead taking up a spot on the wall nearby. He wanted to talk to her, even if only to make the time pass faster, but his mere presence seemed to make her uncomfortable. The two waited in silence, the only sign that either was alive the small puffs of breath that dissipated into the brisk morning.

When the sun had been out long enough that the patches of frost on the grass had begun to melt away a man wearing dark clothes and a black cloak that skimmed the ground as he walked passed through the gate. He stopped in front of them, gave each a quick look, and then nodded for them to follow him into the Church. Raegn hadn’t seen the man wearing any sort of emblem to indicate he was even a part of the Order, but Tera followed without hesitation. Considering she hadn’t denied that they were there for the same reason, Raegn figured he might as well follow too. Tera had certainly been a Templar for longer and there was a good chance the quartermaster hadn’t been perfect in his messenger duties. The only thing they were ever particular about was that damned inventory list.

Raegn tailed Tera and the dark-clothed man as they walked away from the main hall of the cathedral and entered a small room that looked similar to the ones the Order had used for Raegn’s initial entry trial. The inside was empty save for a single desk, but multiple chairs were set in a row before it rather than just the one he’d seen in the Order. The cloaked man hefted himself atop the desk and let his legs dangle, then gestured to the chairs. Raegn let Tera sit first, careful to leave an empty seat between them.

“Templar Caloman, I am aware you have knowledge of the complete organizational structure within the Order,” the cloaked man spoke hoarsely. Raegn saw Tera give a small nod in his periphery. “Templar Edelgard.” Raegn’s gaze met stern amber eyes. “Consider this your induction to a higher level of understanding. The information I am about to tell you is not to be discussed with anyone below the rank of Crusader. Do you understand?”

Raegn nodded.

“Good. As you know, the Order performs many duties for the Realm. Chief among them is defense against all threats to the Light. In the centuries since the end of the Void War, humanity has turned its weapons on itself countless times. Some have sought power with no regard for law or consequence. The Justicar have become known for bringing many of these offenders to meet the Light’s justice. The Order allows them the forefront of public attention so that others might work unseen. People whisper that the Order uses assassins to maintain the stability of the Realm. I am here to tell you that those rumors are founded in partial truth. I am Inquisitor Merced.”

The man lazily threw aside his cloak and reached into a pocket beneath the black leathers he wore. A golden emblem was produced, the same spiked halo that the Templar wore, but with an all-seeing eye in the middle.

“Inquisitors are tasked with bringing to light the dark schemes of humanity. We expose the sins of those that have turned their back on the rest of us and, when necessary, take action to ensure the stability of the Realm.” Merced placed the emblem back in its hidden home. “I have selected the two of you for such an action.”

Raegn swallowed, but found his mouth dry. There was something off about how matter-of-factly Merced spoke about the secrets of the Order. Everything about this…Inquisitor dripped with dread. The small scar on his cheek, the gravelly voice, and the way the man’s hands lingered around his belt-line spoke volumes.

Merced’s eyes narrowed. “You can relax, the both of you. I don’t need you to kill anyone. Quite the opposite, in fact.” The Inquisitor slid from the desk and produced a small scroll from an unseen pocket. “The nature of this request requires you to accept before I can provide any details. I will need both of you to sign indicating you agree to withhold information regarding the mission from all others save for myself, another Inquisitor, or the Highlord until otherwise instructed by the aforementioned.”

Tera stepped forward immediately and Merced smiled. He reached behind him for the quill on the desk and Tera bent over and signed without a word. She rose and offered Raegn the quill. This all seemed quite sudden, but if he overlooked the charge of an Archangel, which was admittedly difficult, protecting the Realm was the sole reason he had joined the Order. Raegn lightly took the quill from her hand and approached the desk where Merced held the top of the scroll down against the wood. Tera’s handwriting was neat and full of letters drawn with sweeping curves, just as he would have expected of someone of her demure nature. Raegn penned his name beneath hers.

“The Order thanks you for your service,” Merced said idly while rolling up the parchment and placing it somewhere beneath his cloak. “As I said, I have specifically selected the two of you for this mission due to your backgrounds and abilities. The Order has learned of a plot to assassinate a local lord and an agreement has been reached between the Church and the Order for us to intervene.”

“I thought neither the Church nor the Order liked to be involved in political dealings.” Tera’s voice came as a surprise, though not an unwelcome one. Raegn had been so swept up in the new information that he had forgotten she might already be aware of these types of requests. He gave the bridge of his nose a quick rub to help shake off the lingering bit of sleep his body desired.

“We might say it, Templar Caloman,” Merced replied, “but if you look at our history you’ll find we’ve often been intimately involved. Some will argue that a threat to the stability of the Realm is a threat to its unity. Without that unity the Realm would have fallen long ago.”

“But that’s not true,” Raegn chimed in, surprising even himself. He paused under the stares of the two with him, but continued when Merced prodded him along with a questioning brow. “Not since the Void War, at least,” he continued. “Until recently the Shield Cities allowed the Realm to have its internal wars and become divided.”

“You are mostly correct, Templar Edelgard.” Raegn wasn’t so sure he was happy about his contribution to the conversation once he found himself under Merced’s gaze. “The Realm has fractured, but not entirely so. Unless you somehow know something we do not, wars have only been fought over land and resources; humanity has yet to put entire populations to the sword. Still, maintaining what remains of our unity has proven difficult. The Inquisitors and Justicar win battles, but not the war.”

“And the loss of this lord will destabilize the Realm?” Tera asked.

Merced grinned. “No.”

“Then why is the Order involved?” she pressed.

There was a knock at the door.

“Because we are at the beck and call of those above us,” the Inquisitor grumbled as he strode to the entry.

A bishop entered, one Raegn recognized by the sagging cheeks and rounded nose. This man was one of the two who had done the talking during his proceedings following the Templar trial. Both he and Tera rose as the man in white robes lined with golden detailing took a spot in front of the desk. Merced remained at the door, Raegn noted.

“Ah, I’m glad to see that both of you have accepted,” the bishop said. “Especially you, Lord Raegn. I would not have expected the Order to call upon you so quickly, but I am filled with joy at your willingness to serve the Light.”

Unsure of how to respond, Raegn gave a small bow of his head.

“Oh, I apologize,” the bishop said at the gesture. “I’ve forgotten you may not know me. I am Archbishop Leland Lemonath, second member of the Council of Seven.”

Raegn cleared his throat, taking the hint that he had botched some formality. “Thank you, Archbishop Lemonath,” he said with a deeper bow.

Leland smiled and gestured for the two to take a seat. “I presume that your handler has already informed you of your assignment. You may find it odd, what the Church and Order have requested of you. Should you find yourself in doubt I would like to remind you that you have the full support of the Church for this mission.” The Archbishop clasped his hands and long sleeves came together to mask them. “That said, we would prefer knowledge of our involvement be limited to the best of your ability. Were all the details revealed to the people they would surely understand, but if we are honest with ourselves we know how rare it is that someone listens to the entire story. Sometimes it is best to simply not tell it at all. Are we in agreement?”

The Archbishop leaned forward slightly and waited for the two to give a nod. Having received his sought after concurrence he strode towards the exit, robes sliding along the floor. Merced held the door open for the man, who paused at the threshold. The Inquisitor gave a sharp upward tilt of his head towards them and Raegn and Tera rose.

“The Church thanks you for your unerring service to the Light,” Archbishop Lemonath said. “I pray for your safety and success.” With that the man left and Merced quietly shut the door before returning to his seat atop the desk.

“Archbishop?” Raegn asked. “I thought the Council of Seven was comprised of seven bishops.”

Tera scoffed, but he ignored her unspoken judgment.

“In simplistic form, it is,” Merced replied. “But three hold the title of Archbishop. Two archbishops, of which Lemonath is one, supervise the actions of the four other bishops while the third, Archbishop Hartport, heads the Council.”

“Does their oversight not influence the supposed infallible decisions of the other four bishops, then?” Raegn asked.

“We would hope not, lest the authority of the Church be called into question,” Merced said through a wry smile. “We have other politics to worry about, however. I suppose you’d both like to hear the details of the mission?” the Inquisitor asked with a raised brow.

Raegn and Tera nodded simultaneously, at which Merced produced another small scroll and passed it to Raegn. He unrolled it and began to scan the document, but the writing was impossibly small and he squinted to read the fine text. The cursory read revealed that the parchment was filled with information regarding this minor lord. Not only name and bloodline, but his approximate wealth and a list of actions, both political and personal, the man had taken for the last several years. Tera’s sleeve brushed Raegn’s arm and he quickly passed the parchment over so she could read it without the need to lean into him.

“Lord Caulmond is a minor lord when viewed from a political standpoint,” Merced began. “He has limited access to the royal court because he doesn’t stick his nose up the King’s ass and the population he controls is too small to supply Elysia’s army with any significant amount of fresh meat. What he does have, however, is land that is both fertile in the plains and rich in ore in the mountains.”

“Someone wants to kill him for his wealth?” Tera asked.

“In a sense,” Merced replied. Raegn glanced up at the Inquisitor, but put his head back into the scroll quickly. The man’s face had gone from stern to shrewd and he wasn’t sure which of the two was worse. “Lord Caulmond pays his taxes to both the Crown and the Church,” Merced continued, “but makes a sizable donation to the latter each season. These supplemental payments are regular enough that the Church has come to rely on them. Should they disappear the loss will be felt heavily. Unfortunately, our assessment is that Lord Caulmond’s heirs are arseholes and don’t view the Church the same with the same fondness as their father.”

“So we’re protecting a line of funding for the Church?” Tera’s voice had gone flat. “This seems far too separated from stability and unity for the Order to be involved.”

Raegn couldn’t tell if the grin was a default reaction for Merced or if the man just enjoyed being smarter than the two of them.

“As I said, Templar Caloman, look at history. Taxes may be a majority of the Church’s income, but it requires more than that to fill the coffers that spread influence throughout the Realm.”

Tera gave a short huff and rolled the parchment before handing it back. “Fine. But why not kill the assassins before they strike?”

Merced’s eyes narrowed and Raegn fought the urge to shift in his chair. “Inquisitor’s are damn good at their jobs, Templar Caloman. I am good at my job. But there are too few of both us and the Justicar to resolve every problem in the Realm. In this case, my informant met an…untimely end. I was able to learn of the plot, but not the identities of those involved.”

Informant or captive, Raegn wondered. He wouldn’t have put it past this man to torture someone, but killing them seemed to be beneath the Order. Merced had freely admitted that Inquisitors were at least part assassin themselves, though.

“In three days' time, Lord Caulmond is hosting a celebration of his birth at his residence. It will be your typical noble affair. His estate will be full of pricks and irritating women and there is sure to be plenty of food, drink, and dance—more than enough activity for our assailant to slip in. Caulmond will have his usual guards, of course, but the three of us will be the piece hidden from play.”

“Why not pack the place with Templar, then?” Raegn asked.

“You’re thinking defensively—like a farling,” Merced scolded. “And you’ve already forgotten that his holiness the Archbishop wants our involvement to be unseen. Besides, each day I’m tied to this plot some other bastard executes theirs. If we’re too obvious they’ll just wait us out.”

Right. Stop an assassin without seeming like part of the Order, Raegn reminded himself. “So then what do you need us to do? Dress like the local guards?” he asked.

The grin on Merced’s face threatened to split the man’s head open. “No, they’re stationed around the estate, not in it. You’d be too far away to act. I need you to have closer access to Lord Caulmond without tipping off the assassins.”

Raegn’s face drained as the realization dawned on him. Selected for their backgrounds, the Inquisitor had said. He looked to Tera and saw her hands gripping her pants at the thigh. They were both of noble birth. This was to be a noble affair.

“So you understand, then. Good.” Merced thrummed his fingers along the edge of the desk. “How knowledgeable would you say you are on etiquette? And can either of you even dance worth a damn?”