‘Tension is brewing beneath the seams of Citadel, and the people are beginning to fray. Though discontent hasn’t reached past the civilian workers, it has been noticed by the Ascensionist elites who discreetly wield their Channeler’s weapons in violation of the law. I often see the shapes of their weapons protruding through their clothes as I walk through the main streets. It is evident that distrust in the Council is gaining ground quickly, particularly in the disbelief that they will protect the populations of Citadel.’

‘Due to this, just recently, I visited the slums to listen to the civilian workers. They speak of how wages have stagnated, despite promises that conditions will improve. Though, they say that they wouldn’t have minded it temporarily, for they see the progress in the manufacturing sector.’

‘But the price of living has increased again over this last month, following on from the downturn that started since the foreign war began six months ago. All this has put stress on their finances, and it is yet to cease. Where once a week wage would be able to afford rent, clothes, fuel, and food, with five cent left for savings, now they find it difficult to save an extra cent per week.’ - Excerpt from a letter Toran Rhosyn sent to Lucien Blodyn informing him of the conditions of Citadel, January 1263.

———

Overhead, spirits had coalesced in this harmonious sanctuary, and they played in the airspace above. They weaved past the whitewashed columns and in between the hanging chained wagon wheeled chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

She sniffed slightly at the sweet aroma that passed her nose. It came from a misty haze that spread from above, pervading out of the hanging ball incense burners that were wrought in the shape of a dragon.

In the warmth of the Cathedral, Heledd could feel that her hair had curled like tendrils and matted against the back of her neck, pressing the icy cold rain against her skin. Her cassock and gown were drenched through and stuck against her body, while her fingertips had long macerated from exposure to the heavy downpour.

The low hum of the prayers from the ongoing Church service reminded her of her duty, and she crept around the back walls of the Cathedral to avoid interrupting the pious’s worship. A small door behind the confessions box on the eastern wing of the hall led out to the nunneries and Church convents. She passed through a hall that’s only defining feature was a mural on its curved roof depicting the glory of the Creator.

Finally, she pushed through several doors that led into the pious convent. As she stepped inside, she took in the sight of the common room. While the room’s furniture was bare of all save a wooden table suited with matching chairs, the walls were covered in murals and paintings. They each depicted something different, often being taken from the book of Scripture.

She saw great, rolling landscapes; and men dressed in suits surrounding the Creator in his golden armour; battlefields where the armies of the Creator, and himself, fought against innumerable foes in the planes of Krieg; and finally, the two great Dragons of Chaos.

This incongruous image of simple furniture opposed to the ostentatious paintings and frames, with their golden leaves and ornate carvings, was not lost on her. She had often wondered why the clergy were to live so poorly despite the great deal of wealth the Church possessed. She was told that they were not to form another aristocracy by living like such. They were to live like everyone else, and thus they would never grow distant or far removed from their people.

For the paintings, they were to remind the clergy of the greatness of God and his ever presence. To act as a visual aid for their worship, but also to teach the clergy how to preach of God to those that were illiterate.

Sat at the table was a woman of indescribable majesty, true of what one would expect of the former princess and disgraced daughter of King Brenin Helygen. Her golden hair flowed down her back to her hips in loose ringlets, and her sapphire eyes were consistently imperious despite staring into vacant space.

Creirwy turned to face Heledd in her chair. Her eyes, still imperious, were fixed on the younger woman, though Heledd thought she could see the conflict within them that she felt. Maybe that was her own projection. She wasn’t certain.

Neither of the women spoke, though Creirwy eased the silence by pointing to a seat across from her. Heledd took the other, sitting down in the wooden chair. Its age was apparent as it creaked, straining beneath her weight.

Heledd reached her hand into her pocket and withdrew the small box that she had retrieved from the apothecary. Sliding it in front of Creirwy, she spoke, breaking the silence.

“The first step is complete. I require the sample before I can give it to our agent, though you might want to do it instead of me. You’ve always been more interested in sciences than I have. You made it your expertise.” Heledd said while trying to maintain a level of calm. Internally, she was on edge, and noticed that she was rambling more than she should.

That imperious, blue gaze changed slightly. Her eyebrows raising and her lips curving in amusement.

“My dear Heledd, of course I will do it for you! I shan’t let you risk this operation trying to put Our sample of tuberculosis inside the pill with the off chance of you botching the job…” Creirwy briefly paused mid-sentence, then abruptly chortled. Her chin began tilting ever so slightly back.

“What did you used to call science? That dead field for the drab and dusty! Ha! What gall you had to say that when all you read was theology for half a decade, written by the very dead themselves. How you could say that with a straight face is still beyond me.” Creirwy chuckled as she lampooned Heledd.

Heledd gave a smile in response, shaking her head. The ice had finally melted slightly for the first time in years between these two women. It was evidently still there, though progress had been made.

“Though, irrespective of your one-time beliefs, I reckon that we can both agree that both of our studies have fuelled our growth. Our shared ideals that we’ve dreamt of since well, when I, a young woman, and you, just barely a teenager, are finally close to being achieved! Finally…!” Creirwy’s voice grew in tone, almost to a shout, though she cut her sentence short. Still, there was a hint of cruelty in her voice that shone through, certainly reaffirmed in belief that it was a justified cruelty.

Heledd looked at her with pity, understanding dearly what Creirwy stopped short of saying. She wondered if those sapphire eyes were rather frozen tears accumulated by time rather than her moulded ice-cold disposition. A disposition that caused her to view the world from lofty heights, far removed from the mundane, that contrasted her once warmth in her youth.

However, she grimaced internally at the mention of their ‘shared’ ideals. Once upon a time, they had shared similar ambitions, however, part of the ice that had formed between them was due to their split in their ‘shared’ ideals. She was certain that they still held no common ground between them, despite Creirwy’s remarks.

“You flatter us, Creirwy. There are still many steps to go before we are finished, if anything, we are right at the beginning. Correction, we are before the beginning even begins. You taking the throne is precipice for the change that we can enact. So much change needs to be enacted…” Heledd said, her tone trailing off to a whisper as she considered what she wanted to be done. She broke her contemplations to see that Creirwy’s face had grown frosty, ice creeping across her every expression. Heledd’s mouth twitched slightly as she wondered what she said this time to offend Creirwy.

“You are correct, it is only the beginning. Still, it doesn’t hurt to revel in our success, no?” Creirwy responded.

“But we haven’t succeeded yet. Please, if you may put your sample in that,” Heledd reached out and tapped the box, “and we get word that it has been successful, I promise to revel in our success with you.” Heledd gave Creirwy a weak smile, hoping to placate her sudden change in attitude.

“Certainly, Ms. Heledd.” Creirwy responded with a hint of passive aggression. The ice between them had reformed, and it was unlikely to melt again for a while yet. To be honest, she was unsure if she wanted it to. She realised the best policy in dealing with Creirwy, long ago, was keeping her at arm’s length. Her mood swings were too violent and drastic for her to cope with, nor was it her responsibility to now.

Heledd sighed as Creirwy stood up from her chair, leaving the room through the door to the nun’s dormitories. A blast of wind from the door closing caused Heledd to shiver in response. Though she did not know if it were from air touching her wet hair and clothes, reminding her of their cold, or from the break in tension that cracked her attempt at stoic calmness. Or what she thought was a decent attempt at stoic calmness, at least.

After a while waiting, she stood from her own chair, which hissed in relief from the removal of her weight. It was an old chair, she supposed. She exited the room through the same doorway as Creirwy. A corridor led away from the common room, and wooden doors faced each other symmetrically across from opposite walls.

As she strode down the hallway, her boots clicked against the wooden flooring echoing ahead against the silence. She came across a forked hallway and turned right, following the simple torches that lined the walls between each door. Halfway down this corridor, she came upon her dormitory room, and opened the door entering inside.

Similar to the common room, her dormitory was sparse and simple, only containing an oak bed and bedding, a table, a study desk and a chair. In the corner there was a small wardrobe that fitted her clothes, and slightly above it to the right was a small cut out window that let sunlight into the room. She could hear the slight pitter-patter of the rain against the windowpane as the raindrops rushed down its surface.

On the walls hung two paintings that she, herself, chose. The first depicted a man dressed in silk red robes and a halo standing under the Creator on a rugged shard of terrain. The Creator was floating in space, standing between the earthly and heavenly bodies with arms outstretched and his palms facing towards each other.

The second painting depicted a woman with white majestic, feathered wings pluming from her back. In her arms she supported a man with a bramble crown upright before a crowd gathered before them, bent prostrate in worship. At the crowned man’s flanks was a woman riding a lioness with an elongated neck from which extended eight heads; and a skeleton with a golden longsword in hand dressed in robes atop a white horse.

She had each of these paintings commissioned after reading a passage that referenced them from a book once long banned by the Church, but later restored to religious use under the new reign of Pontiff Innocent. She had tried to locate the originals many a times, but it seemed they were lost to this age.

She walked over to her study desk, taking a seat after lighting a candle on the tabletop. There was not much light today for the dark sky blotted out much of the sun. Black ink on a page was illumined under the orange light, the book had been moved from the desk’s drawer by Heledd and was placed under scrutiny. The words on the page were a harsh criticism against something the writer deemed iniquitous.

‘Ruthless and tyrannical; irritable; conceited; stubborn; wicked; extravagant; jealous; stingy; arrogant. To achieve the ends, I must hold the burden of these flaws a little longer. Potential remedy and penance for these sins, to counter-balance and restore virtue, is self-flagellation, self-condemnation, and prayer and deference to God.’

Heledd took out her feathered quill, dipping it into an inkwell, and wrote carefully in continuation from the last entry. It scratched roughly against the page as the words dried behind the nib.

‘It is best that I maintain a military position until my temperamental nature and self-discipline passes the threshold where I wouldn’t be a flawed leader and is ultimately satisfactory. I must be truly pious before I enact the change the world needs, else when I take power, I will not be much different from those that came and tried before me.’

‘Yet, to spite my best efforts to wait until I achieve piety, I have been tasked with several high-level operations that continuously cause senior members to call my status into question, particularly my relations with the upper echelons of the Scholars. That I have undue influence for my lowly status.’

‘I have unintentionally drawn unsavoury attention to myself which is potentially catastrophic. In order to diminish people’s doubts about me, I will not take any positions. Therefore, I must maintain my military position at all costs.’

Heledd placed the quill back into the inkwell after completing that sentence. She stared before her, looking at the white walls in silence while images appeared in her mind. She saw the fire and flames roil and burn, and from within, vile screams erupted painfully. They came not only from the sinners, but the reverent as well, both condemning each other alike to the Inferno. She blinked.

She heard the wood creek and the metal crack as the trapdoors sounded. Then bones break while the mouths gasped, the ropes straining as the bodies hung limp. She saw the glint of shining metal, then felt the plunge of the blade into flesh with the spurting of blood onto clothes. Each time it felt harder to wash away. She blinked.

Finally, she heard her own voice, though not spoken from her mouth. The flickering of pages, then the bliss of channelling Malevolency. The dull sound of flesh collapsing to the ground, one after another after another. She blinked again.

The scenes in her mind disappeared, and the next act of her penance began once more. She untied her belt, and her clothes gently fell to the floor, blossoming around her like the petals of a rose. Her penance began with the crack of a whip against flesh, and the hollow thuds of blood dripping on the wooden floor and her woollen cassock and gown.