Noah furrowed his brow and his eyes inspected the small, well-lit room.

There was nothing much in the way of furniture - a chair, a small table filled with potion jars and healing salves, and a simple bed. And yet, in this bare room, two brilliant golden poles stood erect at the upper left and lower right corner of the bedstead. Their soft light gilded the white, linen sheets and bounced back from the thick, golden ring clasped around the neck of the bed’s occupant.

“Aren’t three relics a bit of an overkill, Your Holiness?” Noah’s quiet words sounded slightly amplified by the low vaults.

“Unconscious he might be, he is still a kush-turgan.” Bishop Petronius’ voice matched his rigid figure. “It doesn’t hurt to be careful.”

Noah nodded, but a sliver of uneasiness crept into his heart.

He didn't much like the artifacts used by the Church. At least with the Binshi’s magic, he knew how it was evoked and what the dangers and limitations were. But with the heirlooms of Saint Markus, this wasn’t the case. The Church kept the creation process and any helpful information about the holy relics a secret, vaguely claiming them to channel the grace of the Saints and the Two Gods with only the righteous being able to wield them. But there were some inconsistencies with that statement.

While it was true that most relics could only be used by sworn priests, that wasn’t always the case like with Nerodris and Lionheart - the Crown Prince’s signet ring. Besides, excluding the ancient artifacts from the era of the Saints, the Church still produced some protection and purification items, though in lesser numbers and quality.

The secrecy around the holy artifacts had always piqued Noah’s interest. As a child, when visiting the Pontifical Cathedral in Limris with the rest of the imperial family, he had seen the incorruptible corpse of Saint Arslan, entombed in a golden sarcophagus. Since all available sources claimed that protection artifacts negating magic all carried the blessing and a piece of essence from Saint Arslan, his then-young self had let his imagination loose. In a fit of mental agility, he had believed that the priests were pulling hairs and gathering nail clippings from the shriveled old man’s never-decaying body.

Just like in his youth, the thought of someone constantly poking, pinching, and desecrating a poor old man’s body made Noah shiver in disgust. Nevertheless, his curiosity remained. No, it wasn't curiosity but a necessity, born from the need to protect his people. Wards to counteract magic, no matter how powerful, were unreliable as long as one had no idea of the way they were constructed. But now he held the means to solve this conundrum. What he needed was to get his hands on a protective relic from the stingy Bishop Petronius and have Castor take it apart and study it. After all, Nerodris was not an option for various reasons, chiefly because he didn’t want the poor boy to turn insane, or worse.

Satisfied with his decision, Noah returned his full attention to the bed and Kush-turgan Nekor, currently resting under the white sheets.

“Anything new?” he asked, eyeing the Binshi’s gaunt and slightly graying face.

“He is alive and his body is healing.” Bishop Petronius shook his head. “But I can’t speak for his mind and soul. He has been delirious most of the time, mumbling incoherently. From what we’ve gathered, he claims that he’s innocent and Akh-Moren had hexed him and forced his hand.”

“Any reasons to believe his statements?”

Noah locked his jaw and tried to remain calm. He had hoped Nekor was at least a close associate of Akh-Moren with vital knowledge of that lunatic’s plans. Unfortunately, their altercation on Silver-wing Planes and Nekor’s current babble were proving him wrong.

“As much as I’d hate to admit it, he isn’t in a state where he could consciously lie. Whether someone has played with his mind and planted some dubious memories is an entirely different question we can’t answer yet.”

“I expect you to pursue the matter with due diligence, Your Holiness,” said Noah quietly, looking at the delirious Binshi. “Inform me as soon as you learn more. Until then-”

A strong tremor shook the vaults and fine dust rained down from the ceiling. The room’s door sprang open with a bang and the two armed priests guarding outside flew in.

“Your Holiness, Your Highness, what happened?” one of them nervously asked while his friend was holding his short spear ready to face any potential attackers.

“Whatever it was, it didn’t originate here.” Noah ruffled his hair to shake off the dust.

“It was likely a small earthquake,” said Bishop Petronius, surprisingly calm, but his wandering eyes betrayed his nervousness.

“I don’t think so,” Noah stomped on the floor and tilted his head. “The ground wasn’t shaking. It felt like it was coming from above.”

“Whatever it was, you shouldn’t linger here any longer for your own safety.” The first guard studied the thick stone slabs of the ceiling, his face conveying the expected fear of potentially being buried alive.

“I agree.” Noah pointed at Nekor. “Can he be moved?”

“He won’t get any worse than if we let him get buried here,” said Bishop Petronius and motioned to the guards to carry the Binshi out.

The priests hurriedly plugged the two rod-shaped artifacts from the ground and fastened them with some sturdy belts along the sides of Nekor’s bedding, turning it into a quite passable stretcher.

“The wisemen of old were quite practical people.” Bishop Pertonious gave Noah’s surprised expression a satisfied chuckle before heading towards the door. “After all, the relics were created and used in times of war.”

Noah refrained from commenting and just followed him along the winding path.

Their small group soon reached the staircase leading up to the cathedral’s main corpus. However, the well-lit hallway and the broad marble steps no longer existed. Instead, a thick wall of dust and a pile of rubble blocked their way.

“D-Dear Fathers!” Bishop Petronius coughed and held the broad sleeve of his habit before his mouth. “What happened up there?”

Noah ignored him and ran past the petrified priests, his heart twisting in fear.

Lorelei was up there! He had left her with that fat priest. They were supposed to tour the cathedral while he was away. Was she caught in whatever mishap occurred up there?

The sheer thought made his limbs grow cold. Without further deliberation, his fingers dug into the rubble, grabbing and pulling out a heavy chunk of masonry. The moment he did that, an avalanche of smaller fragments and sharp pebbles struck him in the face and chest, forcing him with a thud against the opposite wall.

“Your Highness!” Petronius and the guards shouted in fear.

The old Bishop leaped forward and pulled at his arm with all his strength.

“D-Damn!” Noah coughed and groaned, trying to wriggle his body free of the rubble. “It’s too dangerous that way. We’ve been buried in good.”

“You acted way too recklessly!” The old cleric huffed but Noah could sense the fright and relief emanating from his body.

“I did.” He rubbed a sleeve over his dust-covered face. “Now what?”

“Now we follow the Two Fathers’ guidance,” said Bishop Petronius and threw a final glance at the blocked exit.