“The main division between the Church of Kargathax and the Church of Astralis is who brought the saints and champions to our world. One obviously sees High Goddess Astralis of the stars and heavens as the one who delivered us from evil. The other sees the ancient Dragon God of Life as the one who well gave us life from evil." - Lector Dorian Ehrlich, Arterian Academy of Social Research - Lecture on Divisions of the Church

A great hall was normally filled to the brim with vibrant and boisterous voices, with crowds of servants, visitors and other such guests enjoying a merry time while imbibing copious amounts of bad ideas. Yet today was not one such day. The table was filled, like always, but instead of nobles and guests it was a meeting of military and political minds. Generals, kings, and other dignitaries sat with a somber mood as they listened to a man clad in brown and white. Sparsely decorated grey stone walls and timber roofs adorned with barely any finery reflected the tense mood as soft candlelight and sunlight shining through the window brought about the slightest bit of levity amidst the deteriorating atmosphere.

Standing up on a podium a short but lean figure stood at attention, his plain frock and garments a sharp contrast to the regal robes, finery and jewels on display from his audience.

“Our clerics are almost certain that we are overdue for another demonic incursion. The weakened seals binding the Fell ones are a sure sign as ever that calamity looms on the horizon. Hence why we need to begin properly preparing a response and see the north act in a unified manner.” Bishop Garrick pleaded, the spittle landing on his scraggly unkempt beard.

“We understand the church’s concern but you cannot be so presumptuous as to suggest our forces place ourselves under the command of heretics!” Duke Louis Rosengart argued, slamming his fist on the table. “Carrador attended these talks because we genuinely thought you sought for us to come together in an accord, not for one of your church’s wild goose chases.”

Clad in crimson and green, the man proved an imposing figure as even while seated he remained about as tall as the priest. Negotiations were going poorly and despite hours of discussion, little had been agreed upon and Duke Rosengart found himself sweating not from pressure, but from the sheer frustration at the pace of the talks. Rolling his eyes in annoyance, the Duke traded an exasperated look with his wife as the other representatives began speaking.

“For once we agree with you wild folk, our liege thought that your message was one of negotiation to bring stability in the region, not some misguided attempt to put us under human direction.” Echoed an elf, a look of disapproval etched into his face as well.

“Ack, no! I mean yes we need to act as a unified force with ecclesiastical supervision but it is not being asked on a whimsy. We have credible reports that the Principalities have come under attack through the deadlands and…”

Holding up a hand, the man seated at the head of the table quickly silenced the priest. At once the bishop stopped speaking and even Duke Rosengart could feel the icy chill sweep across the room as everyone turned their eyes to the man. Volksgrad was a nascent nation, carved out through sheer willpower and force from the wilderness of the untamed forests of the Mistveil as they bled into the frozen taiga of the Northern Principalities. King Wulfgar was the man who had led his people to statehood through blood and violence and yet was ironically the strongest proponent of diplomacy in the face of stronger neighbours. But rumours did him no justice, despite the man's simple if much more well groomed looks, there was a fire that burned in the young lord's eyes that even Louis respected. When Wulfgar spoke, people listened, and when he acted, they followed.

It was his suggestion that the growing hostilities between the neighbours were to be mediated through words. It was his offer to put Volksgrad at risk to host the armed delegations from three opposing factions. This was a man who put his beliefs into action and for that, he had more spine than the rest of the cowards in this room.

“Bishop, with all due respect, the Frostwind pass remains relatively untenable during these few months, we cannot independently verify those claims. If what you say is true then of course we need to mobilize,” King Wulfgar said, earning himself nods from the gathered representatives. “Volksgrad will always stand ready but we cannot sacrifice our armies, hells, our people. On just the idea that the great enemy has once again returned! Might I point out that it is not just Kargrathaxian teachings, but that of the Astralian church that also states that through great sacrifices, and the emergence of the outlanders, that peace and stability was achieved?!”

“Of course but that doesn’t mean it lasting…”

“But don’t you all also preach about how the Goddess herself sent heroes who bravely sealed the Fell ones up? And should that seal be within the purview of the church then could we not just send our own realm mages to help bolster the seal?” Wulfgar continued, his voice barely changing in intonation but the meaning was clear, the bishop had one last chance to explain himself.

“King Wulfgar is right, Bishop, and as my counterparts have stated it will be a hard sell to place our troops under a crusader’s banner whilst they continue to encroach on our territory.” The Meltonian gestured an accusatory finger at Duke Rosengart.

The sniveling weasel of a man was the Meltonian kingdom's representative to the peace talks and Louis could not help but sneer at the man. From his gaudy yellow but gold tinted shirt, to the ugly jewels that adorned the frills, truly, was he a perfect example of the pretentious and greedy nature of the Meltonians. Duke Louis couldn't wait to put him in his place, the only regret that he couldn't just pummel the man to the ground.

“Oh? And was it not your people that dragged ours into slavery? To sell them as part of your…” He stood up and yelled his retort at the weasel, certain the man's reaction only for a small hand to tug his sleeve to draw his gaze sideways.

“Darling, you’re right about that, and it is a concern. But the Bishop seems to have words and we should likely listen.” Gerhild Rosengart spoke softly from his side, her kind smile shining radiantly even while her hazel eyes warned him of the consequences should he ignore her. Like an assassin toying with her prey.

With a sigh, he sat back down and sank into his seat, “Of course. My apologies Bishop Garrick.” His wife was, after all, always right.

“Many thanks, Duchess. I am not implying that the church will become the sole arbiter of the troops, of course it will be a unified force.”

“And just work side by side whilst they willingly strip my people from their forests, their resources and freedoms? Impossible. All the while they themselves complain of slavery,” A second elven representative, chimed in, glaring at the Duke.

“I must reiterate once again that Carrador has never willingly endorsed such actions nor have we, despite our state of armed conflict.” He replied with grit teeth. The prissy knife eared pricks were the first to encroach deep into Carradorian territory, and for them to dare suggest that reclaiming their lost lands was somehow a crime boggled his mind.

“Tell that to the hundreds of elven men and women you have thrown to the wolves.”

“Oh? And are you telling me that the Myndiri did not in fact conquer most of the known world and…”

“That was a millennia ago fair Duke.”

“That might be but your people haven’t stopped trying have they? Is it really only the elves being tossed away or are you just turning humanity into cattle like your ancestors!” The Duke roared, their occupation of Carrador's northern territories and subsequent crimes against its people could not be forgiven through dialogue. He was willing to set aside their immediate differences to face a common foe, but the gall for these bastards to speak ill of Carrador.

“You say that but Carrador encroaches on everyone’s territory and how strange is it that we have never received many reports from captured villages that everything was fine? You do the very same thing that you accuse them of.” The Meltonian squeaked at him. The weasel dares interrupt!

“And you Meltonians control the under-markets, where do all our villagers and soldiers go hmm?” Duchess Rosengart joined the debate, adding a voice to the defence of Carrador.

“Please everyone…” Bishop Garrick pleaded.

“That is an unsubstantiated rumor!” The weasel yelled back, "We, unlike you, have always respected both individual rights and the need for our kingdoms to coexist. There is no evidence to suggest otherwise, beyond hearsay and false tales made up by your instigators."

“I truly do wish it was my lord, but everyday we argue more of our frontiersmen go missing. More of our patrols are ambushed and killed along the border towns. What then would you say happened? That hundreds of people just slit their own throats and vanished?” The Duchess spoke haughtily as she grew more heated.

“Are you saying you do not do that to our people as well Duchess? You have persecuted my kind for simply being different, don’t try to hide the fact that your king has passed a decree specifically targeting the elvish diaspora.” One of the elves chimed in.

“It was a decree focused on internal threats and infiltrators, nowhere does it say ‘persecute the elves’.”

“Enough!” Wulfgar slammed the table into silence, "My apologies for being presumptuous in giving you orders, master and mistress elves. But I do agree that perhaps a little bit of time to ourselves will…cool our tempers. It is all very valid but perhaps…a calmer discussion might prove more fruitful.” King Wulfgar said. “Please, let us reconvene in an hour, enjoy what Volksgrad has to offer and return with…clearer heads.”

A round of sighs and huffs echoed from around the table and Bishop Garrick nodded in acquiescence as he wiped the sweat off his brow. The representatives gradually filtered out and throughout the great hall, returning to their rooms or heading off into the city.

“I shall remain here if you don’t mind.” Duke Louis told his wife.

“Of course dear, in that case shall I send off the kids with the household guard? The king's guard should be enough for the two of us and I suspect we will be here quite a while longer.” Duchess Rosengart queried.

“Of course, that should not be a problem?” Duke Louis turned to ask the King and Bishop, receiving two shakes in return. “Very well, tell the kids I love them.”

“Of course darling, I shall be back soon.”

With Duchess Gerhild leaving, only Wulfgar, Garrick, Louis and the weasel remained. Though the Meltonian was too busy rearranging his outfit for the umpteenth time to pay much attention to Louis's hostile glare.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Your children find the city alright?” Wulfgar asked with a small chuckle, breaking the silence.

“Huh? Of course, it’s certainly... different from Neun Carad...a big more uh, rustic, no offence meant, but every bit as welcoming if not more so.” He reassured the king.

“Good, good, I was surprised that anyone would bring their children along to such a summit but Volksgrad will always provide.” Wulfgar laughed, "Please, don't hold back, I think we are all very much aware how...backwards my people seem to all of you."

“My sincere apologies once again, wise king, I meant no such thing. It's just that my eldest holds a great affinity for martial skills and I figured they would enjoy experiencing their time here. Given Volksgrad's ruggedness and your history and all.”

“Good, I am glad your family can enjoy their time here. Perhaps next we meet our circumstances would not be so dire eh? Bishop, what is your take of the current situation?”

Bishop Garrick shifted nervously in his seat, he was uncertain how to proceed. Though the Archbishop and other lectors had given him ample evidence and instructions, the nobles had not quite been as on board as he thought, and with snowfall cutting off the pass, any updates from the north were hard to acquire.

“Well, if you insist. I would say that I am disappointed you are all unable to come to some sort of compromise. The threat of the Fell ones is not to be looked down upon.”

“And I can assure you Bishop we are not taking it lightly, but neither is rash action going to benefit us without building the ample amount of support amongst our people. It is truly a shame that the Ingramarian envoy could not attend, they would’ve probably shed a clearer picture of what is required.”

A series of polite nods went around the table until the door to the great-halls burst open, a tired and sweaty looking soldier came through, giving a hastily salute.

“My liege, arriving late may I present Oraetor Vitellius and Inquisitors Viktor von Krantz and his retinue.”

Behind him, clad in a robe with red and blue striped patterns decorating it, a middle aged priest emerged with a man clad fully in black leather armour.

Almost on cue, the rest of the delegations began shuffling back in, the news having reached them as the new arrivals caused quite a stir throughout the city, with one notable exception being his wife who had not yet returned.

Exchanging the briefest pleasantries, the Oraetor immediately took to addressing the room.

“The Church of Astralis has only recently learned of what was being discussed here, and after consulting our own diviners and starseers, we have concluded that nothing abnormal has occurred.”

The portly man had carried himself differently than Bishop Garrick had, a sense of confidence and bravado oozed from him even if his shifty looks inspired more doubt than reassurance. Though his lack of any prominent facial hair showed the same weasely focus to pretence that the Meltonians shared, there was a certain feeling that remained different. He knew what he was and embraced it, that much Louis could respect even if he found the idea of such an indulgent priest abhorrent.

Almost immediately an uproar followed as the various nobles began pointing fingers at each other for wasting time, but most of all at the Church of Kargathax for misleading them. Garrick leaned into his seat in shock, he didn’t understand how they could say that, he saw the divinations himself, the Fell God was awakening and terrors roamed the land. The archbishop himself had told him the Church of Astralis had also been informed so why? He glanced up at the Oraetor to see the man’s emotionless face let loose a small smirk.

“However, in light of such serious allegations, the council of Stellar Guidance has decided to dispatch two inquisitorial teams and attached paladins and clerics to investigate such a matter and assist our…faith divided brothers of the Church of Kargathax.” The Oraetor continued, “This is Inquisitor Von Krantz." He gestured at the black clad figure beside him, "He shall be the main liaison aside from myself to direct the investigation in the North, another collegue, Inquisitor Serilda who is unfortunately not present right now, shall investigate the claims in the Principalities post haste, provided the Kargathaxians allow us leeway to assist.”

“You shall lead?” Louis queried with a raised eyebrow at the relative unknown. He knew how heated the two churches could get when their sects crossed the unspoken boundaries into each others territory.

“Of course, I am well versed in affairs of the north, I assure you.” The emotionless man bowed politely at the question.

“And this team going to Ingmarian territory, surely this is the best outcome Bishop?” King Wulfgar interjected, “Should there be real signs of danger, the Church of Astralis is in a better position to mobilize the other nations. No offense. We will of course, support Kargathaxian endeavours when we are called upon as the situation changes.”

“Of..of course not, wise king, I suppose, if there is no other option.” Bishop Garrick agreed hastily, his mind still reeling from the Oraetor’s demands. To let loose a team of inquisitors in rival clerical territory was unheard of, sure every once in a while a squad or two from their respective domains would go north or south to hunt their own fugitives. But for a whole detachment? Garrick worried he had too readily succumbed to pressure, but what more could he do?

Inquisitor Viktor Von Krantz sat idly in the dining hall, staring at the now empty plate of food and drink when Oraetor Vitellius emerged back from his excursion.

“My lord.” Viktor saluted and Vitellius returned it.

“Please, don’t mind me.”

“Of course.”

The two sat down, a tense silence as they subtly scanned the room around them, the meeting had ended hours ago but one could never be too careful.

“What do you think?” Vitellius asked.

“I think it went about as well as could be expected.” Viktor responded.

“And what do you think of the Bishop?”

“I think he is good natured, if a bit meek, but a useful ally to have around.”

“Certainly, I believe Serilda will have her work cut out for her with the Bishop’s assistance.”

“My assessment as well sir.”

“Tch always so formal.” Vitellius pulled out a flask from under his robes, “Drink?”

“Of course sir.”

“Splendid.”

The Oraetor poured some into Viktor’s empty cup before lifting his flask for a toast.

“To new ventures, graced by the stars.”

“Graced by the stars.” The Inquisitor echoed as he drank the liquid.

The two took a swig as they tried their best to remain silent, casting another brief glance around the room before the Oraetor spoke again.

“I am still unsure of the report you wrote, was everything in it completely true?”

“As close to accurate as I could be sir, unfortunately it was mostly penned by the Carradorians so I am not certain of all the contents besides the parts I wrote.” Viktor hung his head down in slight shame.

“Tch, it matters not, but would you say that it mostly chronicles what happened to the expedition?”

“That I can confirm.”

“Good. In that case the oracles and starseers were correct.” The Oraetor sighed in relief.

“Sir?”

Vitellius pulled out a small set of papers from under his sleeves, wrapped with a nice looking papal seal.

“If your report and the seers were accurate, then this is our chance to seal the Fell God’s powers for ourselves. I admire the Kargathaxi, their methods are far more direct and their resolutions far more firm. But they are incapable of their duties and we must secure the Fell God’s energy before they do.”

“Sir.”

“Their faith is great, but their military arm is unprepared. To let them continue to safeguard such dangerous magicks would doom us all. Furthermore, we have several reports of botched summoning experiments all across the northern nations.”

“Then they too believe this threat to be real?”

“Yes, but they’re too stubborn to admit it in front of each other, pah. Nevertheless, it is this that concerns me.” Vitellius pulled out another scroll from his sleeves, much to Viktor’s amusement.

Unfurling a map he drew Viktor’s gaze to the Highwall mountains and Carrador.

“Sir?”

“Here and here. One in elvish territory and one within Carrador.”

“Summoned champions?”

“Likely so, but what was unusual is that it was eight to six years ago.”

“Uhh so we have them? Or let them go?” Viktor scratched his head, it wasn't an unusual phenomenon for the church to ignore summoned champions during eras of peace, but he still found himself batting an eyelid whenever the fact was brought up.

“Not exactly, we couldn't find them because the seers had not predicted any turmoil and if they kept the land peaceful then so be it, the less work we need to do the better. But…”

“But?”

“It was a summoning ritual of incredible proportion, much more mana involved than we ever expected. Do you remember when the Stellar Observatory malfunctioned?”

“It was a while back, yes.” Viktor nodded, a sinking feeling growing within him.

“We suspected it was this ritual conducted poorly so we thought nothing more of it. Like a feedback loop gone wrong as the summoning happened, so we let it slide, no real need as I said before. Which brings us to now," Vitellius paused for another swig, "Normally we would want you to bring them in or just let it slide and that is that.”

“And this one is different because?”

“Because of what the Kargathaxians told us about the Fell one’s and that the seers have felt the fluctuations of divine energies once again, and wouldn’t you know it. It was the exact same energy from six years ago, a dark and malevolent mana that briefly disabled the Observatory.” Vitellius said, his voice growing cold. Taking another swig from the flask Vitellius unsealed one of the papers, breaking the papal binding holding it together.

“You suspect the dark mana and the Fell one’s rise is connected?”

“Suspect? We are almost certain something is happening. The attacks on Ingramar? Serilda and her team have already been to the area and recovered a survivor.”

“I thought we just negotiated for them to enter?” Viktor replied with a surprised look on his face.

“As if the Inquisition ever needed permission to operate besides for show.” Vitellius chuckled grimly. In an instant his face grew dark, “You see this seal?” He held up the unbound paper.

“Yes sir.”

“You might know it as the Pontiff’s mark, whatever you need, the council will provide. Find this summoned champion Viktor, we all remember Saint Theobald the Great saving us from the first demons a millennia ago, few remember how he grew enamoured with power and led the Second and Third Dark tides against life itself before we put him down.”

“My lord…so you suspect that…”

“Not me, us, the Stellar Council suspects that we are in the midst of the birth of another Dark Champion. Bring them back to us so that we might save them, but kill them if you must, whatever the cost.”

Viktor merely nodded. Vitellius was, based on his time spent with the portly man, an idiot who schemed perhaps a bit too much for a man of the cloth, he certainly spent more time without it in brothels. Yet to see such a corrupt man grow so grim worried Viktor. This was serious.

“Would there be anything else, my lord?”

“Right,” Vitellius pulled out a final paper from his sleeve, “By order of the Stellar Council and High Inquisitor Maximus I hereby grant you the authority to call upon both the Order of the Cursed Hunt, and the Order of Silence in your endeavor. May the witch hunters and the venatus assassins serve you like the templars have, Viktor. They will have a contingent stationed in Eichafen that you are to meet up with before anything. We’ll try to keep the authorities off your back while you work.”

“And you say I'm formal sir.”

Vitellus chuckled as he brushed it aside, “To think you can joke around amuses me. But Viktor, listen closely. The council trusts you, because you have remained faithful to the church, heh even more than me if I’m being candid. But I can’t be a terrible example of an Oraetor if there’s no one left to set examples for, so, get it done, be the man I couldn’t be. Astralis guide you.”

Standing up, Vitellius left Viktor staring dumbfounded at the various papers splayed out on the table. Though he had served faithfully for decades, he had never seen the church so rattled as to extend so many resources for, well, anything. So this is the start of the end times huh? It feels so…so anti-climactic, just find the champion of darkness and kill them before the Fell God rises, easier said than done. He chuckled to himself before picking up the map examining the scribbles and began adding his own annotations, Well then, let the hunt begin.