The crude symbols on my hidden vellum grew, a secret chronicle of the Montala Church's insidious grasp. Each etched line felt like a small victory, a defiant assertion of my true intellect against the suffocating illusion of this world. Yet, the increased pressure from Valerius was a constant, sharp blade at my throat. His subtle probes had given way to something more direct, more invasive.
My morning lessons with Father Alaric, once predictable exercises in tedium, now served as a stage for Valerius's gambits. He began to introduce impromptu "examinations," not merely of rote scripture, but of logical deduction, framed within Montala's convoluted dogma.
"Elias," Valerius intoned one crisp morning, his voice deceptively smooth, "if a river, pure from its divine source, flows through barren land, and the people thirst, yet the priests claim the water is only for the righteous, what is the duty of a true believer?"
Alaric beamed, expecting a stock answer about faith and obedience. But Valerius's gaze was on me, sharp and expectant. This was a test of ethical reasoning, a probe for independent thought.
I looked at the water basin in the corner of the room, then back at Valerius. My small brow furrowed in a caricature of childish puzzlement. "But Lord Valerius," I piped, my voice carefully modulated to a child's innocent lilt, "if the river is pure, why would people thirst? Doesn't the Lord Montala provide for all His children?" I paused, then added, "Unless... unless the priests are mistaken?"
Alaric coughed, a tight, nervous sound. Valerius, however, merely smiled, a thin, almost imperceptible curving of his lips. "An interesting thought, little one," he said, the words heavy with hidden meaning. "Perhaps the priests are merely testing the faithful. Or perhaps, as you suggest, they are simply... mistaken." He dismissed the topic, but his eyes held a new, calculating glint. My answer hadn't betrayed me, but it hadn't satisfied him either. I had navigated the immediate trap, but the game was escalating.
The danger of Valerius's scrutiny spurred me to greater risks. I needed more concrete evidence, not just the abstract land deeds. I began exploring the Duke's library, not for religious texts, but for historical records, old maps, anything that could corroborate or expand upon the archive's revelations. My limited physical agency meant stealth was paramount. I crawled beneath tables, hid behind tall shelves, and used the chaos of servants' daily tasks to gain brief, precious moments alone with forgotten tomes.
One afternoon, while the Duke was reviewing dispatches with his advisors in an adjacent room, I slipped into his private map chamber. Dust motes danced in the sliver of sunlight, illuminating an array of rolled parchments. My gaze fell upon an old, faded map of the kingdom. It marked the eastern plains – Eldoria – with symbols I now recognized from the archive, denoting Montala Church lands. But what truly captivated me was a small, almost invisible notation, barely legible in tiny script near the border of Eldoria: "Iron Vein, King's Claim, Circa 200 AN."
Iron. The lifeblood of war and industry. If the Church controlled that, their power was even more absolute than I had imagined. And the date—200 AN (After Numa, the kingdom's founding)—placed it generations before the current Prince's rule, suggesting a long-standing, covert usurpation.
A sudden clang of armor from the hallway sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through me. The Duke's guard was changing posts. I quickly re-rolled the map, sliding it back into its slot just as heavy footsteps approached. With a practiced clumsiness, I tumbled out from behind a large globe, feigning curiosity. The guard glanced at me, a young, curious noble child, and grunted, paying no mind as he continued his patrol.
That night, my hidden vellum received new, urgent symbols: a jagged mountain shape, an 'I' for iron, and a date. The Montala Church wasn't just wealthy; they were strategically resource-rich. Their control extended beyond agriculture to the very sinews of war. The layers of their deception were peeling back, revealing a terrifyingly complete domination. The blueprint for their undoing was evolving, from merely exposing land grabs to dismantling a full-spectrum economic and spiritual tyranny. My resolve solidified. The time for the Bible, for reason, was drawing nearer.