"Do you know what the Ministry is, Quies?"
"No… is he a part of it?"
"I'll get to that."
The sun crept over the horizon—the ocean finally basking in its golden light. Darkness shone a clean blue, the distant fog receding. The cold morning air blew across the deck of the ship as Quies drew in a cold, sharp breath. Unfortunately, he didn't have a coat like Valerie's.
"They're godseekers, Quies. Willing to destroy entire civilizations for a single drop of divine ichor.
"Say, Quies, have you heard of the story of Celtor, the drowned citadel?"
He took a moment to go through his memories, seeing if he could remember.
He didn't recall any story about a city named Celtor. However, he clearly remembered a story which depicted the drowning of a citadel. It was a story his parents recited to him often, of course—etched into his mind like carvings on a stone tablet.
"Maybe. How does it go?"
"Once upon a time, a prosperous city stood tall above the waves… Does that remind you of anything?"
It did, in fact, remind him of something. A classic.
"...yeah, actually. I remember that story well."
"Alright. Tell me, how does the story go?"
Quies waited for a moment to fully recall the details of the story. The city was great and prosperous, the district of commerce specifically…
"Covetous buyers were flush with money, the restaurants were heavy with chatter and gossip. The city looked flawless from the outside."
Valerie listened with rapt attention as he recalled the rest of the story. Her face didn't express much, but inside, she was slightly surprised. This tale had only really been told to Divers like her.
Because this story wasn't a tale, it was history. The city which it described was the city of Celtor, a once prosperous citadel for commerce. Now, it's gone—completely wiped off the face of lumen and its luminants. However, the city still lives, somewhat.
That's because the city of Celtor wasn't actually destroyed—it was drowned. That's why it's called the drowned city, residing beneath the tides in the hell that is the depths. Divers like Valerie basically lived their whole lives down there. In fact, the Divers have an established compound reminiscent of a castle, nestled in a crevice. Sometimes, her expeditions would lead to the Drowned City of Celtor, and she could see its hollow grandness in all of its old glory.
The center of the citadel was a place of salvation. People think that once you get sent to the depths, there's no going back. But, there, at the center of the-
"Valerie?"
She perked up, her train of thought broken.
"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah?"
"Why does the story matter?"
She looked at him blankly. The sound of chains rattling and creaking echoed through her mind.
"Right, the story. Well, actually, it isn't really a story, Quies. It's a recounting of the Great Drowning of Celtor. That's why I know it as the story of Celtor."
"So Celtor was the city… that was drowned? Drowning… so that means it's in the depths."
"Yes. Do you know who drowned it?"
"The person who usurped the throne, pretending to be king."
"Yes. and that man was part of the ministry. Actually, not just a part of the ministry, he was one of their prophets."
Quies paused, letting the information sink in.
So, the story he had been told his whole life wasn't fiction—it was real. The city that drowned was Celtor, and now, it laid beneath the tides.
So that means that there once was a prosperous city named Celtor, known well for its district of commerce. The covetous men and women, flush with money, were real, and the restaurants heavy with gossip and chatter were, too. Its tall stone walls were made of stone from here, in lumen, and its wood tailored from trees throughout the luminants.
That meant the false ruler was real too. He who usurped the throne and swindled the people, planting false thoughts and memories in their minds. Soon enough, the people believed.
And he who swindled, who tricked, and who ultimately drowned the great citadel was a prophet of the ministry, a godseeker.
A nascent thought began forming in his mind.
"And the lord regent of Etris, the false king of Etris, is a prophet too. The fourth prophet, actually."
Valerie recoiled after saying the name. A subtle, yet sharp pain shot through her mind for a split second.
The moment she said this, all the pieces began to connect in Quies' mind.
'Prophet… so that's what she was talking about when interrogating me… Etris… Celtor… false king… drowning…'
"Etris is drowning."
Valerie nodded her head in confirmation.
"And that man, the lord regent—Zi'eer, fourth prophet of the ministry—is behind it all. That's his truth. That's his goal."
The two sat there, basking in the profanity of their revelations.
Quies' home, Etris, would be drowned by its own 'lord'... a false lord.
Valerie was right. The fates of every single soul there were doomed the moment the mental veil was placed on them.
The restaurant owner who cooked up a gigantic slice of fish… The store owner who, by now, probably has a crew that's working on fixing the dent he made… The seasoned blacksmith who forged his zweihander…
They were all going to be dead soon.
Even his house he grew up in… his home library…
'The book… wait, the book!'
Quies' eyes suddenly widened in shock.
"Valerie, did you by chance see a book with a leather cover on it… near the spot?"
"A book? Depths no… I was dead set on getting us out of there!"