The trails of incense smoke still hung in the air, curling lazily around Hierophant Laverdirus's open palm as it hovered above the chair. The tent was steeped in heavy silence—thick with the expectation of obedience.
"Come now, Praefectus," Laverdirus said at last, his tone edged with irony. "We have other matters to attend." His eyes glimmered with an unearned satisfaction.
"On that, Your Reverence, I agree," I replied, my voice steady. "We do have much work ahead of us—and this is neither the time, nor the place, nor your duty to demand that I explain my actions to you."
I remained where I stood, arms folded across my chest—a silent testament to the time I had already wasted waiting.
His grey eyes burned.
"You mean to tell me, Praefectus, that it is not my duty to seek answers about the removal of one of the Lifegiver's faithful from His grace?" he snapped, one hand closing on the chair's wooden frame until his knuckles paled.
"Of course it is, Your Reverence," I replied, steady. "You have duty to the Gods and your clergy. But I have duty to our people as well. That is my charge." I did not falter; I had done what I believed right for the living.
"And who bestowed that power upon you, Praefectus?" he barked, a purple vein throbbing at his temple as his silver hair trembled with the force of his words. "Who made you judge and executioner of a man of faith?"
"The Emperor's trust and the command given me to lead this cohort," I answered. "And the failure of your order to learn restraint."
He flinched as if struck. "Do you mean to suggest we are to blame for what happened?" His eyes narrowed; wounded pride sharpened his tone into accusation.
"If the Hierophant beside you had been able to contain the grace he called upon, I would not have been forced to cut him from the Light before he burned us all to oblivion." My voice stayed firm—truth spoken plainly, even if it wounded.
"And those foul creatures you insist on calling pitiable—weren't they responsible for the devastation? You choose poorly who deserves your mercy, Paladin," he hissed, venom prickling each syllable.
"You Paladins drown in pain and call it faith," he continued. "Be careful not to blind yourself in the absence of His Light."
"Pain keeps us tethered to those we protect, Your Reverence," I shot back. "The Sisters grant us their gifts, but they demand that we remember the cost. You enjoy the luxury of distance from mortality. Both of us have a place bound by duty—do not mistake my compassion for weakness." My arms tightened at my sides to hold the calm I could not let slip.
The scent of burning wood reached me—it was the chair, smoldering faintly beneath the Hierophant's grip.
"Hush now, children," came her voice from nowhere, a whisper carried by the folds of the air itself.
"You remember how to play nicely with one another, don't you?"
The words slithered through the tent like silk over steel, her tone equal parts amusement and warning. Then she was there—behind Laverdirus, her presence unfolding rather than arriving, her smile both disarming and dreadful.
At once, the Hierophant dropped to his knees in reverence. I followed suit, one knee to the ground, arm across my chest—three fingers pressed in salute.
"Blessed be the Holy Keeper of the Word, who graces us with her presence," intoned the Hierophant, head bowed, eyes fixed on the earth.
"Your Radiance," I echoed softly, lowering my gaze.
"Come now, come now," she chimed, her tone light, almost playful. "Brush yourselves off from your little scuffle. I have an appetite for news—and something tells me you two have plenty to feed me about our new… acquaintance."
Her tongue traced slowly over her lips as she spoke, a gesture that was somehow both languid and gluttonous.
For a fleeting moment, the Hierophant and I exchanged glances—each eager to speak first, each wary of drawing too much of her attention. The silence between us tightened like a noose.
I decided to yield the first words to him. Better to let the Hierophant bask in the peril of her focus while I gathered my thoughts, and perhaps—if the Sisters willed it—spare myself a fraction of her scrutiny.
"Your Holy Radiance," he began, his head bowed low in reverence. "We have come across a creature steeped in heresy, falsehood, and deceit. Its wretched tongue spews only filth—words meant to cloud our sight from its true purpose and nature."
Her obsidian skin caught the candlelight, and for an instant it seemed the flames themselves leaned toward her—drawn, as if yearning to coil around her raised hand. She pressed a thoughtful finger to her lips, eyes half-lidded in amusement.
"And what do you believe that purpose to be, my inquisitive little priest?" she asked, her smile spreading, her gaze gleaming with a hungry delight that made the question feel like a test she already knew the answer to.
"It is a creature of Oblivion—born of ash and brimstone to mock our faith!" His voice grew stronger with every word, fervor overtaking formality. "A being sent to test us, to tempt the weak and faithless into lies and eternal damnation. It and its cursed kin must have been the ones who bewitched the people of Lapurum, forcing us to cleanse them from their unholy existence!"
He raised a trembling hand, eyes shining. "For we are those who will deliver—"
"That will do," the Keeper interrupted softly.
Her tone wasn't loud, yet it cut through the air like a blade. The Hierophant froze, his lips still half-parted, before bowing his head once more. His chest rose and fell sharply, the fire of his sermon still burning in his breath.
"Your excitement for our new friend is noted," she added with a faint smile. "But that will be enough for now."
Her attention shifted to me.
"Tell us now, my sweet paladin," she said, gliding toward me. Each step was slow, deliberate—grace sharpened into something precise, almost surgical. "Is that truly all you learned from your little chat with it… or is there more?" The final words slipped from her lips in a whisper that brushed the air like silk.
"Your Radiance," I began, straightening. "His Reverence, Grand Oscillator Laverdirus Eryx"—I let the title linger just long enough to make the point—"has faithfully conveyed part of what the creature shared with us. Much of its speech was heresy, yes—deliberate distortions meant to provoke and confuse. But amidst that filth, there were fragments… pieces I believe we must address."
I paused, waiting for her acknowledgment before daring to continue.
"I am all ears," she said, hunger still swirling in the vortex of her eyes.
"The creature shared its name—Thaddeus Fogg, it called itself," I began. "It also claimed it was not human, but a being of another kind entirely—something it named Dakobalin. The same name, it said, applied to the others our men fought during the siege."
The words felt strange even as I spoke them aloud; hearing them again made them sound like blasphemy given form.
"It claimed they were summoned from Deawiel," I continued, "which leads me to believe there may be more of its kind in the north. And I suspect the engines they used against us—their blackened tubes—were the purpose for which they were called. That was their… service."
I let the last word linger, allowing the weight of it to settle over the tent.
"Deawiel, you say?" she mused, her tone thoughtful, almost indulgent. "What an interesting place. I remember the northern cliffs—and the salt in the breeze off the Lake—from the last time I visited the North."
Her eyes drifted, unfocused, as though she were watching a memory unfold in another age.
A chill crept through me as I wondered how many years had passed since Deawiel was lost to the Empire—and how far back her visit must have been.
"Truly a beautiful place it was," she said at last, her gaze returning to me, sharpened once more. "Is there anything else you wish to offer us, Praefectus?"
Her tone made the question sound like a test.
"Your Radiance," I replied, choosing my words carefully, "I believe—from what I gathered listening to the creature—that there may be some kind of… organization among them. One that aids the traitors who slither within Almia's faithful, sowing discord where faith still stands. I think we should learn more about them. Strategically, their knowledge—and their intentions—could prove vital to our continued deliverance of justice."
I finished, aware that I had spoken as truthfully as I could under her gaze—and that even so, my words might still be measured and found wanting.
By the time I finished, the Keeper had glided all the way to me. She moved with the slow certainty of someone who never hurried yet always arrived first. Now she trailed at my shoulder, close enough that her breath felt like a warm draft across my ear.
"That's an astute thought, Praefectus—well put." Her voice was soft, almost approving. "How would you like to test it?"
"Your Radiance, I would be glad to organise an expedition," I said, thinking out loud, "but to travel to Deawiel with a full legio—that would be an open invitation to war."
She smiled then, a smile that felt as if it were offering both comfort and a noose. "That is precisely why you will not take the legions with you." Her fingers brushed my shoulder as if to bless me. "You will make a small pilgrimage to Deawiel, Praefectus—unarmed in force, armed only in purpose."
Her words slid over me like oil on steel. "Consider it an act of… atonement," she added, and with a lazy motion of her sleeve she indicated the Hierophant, who watched, incredulous. "For the troubles you and our friend here have wrought."
"Alone, Your Radiance?" I asked, unsure whether her suggestion was serious or some cruel amusement.
"You're right, my sweet paladin," she said brightly. "Let's give you some friends to play with along the way."
The realization that her intent was genuine struck me harder than any jest could.
"I know!" she exclaimed suddenly, delighted by her own thought. "Let's all choose a friend for you."
Her gaze turned to the Hierophant, who stood stiff and pale on the far side of the tent.
"Do you, my little grey priest, have any pals you could spare?" she asked, her head inclining slightly forward, hungry for his reply.
"Your Radiance, after yesterday… my brothers and sisters are almost gone," he said, his tone trembling toward regret. "The entire clergy that took part in this cursed mission was destroyed. Only my retinue survived Your Holiness."
"Hm." She hummed thoughtfully. "I could swear I saw more than enough shaven heads leaving this tent before me for the needs of a single Hierophant."
She feigned puzzlement, and the color drained from Laverdirus's face until his skin matched the linen of his robes.
I will never know whether his next words came from the pressure of her gaze or sheer foolishness.
He stammered, "You are right, Your Holiness—of course you are. How could I forget to mention—Your Radiance had my full attention and my—"
"—And who did you forget to mention, my little grey mouse?" she interrupted softly, her eyes narrowing to slits, the smile on her lips far too kind.
"The only surviving member of Hierophant Damaltius's retinue, Your Radiance," he managed, eyes glued to the ground. "Sister Adrian Serina. She is only an Adept, and I did not suppose she was worthy of mention."
"She sounds perfect, then," the Keeper declared, clapping her fingers together like the soft flutter of wings. "If you couldn't even remember her, she won't be truly missed, will she?"
"Of course not, Your Radiance. She is yours to command, as are all of us," he said quickly, bowing so deeply his voice nearly cracked.
"Excellent," she purred, her smile sharpening as her attention shifted to me. "And as for you, Praefectus… I believe I know who your companion will be. Don't tell me you plan to leave your dear friend behind. We both know he'd wither without you."
I could see Felix's shadow forming already in her words.
"Your Radiance," I said carefully, "I will take the liberty of assuming you refer to Legatus Varian. But in my absence, the Legatus is meant to command the Legio. If both of us are away, the army will be headless."
"Don't trouble yourself over your soldiers, Praefectus," she said with a dismissive wave. "They will not be leaving Lapurum before the rebuilding is complete. I doubt your Legatus possesses any hidden talent for bricklaying, does he?"
"I believe not, Your Radiance," I admitted. "I will inform him myself, if that is acceptable."
"Of course you will, my sweet paladin," she said, smiling. She drew in a long, deliberate breath and let it escape in a sharp exhale through her nose. "Best get moving then—you'll have a long, beautiful journey ahead of you."
Her voice dripped like honey, heavy and impossible to wipe away.
"What about my third companion, Your Radiance?" I asked, half-knowing the peril of my curiosity.
"Let's leave that as a surprise parting gift, shall we?" she said, her tone lilting like a promise and a curse in one.
She raised a hand, her fingers slicing gracefully through the air. "Now off you go."
And just like that, we were dismissed.