Legend Keep

Stormwind City

The stench of ancient tomes and scripts filled the air of the massive study. Samuel had spent countless hours within these walls reading many of the books residing within from cover to cover. While he barely scratched the surface of the library in its entirety, the priest is the only member of the Legend household who has come the closest to finishing them all.

Despite passing a year ago, Renault's presence still lingered heavily in this room. This is where the former head of the Legend household spent most of his time as did his children. Whether they were studying or being scolded, the memories of this place would not be soon forgotten.

Samuel stood above the desk near the back of the chamber carefully rolling parchments into scroll cases and loading them into his leather book strap. Lying next to it was a massive tome, trimmed with gold and ornate silver decorations throughout the cover and spine. This was the priest's most prized possession. Held within the thick book was every speck of knowledge and memory he would ever come to experience throughout his entire life. Every divine incantation he would ever practice to the simplest records of each meal he had consumed was written inside.

The tome was a gift from the priest's father upon his third birthday when he was beginning to learn to speak and write properly. Renault had ordered his son to document as much of life as he could upon those pages because memory was a fickle thing but you could always trust ink and parchment. That was the very first thing inscribed upon the book and one of the few pleasant quotes spoken by him as well.

After the scroll cases were secured into the book strap, Samuel carefully wrapped the leather strips across and around his sacred tome. Though some would exercise more caution with such a treasured possession, the priest preferred the simplicity of carrying his book openly over his shoulder. In case something came up, no matter how trivial or dire, he could quickly access the tome with a simple flick of the silver lock and immediately begin pouring through the stored knowledge much faster than a backpack.

The desk had been cleaned of any remaining traces of Samuel's belongings save for a single scroll nestled next to a candle in the corner. It carried the golden seal of the Church of the Holy Light. The linear emblem resembled the staves carried by many of the clerics and acolytes but the priest always knew it as that silly decoration fitted atop the atrocious hats worn by their higher-ranking members.

It wasn't the sender that Samuel was concerned with but rather, the message contained within. Archbishop Benedictus had summoned the priest to the Cathedral of Light this morning without so much as a reason given. Anyone who worked for or even within the church knew that when the Archbishop calls upon you, it is your sworn duty to answer which is why Samuel offered no response other than to heed his superiors request. While he wasn't exactly sure what Benedictus wanted, the priest thought it best to prepare for every contingency logically possible in this scenario.

A pair of soft knocks at the far door disturbed the otherwise humble silence in the study. Samuel pulled his eyes from the scroll and stared at the entry way. Standing beneath the frame was an elegant woman dressed in a silken silver dress that shimmered brightly even beneath the faint light of the distant sconces. Her light, platinum blonde colored hair was finely brushed and sat comfortable over her shoulders and down her back. Though the current eldest member of the household, Lady Alyssandra Legend's soft cream skin was smooth and vigorous as any woman half her age.

"Good morning Samuel," she spoke softly with a small but distinct smile.

The way she carried herself was as if she were queen instead of the widow of a simple lord and noble. Every word she uttered through her gentle pink lips was graceful and angelic.

"Good morning mother," returned the priest with a stern and unflinching gaze.

Samuel immediately returned his eyes to the desk and prepared to affix the strap of his bag over his head as Alyssandra carefully approached. Though thin in frame, each step she took forward thundered loudly within the priest's mind. He could easily sense this would not be a pleasant conversation for either of them.

"As you know," she timidly began. "It has been a year since your father has passed."

The manner at which his mother spoke struck a chord with Samuel. Alyssandra had spent so much time writhing under the relentless thumb of her husband that any semblance of her former self may have been extinguished entirely. Even now while his body rots inside of an ornate wooden box she still cannot even speak of him with even a hint of affection. That was just the kind of affect Renault had on anyone who was close to him.

Though this discussion had only just begun, it appeared to quickly tax the priest's pool of patience at a rapid rate. Samuel didn't even bother with a response. He immediately fastened the final strap to the length of his likening and slung it over his head and allowed it to sit comfortable over his shoulder and across his chest.

"It is time to start thinking about the future of this house," his mother continued. "In order to become the official Lord, we must begin the preparations as soon as possible."

This is what he was dreading to hear. For once, a small part of the priest was actually upset that his father had passed to soon and forced this burden upon him. Samuel knew this day would come eventually. He had just foolishly hoped he would have been farther along in his studies and would feel more aptly prepared for the responsibility. However, he quickly realized that he could live to be a thousand years old and still not welcome it.

"An arranged marriage?" Sighed the priest. Samuel tried his best not to show his contempt but he decided it was best to be blunt and honest instead of stifling his emotions. "Was this his will as well?"

Alyssandra averted her gaze from her son, lowered her head and meekly nodded. The priest knew the answer but he wanted to bear witness to his mother acknowledging as well. Any time even a hint of his presence was mentioned, his mother would tense up and become so submissive and weak-willed. It was such a sickening sight; the priest could hardly even look upon her.

Samuel knew the story all too well. There hasn't been an unmarried Lord of the Legend household for more than a year at any given generation. It was the head of the household's duty to find suitable matches for their children before they passed. Renault had seemingly begun his own preparations for his two kin before he fell ill in the spring and passed not too long after. Both siblings had be taught countless times from when they were infants until the very day their father died that nothing was more important than continue the proud Legend name. Many things had come and gone that had thwarted Renault's efforts but now, there was nothing stopping Samuel from continuing his legacy.

"Has a match been chosen already?" Asked the priest while boring down upon his mother's lowered eyes.

"No," Alyssandra answered while gently shaking her heard. "Before he passed, your father discussed a few of suitable houses. I have arranged messages to be delivered to them later this afternoon inviting them for a discussion."

His mother was still avoiding eye contact with him. Everything seemed to eerily calm and natural it was almost as if they were planning on what meal to consume for supper instead of the very future of the esteemed Legend name.

However, something about her tone and manner irked at the priest's patience. Zariyanna was quick to shed their father's cloak of presence from her shoulders but for some reason, Alyssandra still carried herself as if he continually stood behind her. Samuel wasn't quite sure what to make of it but it quickly grew to annoy him the longer he lingered upon that thought.

"I cannot be bothered with such trivial things," he answered. "I must take my leave."

The priest immediately snatched the scroll from the table. The parchment fibers nearly crumbled in his tightened grip as Samuel brushed passed his mother without a passing glance.

"Trivial?" Alyssandra curiously called out. "Samuel… Wait. Where are you going?"

She instinctively reached out to her son but pulled her hand back as the priest stopped dead in his tracks. Samuel was just a mere few paces from the door.

"I have been called for a meeting at the church by the Archbishop," the priest answered. "I am unsure as to why but I may be gone for quite some time. Once I return, we will continue this discussion."

He slowly turned his neck and grimaced with most of his expression masked behind his spaulder save for a single piercing eye.

"Is that alright mother?"

Terror filled Alyssandra's expression. It was as if she were staring at a ghost. Samuel did not mean to frighten her. It was just that he was not ready to have this conversation and would do anything, including eliciting negative emotions, to avoid it.

The priest stepped through the doorway without any final parting words. There were still many thoughts clouding his mind and seemingly no time to sort them all out. Samuel only hoped that this call to the church regarding something important. Anything that could take his mind of his home and name for even but a few short hours would be welcomed with open arms.

Cathedral Square

Stormwind City

The grand citadel and capital of the Church of the Holy Light was always a sight to bestow. Massive white stones were stacked so high that even the sun would become blotted out when standing beside the structure just past mid-day. A wide array of steps draped with a magnificent blue cloth trimmed with gold along the edges led up to a finely carved archway.

Samuel casually walked up the steps ignoring all of the other residents and denizens nearby. Worshipers flocked to this place seeking guidance and moral support for dilemmas they are either powerless to change or lack the will to even try. Though the priest was trained and practiced the art of servicing the citizens of Stormwind, that was his least favorite part of donning the mantle.

The scent of ancient masonry filled Samuel's lungs as he reached the top of the stairs. A pair of acolytes stood vigilantly at each side of the entrance. One quick glance at the priest and the emblems sewn into his robes told them Samuel belonged here and offered him not even the slightest hint of hesitation as he passed through.

Decorative white stone decorated the path inside of the cathedral. Sky blue checkerboard borders sat beside a collection of thick stone columns that arched along the edges leading towards the main altar at the far western end of the church. Rooms to the north and south were filled with bookshelves and packed with the knowledge and wisdom of hundreds of fellow priests that have come and gone long before Samuel donned these robes. Perhaps his own tome or another one of his future works would sit alongside theirs. That would be a very esteemed honor but not one the priest was personally trying to achieve.

Standing at the top of the steps near the altar and a trio of tall stained-glass windows was the Archbishop Benedictus himself. Even from this distance it was almost too difficult to miss him. He was dressed in a suit of gaudy white and gold robes. What was left of his greyed hair peeked underneath his hood for just enough light to sneak inside and reveal his elderly and bearded face. The Archbishop was surprisingly missing his usual entourage of bishops and other members of his council. Two unfamiliar priests stood on opposing sides of him as he continued to talk and ramble on about whatever topic of interest that was indiscernible from this distance. Samuel cared little about the details as he continued his approach down the path towards them.

A pair of metal staves clashed together before the priest. Their sharpened ping upon contact resonated heavily within his ears but did little more that irk his patience.

"Halt!" Yelled one of the armored acolytes.

"No one is allowed near the altar by order of the Bishop." The second spat. "State your business!"

If Samuel unleashed the physical manifestation of his annoyance the very walls of this church would quake. These two couldn't have been more than a month or two fresh out of graduation which could have accounted for their passionate fulfillment of their duty. His expression did not yield as he continued to star coldly at them while slowly reaching for the uncased scroll strapped alongside his tome.

"Hold it!"

The acolytes shouted in unison while sliding their weapons forward just inches from the priest's neck. These two must view such a menial task with extreme importance to think that a non-bladed weapon would do much damage against his armored robes.

"Stand down!"

Both of the staves in their hands began to rattle as the coarse voice that had yelled at them grew in intensity as he rapidly approached.

The Archbishop bore down upon the acolytes with an intimidating glare. He immediately grabbed their weapons and thrust them back into each of their respective torsos and continued to admonish them.

"Are you both blind or mad?! Can't you see he belongs to our order?" Scolded Benedictus. "Or does he need to wear a sign around his neck to further convince you?"

"My apologies Archbishop!" The first pleaded.

"Forgive our ignorance!" The second begged. "We were only doing as instructed."

The Archbishop's mood began to lighten. He immediately turned his attention away from the acolytes and addressed his guest personally.

"My apologies Samuel," Benedictus spoke. He motioned for the priest to follow him. "Please, come this way. We have much to discuss."

"I hope your reading comprehension is rivaled only by your pension for theatrics," quipped Samuel as he pressed the scroll into the first's chest and proceeded to move between them following as instructed. The priest could almost hear their hearts dropping simultaneously as they peered into the contents of the parchment and realized just how grave of a mistake they had committed.

Samuel walked alongside the head of the Church of the Holy Light as they continued through the cathedral. One could almost hear a pin drop with the level of silence that filled this usually boisterous and eventful building. Quite a few things have changed since the priest had last stepped in here. After compiling a report of his deeds upon concluding his trek to Northrend, he hadn't found another reason to return to this place. Still, his curiosity beckoned and forced him to ask even if to only move past the previously built up tension.

"Are you expecting an invasion any time soon?" Samuel mockingly asked as they walked. "Security is a bit more stern than usual."

"You can thank Bishop Farthing for that," sighed the Archbishop. "I've given him the responsibility of training the new acolytes. Even though the war has ended he is insistent in instilling our young recruits to never keep your guard down."

"A fish rots from the head down," the priest muttered under his breath.

They approached the altar were the two priests looked down upon them. The Archbishop's office was the first door to the right but he appeared intent on stopping here first.

"Before we begin, I wanted to introduce you to my two newest disciples," said Benedictus. He motioned for them to come down and greet the priest.

The first to step down was a woman, perhaps around Samuel's own age if not a bit older. Her caramel colored skin was smooth but still rough around her auburn colored eyes. Short black hair that was darker than a moonless night that just barely grazed her shoulders accented the magnificently tall cowl behind her. This one's attire were certainly fitting of her looks. Her robes were deep silver lined with black and teal accents fitted with gems and ornate decorations. Fingers poked through the cloth gauntlets that revealed fingernails of a similar color to her hair.

"This is Priestess Justine Read," the Archbishop stated. "She one of the most gifted priests in our order. Her efforts to help cleanse the decay and corruption within Scholomance have helped neutralized the growing menace of the Cult of the Damned in the area as well as allowed our Argent brethren to establish a deeper foothold in the Western Plaguelands."

"It is a pleasure to meet you Samuel," Justine spoke offering only a short smile in response while extending her hand forward. "The Archbishop speaks highly of you."

The priest took her hand and shook it briefly.

"You two share a bit of similarities," continued Benedictus. "I have yet to see anyone rival your thirst for knowledge but Justine has certainly grown accustomed to burying her head in books when she's not on assignment."

"I have studied many of your reports as well," she commented. "Your notes on Ulduar were extremely vivid and descriptive. It almost felt as if I were standing beside you."

"Trust me," Samuel countered. "I would much rather relive that experience through parchment rather than in person."

Justine's smile widened though it appeared she was unsure on whether he was speaking in seriousness or in jest. The priest peered upon her for only a few short moments. She had an aura around her as if her expressions were only skin deep. Anything resembling a true emotion appeared to be buried beneath the deepest of shadows.

Finally, the second priest descended down the steps. His expression was a bit brighter which his warm chestnut colored hair complimented. It was a bit longer than Justine's but much better maintained and styled. He was younger and dressed in nearly opposing colors as his companion priest. The robes were rationally white with thin strips of gold along the edges which darkened to black just below the waist. Each spaulder of his armor depicted a solemn female whose eyes were covered in black cloth and face wrapped in chains. Teal gems adorned various clasps and buttons almost as if he were attempting to convey a sense of wealth more so than an intimidating presence.

"And this is one of our brightest and most promising priests within these walls," the Archbishop began with a bit more pride in his tone than the introduction prior. "Melchior Soames."

"So this is the famous Samuel Legend?" The young priest rhetorically asked.

As soon as he made it down the steps, Melchoir reached forward and wrapped the priest in a tight hug.

"I have been following your exploits since the beginning!" He cheered with a wide smile stretched upon his face. "It is a gracious and most humble honor to meet you."

Samuel cringed not knowing how to reach to such a bold introduction. The one thing he was sure of that he wasn't going to reciprocate in kind. Melchoir was a bit brash and overwhelming but he appeared to mean well. Those were the kind of people the priest dreaded to be around. Intentions and actions are often two separate beings. If one loses control of the other, only chaos thrives.

The young priest released Samuel from his grip and offered two final boisterous pats on the shoulder before taking a step back.

"Forgive me for being so forward," Melchoir beseeched. "I had spent so much time listening to stories and reading about your exploits that to see you here, standing before me is a bit overwhelming."

There must have been a tinge of anger left hanging on Samuel's expression for the young priest to act so defensively immediately after embracing him. At least this time, the priest welcomed it. It was better to keep one's distance than allow someone to remain close when their level of trust has not been established.

Samuel's expression lightened and he only nodded in response.

"A man of few words," smiled the young priest. "Nevertheless, he lets his actions do all the talking."

"Come now," the Archbishop beckoned. "Let us continue this discussion in my office."

They all did as the Church of the Holy Light's leader commanded. Benedictus' chambers were quite large and housed his own personal collection of books and trinkets. In the center was a finely carved wooden desk. It was sanded so meticulously that you could easily make out your expression as if staring into an oak colored mirror. There was so much gold within these walls alone that an opportunistic thief could become a lord overnight though not many would even consider robbing one of the most sacred places in the Eastern Kingdoms. However, Samuel may know of a one select creature that would at least dare to try.

"Please, have a seat everyone," offered Benedictus directing the priests to the trio of wooden seats before them. Not an ounce of cushioning separated their backsides from the hardened surface. The Archbishop may not have been keen on entertaining guests for very long.

Benedictus stepped around and took a seat upon his own chair which was shaped similar to that of a small throne. Pockets of red velvet cloth provided comfort and support as the golden headrest and ensuing decorations throughout showcased its more regal presence.

"Shut the door Melchior," the Archbishop commanded.

"Yes sir," replied the young priest with an unnecessary amount of vigor.

The level of importance initially offered by the parchment alone increased tenfold as soon as the door closed. Whatever Benedictus was about to say, it was only to be heard by these three individuals alone. Not even another Bishop or member of his internal council was privileged to be in attendance.

"It's been a year since we last spoke Samuel," the Archbishop casually opened. "How have you been?"

"Fine," the priest quickly replied.

Samuel was not one for small talk but he could sense there was an unspoken tension between them. The last time they were together, it was the day of Renault Legend's funeral. Benedictus had left the church and attended out of respect for both the priest and his father. The Archbishop was a part of the council in which Renault sat and though they spoke on many of occasions about various things, Benedictus had only a few words of comfort to offer his son and daughter.

"You returned from Northrend nearly two years ago," added the Archbishop. "Have you given adventuring altogether or did the free-spirited life not agree with you?"

The priest dejectedly shook his head.

"I have not done any adventuring since coming home I'm afraid," Samuel answered. "Though, I cannot say it was not a rewarding experience."

There wasn't much else to dsciuss on the matter. The priest hoped his answer was suitable enough to quell any further probing yet still remaining vague as to not arouse any of his own internal insights from surfacing. Samuel had taken it as a great learning experience and decided to leave pleasantly at that.

"I see," Benedictus nodded. "Actually, that is why I called you here today Samuel."

The priest's expression perked up as he began to listen intently to what the Church's leader was about to say next.

"Your exploits, accomplishments, and accolades have not gone unnoticed," the Archbishop proudly commenced. "It is not often that someone rises through our ranks so veritably quickly. You have become the topic of great discussion within our organization Samuel."

Hearing such praise coming straight from Benedictus was rather unexpected. The priest had initially anticipated that his two-year hiatus had drawn ire from some of the higher-ranking officials. Now it seemed like he was being commended despite a notable absence from active service. Samuel didn't let the sudden shift in mood change his demeanor and continued listening with great interest.

"Speaking of which, it is no secret that the Church has experienced its fair share of praise as well. Though the threat of the Scourge may be silenced, some of our leaders feel that we need to use these times of peace to encourage those to walk closer towards the Light instead of clamoring for it at their most desperate times."

The Archbishop made a good point. Most civilians always asked for assistance when they were too powerless or weak willed to seize it for themselves. However, what Benedictus was insinuating was not that the Church gathered all of the lost little lambs who no longer sought guidance out of fear. It was no secret that there were some monetary intentions buried within. With less people attending church, that would mean less money being donated through tithes and offerings and after amassing such an incredible army to fight the war in Northrend, their upkeep has severely increased as did their expenses. The Archbishop desired to keep his military influence strong but for reasons Samuel was still waiting to be rationalized.

"Our council held a meeting a few days ago," stated Benedictus. "The bishops and myself both feel the Church is in desperate need of some young blood within our leadership."

Samuel senses where this conversation was going and steeled his mind from running rampant with any other thoughts that attempted to detract from this moment.

"After some careful deliberation, we've come to the conclusion that what we need is to appoint a new bishop. Someone who can inspire both the faithful and the faithless into returning once more into these walls and provide some new insight into a few tired old minds."

Though Benedictus was not one to normally speak in jest, his works were both powerful and reassuring. The work of a bishop was not one taken lightly. They are amongst the most powerful members of the Church of the Holy Light, deciding how to shape the faith to the masses of the Eastern Kingdoms and beyond. Becoming a bishop would put you directly on the council with The Archbishop himself and seemingly deciding on the fate of hundreds of thousands on a daily basis. That was not a responsibility Samuel had initially wished to attain but something told him it was about to be thrust upon him.

"When it came to the topic of succession," the Archbishop continued. "Your name was at the top of each of their lists."

The priest took a deep breath. Though he had already calculated this conclusion moments ago, the words still weighed heavily upon him when spoken out loud. Still, he couldn't help but be a little humble about it. Most bishops in the order were twice his age. To them, he would appear to be nothing more than a child.

"I am honored Archbishop," opened Samuel. He took another long breath and continued. "However, I am curious as to the council's thought process. While I am not questioning their wisdom, I am interested as to how I, amongst all other notable candidates within the Church, became their first choice?"

This wasn't an act of humility the priest was portraying. He was attempting to probe for more information. A promotion such as this doesn't come lightly. Which he was certainly in the running against his peers, Samuel was curious to find out what put him above all else.

"Your modesty is quite the surprise," Benedictus opposed. "I must say I, as well as some members of our council, expected this to be a brief conversation with you accepting or declining the moment the offer was even mentioned."

The bishops weren't entirely wrong on that matter. Had Benedictus given him this offer in any other fashion, the priest would have rejected it coldly. However, something about the way it was being presented to him piqued his interested. The current evidence suggests that this offer wasn't going to come easy. Much like the Samuel himself, the Archbishop was probing him for information as well.

"As much as I could sit here and go on about your achievements and accomplishments," said Benedictus. "Believe me, we did enough of it in our meeting. Your reputation certainly precedes you and there are plenty of notable merits that would endear you to all citizens of Stormwind and members of the Alliance even."

The Archbishop was not wrong in that regards. Samuel lived as both a noble and an adventurer. He has spent days entrenched on the battlefront as well as engaged in political discussions with some of the chief decision makers of their kingdom. The priest may have been one of the most well-rounded candidates for this position the Church has ever seen.

"Simply put Samuel," the Archbishop implored. "We feel that you would be an inspiration amongst our ranks, both externally and internally."

While it wasn't an outright admission of his intentions, the priest could easily read between the lines. Samuel wanted to at least get that part of the discussion cemented before beginning his own exposition of the facts and deciphering just what kind of career move this would mean to him. The first of which was to deal with the two variables in the room.

"Forgive me," started Samuel knowing full well that he was about to say something that could be potentially taken as offensive. "But if you wish to bestow this honor upon me, then why are Justine and Melchior even present for this discussion?"

The Archbishop let out a disapproving sigh which echoed in the confines of his chamber with the resonance of a grunt.

"Priestess Justine may not be as decorated as you are Samuel," answered Benedictus. "But she is one of the most respected members of the Church and was close behind you for this recommendation. Should you rescind this offer, she will be taking your place."

The priest caught a brief glimpse out of the corner of eye of Justine. She too looked upon him sternly and did not flinch despite being directly told she was second best among them. Samuel was not easy to get along with, even that much was self-evident but the fact that she was able to listen intently to such a conversation without conveying any ill emotions spoke highly of her resolve. Perhaps the bishops made a good second choice after all. All that was left was the third.

"And Melchior?" The priest posed. "Am I wrong to assume he's third in line? Or is he merely here to for the experience of it all?"

Samuel may have been painting this ordeal in a humorous light but he was still somewhat serious regarding his query. Putting someone like Melchior in the position of bishop would have looked to be nothing more than a stunt pulled by the Church to rouse interest. People would be talking about the decision certainly but none of it would have been positive.

"Melchior has a promising future but he still has much to learn," replied the Archbishop. "I am having him prepare to accompany either you or Justine on the special assignment we have set out in order to prove your worthiness."

"Assignment?" The priest couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. "Based on our discussion, I would have thought the decision was all but made. I can certainly understand sending Justine on this task but as for me, what else is there to prove?"

Benedictus sighed heavily in response to his subordinate's brash yet oddly indisputable remark.

"Your reputation does precede you Samuel," the Archbishop begrudgingly started. "Most of the members of my council were quite adamant in your endorsement as well."

A sullen air settled into the chamber. Benedictus' expression darkened as cast a serious gaze upon the Legend heir.

"Frankly Samuel, the Bishops can recommend anything to me for as long as they wish but the ultimate decision starts and ends with me," the Archbishop rebuked. "While I am well aware of your prowess and experience, in order to sit amongst my council, you need to go above and beyond anything even they themselves have achieved in order to sit at our table."

The priest's brow furrowed. His curiosity was beginning to spike. Benedictus certainly had his heart in the right place. An exceptionally challenging mission would endear him to the other bishops and allow him to stand beside him without fear of them speaking ill behind his back of about his age and inexperience. Though even fewer of them have lived through some of Samuel's own harrowing endeavors, this potential new assignment was already piquing his great interest.

"Very well," nodded the priest. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

A small smile curled upon the Archbishop's lips. It faded nearly as quickly as it came.

"Something I am sure that will satiate your never-ending thirst for knowledge," stated Benedictus. "Are you familiar with a former priestess of our Church by the name of Natalie Seline?"

"Vaguely," Samuel answered. "She was a former bishop during the First and Second wars who mysteriously vanished, presumed dead as well as those that followed her. Of course, this is all stories I have heard second hand. There are no actual records of her efforts or existence within the great library."

"That is because all of her writings and documents have been destroyed," the Archbishop added.

"What?" The curious priest leaned forward ever so slightly from his chair and leered at his superior with great interest. "Who would do such a thing?"

"That would be our allies, the Kirin Tor," Benedictus replied. "They spent years combing the lands of the Eastern Kingdoms and scoured her entire existence from the pages of our history in order to spare the world from learning of her discovery."

Samuel's interest exploded nearly tenfold. He couldn't even begin to fathom the possibilities that awaited him. His overwhelming sense of curiosity was starting to get the better of him and it took much of the priest's resolve from expressing it physically. However, he couldn't help but ask the obvious question.

"And," he carefully posed. "What did this former bishop find?"

"A power unbeknownst to anyone within these very walls," the Archbishop grimly replied. "It is a place where the Light may never shine and yet, our very acolytes and disciples have the potential to tap into this realm and utilize this dark energy to do their very bidding."

Blood began to burn with Samuel's veins. His curiosity had swollen into full blown investment into the topic at hand. Dozens of theories began to flood his thoughts. Thankfully, years of analytical research had allowed the priest to quickly and carefully piece through these findings and select the most pertinent bits of information.

"I know of what you speak of," Samuel responded. "Forsaken priests have been suspected of wielding such an accursed power as you have described. It was initially theorized by myself and others that the Light would not properly work within the hands of the undead and this was merely their wretched way of attempting to wield it."

The priest gently pressed his glasses forward to keep them from slipping down the rest of his nose before finishing.

"In their own barbaric manner of course."

"Allegedly, the Forsaken had uncovered some of Bishop Seline's hidden documents," Benedictus continued. "We believe the forming of the Cult of the Forgotten Shadows was due largely in part to some of her forgotten texts. Be that as it may, this is something we've all been putting off for a very long time. A golden opportunity has presented itself. We can no longer remain ignorant to the growing threat."

There was a thick aura of seriousness in the Archbishop's words. Samuel could easily sense a bit of trepidation brewing with his own conscious. It had become an official declaration from the Church of the Holy Light that its followers and disciples were to outright avoid confrontations or even trading of knowledge with members of that cult. Now it would appear Benedictus has something else in store for them; something the priest himself may not live to regret his continued pursuit of this matter.

"And so," the priest sighed while falling back into his chair. "What would you have me do?"

The Archbishop took a deep breath. He placed his elbows upon his desk and intertwined his fingers masking half of his expression outright.

"Information is the key to any successful campaign," Benedictus declared. "And knowledge is power."

Samuel almost wanted to laugh at that remark. It was as if the Archbishop was vaguely attempting to goad him into accepting this outright. The priest would not be so easily convinced. He listened very carefully as Benedictus continued.

"We cannot forgive the Kirin Tor for what they have done but we cannot blame them either. Bishop's Seline's research may be the key to explaining the source of this hideous power wielded by the Cult of the Forgotten Shadows. Perhaps she was too overzealous but I believe there is something within our own ranks that is strong enough to finish what she has started."

The priest's heart lifted. This assignment had nearly everything one could hope for and catered to all of Samuel's interests. It was almost too good to be true.

"That is," the Archbishop finished with an unflinching gaze. "If you are up for the challenge Samuel."

Those unnecessary words had already cemented what Samuel had affirmed in his mind moments ago.