Chapter 9: The Forgotten Past...


Olrox was getting tired. Leaning against the counter of the kitchen in the estate of Mark Sunfire doing nothing but drink wine with Gavin was boring him. Oh sure, the wine was excellent. A proper 936 Human Era it was. Even though wine takes usually around ten to twenty years to mature properly, the wine pressed in 936 were considered to be Etruria's best. The maple was sound that year, the harvest fruitful, and the texture of the wine was one that could have rivaled the food of the gods.

Gripping his head slightly, the dispatch from the Order of the Runeseekers looked over at Gavin. The apprentice to Mark had collapsed in his drunken stupor, sprawling half on the counter and half on the floor. It was odd seeing a red headed spy with his robes mussing up his hair along with a string of drool hanging out of the corner of Gavin's mouth.

Resisting the urge to kick his associate, Olrox pulled back on his hood and began to leave the kitchen. Only when he passed a wine rack did he stop and select one. Storing it under his robes in a special sling for such purposes, the Runeseeker made his escape.

His leather boots crunched in the snow, leaving a small trail of shoeprints in the day old precipitation. Winter. What a dreaded season for such spywork. Back at his last post, he was happy to be working around the hours conducting research in the Lycian League. Why, even the Lords were kind enough to offer their vast collections of books for the use of the Order.

Through the courtyard he went, still deep in his thoughts. Only when he heard the gentle neigh of a horse did he hurry for cover. Ducking behind an evergreen bush, the Runeseeker held a hand over his furiously pounding heart and another over his hidden dagger. Olrox hated to kill, even if it was between life and death. Killing was something the Runeseeker would never get used to.

Peeping through several branches, Olrox spied the head of a horse sticking out of the stables that were on the right side of the vast Sunfire estate. Swearing at jumping and hiding from a normal animal, Olrox began to straighten and move away from the bush. But when the horse looked at him once more, Olrox immediately ducked back behind the bushes. The Runeseeker swore.

The horse was not alone. Nor was it a horse. On its shoulders was a pair of the largest feathered wings that Olrox had ever seen. Beside the pegasus was a maiden in a sky blue dress that barely covered her shoulders with its thin straps and stopped just above her knees. What made Olrox stare in wonder was that the boots she had came a little over her knees and how close fitting the dress was. The Church of Saint Elimine usually doesn't have much tolerance for such dress but as of late, with much influence from the younger ministry and clergy, such condemnation of such styles of dress was more tempered and controlled.

Cautiously, Olrox parted a branch. The pegasus neighed once more and the maiden looked towards him. Swearing once more below his breath, the Runeseeker could've sworn once more that both the pegasus and maiden saw him. He let the branch fall back into place and held his hand over his rapidly beating heart in a vain attempt to quiet the pounding, Olrox waited several moments before looking out.

The maiden patted the pegasus and offered it a hand with some sort of grain in it. The pegasus, with its attention diverted, eagerly bent its neck and began to lip the food into its mouth. It soon quickly finished the snack and butted its head against the woman's arm for more. The blue clothed maiden giggled and reached for the bag that handlers usually strap onto the snouts of equines. The name of that specific item eluded Olrox as he watched the maiden.

She was beautiful. Olrox had to admit that. But who was she? Gavin hadn't told him if Mark had taken on a maid to handle what work Gavin didn't know of. Perhaps it was a relative of Mark's that had recently arrived? Or was she one of the local girls that liked to see the menagerie that the Master Tactician had accumulated from his travels?

Closing his eyes in a moment of concentration, Olrox began scanning his vast mind for the possible identities of this pretty maiden.

"The daughter of the local magistrate?" he wondered in a whisper. "Or perhaps the niece of the captain of the city guard? Perhaps the daughter of the ambassador of Lycia? Hm..."

Opening his eyes once more, he was greeted with the sight of the maiden walking towards the estate. She gave a farewell wave to the pegasus, which it ignored since it was concentrating on cleaning out the food that was in the snout shaped bag. The maiden then pushed against the door on the stable and entered it. Olrox heard the squeak of a door being opened and the gentle quiet thump of a door being shut.

Letting out the breathe that he had unconsciously held, the Runeseeker suddenly felt the answer strike the appalling excuse he calls his brain. This maiden, this image of appealing beauty, could be none other than Fiora Icewind of Ilia. The other inactive vessel of the Demon Brothers!

"Sedatives?!" Olrox whispered furiously to himself. "That fool slipped up again! How many times must I tell him to add the drug after pouring the wine, not before adding the wine! The sticky liquid will stick to the inside of the wine chalice!"

Hastily, Olrox grabbed his robes and began to run for the side gate that was on the left side of the Sunfire estate, the western one if the sun was not telling lies. Cursing at the trail his boots left, Olrox opened the iron gate. It swung inwards towards him, squeaking softly as it did. But to Olrox's ears, the noise generated could've awakened the dead in the battle plains of Bern.

"He failed..." Olrox muttered to himself as he stuck close to the shadows. "The Pope and Council of Cardinals will be very displeased. That was our chance of capturing her and forcing the demon to show itself. That foolish Gavin... drugging himself... what an inept fool..."

Unfortunately, Olrox didn't know that the demon that once inhabited Fiora had already been forced out and was hiding somewhere in the countryside. Slipping through the small gap and between the iron gate and stone columns, the spy locked up after himself. The Runeseeker stuck to the shadows and made his way back towards the church where his superior, Pope Baldwin, would be waiting.


Fiora grasped the railing on the winding stairs that was seemed to contort endlessly through time and space. The blackened iron was cold, something that the Ilian had thought she would be acquainted and at least used to. Each time she touched the cold steel, flashing images of bygone battles kept flashing before her. Had there been moisture on the metalwork, Fiora would have mistaken it for the stain of blood upon a once clean spearhead.

Two years ago, an entire wing under her command fell to a storm of rising arrows over Valor. She gave an involuntary shudder in the darkness and wished for at least some light in this hidden staircase that led directly from the closet in her room to the camouflaged door of stone that were in the stables. A sudden pang rented through her soul and she stopped, her hand resting lightly on the handle to her room.

Her heart jumped slightly as another pang sounded through her body. This was madness, Fiora admits. Her and her family having housed one of the Demon Brothers was something she had never expected. After experiencing that nightmare and seeing it come to reality...

Closing her eyes and clearing her thoughts, the aqua-eyed maiden gently turned the doorknob and entered the back of the wardrobe. Surrounded by clothing that Mark probably inherited from the women of his family, Fiora ignored the rustle of dresses and robes to shut the hidden door behind her. Such secret passageways were more commonly found in castles and forts but since the Sunfire clan was noted for their distrust in others, it would be a good idea to assume that Mark too had inherited that natural mistrust of others.

Satisfied that the door was hidden, the knight of Ilia pushed the oaken door of the wardrobe and returned to her room. So far, nothing worse than being lost in the dark stairwell had happened. Except for that horrifying moment where she confronted the Demon Brothers...

Going over to the bed, she turned around and fell backwards onto the soft down feather mattress. These riches... a girl from the mountains like her could get used to this wonderful stuff. She turned her head towards the windows, where the dawn's early light was barely streaming over the hills that surrounded the city of Rithen. Looking at the rising sun, Fiora absentmindedly brushed the blankets with her hand, enjoying the softness of this expensive piece of art.

"So... you like this room?" a voice spoke in a dark tone. Lurching upwards, Fiora searched furtively with her eyes for the speaker.

There was no one.

"H-hello?" the Pegasus Knight asked tentatively. She got up from the bed and smoothed the wrinkles from her Ilian attire. She first walked towards the door and peered outside. No one was out there. Closing the door and looking out of the balcony, she scanned the skies for a possible sign of someone, a mage or a mounted winged warrior, could've been there. Nothing was there. Fiora went back into her room and closed her eyes.

"Did someone speak?" she asked in a gently pleading tone. The silence of the room answered her.

"Hia-hia-hia..."

Fiora turned around quickly, causing her long hair to fall in a cascade of aquamarine tassels.

"Who..." Fiora cleared her throat of the fright that was rising within her. "Who goes there!"

Another rustling noise that sounded like robes moving quickly across a short distance came from behind her. The knight of Ilia whirled to face whatever was there. There was still nothing but emptiness.

"Who goes there!" Fiora demanded once more with fear hidden in her voice. "I demand to know who is doing this!" A low voice then whispered in her ear, causing cold sweat and a shiver run down her spine.

"I believe you might know who I am, Ilian Knight."

Before Fiora could even move a muscle to turn around to face her attacker, a hand quickly touched the back of her neck. A burning pain that was akin to the hottest flame and the coldest frost caused her to cry out. As quick as the pain had come, she soon collapsed on the floor, swimming in and out of conscious. At times, she felt a pair of hands roughly holding her and carrying her. She felt so much like a helpless lamb taken from its flock to the slaughterhouse.

"Hehehehe... can't get any easier..."


Groggy and somewhat disoriented, Fiora came to with a pounding pain in the lower back of her head and neck. She looked around, squinting through the tears that were flowing from that dull thud of blood that was resonating throughout her entire mind. She was now bound to a velvet cushioned chair in a room she didn't recognize. She had toured the upper quarters of Mark's estate but this was possibly one of the rooms she couldn't gain access to. Now she knew why it was probably sealed away from most visitors.

This room was darkened and dim, giving it the atmosphere of despair. In the rafters were perhaps hundreds of ancient webs spun by long dead spiders. Fiora shivered as a breeze came through the sealed room by way of possibly unrepaired places. But what scared her most was that there seemed to be something... unnatural and inhuman in the same room. Then, a low voice spoke.

"I see you've awaken, Ilian Knight."

Fiora's eyes widened as she recognized the lecherous tone of the voice's owner. As she opened her mouth to scream, some strange Elder magic in the form of a dark violet blood color shot out of the gloom that surrounded her. The thing of dark magic wrapped around her mouth and nose, threatening to suffocate her.

"Oops, my mistake."

As she struggled to breathe, Fiora heard the sound of snapping of fingers. The sound resonated through the room as the strange matter of darkness fell away from her mouth and began to disappear into vapors.

"Well, I don't suppose you know who I am, do you, Ilian Knight?"

"You... you're Horror!"

"Hehe..." the footsteps came closer towards her, still hidden in the shadows. "You sound surprised. I thought we were rather well acquainted." A low chuckle came from that unknown place. "Or should I say, this body is rather acquainted to you."

As Horror stepped forward into the dim lighting that surrounded Fiora like a protective shield of light, the knight of Ilia could not help but feel sick. Horror's body was none other than...

"Mark..." Fiora whispered softly.

"Hehe... correction," Horror's voice said through the Tactician's mouth. "This is Mark's body but now it is under my control!"

"... what do you want..." Fiora said quietly with her head bowed. Horror gave a laugh before waving his hand. A chair appeared from the dismal gloom that surrounded them and stopped at the edge of the light ring.

"Don't you see?" Horror said as he sat in the conjured chair. "I'm here to... coerce you into something that my brother and I desire."

Fiora remained silent.

"I know what you're thinking of, Ilian Knight," Horror continued as his red eyes cast hungrily over Fiora's body. "You believe that I want to taste carnal lust once more. But that is where you are wrong. This time, we both want a body to inhabit. However, it is hard to find a worthy body to inhabit. The bloods of your families were strong to imprison us but the days of your clans are now over!" He clapped his hands together to emphasize his point, creating a burst of noise and wind that swept around them like a howling storm.

"We both desire a body, a child's body! We demand that the child you bear with both yours and Mark's blood to be ours!"

"... and if I refuse?"

"You have no choice, Ilian Knight," Horror snarled as he lurched forward in his seat. "Our magic is stronger than those of the Church of Saint Elimine! With our magic, we will force you into complying with our demands. We can force you to have intercourse with the body of your beloved!"

"... then why don't you do so?"

"Hia-hia-hia!" Horror fell back in his chair and let his harsh cackles fill the room. "Don't you see, Ilian Knight? We would much rather have our fun watching you actively participate in such a dreadful thing! If we force you to do what we want without you consciously aware, then what's the fun in that? No, we'd much rather have you have intercourse with a heavy weight on your mind to torment you for the rest of your life!"

Without warning, the red eyes of Horror disappeared and the brown hues of the real Mark Sunfire reappeared.

"Don't give in, Fiora!" Mark said with some pain in normally calm voice. "They want a child in order to bring forth the Fallen One!"

Before Fiora could react to this sudden change, the red eyes of Horror regained control over the body of Mark.

"Shut up, you lousy human!" Horror snarled. "This body is now mine, you mortal loser! The resurrection of my lord is far more important than these trivial affairs of you humans!" Gripping his head, Mark quickly reassumed control of his body.

"Get out of my head!" Mark yelled as the whites of his eyes showed. "You will never conquer the world, even if your master helps you!"

Mark gave another shout and two different colored vapors seemed to appear around Mark's mind, like the faint sight of a black flame against a white flame. On the Tactician's face, his right eye was still red, blazing with the fire of Horror. Mark's left eye continued to change between red and brown.

"My master deserves much more than banishment from the Realm of the Living! My brother and I will bring him back to the glory of the past! The world will be ours to control!"

"Not if you don't have a body!"

Mark's left arm quickly drew his saber but began moved stiffly as he struggled to turn the saber onto his own self, to pierce through his own chest. But Horror quickly reassumed control. Casting the saber aside, Mark's chest rose heavily as the two colored vapors clashed. A burst of light later, the black flame cloud remained strong while the white cloud started to fade. Mark's hand made some sign of magic and a blue ring appeared over his body. The ring descended, creating a beam of darkness. This beam crossed through the Tactician's body, eliciting a scream from one voice and a howl of delight from another.

"I banish you to the Realm of the Lost, Mark Sunfire! Wander about in the Space between the fabrics of Time for eternity!"

The wind howled and the cry of a man lost in some strange world echoed throughout the house. Fiora felt paralyzed by what had just transpired. Mark's chest rose up and down, panting strongly as if he had done something strenuous. An unusually pale and sweaty hand laid itself over Mark's chest and a strange dark fire surrounded the hand. Soon, the labored breathing disappeared and Horror's eyes renewed itself with brighter fire.

"Lousy body..." Horror's voice mumbled. "Not compatible for magic... not even capable of the basic Elder Arts... I'll be glad to be disposed of this body soon..."

"What happened to the Mark I once knew?" Fiora shouted as she struggled against her bonds. "What did you do to him?"

The ropes that bound her tightly didn't budge. Sitting down in his great chair, Mark laughed while toying with his saber in his hands. The black flame cloud continued to grow about him, swelling with each passing moment. In the center of the cloud formation, a steady pulsing beat like that of a heart could be seen and heard. In the shape of a pulsating oblong diamond of darkness, Fiora was sure that it was the soul of Horror that was taking up residence within Mark's empty body.

"Hia-hia-hia... the Mark you once knew is lost," that dark voice said. "Like I said before, Ilian Knight, this body is now in my sole possession." Mark rose up from his seat and walked closer to Fiora.

"Now, either you give in to our demands or I shall have no choice but to slowly have my way with your body," Horror said as he leaned closer to Fiora's face. "Comply or suffer."

Fiora turned her face away from Mark's possessed body. That lecherous grin on Mark's face grew as Horror noticed that the straps of Fiora's dress were almost off of her shoulders. Flicking with his saber, the straps snapped as the blade grazed her flesh. With those hindrances gone, Horror summoned an orb of dark flame in Mark's right hand. Tossing the flame lazily, the possessed body of the Tactician moved closer to Fiora. Terror-stricken, the Pegasus Knight could do nothing more than watch fearfully as the red eyes of Horror looked hungrily over her.

"Now, is your mind made up yet, Ilian Knight?"


"Yes, honorable councilmen," Renault said as he stood in the petitioner's box before the raised table in the church court. "I have reasonable evidence to believe that the presence of the demon brothers, Horror and Fear, have appeared not once, but twice. As of the recent magical activities that our magic detectors found, which consisted of mainly an obscure and difficult branch of Elder Magic.

"Therefore, honorable councilmen, I request for permission to have ten Monks under my command to take control of this situation. Once I have captured and eliminated the two threats, our duty as the Runeseekers will be complete and peace will be assured for the next millenia."

None of the council members stirred throughout the entire oration. Each of the Cardinals were focused on their leader, the Pope, who sat at the center of the table on the highest seat where the light of prominence was shining. The unmistakable scowl on Pope Baldwin's face did not bode well for Renault's request.

"Thank you, Bishop Renault," one of the twelve councilmen said in a bass voice as he stood up. "We will consider and think over your request. We, too, request that you bring forth the one who has gathered this evidence so that we may question the legitimate means he had acquire this information."

"I will send for Olrox, my assistant, Cardinal Winston," Renault replied as he bowed respectfully to his superior. Cardinal Winston hesitated for a moment, looked to the Pope, and bowed back to Renault as if unsure if this act of returning a sign of respect was right.

Turning around to face the few witnesses in the courtroom, Renault pointed to Olrox, who was sitting in the back rows, and gestured for the Monk to come forth. Moving nervously, Olrox hurried to the front, letting the pitter-patter of his leather boots sound as he went down the aisle. Arriving at the raised platform that made the petitioner's box, Renault descended from it and gestured with a hand for Olrox to stand on it. The Runeseeker hesitated for a moment, closed his eyes and slowly climbed onto the platform.

"Olrox of the city of Rithen," Cardinal Winston said as he stood up from the far-left end of the raised council table holding a sheet of parchment. "Do you hereby swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, by the power of Saint Elimine?"

"I-I... I do," Olrox nervously said as he licked his dry lips.

"Hm? Can you repeat yourself, Olrox?" a more wizened member of the council said. The ancient Cardinal leaned closer towards Olrox, cupping one pruny hand over his hairy ear to hear better. The spectacles on the tip of nose dangled precariously between staying on his face or to fall off onto the table.

"I-I... I do!" Olrox said once more, a little more loudly for the elder's sake. "I do swear to uphold the truth!" Satisfied, the elder council member leaned back in his seat and smiled benignly at no one in particular.

"Olrox of Rithen," Cardinal Winston continued as if the interruption was per standard. "You have brought information concerning the existence of the demon brothers, Fear and Horror. Correct?"

"Yes, honorable Cardinal."

"And that this information is completely to the truth?"

"Yes, milord."

"And that you found these independently without your master's assistance?"

"Yes, milord."

"Very well. Explain to us how you came across the existence of the demons brothers."

Clearing his throat, Olrox nervously licked his lips once more before launching into his oration.

"I was given orders six days ago, honorable council," Olrox said as he gripped the burnished wood on the platform. "To seek alongside my master and sponsor the whereabouts of the demons Horror and Fear. We spent two days searching and combing through the local Libraries of Knowledge. One the eve of the second day, we came across an ancient text full of demons and other fell creatures.

"In the text, it mentioned at least twice of the demon brothers and what would happen if they should inhabit the same vessel. The text also mentions of the signs of possession, ranging from the vessel's lack of memory to a pale look that is usually acknowledged in colds and fevers but a profuse amount of sweat that accompanies the symptoms.

"We also learned from the text that the new vessel would inherit strange and dangerous powers from the demon brothers. Once the vessel is completely under their control, both of the souls of the demons will assimilate themselves to fit the surrounding environment of the vessel, giving the possessed at least a facade of normality. It was mentioned that both brothers had once inhabited the body of an infant and managed to get by as a parasite. Fortunately, the child died of an incurable disease during the winter of 446 and the demon brothers were forced to abandon the dead child.

"Before the brothers could inhabit another living body, a passing group of wandering Monks and Bishops came across the village where the possessed infant lived. As they cured the various diseases that happened upon the village that year, they came across the wandering souls of Horror and Fear. The Bishops held a meeting and agreed that sealing the two demons would be the best plan of action since they didn't have the resources and manpower to annihilate these souls from existence.

"They managed to capture the two souls and banished them to another realm, the Realm of the Lost. There, they were to spend eternity wandering the foggy plane until the Bishops that sealed them in found a way to permanently destroy them. Unfortunately, all of the Bishops were called to settle a dispute between the Djutes and Kutolah tribes in the Sacae. In the skirmish that followed after the failed negotiations, all but one of the Bishops died. The surviving Bishop returned to where they had left their Monks. Entrusting only in his assistant, the last Bishop told the secret of reopening the fabric of time and space if he should happen to acquire the power to destroy their souls.

"The Monk, whose name has been banished from all Church texts, was foolish and released the demon brothers, perhaps in an demented attempt to show what power he had. In the ensuing chaos that lasted for the next twenty years, numerous notable and powerful families were divided and destroyed. At least half an entire generation of young people was lost in wars that Horror and Fear stirred up through their ability to possess rulers into brash and foolish actions.

"It wasn't until the dawn of the twenty first year since their release did two brave souls volunteer themselves in order to seal away the souls of Horror and Fear. It was the two ancestors of the clans of the Sunfires and the Icewinds that managed this. A lad from the Sunfires volunteered while a lady from the Icewinds volunteered. But very strong spells of virtue were cast upon them to ensure that both demons would not leave their human prisons prematurely. Six months after volunteering themselves to the cause, both demons were sealed away in their vessels so that one day a representative of the Church would be able to release and destroy the demons.

"The rest is history, honorable Cardinals," Olrox said as he released his tight grip on the wooden railing. "It has been exactly six hundred and twelve years since the demon brothers last trampled the world as we then knew it under their claws. I beg of you, honorable Cardinals, to not make the mistake that our ancestors did! We now have the exact spells of virtue to extinguish the two souls that has kept our Order in disarray! What would Saint Elimine say?"

The council remained silent, none of them having moved during Olrox's entire oration. Quivering slightly, the Runeseeker descended from the petitioner's box and proceeded to the back of the court. As he neared Renault, the Bishop gave a pat on his assistant's back as Renault leaned and whispered into his ear. Olrox seemed to lighten as if a heavy load was knocked away from him. The Runeseeker moved further back and settled in his seat with a small smile. Each of the Cardinals looked at each other and several spoke in low tones to each other.

"Manipulative..." one said.

"Possible tampering..." another said.

"Might be the truth..."

"But it might be a white lie..."

The whispering ceased when Pope Baldwin stood up and looked downwards towards Bishop Renault, who had returned to the petitioner's box. Sweat rolled down the Pope's brow as the rest of the council looked onto their leader. In each of the Cardinal's hearts, they secretly hoped that Pope Baldwin would deny Renault's request, even if his argument were flawless and perfect. Even the benign elder Cardinal felt this way, which would surprise Renault. Wiping away the bead of sweat on his forehead, Pope Baldwin cleared his throat.

"Bishop Renault, member of the Elite Order of Runeseekers," the Pope said in a tone that gave no room for none other than serious business. "Because of the vital information you gave us, we will grant you your request."

At this, most of the council members burst into angry and mutinous murmurs, each throwing keen edged daggers with their eyes at both Renault and Baldwin. Renault smiled and began to bow to the Pope. But Pope Baldwin cleared his throat once more and continued through the small mutiny in the court.

"However," the Pope said as he glared at the rebellious council. "We must assign less acolytes of Elimine to your mission. Instead of your requested ten, there will be only five Monks under your command. There will also be at least one of the members of the Council of Cardinals present to maintain and ensure that you are indeed doing what you requested. Should you be found guilty of any other works that is declared unnecessary under the Charter of the Runeseeker Order, you will be removed from your assignment, stripped of your rank and exiled from Etruria."

Sitting down in his chair, the mutinous murmurs that had came from his Cardinals quickly changed to approval. People are fickle. Baldwin had to admit. But such a tactic was one that he had used often in order to keep himself in power. Renault was a rising star and a threat to his seat of power. If he lost to the young upstart, the shift of power from the older generation to the rising generation would destroy what sense of accomplishment and order he had forged in the last fifteen years of his papacy.

Closing his eyes and ignoring the angry look of his political rival, the Pope gestured for the court to be dismissed. The few witnesses left along with a somewhat frightened Olrox through the great oaken doors. Most of the council members left, whispering amongst each other in approval at Pope Baldwin's choice of action. Soon, only Cardinals Winston, the hard of hearing elder, Pope Baldwin and a simmering Bishop Renault remained in the court.

The Pope and Cardinals stayed in their seats, none having moved since Pope Baldwin dismissed the court. Cardinal Winston was writing down much of what had happened in the court, since he was the council scribe. The elder Cardinal, being very much in his winter years, was nodding off in his chair. Pope Baldwin had sat down but was still watching warily at Bishop Renault. The petitioner's hands clenched and unclenched. Moving out of the box, the swishing of Renault's robes was audible and angry as he stormed closer towards the council table.

"Master Pope!" Renault furiously demanded, startling the elder Cardinal back to wakefulness. "I demand an explanation for your actions!" Without even giving the older follower of Elimine a chance to reply, Renault launched into his speech.

"How dare you strike down a reasonable plan of mine? Since when have I created a mission goal, which isn't doomed to failure? How is it possible that I, Renault of Elibe, will fail in this undertaking?" Pointing an angry finger at the Pope, Renault continued to denounce him.

"You old wrinkled bastard! You false believe of Elimine! You senile fool!"

"SILENCE!"

The piercing brassy bass demand rang throughout the entire courtroom. Bishop Renault's finger wavered for a moment as he stared at Cardinal Winston, who had risen from his seat with a burning glare in his green eyes. The Cardinal-scribe was pointing a threatening quill at Renault and the entire sheaf of parchment was soaked in the contents of an upturned inkwell. Ink also began to spill off of the high table, soaking into the ancient woodwork that other Council of Cardinals has met upon to discuss their business. The dark stain of the black ink marred the smooth and burnished oaken surface. With a snort, the elder Cardinal woke and moaned at the spreading dark stain in the golden oak surface of the council table.

"No! Not the table of the Elders! Winston! What do you have to say for yourself! By Elimine! Know you not how precious this workmanship is? We have rumors that Elimine herself possibly fashioned it with her magic!"

Cardinal Winston ignored the elder Cardinal, casting aside the fury of the ancient one with a sweep of his right arm, the arm with the feathered quill. The elder Cardinal quieted himself and walked off of the raised platform in a slouch, mumbling to himself about the younger generation being too much carefree and disrespectful for ancient works of art that could have been forged by the legendary Saint Elimine herself. Walking through the wooden doors in the back of the court, the elder Cardinal shot a venomous look at Winston. Cardinal Winston ignored this stare and resumed his defense of the Pope.

"You shall not, and will not, speak to the Pope like that in my presence!" Cardinal Winston shouted, as his ears burned red with fury. "Such an attitude on your behalf will incriminate yourself in the eyes of both the members of the Church and Saint Elimine herself! Is this the pledge of loyalty to the Church you swore many years ago, Renault?"

Renault stood there in silence. His hand fell back to his side, as if wearied by the sudden and hasty action he had just taken. The Bishop of Elimine was surprised. He had expected Pope Baldwin to retort or perhaps the ancient Cardinal elder to retort. But never had he thought his political rival, Cardinal Winston, would dare to rise in the Pope's defense.

Well... it goes to show that even the Pope has favorites... Looks like I've got a duel in the future... Better yet, assassination might be the answer...

"Forgive me, Master Winston," Renault replied under a façade of regret, one that he had learned to master with ease over the many years. "I... I lost control of myself. I have been too deeply immersed in the research and hunt of the demon brothers. It is my regret to have... profaned the holy Pope for his... wise decisions. I humbly beg for forgiveness."

Cardinal Winston glanced sideways at Pope Baldwin. With a subtle gesturing of his right hand, the Pope stood up with a sigh and glared down severely at Renault. The Bishop bowed his head, supposedly in supplication. But beneath his outward portrayal of regret, Renault was simmering with anger fit to boil over.

"Bishop Renault, member of the Order of the Runeseekers," Baldwin intoned slowly but clearly, allowing his mellow voice to ring throughout the courtroom. "I was going to inform you that it is my wish, and the council's wish, to demote you back to Priest. We considered sending you back to Valor, where most of your works were noted. But as this threat is rising in the horizon, looming at us with its gaping dark maw, I have elected to change that decision. In order for the prophecy to succeed, I must have the cooperation of both the elder and the younger generations that form this church.

"Therefore, I must request you to cease all hostile political actions within the Church. We must bond together in this dire time. Together, we would be able and capable of sending this danger back where it came from. Divided, I fear that not only would the Church cease to exist, but also mankind in general will be affected. We have reports pouring in from all over Elibe of monster sightings, which we have deduced as being affected by how the hour of the demons draw near.

"Shadow Mages have been sighted Etruria, Undead Legions sprouting in the battle plains of Lycia, Sandworms reemerging from their millennia slumber the Nabata Desert. In the Western Isles, civilians, the military and the normal pirates that inhabit the isles have sighted the mythical Ghost Pirate fleets. Reports of male winged human-like monsters have been sighted in the mountains of Ilia. As these monsters have preyed upon nothing else but the beds of women, we have deduced these beings as Incubi, male demons that have an eternal curse of lust.

"You know of your mission as a Runeseeker of the Church, Renault. It is best if you forget your personal political agenda in favor of a more suitable defender of the Church and Elibe. Legends tell of Saint Elimine ascending into Heaven because she created the Runeseekers in order to take her place as defenders of Elibe and wielders of the Light. Bishop Renault, it would be wise for you to abandon your endeavors of personal gain in favor of defending the people of Elibe."

Sitting back down with a slight groan, Pope Baldwin pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his sweaty and beaded brow. Further down the table, Cardinal Winston also sat, but slowly. The scribe glared warily at Renault, as if sure that the Bishop before him would not consider the wisdom of the Pope's words. Renault, having listened carefully for a hidden meaning, couldn't find anything else but the purity and the desire of the Pope to keep the world from a shroud of darkness, had no other choice but to back down. Slowly turning around, Renault raised his head and walked towards the exit, slowly but with a dignified air to show that he, the Bishop Renault, would comply with the Church's orders for now.

"I do believe my words have affected him," Pope Baldwin whispered to the Cardinal-scribe as Renault retreated slowly. "It is a wonder how my simple language can persuade such a young and powerful Bishop to my side. I do believe he can suppress this rising danger. What say you, young Winston?"

Winston paused and bit his lip as he tried to reclaim what he had written down on the sheaves of parchment. Giving up the physical effort, he rolled up the sleeves of his robes and cleansed the table of the ink stains with a very weak Lightning spell. A small crash of lights later, the table was sparkling clean but the parchment could not be recovered. Sighing, Winston rolled up the unsalvageable sheaves.

"Your choice was wise, Master Pope," Cardinal Winston replied as the door closed behind Renault. "However, I do believe that Bishop Renault would continue his endeavors to seek greater power within the Church. He can suppress this danger I can assure you. But should he align himself with the same forces the Lady Elimine had once fought against a millennium ago, I fear that the world may fall into decay and disrepair."

"Wise words, young Winston," Pope Baldwin agreed as he nodded his head in approval. "Do you believe that the five acolytes we assigned to him will be fully capable of help destroying the two demons?"

"Master Pope, has Bishop Renault ever failed in an dangerous endeavor?"

"Whatever do you mean, Winston?"

"Master Pope, did you ever notice that in the heat of battle, Bishop Renault seems to be filled with religious fervor or some other itch that the sound of battle brings to those who have an affinity for combat? It is my belief that before Renault joined the Church that he was a sell-sword, a mercenary. Did you notice how he stands? The very same stances he uses in magic are the same used by many mercenary orders. And did you notice his subtle grip on his staff? The same grip as those who wield weapons for many years can show."

"By Elimine! We have a born assassin among us!"

"Indeed, Master Pope. He wishes to overthrow your position as leader of the Church. It is through your leadership that the Church has relaxed many of its ancient beliefs and strengthened those that have proven very useful. Under your direction, I find it more sensible that the Church to continue prosper. I propose that after this debacle is over with that we send Renault back to Valor under the pretense of missionary work. Once there..." Winston did a sudden downward chopping motion onto the table, causing a boom to sound throughout the court. "Our agents can handle him easily. I believe your Hand can say exactly how Renault shall pay for his insolence."

"Ah, my Hand of the Pope... I see..." the Pope said thoughtfully as he watched light stream through the stained-glass windows.

"I see..."