Confessions, The Serious Kind

It was now midnight a few days after the festival had ended. Niven lead a very small flock. It consisted of only a few ganguros and the decedents of the Christians who fell through the cracks of the shogunate era's purge.

The Catholic Church, for all its flaws, has served as a repository of ancient and sometimes forgotten texts. In the dark ages it preserved some of the knowledge of the Greeks and Romans so that humanity could one day resume its progress, if only partially. Books were chained to shelves so that priests and monks could not lend them out to the ignorant public who not were not only unable to read them, but would probably burn them to warm their families for the night. If the rumors were true, and they probably were given what little information Alex was able to pull from the texts in his possession, there was also a great secret library beneath the Vatican that contained terrifying works better left forgotten. A 'black library' containing the collected sum of knowledge that the church had gathered on demons and the occult. Had Niven been there?

"Probably", he thought, "Why the hell not. Old coot can keep his mouth shut damn well if he's been hiding the truth from his 'best friend' for 10 years." He was frightened, angry, and a bit delusional given the fact he hadn't slept in days. He was trying as hard as he could to decipher the texts. What he could decipher wouldn't allow him to sleep, but the Latin he couldn't was too altered or too ancient for him to decode at any reasonable pace. Even if he tackled each work one at a time, It'd take months just to slog through "The Secrets of the Throne of Mnemosyne", the shortest of the works he had on him. He needed help, and Niven could give it to him. But what if he was involved? What if he was a mage? He'd have to tell him everything, and that included mentioning he was immune to psychic assault and alteration. If he reported him to 'his' authorities they may lock him up, or worse, haul him off for experimentation. "Please," he thought, "please let him be a good priest."

He entered the confessional. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned." Said Alexander.
"It's been quite awhile my friend, tell me, what have you done this time?"
"It is not what I have done Father. Rather, it is what I have discovered."
"And what is that my child?"
"The truth about you, myself, and this world." he was lying about 'you', but feigning possession of such knowledge is a great way to get your hands on it.
"And what is that truth my son?"
"Dispense with these pleasantries and lies, father." He said indignantly, "I finally know the truth you have kept from me all these years."
"And what truth is that, Cipher?"

"You're a mage, and a very powerful one at that. You have hidden so much from me, but now I hold in my arms the proof you thought unobtainable to the mere mortal hands I possess." Niven got up and stepped outside the confessional, and Alexander did likewise.

Niven was an elderly European gentlemen who looked every bit his 72 years. He always walked around with what looked like an ordinary staff, likely to drive home the shepherd metaphor that the church likes to push so much. His eyes were emerald green and gave off an undeniable sense of worldliness. They were the eyes of a man who had seen darn near everything there is to see.

"Such things are nonsense. Have you been drinking?"
"Shove it Niven, I have the proof. I have the leverage here, and you are damn well going to give me answers." He threw the recovered texts and a stack of papers down at his feet.
"Tell me you bastard. Do I have any of this wrong? Did I butcher this dead language so thoroughly that I sound stupid and insane?"
Niven looked at the titles of the books, scanned the papers Alexander had provided and answered, "No."
"What?" He was surprised, it's not supposed to be this easy.
"Alexander Cipher, my dear friend. Do you know how feverently I've prayed for this day?"
"What day?"
"The day you would discover the truth."
"And that truth is?"
"Have you not tried to translate these works on your own over the past few days? Did you not come to me only after you had reached an impasse?"

"I have, but that fact is irrelevant." With a solemn face he drew a revolver, lowered the hammer to produce that distinctive clicking sound, and leveled it between Niven's eyes, "As I said before, I have the leverage here. And right now leverage takes the form of a .44 magnum leveled at your head loaded with tungsten carbide rounds. I doubt even your kind can stop them at this range. As I said, I want answers. Trust me, I will kill you if you don't give me what I want. You can read these works, you know what I do not. Fill in the blanks for me. Give me your piece of the puzzle." He pushed the gun into Niven's forehead. "Now."

"You won't kill me." Niven said calmly.
"You so sure about that fucktard!" He was trying as hard as he could to sound as unstable and frightening as he could. He knew he had to make it look like the primal centers of his brain were controlling him if he ever wanted a person like Niven to fear for his life and tell him the truth.

"Yes. I am. You are no murderer Cipher. Indeed, you are one of the most pure, holy, and noble souls I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. You won't kill me." His hand quivered, a few more PSI exerted by his fingers on that custom trigger and it would have given way, firing the bullet contained within straight through Niven's skull.

"Don't you dare presume to know who and what I am you bastard!" He said with as much hatred as he could muster.

"I don't presume, Cipher. I know. I also know most everyone you've ever known has rejected you, that the world itself has effectively told you that you do not belong here and ought never have been born. You should have become a homicidal maniac or something similar, but you didn't. This is because you possess a gift few have or even desire, a conscience. You didn't have it in the past, but you do now. You are one of the few that know that the end does not justify the means. Because of this fact, I will tell you everything. People like you deserve the truth. You deserve paradise."

"And what is this truth, father? Tell me. Am I schizophrenic? Am I insane?" He lowered his weapon.
"No, you are not. Indeed, you are perhaps the only sane man in an insane world." he took a deep breath, "Would you like a drink Cipher?"
"And why would I want that now?"
"Well, if I'm going to tell you the truth, I need to make a few preparations. One of them will cause you to get a rather nasty headache, and we both know that aspirin and other painkillers have no effect on the kind of headache this particular preparation gives you. You've had it every time you've endured the impossible. Also, this exposition is going to take awhile, so you might want to go to the bathroom before I begin."

His words called a memory to the surface of his mind. It was 10 years ago. He was driving into the parking lot when he suddenly got a migraine, but he would tough it out. He was driving after all. He had a lot of things on his chest and didn't trust a psychologist to not ask questions and keep their mouths shut. He was involved in illegal activities and had friends who were in prison. He needed someone to talk to that was outside the dregs, yet could be trusted regardless. Priests are bound by canon law to keep anything and everything they hear in a confession secret, period. If so much as one bit of that information finds its way to anyone else, they get excommunicated, no exceptions. That fact is what made Catholics go to confession, it was that fact that ensured the priest was someone who would remain silent no matter what you told him.

It was a very strange day now that he thought about it. The area around the church seemed more deserted than usual, as if people were actively avoiding going near it. He punched on the door hard...no response. After punching constantly for a few minutes he had given up. That bottle of Scotch he stashed away wasn't going to last the night now. He was about to leave when a voice called out to him.

"Who the heck is... You! You over there! You could have hurt the door!"
"Yeah, so what?" He said indignantly.
"Never seen your face in the communion line, what do you want?"
"I really need someone to talk to, someone I know will keep their damned mouth shut. Punching the door as hard as I could was the quickest and most efficient method to garner your attentions. Am I wrong, 'father'?"
"...Ok, give me 15 minutes. I'm ministering to a few members of the parish and in all fairness they were here earlier than you. I hope you understand."
"Perfectly."

The rest writes itself. They got along quite well and shared many interests. He didn't seem as annoyed as people usually do when he's around them physically, but that was probably because he had to put up with annoying people on a daily basis. Still, he always seemed happy to see him, a thing that happened with depressing irregularity throughout his life.

"In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti (In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit)…" More Latin followed, but he couldn't quite figure it out.

There was a flash of light, quickly followed by a flash of sharp pain in his head. He took the shot of rather expensive single malt scotch Niven had given him. Smooth and flavorful without any hint of fire, it was some of the best booze he'd ever had.
"15,000 yen a bottle. Obscene. Frivolous! And worth every. red. cent."
"I agree, now out with the truth."
"My friend, the truth will come out, but only if you indulge me in one request."
"Ok, what is it?"
He looked into his irisless eyes and solemnly said, "Will you hear my confession?"
"That's an unusual request father, why do you need to confess."
"I have committed many sins."
"As they say, we're all sinners."
"Few have sinned as much or as hard as I have Cipher. I need you to hear me in this…" He put his hands together, "please."
"Alright...I swear that what you say here won't leave this room." he took a deep breath, "I'm ready."

Niven closed his eyes, took a deep breath himself, and began.

"My true name is Niven Ianaset Hephesanes, and for the past 50 years I have been a Catholic priest and a Magister Magi. I was a mage before this, born and raised in the country of Megalomesembria. It's a lot like Israel, only instead of being Jewish, you have to be human. Fresh out of my magical education, I was wondering what to do with my life when I met a positively radiant nun with deep blue eyes and a criminally sexy body taking a bit of a vacation in the Mundus Magicus. We talked at length about a great many things. During our many conversations, she convinced me that the most noble and worthwhile thing a man can ever do is help another. No matter if you will be reviled for it, and especially if nobody in the entire world will ever remember what you did, even the person you helped or saved. From that moment on I knew my purpose in life, to live and act according to that principle... and I am sorry to say that I have failed utterly."

"How so?"

"As a mage I am obviously able to use magic. What you probably don't know is that anyone, anyone, can use it. It's not a genetic trait, nor is it given only to a chosen few by the gods. And while you can make pacts with demons to access greater magic power, you certainly don't have to. Indeed, the CDF itself has stated in secret documents that most forms of magic are not heresy. And in the event the existence of magic was ever revealed to the world, the pope himself would come out and say so."

"Then why do they keep it a secret, what do they fear?"

"They say they fear things like political destabilization, persecution, the horrors that may result from a fusion of magic and technology, anarchy, and other such nonsense. All of these things are not illogical of course, and the arguments I've heard for them are intuitively convincing. Yet we both know that what is convincing on its face is often completely absurd upon closer examination. And upon such examinations, I have concluded that everyone who has lectured me on such things are full of it. Ultimately, they keep magic from you for the same reasons they keep guns from falling into the hands of law abiding citizens."

"That analogy's stretching it a bit."

"No, it's not. Despite their many arguments, you cannot tell me that magic in and of itself causes conflict and death or that it would destroy your civilization if everyone had possession of it. We magisters know of the old world and take advantage of its 'technology' whenever we can. We even have spells that aid us in computer hacking for Christ's sake! None of this has hurt us nor the Mundus Magicus. Instead, it has helped it to become a quasi-utopia. Horrible things happen, wars have broken out, children have been slaughtered or worse, but in the end life over there is better than it is here. That was why I became a priest. The church would help me help others." Niven began to cry, "*Sniff* Like that nun, I too could save the lives of others. I could provide the guidance that so many lost and forsaken souls needed."

"So how have you failed father? Did you not save them? Did you not provide the guidance and companionship they needed?"

"I did" tears were now flowing down his ancient face, "Instead, it is what I did not do for them. I did not teach those people to fish. I did not tell them how to use magic. I could not, for if I so much as tipped them off to the existence of magic the administrative bodies of the magical world would have turned me into an ermine, locked me up in a prison, and never allow me to set foot in this world ever again!
If I did the right thing, if I did what I ought to have done, my work would have ended there. They would have taken me away from the people who needed me the most. So I swallowed my virtues, I betrayed my own faith and played ball so that I could at least save a few more people than otherwise would not have been. I compromised *Sniff* on what I ought not to have compromised on! A man should always do what he believes in his heart to be right. But...I didn't *Sniff* I didn't, Cipher. I did the opposite, and I've done it many times... and I'd do it all again if I had toooohuhuhuuuun..."

Niven broke down, hunched over and holding his face in his hands, he broke down. Alexander hugged him tightly. What else was he supposed to do?

"You did the right thing Niven. If you didn't do as you were told, so many others would have died. Because of you, so many more people live happy lives than otherwise would have."

"That fact changes nothing and you know it!" He pounded his fist on Alex's shoulder, "We both know that two wrongs will never make a right! Murder is murder no matter what any Ivory Tower asshat intellectual from Harvard or Tokyo U has to say! They haven't seen what I have seen! Those bastards have no idea what it's like down here in the trenches of the real world! They don't fully comprehend the fact that I could have saved so many others! That child in Zimbabwe, that pregnant woman in Wales *snoooort*...that group of people tearfully begging for their lives in Rawandaohhohooooo!" He once more became indecipherable.

Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing at all. Sometimes, all you have to do is simply be in the same room as someone else and hold them in your arms. Niven didn't need a justification for his sins, and he would have accepted none. What he needed now was another soul to hold and comfort him, to listen to the litany of curses he rattled off against himself and give no reply. Alexander indulged him in this. It was obvious he hated himself, hated his sins, and would never forgive himself for what he thought he had done no matter what anyone told him.

"Thank you, Cipher." He wiped the last of his tears from his eyes, "Thank you for everything you've done here."
"Don't mention it. But I still have questions, and you have answers."
"I did promise didn't I. Ok, shoot."
"How did we forget about magic? How did it become a myth?"
"I think I get what you're trying to say. In fact, I just may have an answer for you."
"Then let's hear it."
"I'm not sure it is the answer just yet. For some time now I've been on the trail of a great evil, I've only heard whispers and legends in the texts I've researched, but they are always the same whispers and legends across all sources."
"So there's a chance it's factual."
"Yes, and the thought of those weird tales being true give me nightmares, to wrap my head around the implications causes me to struggle to maintain my consciousness and sanity."
"And just what is this horrible truth?"
"I don't want to say, I want so dearly to be wrong on this. I don't want to give you the nightmares I have suffered every night."
"Just tell me."
"Not yet. However, I will tell you that I'll probably need your help to end it."
"You mean destroy this evil?"
"Yes. You do not possess the property of Anti-Magic like I had hoped. But by the grace of almighty God you are totally immune to mind affecting spells through some other, perhaps more terrifying, trait. That's a very useful power Cipher, not even Anti-Magic works like that."
"Get to the point Niven."
"You know how to fight. You how to throw a punch and how shoot straight, yet you don't know a thing about magic. It'd take you months of constant training for you to even manage the most basic cantrip, and years to get you to the level of a gifted magic school graduate who had been trained from the age he learned to speak. Thankfully, I have been working on a ritual that would enable you to reach the level of the latter in an instant. And in a few months of training with my friends, you should become a respectable combatant. You're probably no Nagi, but I can't shake the feeling that a great deal of power lies within you. We just need to access it."
"Too good to be true Niven, what's the catch?"
"I won't lie to you Cipher. We're talking 25, perhaps 50 percent chance of success. And that's if I don't mess up. Worst case scenario, the magical energy invoked will go berserk. Such an event can and will tear your body apart so thoroughly that not even your parents will be able to identify you remains."
"Is it worth it?"
"If I'm right about this..." He paused a second to think and responded, "Yes. Every second we waste is another second this evil may be unleashed. I cannot say that you are morally obligated to do so. You have a life here in the old world, meager and tragic as it may be. I have no right to order you, I can only ask you," He got down on his hands and knees and touched his head to the ground. "Will you risk your life for my cause Cipher?"
"Is it dangerous?"
"Unspeakably."
"Will it make the world a better place?"
"No, but if I'm right, our actions will ensure that the hope for a better world is not foolish and misguided."

He had no idea what this evil was, but it was enough to scare the hell out of Niven, and he'd never seen him like this in all the years he's known him. He was serious, and if something existed that ensured that all hope was naïve, then it simply could not be allowed to exist.

"Then I'll do it, I'll end whatever this is."
"Hehe," Niven rose to his feet, "Just the answer I wanted to hear!" His ancient face was positively beaming.

"Glad I could make you happy old friend." they both poured another shot and toasted. They laughed and carried on, exchanging fantastic stories and philosophical sentiments. They were happy, both finally had found what they were seeking for so long.

Oye that was a long one eh? I swear we're getting close to some hot action and the introduction of the rest of the main cast, just hang on a bit longer. Also, if I haven't mentioned it before, I don't claim to own a damn thing in this story, not even the characters. Do whatever ya want with em' for all I care.

All I want is for you to tell me if you make a fanart of them or something similar. I wana see it and maybe comment on it if it's particularly awesome.