Biggest thanks for Ace-Triad for fixing my SPAG problems, and Angel Wraith for beta-reading the chapter.
Once again, special thanks to my long time reader/consultant Commissar Gaunt for all his contribution which eventually shaped this version of Pope Balmus.
As always, I will blabber some more in my end note.
The scent of ash, mud, and the decay of death assault him, and for once it's not the grime or blood coating his otherwise white robes. He walks through the desolated Siltvelt warcamp, searching for what he came for. The scouts sent by his friend has informed him that this was one of Siltvelt occupation army's largest slave pit, where they breed new offsprings to fuel their war effort. Taking it out had dealt a major blow to these savage animals' ability to keep holding onto their land. But more importantly, this was where the children he watched over had been sent to.
"Father Biscas, we have found the entrance of the animal's breeding pit." Of all the men that were sent out, a single cleric knight returned to him. The fact that he didn't bring any of the poor women with him, or his solemn face tells Biscas all he needed to know. Yet he simply nods back to the cleric knight, silently beckoning the man to lead him to the pit itself. Brother Ludwig gives a short, curt, and wordless nod back, which Biscas appreciated. The cleric then turns around, and starts trekking towards their destination.
The walk can't have taken more than five minutes. It somehow both felt short, yet long as a century. As Biscas is led into the badly constructed wooden pen, the strong stench of mud mixed with all manners of bodily fluid assaults him. He looks around, and sees dozens and dozens rows of women being chained against wooden fences. All of their eyes are empty, devoid of life or soul. Some of the faces he recognized. He has to, he watched them growing up alongside his friend. On the slope of the mountain that runs down from Griffon's spine, in a quaint little village named Flute. Their bodies might be here, yet they are long gone. Just like the daughter of his friend.
The inside of his mouth tastes ashen. He looks around, and sees the men he brought all looking at him expectantly. Why wouldn't they? For them, pious or faithless, he was the Chief God's Miracle Maker, that's what the resistance calls him after he brought them one victory after another from the jaw of defeat. Yet he brings no true miracles. Real miracles are used to save lives, but he is only good at taking them away. If anything, he was the Chief God's personal butcher. His voice is stern as always, even if he feels anything but inside. "Grant them the Chief God's last mercy."
None of his grim-faced men threw any words of blame at him for his utter failure, or cried for the unfairness of the treatment their mothers, sisters, and daughters received from the Siltvelt animals. This wasn't the first slave camp they raided, even if it's the largest. They simply went ahead and started to perform their bleak deeds in silence. The women didn't make any sound, or even so much as twitch as their heads forever dropped down. All of it makes him feel more like a complete failure than if someone cried at him for being a fraud, or punched him in the face. He looks to the side, and sees a cleric knight bringing out a tiny bundle in his hand. "What do you have in your hand, Brother Petrus?"
"Oh, it's one of the animal spawns, Father Biscas." The wide cleric knight looks up from the tiny being in his hand. "She'll receive the Chief God's mercy with her mother."
Interlude 18: Confession of the Vainglorious Liar
The baby in Brother Petrus' arms has a tiny pair of dark feathered wings on her back, yet she doesn't look any different than any other child besides. She opens her eyes, blue like the child who first extended her hand to him when he arrived in Flute as a humble young priest. The same child who gave him hope after losing Master Shiro at the end of the last wave. The baby seems to realize someone was looking at her as she smiles, and reaches her hand over towards him just like… "Janne."
"What's that, Father Biscas?" Brother Petrus' voice brings him back to the present.
"Her name will be Janne." He schools his expression. While many of his brothers and sisters that followed him to 'liberate' this slave camp are good people who wish to help the innocent victims of Siltvelt invaders, a good number of them are also flawed. Showing his weakness and insecurity will not help the case he's going to make next. "I will take her, and every other child found in this camp with me, and raise them as my children."
Brother Petrus looks down at the baby in his arms for a brief second. When the cleric knight looks back up at him, the cleric doesn't look any less confused. "They are born tainted by the blood of the animals, Father Biscas. They will have no future in our nation, let alone our faith."
He doesn't look around, for he knows that everyone who followed him would have worn the same expression as Brother Petrus. And it's not simply a question of what's considered taboo of their own faith. Children of the animal will forever be animals, even if their partner is a man. That's why from a practical point, taking the children born from the Siltvelt slave camps into their order only risks further diluting the blood of their own.
He knows that there will be one argument he can use to convince his fellow brothers and sisters to spare the lives of the children. The only question that remained was if he had the right to make such a decision for the children. He can stop their death… but he can't give them life, not a full one at least. After all, what kind of life is it, when it's nothing but a burden of lifelong servitude no different than how the savage animals of Siltvelt they just finished exterminating?
He feels someone touching his fingers and looks down. In the time he's been talking to Brother Petrus and agonizing over his decision, the baby has reached over to touch his bare hand. Perhaps she felt cold in the armored arms of Brother Petrus and seeked warmth. At that moment, she made the decision for him. "That may be, Brother Petrus. But our lord loved us all, even when we betrayed his teaching and sinned against him, he always offered a chance at redemption. These children might have been born with the taint of the savage animals, but they too may serve the Chief God… and find redemption at the end."
"I see… if you truly think the decision to take these children born with the taint of the animals into indentured service is wise." Brother Petrus nods his head as he gestures to his fellow cleric knights to bring out the rest of the children. "There's still a stock of magical ink left behind by those savage animals. Guess they'll be put to better use than marring the skin of our women."
Forced into a life of slavery and forced celibacy… that's the fate he subjected these children into to stop their death. Perhaps Petrus was right, the Chief God's mercy was the more forgiving option. But if they are still alive, there might be hope something will change, and their lives will become better. At least that's what he tried to convince himself.
Janne's eyes flicker over when she notices the tiny twitch of her Father's fingers. For a brief second, she was worried that her eyes or her mind played a trick on her. For two weeks, her Father had slumbering through his healing coma because she failed to protect him. Despite the constant reassurance from Brother Cain that he would come back any day, she was worried if her Father would wake before the next wave, or at all.
But as the prodigal son fixed her eyes on her Father, she noticed a definitive movement of his fingers, and his eyelids. Father is stirring away now. She turns around to look at Brother Cain, who has his eyes closed in a meditation. "Brother Cain, Father is waking up! Bring Brother Abel, and Brother Raziel. They'll want to be here."
"Of course, big sister." Cain opens his eyes and stands up from his seat. He gives a curt nod and promptly exits the private healing chamber for Father. If Janne has her way, she would not want to bring Abel. Out of all her brothers, Abel is the one most loyal to Father, and the peacock was only pulled out of the room after staying up long enough to lose consciousness watching over Father. But Abel would never forgive her, if she doesn't bring words of Father's awakening as soon as possible.
She stands up from her seat, moving closer to get a better look at Father. For a brief moment, she considered going down on her knees to better express her regret for her failure. But Father stirs awake in the brief moment, and the opportunity is lost. "Ja- Janne…?"
"Father, I am here." She moves closer, taking Father's large, callus covered hand into her own.
Father's eyes blinked a few times, slowly becoming more focused. "How long have I been out?"
"It has been two weeks since the end of the Third Wave, Father."
"Two weeks… that's a long time." Father's voice sounds distant. "How bad are things?"
Janne considered giving Father a detailed report of all the things she learnt. But then again, it's probably better reserved for later when he fully regains his clarity. "I have failed you, Father. Someone has managed to slip into your chamber, and your personal shrine to Master Shirou has been desecrated. Brother Raziel did a full count of every memorabilia you saved of Master Shirou. Of everything accounted for or destroyed, we were missing the sheath Master Shirou asked you to pass down to the next generation of heroes."
Father's eyes narrow at the news of his personal memorial to the Martyr of the Bow. His eyes grow large for a brief second when she mentions Master Shirou's sheath, but he quickly schools his expression. "You have never failed me, Janne. You were injured very badly yourself when you took the initiative to save the life of the Shield Hero during the Third Wave, no? How can you be found responsible for the desecration of my shrine to Master Shirou, when you were not there to do anything about it?"
"I should have been there to prevent it. If I didn't fly head first into danger to-" She stopped from saying more when Father's hand moved up, pressing a single index finger on her lips.
"THAT. That would have truly failed me." Father's hands slowly fall down from her face, till his arm once again rests on the bed. "Ensuring the lives of all four cardinal heroes is our most important task during The Wave of Catastrophe. You did what you must, and ensured the survival of the Shield Hero on that day without anyone telling you to. I can't be prouder for your actions. As for Master Shirou's memorial… it's just trivia things I collected over the years for sentimental reasons. Nothing of true value was lost. The sheath... I think Master Shirou was trying to use it as a metaphor to teach the heroes that the ability to protect is more important than the capacity to destroy. Something they have already learnt on their own. It matters not that they don't receive Master Shirou's sheath."
The door to the private chamber flies open, as a short, petite peacock demi-human with long fringe of red hair running down the face charges right in. Brother Abel's eyes are bloodshot, yet the peacock's face looks elated. "Father! You are awake! Praise the Chief God!"
"I am fine, Abel." Father chuckles at Brother Abel's enthusiasm. "I may not be as young as I used to be, but it'll take more than running my body through to do me in."
"I know! You are the chosen of the Chief God! Nobody will be able to beat you in a fair one on one battle!" Behind Brother Abel, Brother Cain returns with Brother Raziel beside him. While Cain's face is focused on Father just like Abel, the eldest of the Seraph brothers give Janne a nod. She decided to leave the official report part to the vampire bat. Just as well, as she hears her name. "Janne. If you could be a dear. Can you go get Confessor Cromwell, and have him wait outside of my room?"
"As you wish, Father." She wants to spend a bit more time with Father, but she decides it's her brothers' turn to stay with their Father. Bowing her head down, she dutifully exit the room, and go find the current acting head of their faith as Father commanded.
Cromwell narrows his eyes, as he glares into the door to His Eminence' private healing chamber underneath his hat. He likes to think he's a patient man, considering how low he has waited under the shadow of His Eminence. But to wait for his own summoning while His Eminence cuddles around with his pet animals he plays family games with is still a slight. It suggests himself, the right hand man of His Eminence is below the position of a group of animals on leash. It's obviously something he needs to rectify as soon as he is able, for the greater good of their faith.
The door opens, and out steps one of His Eminence' favorites. The assassin wearing the armor of a knight named Raziel didn't even bother to give a nod to acknowledge his presence. Such a vanity filled disrespect! Another reason this animal named Raziel should be replaced by one of his more well behaving brothers. The filthy blood sucking bat's voice interrupts Cromwell's thought. "Father is ready to see you now, Confessor Cromwell."
"Of course." He bows his head low, not to show respect for the filthy bat clad in obsidian gilded red armor, but subservice to His Eminence. As the leader of the Angels of Death, it's in Raziel's duty to report to His Eminence any sign of rebellion from his subordinate after all. Once again, Raziel didn't show any sign of acknowledgement of his action, the bat simply held the door open for him to enter, so he did as he was told. The door closes behind him with a click.
Inside the healing chamber, His Eminence looks quite diminished as he half sits on the bed. The Pope is propped up on both sides by another two of his favorite pets: Abaddon Abel and Biscas Cain. Cromwell is once again forced to bow his head low. "You summoned me, Your Eminence."
For a few moments, dead silence rings in the room. A common intimidation tactic that would have Cromwell scowl if he wasn't under Pope Balmus' scrutiny. He knows his actions are likely reported to the Pope already by the animals, and himself most certainly didn't gain any favor from His Eminence. Taking over different parts of the nation was a strategic success, even if they likely made enemies out of a lot of traditional lords. But the disaster at Graile due to the meddling of the Shield Demon and that blasted princess is enough to end a Vicar's career.
"You have been busy, Confessor Cromwell." Pope Balmus puts more emphasis on the title that focuses on his duty within the church, rather than his actual status. Something meant to put him down, as if insinuating him to be no different than a common confessor. Once again, such a slight is something he expected so he didn't allow any signs of grudge to slip through his mask.
"Nearly causing a civil war within our order while alienating our four heroes worshiping brother faith." Cromwell fights back a snort against the accusation of His Eminence. The reason they almost had a civil war with those pathetic revisionists was because the Pope allowed their existence after The Great War. If he had expunged them with the prestige he gained during The Great War, their faith would have been strong and united. But then again, that's the price His Eminence had to pay by playing the role of a living saint. He had to act forgiving and merciful, even if fear would have given him total control of their organization. A drawback that he himself, High Confessor Cromwell does not need to contend with.
"Massively overstepped your boundary and turned any noble house that isn't already intertwined or owed personal favor to our faith against us." That is admittedly a bigger problem, as the noble houses had always had more… strained relationship with the clergy after the faith of the Chief God had taken over the cult of the first Wand Hero Brimir. But most of these ladies and lords, the elites of society, had never been anymore than the commoners they ruled over. Lambs, waiting to be led by a powerful shepherd. And a powerful leader, be it one of their own or one from the clergy can easily dominate their wills.
"And antagonized the summoned heroes to the point they permanently turned against us on top of it." Once again, Cromwell fights back the scoff he had at the accusation of His Eminence. His plan to win over the heroes to their side was doomed to fail from the start. It should have been clear after witnessing the absolute farce that was the celebration banquet of their victory after the 2nd wave. Those children are pampered, callous, ignorantly stupid. Unable to see the bigger picture and the drastic measures needed to ensure victory. These children masquerading as heroes would never join their cause for foolishly sentimental reasons.
"Did I miss anything else to your credit? Perhaps it's time for me to bow down to you for all your achievements?" The last words of Pope Balmus does unnerve Cromwell. It suggests His Eminence is starting to see him as a threat.
"I only did what you commanded me to, Your Eminence." Cromwell quickly bows his head down, trying to paint his action as helpful to achieve the goal of His Eminence. "With the queen imprisoned in Cal Mira island, both you and his majesty indisposed by the outer god summoned by the Shield Demon, drastic measures had to be taken to ensure order within the nation under our control. It's a shame we are beset by faithless traitors and heretics from all sides."
"And you believe the best time to do all of this is right now. When the Wave of Catastrophes rages, and the talk of a crusade against us by all the other powerful nations."
"Yes, Your Eminence. This is the best time for us to seize control. The nobles of this nation will seek a… strong leadership with both external threats from the wave, and our enemies. Therefore, they will be more tolerant to actions that would normally be seen as unacceptable. With the queen and the king both indisposed of, you will be the best candidate to provide such stewardship." He looks up, sneaking a peak at the thoroughly unimpressed looking face of His Eminence. "As for the external threat you spoke of. They are both challenges that could be overcome. There is a Wave of Catastrophe every century or so, and they have all been defeated so far. There is no evidence to suggest this time will be any different from before. And it's even to our advantage, as the threat of a wave every month will stop the other nations from committing to a crusade against our nation. That was why I tried to bring order to our nation. The external challenges will not bring us down as long as we stand united… under your lead, of course"
His Eminence stays silent for an extended moment, another common tactic in an attempt to put pressure on him. It might have worked on a lesser mind, but not him, someone who has played this game for as long as the Pope himself. "Do you honestly believe such actions that caused division amongst us and weakened our ability to resist the wave will be smiled upon by our lord? Tell me, Cromwell, had the Chief God blessed you for your actions?"
Cromwell fights back the smile that threatens to creep up on his face. His Eminence is no doubt convinced by his reasoning if he stopped talking about actual political actions, and started to get into the semantics about their faith in their supposed god. In the end, the two of them are kindred spirits more than His Eminence and that meddlesome, lowly preacher Logarius. For they both know the truth, important questions about running their faith are questions about politics, not piety. "Of course, Your Eminence. We are messengers of our lord. He will surely smile upon us for our righteous actions to further his influence even if we caused some dissent in the short term. After all, most of the disgruntled are the unbeliever, or weak willed who could have turned traitor any moment."
"That is not what I'm asking." The bed suddenly starts creaking, as Cromwell feels a great presence suddenly saturating the room without looking up. The steps of Pope Balmus aren't shaking earth itself, yet each click feels like a hammer on Cromwell's chest till His Eminence finally stands just before him. The back of his neck is covered by the hand of the pope, to the point he can feel every callus. "We know holy miracles are a real thing in our world. So tell me this, Cromwell. Had our god already rewarded you in some tangible way, that if I were to tighten my fingers around your neck, your neck would not snap under the pressure?"
Cromwell feels his heavy robe cling to his body from sweat in an instance, as he realizes his own stupidity. By showing his own 'initiation', he had exposed the full extent of his ambition to His Eminence. And exactly because of their kindred spirit, the Pope would not tolerate someone like him due to him not being a blind follower. "Please, forgive me for my overeagerness to please. I… I only live to serve you and our Lord. Your Eminence."
"Good. You are a smart man, Cromwell. I shall let you live… for now." Cromwell crumbles onto the floor as soon as he feels the pressure left from his neck. Despite him being able to live for another day, he knows that his life is now in the hand of His Eminence. The threat that his life is forfeit the next moment he steps out of the line is left unsaid. "But the next moment you even think about creating more chaos to our nation and weakening us, you better have already received our lord's blessing. Because I will most definitely be less merciful than him."
"As you command, Your Eminence." Cromwell leans his body onto the ground.
Vicar Vittorio wished his mind was as calm as his face projected, but he is both tired and frustrated. The negotiation with his three heroes worshiping sibling faith to have them stand down from their current tide of madness had been painfully slow. Mostly likely by the design of that sniveling worm Cromwell.
Thankfully, the news of Pope Balmus' awakening has reached him. And he desperately hopes the leader of the Three Heroes' Church can be a bit saner than his subordinate. Which is why he is waiting in the hall of the Three Heroes' Church cathedral with his Lord Inquisitor Julio, and Lord Commander 'Cloud' of the Adeptus Astartes flanking his sides. Balmus has called a meeting of all the high lords, to discuss how their nation will go forward, and whose protection Princess Melty will fall under.
"Vicar Vittorio." The large man turns around the corner, with two of his demi-human 'sons' behind him, mirroring Vittorio's own escort.
"Pope Balmus." He gives a slight bow of respect to the man who technically outranks him. "Your faith had been busy while you were indisposed."
"A shame, considering how much of a mess they created. But I was the one who bestowed them power. I will take responsibility for their actions." Pope Balmus' reply gives him the urge to raise his own eyebrow. He didn't expect the pope to be so forthcoming with his own mistakes, even in private. "I only hope it's not too late to stop the situation from heading to its worst conclusion."
"Good to know you are open to admitting your mistakes. Lord Amelia was afraid you would not be willing to repay him for all the damage Cromwell caused on House Amelia's capital manor. I would tell him where he can take all his gold coins, but I'm afraid I owe him as much debt as the rest of the nation." The two of them share a chuckle before he falls into steps beside Pope Balmus. They begin their walk towards the meeting hall where the other high lords are gathered, waiting for them. "Everything rests with the whereabouts of the Shield Hero now. It will no doubt be an uphill battle considering how much Cromwell wronged the Shield Hero. But assuming we can somehow convince the Shield Hero to not side with the other nations, we might stop them from carving up our land like a liberation day roast."
"An uphill battle indeed. I don't foresee the Shield Hero to be in a forgiving mood after two of his companions were killed, and two were enslaved." Pope Balmus nods his acknowledgement as they walk side by side in silence. After a while, the pope opens his mouth again. "Have you heard of Faubley's branch of Four Heroes Church? What are they up to now? I'd ask myself, but I'm afraid I'm quite out of favor, after that sordid incident with Lord Inquisitor Emon."
"Being the personal stooges of King Egbert, or Lord Regent Dumbledore, more likely. The leadership of the Faubley branch isn't something you would call strong." Vittorio holds back his desire to snort back at the expense of those bumbling Fau-pigs. They love to act high and mighty over their religious victory over his homeland. but the Faubley branch of Four Heroes Church has now grown fat and spoiled. More used to throwing the weight of their wealth… and their actual weight around than fighting through mud and blood like their ancestors who first adopted Chief God worshiping from the holy Flangey missionaries. "We are truly in a precarious situation here, Balmus. Faubley can spout the message of unity between us human nations all they want. But King Egbert had always been an admirer of King Mikage, and he desires domination above all else. We are as much the enemy of Faubley as Siltvelt. And King Egbert will surely use the missteps of King Aultcray and your faith against us."
"I am well aware. That's why as you said, the retrieval of the Shield Hero is above everything else." Their conversation stops as they reach the door to the gathering hall. The church knights stationed in front of the door open the ancient holy wood door up, revealing the big meeting table inside with the most important lords sitting on both sides.
He sits down in the first empty chair on Pope Balmus' right hand side. Before he even has a chance to fully get his bearing, Prince Joseph speaks across him. "Pope Balmus. While I should give the honor of first speaker to you, I'm afraid your faith has caused quite the damage to my land. The fortress city of Graile was sacked, and the chapel of the Three Heroes' Church was burnt down as a result. How do you plan to pay for such damage?"
"Patience, Prince Joseph. There will come a time for reparation for all the actions done while I was indisposed of. Even if I was not the one directly making the order, I do intend to take full responsibility for the action of my faith." Once again, Vittorio is slightly surprised at Balmus' willingness to accept his own shortcomings in such a public manner. To a noble or a high ranking cleric, their prestige is even more important than their wealth. And much of it comes down to how they are supposedly wiser than most common rabble to not make mistakes… or not admit to them even when they do. But Pope Balmus' next move surprised him even further. "But for now, I believe we have a more important topic to discuss first. As all of you esteemed ladies and lords know, Princess Melty was taken under our protection after the fall of both the Spear Hero, and her Father King Aultcray. While my faith is perfectly capable of protecting her from harm, she was never meant to be under sole stewardship of my faith. This, coupled with her rather young age and no doubt impressionable mind, I believe a more varied influence is the most prudent."
To have the queen's intended heir completely under his thumb would be an enviable position to the gathered members of the high society. Something most of them would be willing to give their first born in exchange, and a position they would vehemently defend for a much higher price once they get it. Vittorio had anticipated someone (most likely from Prince Joseph or Duke Arvis) would call such an arrangement into question; he didn't expect the pope of the Three Heroes' Church to once again openly admit it himself.
"Yes… that was admittedly the second issue in my head. Perhaps I should have started with this issue." The mad prince of Gallia nods his head in a faux sagely manner. "Piety in a ruler is good. But historically, the most pious rulers are often unable to correct their own mistakes due to their stubborn belief of connecting their own action to that of their gods. A more balanced influence from the nobility to continue teaching Princess Melty in the art of governance would be best."
"While that certainly rings true, the better question is who will act as the steward for her highness Princess Melty." Despite technically being lower on the seating plan due to Marquis Grima Consevatie being his queen appointed Lord Paramount, Duke Arvis didn't wait for his lord before speaking up himself. Everyone knows the crusader of infernal fire is the real power in northern Melromarc after all. "Let's not beat around the bushes. Princess Melty is bright for her age, but she's too inexperienced to handle a crisis in a situation like this. Whoever acts as her steward will be the regent of Melromarc in all but name."
"My thought exactly, Lord Velthomar. While his majesty King Aultcray has always intended for me to act as a steward for his daughter in case of any mishap to himself, such power and responsibility is not meant to rest on a single man, myself or any of you. I intend to create a board of regency." The gathered noble family heads begin to shuffle in their seats as they look at each other at the metaphorical fireball tossed out by Pope Balmus.
Vittorio narrows his eyes as he leans his head down. So, that's the game Pope Balmus played by acting as someone from the position of weakness. He's setting up the bait he tossed out to the nobility by making them think he is ready to compromise from the start. He's giving away a lot by willingly stepping down as the steward of the nation and Princess Melty, but the seat has a poison needle filled cushion to begin with. Despite the prestige he won from The Great War, Pope Balmus is not connected to the Melromarc dynasty or any other royal family to begin with. If he had tried to hold onto such power, he would instantly become the target everyone seeks to topple over, possibly even temporarily setting aside old grudges to work together.
But by dividing the power up, and tossing the scraps out for the balloons to fight over, he would pit the gathered nobles against each other. In the meantime, he himself would still hold onto the majority of power even in a board of regency due to his personal connection with the king. And now he is free to act on other matters rather than constantly batting away rivals and backstabbers. Such as trying to find the Shield Hero.
Well played… Your Eminence. I see I still have much to learn from a seasoned veteran like you.
"While I would like to let you esteemed ladies and lords to figure out who will sit on the board amongst yourselves, I do have one candidate I want to personally appoint to." The Pope of the Three Heroes' Church stands up from his seat. He holds his arm up towards a lady with a black veil over her face sitting much further back. "Duchess Fiege, I would like you to be a member of the board of regency."
"M-me?" The perpetually mournful lady of House Fiege fidget in her seat, clearly not expected to suddenly become the center of the room's attention. "I would be honored, Your Eminence. But surely you jest, and there are better candidates than myself? I'm not an accomplished warrior, spellwright, strategist, or even a governor of my own land. I mostly leave the statesmanship to my husband. Perhaps such an illustrious position is better reserved to someone with better achievement?"
"You might be more hands off in stately, or marital affair, Lady Ethnia, but you do have an unique achievement none other has surpassed in this room." Pope Balmus takes a short pause before he starts again. "You are the most accomplished mother in this room, having raised six fine children who all love and trust each other. Think about what must be going on in Princess Melty's mind right now. Her mother is under house arrest in Cal Mira island. Her Father was nearly murdered in the Third Wave. I believe someone with a mother's intuition on the board of regency would help calm Princess Melty, rather than have her feel like she's being bullied by a room full of old men and women."
"Yes… yes, I think you are right. Your Eminence. Her highness must be in utter distress right now." The slim duchess' posture suddenly grows much straighter, Vittorio can almost feel her blazing gaze piercing through her veil as she looks around in the room. "I understand all of you need to fight for the glory, and wellbeing for your own noble house. But don't step out of the line, and drag her highness down with you. Anyone of you thinking this way, I will fight you with my teeth and nails if I have to."
"I see I was not mistaken in appointing you to the board, Lady Ethnia."
"If Duchess Ethnia is on the board, shouldn't Princess Melty's elder sister, Princess Malty be on it too. Even if she's only there for appearance rather than making any meaningful decisions?" Archduke Wales suddenly speaks up. "She is also young and inexperienced, but she's an adult and Princess Melty's family. Having her on the board would no doubt be a calming presence for her highness."
Silence once again takes over the room. Everyone's attention slowly moves away from Archduke Wales to Pope Balmus, eagerly waiting for his answer.
Not tempted by destitution and deprivation. Not moved by wealth and prestige. Not intimidated by threat and force. The faithful of the Chief God must remain steadfast. Do not reach for someone else's bread even in starvation.
The stench of death in the dungeon doesn't affect him any more than the rich incense of the board of vicars. Preacher Logarius meditated on the dark cell he had come to call his home since the conclusion of the Third Wave. High Lord Inquisitor Duncan had offered to move him into a more comfortable position in the dungeon after the inquisitors stormed and barricaded the dungeon to protect all the members imprisoned by the radicalized zealot. But he will remain in the darkest cell Cromwell throws him into.
He will remain with his fellow brothers in distress, rather than seeking special treatment from an old friend.
"You traitor! You betrayed all of us!" Logarius can hear the wrathful scream of Albert from a few cells over. Before the former preacher begins to wonder who has come to visit him, a familiar sound comes from the otherside of his cell door.
"How are you holding up, old friend?"
"Your Eminence. You have awakened." Logarius opens his eyes, and turns his head to the flawed man he had chosen to follow. "You are here, yet you haven't come to free us. You have to forgive me, but I am not able to show you the full courtesy in my current condition."
"You are quite forgiven, old friend. Although I'm afraid it will take much more for my own redemption."
"I may be bound to this cell, but I'm not blind and deaf. Duncan made sure I'm still aware of what's been going on outside the dungeon. You don't agree with what Cromwell did, not completely. But you will still walk down the road paved by him, because your goal will be unfulfilled if you back down. Cromwell had made too many enemies, and any show of true weakness would have you torn apart by the players and backstabbers. But if you keep walking down the only path Cromwell set for you, there is still a chance for you to reach your goal if you succeed and overpower everyone." Logarius lets out a sigh as he turns his head back to look straight once again. "But would it be worth it in the end?"
"Would you rather have the alternative, old friend? Of the seven oldest nations of men, there are only two remains, while animals wearing man's body and cloth run around unchecked. How long will it be, till we all die out? After all, when the blood of the beast mixes with man, only other beasts will be born." For his part, Biscas truly sounds regrettable. He is a man with many masks, but the love he had for his children, men or 'beasts' had always been true.
"If we die out, it only means we failed the Chief God and the teachings of our teachers, just like I wasn't strong enough to stop you from going astray." Logarius closes his eyes, as he hangs his head low. "For that, I can only wait for my judgment… and pray for our teachers to forgive my own weakness."
"You give up too easily, old friend. That has always been your biggest flaw, and why I hesitate to name you as my successor. But no matter… your story doesn't end in this dingy cell."
That response genuinely surprised Logarius. The former preacher stands up from where he kneeled as he walks closer to his cell door. "What are you planning, Biscas?"
"As you said, backing down now would ensure my goal is unfulfilled. But I can't let someone like Cromwell have everything he wanted either. That self-serving, greedy bastard would sooner have the nation and our faith burn down than giving up his power." Biscas turns away from the door, only showing his back to Logarius as he slowly walks away. "I have instructed my son to deliver supplies to Lord Duncan, Raziel will ensure all of your survival till the end. If I win in the end, I will pardon all of you to make sure there's someone to oppose Cromwell. If the heroes win… her majesty will need someone reasonable to act as the new face of the Three Heroes' Church even as she dismantled our faith from the inside to fortify her own power. You, who were wrongly imprisoned by the heretics for defending the Shield Hero will serve that role perfectly. And through you, I will ensure a new future for our faith to continue without the corrupted burden of Cromwell, and his band of sycophants. May the Chief God watch over you, old friend."
The last visage of his old friend looks more fragile than Logarius has ever seen him.
The smells of herbs, calming incense and the benevolent chant of blessing fill the room. Father walks over to the bed where his friend lay motionless on the bed. He remains silent and unmoving, like a statue watching over his fallen king. As for Raziel himself, he remains kneeled behind his Father for as long as Father is willing to spend time with his friend.
"Come with me, Raziel." He wordlessly stands up, follows Father out of the private healing chamber for King Aultcray as they make their way into Father's personal sanctum once again. The mess caused by the heretic has been cleaned up, and a new shrine to Master Shirou has been made. Sadly, it would not achieve its former glory. "Cromwell had put my old friend into a healing coma meant to keep him sleeping indefinitely, hadn't he?"
"Yes, the High Confessor can't be trusted." He bows his head down as he tentatively asks. "Do you wish to bring the king back to consciousness? It will take a few days to ensure minimum everlasting damage to his majesty, but it's something Brother Cain will manage."
"No… leave him be. With the treatment I'm about to subject to my friend's family, keeping him oblivious is the least mercy I can grant him. Least mercy… just like this life of eternal servitude I forced you and your brothers into" Father slumps down into an armchair, his face hiding in his hand.
"You gave us life when everyone else was ready to give us death, Father. None of my brothers, or myself have any right to criticize you for that." Such words no doubt makes Raziel a terrible sibling to his fellow brothers, but it's something he truly believed in. And if any of his fellow brothers disagreed…well, that's not a matter he has any control over.
"Thank you for your loyalty, Raziel. But I'm far from the good man you believe me to be." Father turns around to look at him, his arm slipping down and makes a waving motion towards Raziel. "Have you looked into the desecration of Master Shirou's shrine?"
"Yes, I have already assigned Dumah and Zephon to the task." Raziel thinks back to his closest brothers. Zephon and his subordinate specialize in infiltration and intelligence gathering, while Dumah commands the best hunters and assassins. The two of them are perfect for the job of dragging out the heretic who dared to defile the memorial Father dedicated to his mentor.
"Good choice… but I want you to take over, and look into this matter personally. You, and your brother Rahab."
"Me and Rahab? We will not shrink in our duty, Father. But are you sure this is wise? We would not do as good a job as Dumah and Zephone-" A sudden realization hits Raziel like a lightning strike. Father didn't assign the task to him and Rahab because he was not confident in Dumah and Zephon's ability. "You believe my brother Dumah and Zephon to be compromised? If they had forsaken their loyalty to you, I would personally punish them myself!"
"Do not act hasty, my son. I have no evidence of Dumah and Zephon's possible insubordination." Father shakes his head in disappointment, making Raziel look down in shame for his rash outburst. "But of all your brothers, Dumah and Zephon had always been the most ambitious. You on the other hand, you are the most faithful, while Rahab is the most patient and rational. Good qualities to rely upon in this trying time."
"That is prudent, Father. Very well. I will recall Dumah and Zephon, and take over the investigation with Rahab post haste." He stands up straight and ready to leave the room to carry out his task. But he is once again stopped by his Father.
"One more thing, Raziel. Answer me this truthfully. If what needs to be done conflicts with what should be done, what will you choose?"
"I would choose whatever you ask of me, Father."
"Yet, I want to hear your own truthful opinion. What would you choose, if I'm not there to influence you, my son?"
Raziel frowns and looks down, trying to puzzle out Father's question. Ideally, what needs to be done is what should be done, and that seems like the answer. But then he thinks over all the events he has personally witnessed, or heard of in his life. He realized what Father was truly asking… and knew his answer. "I… would choose integrity."
"Then you are ready. I will be leaving the capital after I set everything in order to look for the Shield Hero… hopefully recover him before it's too late. I will take Abel and Cain with me, and make modifications to all of your 'holy' seals, ensuring Cromwell can't do what he did to Cain at the end of the Third Wave. You and Janne will stay in the capital, in case Cromwell decides to do something particularly foolish behind my back once again." Father's head drops slightly towards the ground, the reflection of his spectacles hide his eyes. "Make sure he does not cause any more damage to our maligned nation."
"As you wish, Father. Cromwell's life will be forfeit, the moment he steps out of the line."
"Good. Now leave me. This has been a tiring day." Father waves him away. He gives Father one last bow, before taking his leave to attend his duties. Deep down, Raziel can't help but have a growing, tangible fear that Father was making some final preparations before he leaves them forever.
Being left on his own, Pope Biscas T. Balmus slowly stands up from his large, comfortable arm chair made of ancient holy wood and devil spider silk cushion. He turns around, walks towards a locked door of his chamber as he opens it up to a much smaller room that's barely larger than a common closet. Inside, is a piece of a true miracle from the Chief God.
A rickety, wooden rocking chair smoked black. The last piece of memorabilia saved from his humble little mountain chapel, after the destruction of Flute. Still sturdy, functional to support his own weight after all these years, and the war that's torn apart the nation.
What can it be, but a sign of divine providence? The lord's true grace upon him?
He shuts the door, and sits down in the rocking chair and closes his eyes. He could almost still remember the cool summer breeze that blew through the front of his chapel, as the laughter of children playing in the field.
End Note:
I tried something a bit different with this interlude chapter. Where as the narrative character of the interlude is the character in the title, this time we have multiple different perspective from different characters, but the whole chapter is still all about Pope Balmus of Three Heroes Church. He himself only gets a POV from the flashback scene at the start, and a very short scene in the end. I think this specific style allows readers to get a better sense of him as a character, but not immediately give away everything to preserve a bit of mystery for this major antagonist of Three Heroes Church Saga till the final confrontation.
So, as I confessed myself. Pope Balmus is the character I put most thought into right after Malty (arguable, as multiple people had rightfully said that I essentially turned Malty into an OC). Funny enough, he went through multiple different iterations as my story developped, which could explain why his character seems to be a bit inconsistent for some of you who are more observant. Some of the earlier scenes definitely had their meaning retcon'ed, now that I tweaked his overall characterization.
As I said at the start. Commissar Gaunt had a major hand in shaping this final version of Pope Balmus, even if he technically didn't make any suggestion directly regarding this character and mostly contributed in helping me shape the overall plot of ACT 3 of Three Heroes Church Saga. And Balmus' character ends up changing due to the change to the overall plot (to be fair, he's not the only one). I would leave the whole explanation for how Balmus changed as a character, and how the good commissar helped me tweak this last act around the curtain call. But one thing I will say, despite being Lawful Evil alignment, Balmus' overall characterization definitely starts to lean more and more towards Good alignment.
XD