Chapter 91: The Church of the Stars (3)

Mastemo spent the rest of the flight testing Simon’s elemental affinities, like Belzemine before him.

“This is quite odd,” the High Confessor noted after Simon completed the exercises. “I can see the Light is strong with you, but your affinity for the element itself is abysmal.”

A quirk of using Anathemic Secrecy to hide Simon’s immensely powerful dark aura behind a veil of false light, no doubt. “Is that unusual?”

“It is. I suppose spending years of your life in Frightwall atrophied your natural talent, or that your family’s dealings with the Dark suppressed your Visionary gifts as they did with Prince Thalas.” Mastemo dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. “No matter. The Light refracts in many colors, and your other strong affinities should prove sufficient. Many prayer spells align with other elements.”

“I know Inquisitor and Priest Classes can use spells unique to them,” Simon said. “Is that what you are referring to, Your Excellency?”

Mastemo nodded slightly. “Mages usually classify magic in sixteen branches depending on the medium used to cast the spell: Thaumaturgy, Necromancy, Psychism, Diabolism, Chronomancy, Astromancy, Arithmancy, Conjuration, Rituals, Runes, Performances, Geomancy, Shamanism, Witchcraft, Divination… and Prayer. In many ways, prayers are the opposite of diabolism. Whereas the latter focuses on harnessing the power of demons and the Abyss, prayers derive their power from eidolons, dryads, and other entities of the Worldsoul.”

“The Worldsoul?” Simon recalled the name from Lauriane’s lesson on Vassal Crestone creation in a previous reign. “That’s the name of the manatree network.”

Mastemo let out a brief sound of amusement. “The Worldtree is far more than a mere amalgamation of dryad roots. It is a plane of existence aligned with the Light, not unlike how the Abyss is an extension of the Dark, shaped by the souls and memories of all life on this world. This is where the eidolons are born.”

“So eidolons are the same as demons, they just come from a different plane?”

“Yes indeed,” Mastemo confirmed. “The same way the ancient elves drew from archetypes born in the Worldsoul’s depths to create the Noble Crestones, the faith of men can often create false gods. That is the nature of eidolons. By believing in them, we mortals give them shape and a small portion of our mana, which sustains them the same way demons feed on miasma. Our more primitive ancestors established a symbiotic relationship with these creatures in the past, offering worship in exchange for protection… until Crestones made them obsolete.”

Interesting. That echoed Asterion’s claim that the Zodiac Fiends were born of people’s fears, given shape and substance by Abraxas. They were the eidolons of the Dark.

“But that relationship goes both ways,” Mastemo said. “Eidolons can lend back some of the mana they accumulated in the form of spells to their worshipers. That is the nature of prayers: by reaching out to an emissary of the Light, we invite them to act on our behalf.”

“Then what’s the difference between priests and summoners?”

“The difference is that prayer is exactly that, a prayer,” Mastemo clarified. “The creature you call upon is under no obligation to listen or lend you its power, whereas summoners more directly bargain with and compel them to act a certain way. Everyone can learn to cast prayer spells, but only Visionaries may summon eidolons to do their bidding.”

Simon began to grasp the concept. Prayers were not unlike his own brands, where he granted cultists a portion of his power in return for their service, whereas summoners could outright bind their ‘gods’ the same way he had enslaved the Stone Muse with the Seasonal Key ritual. He wondered if he could bind eidolons with such spells…

“So if I pray to the Light, it will grant me spells?” Simon asked.

“Yes… and no,” Mastemo replied, “The Light is a unifying force with countless faces, like the Dark. It works its miracles on a higher layer of existence than us mortals, so we must rely on intermediaries to receive its blessings. We instead pray to megaliths as a proxy to the divine.”

Megaliths… Simon recalled that those were enormous chunks of manaliths charged with potent elemental energies, and catered to by virgin vestals. Vassal Crestones used to be carved from megalith chunks until the empire refined its more effective mining processes under Balzam Magnos.

Mastemo detailed to him the basics of prayer spells. Their main draw was that they didn’t require mana to cast, since the eidolon, dryad, or megalith provided it. In theory, everyone could cast them.

In practice, getting the entity to listen and act on one’s behalf required them to sense the caster’s faith, since empowering the equivalent of a tiered spell was an investment on the ‘deity’s’ part. This usually involved building a long relationship of trust through normal prayers meant to praise the entity and receive its attention, bribing them with sacrifices or small offerings, regularly showing up to their temples, and so on. Cleric, Paladin, and Summoner Vassal Classes streamlined the process by strengthening the person’s connection to their chosen deities through levels.

All in all, Simon was less than enthusiastic about that particular spellcasting branch. The benefits of casting unique spells without spending mana didn’t even begin to compensate for their unreliability. The idea of relying on another entity’s judgment on whether or not he could even use his magic didn’t sit well with him. It required a degree of trust he found difficult to achieve with anybody, let alone a dryad or eidolon.

But well, knowledge was knowledge.

“You will begin your training by practicing simple prayer spells affiliated with your elemental affinities, since this will ease the process,” Mastemo said upon glancing through his stained glass porthole. “We have arrived.”

Simon glanced through the porthole to witness the tallest man-made structure he had ever seen.

Said to be one of the great wonders of the world, the Lighthouse of Valendre was an ancient and primeval structure that had existed long before the Doom. Built atop a massive waterfall where the continent’s greatest river fell into the northern sea, the massive stepped tower rivaled manatrees when it came to size and grandeur, its white marble and gilded walls shining brightly in the sunlight. Terraced hanging gardens and farmfields built all over the structure’s many balconies grew food for its inhabitants, alongside artificial ponds housing fish and water reservoirs.

The Church of the Light had done more than merely restore the tower when they stumbled upon it centuries ago; they had built fortifications around it and raised it higher to the sky, so that it could pierce through the clouds and scratch the very heavens. The glow of a massive megalith crystal came out of its second-highest floor and provided a guiding beacon to ships docking at the ports below the waterfall; the highest floor, meanwhile, housed the most accurate observatory in the entire world.

Simon had heard that the higher one rose in the church’s hierarchy, the higher the tower levels they could access. If so, their hierarchy must have had countless strata. Ascending to the summit from the base would be as tiring as climbing Valne’s Mount Colt.

The Radiance docked at a special pier built at the top of the waterfall, where a large group of priests and armored templars led by their leader, Beatrice the Godsblade, waited. Simon had glimpsed her once or twice in Frightwall when she escorted Mastemo on official business. A tall, muscled, and middle-aged woman with a stern face matching her bulky white armor, she had long platinum-blonde hair tied in a braid and an icy blue left eye. The right side of her face was covered by a black eyepatch since she lost it in her youth. Rumors said she had refused healers’ proposals to regrow it to constantly remind herself of the price of failing the High Confessor, but no one knew the truth of it.

“Your Excellency,” she said, planting her claymore into the ground as she and her soldiers knelt before their leader. “Thank the Light for your return. I pray you had a good stay in Frightwall.”

“I wouldn’t call it good, Beatrice, but it was certainly eventful.” Mastemo turned to present Simon’s group. “Let me introduce you to Lord Simon Magnos, our new recruit for the Templar Order, and his retainers. One of them should be familiar to you.”

“Greetings to you all,” Beatrice replied politely, frowning at Eole and sparing particular attention for her one-time squire. “It is good to see you again, Meredith.”

“The pleasure is shared, Lady Beatrice,” Meredith replied with the kind of respect she usually reserved for the Overlord. “Returning here is like visiting my second home.”

“It would have been your only one if you had chosen otherwise,” Beatrice replied with a hint of reproach, her stern gaze turning to Simon next. “I am told His Majesty Balzam Magnos wants you to join the Templar Order.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“He does,” Simon confirmed. His father’s death was still a closely kept secret at this point in time. “Although I must say this is all new to me.”

“Take your time to familiarize yourself with life at the Lighthouse,” Mastemo said. “Beatrice will show you around and explain a Templar’s duties to you. Treat him as you would your personal squire, my friend.”

“Your Excellency’s will is law,” Beatrice replied.

“I must confer with the Confessor Conclave with haste to discuss new developments in the capital,” Mastemo informed Simon’s group. “My attendants will see to your accommodations.” He then switched to Elvish. “We shall continue our conversation after I have settled more urgent matters, Lady Eole. Make yourself at home in the meantime.”

“Your Excellency, if I may,” Simon said. “I’m told the Lighthouse’s library is the greatest on the continent. I would like to investigate my dreams there, if that can be arranged.”

“You will have access to non-restricted areas as an honorary squire, but some wings are restricted to Templars, Priests, and Confessors,” Mastemo warned him. “I cannot make an exception, even for House Magnos.”

Disappointing, but not unexpected. Mastemo hadn’t budged when asked by Balzam Magnos, so why would he make an exception for Simon? “Thank you for your trust, Your Excellency.”

Mastemo excused himself, and Beatrice invited Simon’s group inside the Lighthouse. What he found inside was a hive of activity, of vibrant halls of painted checkerboard patterns of gold and marble tiles, of painted cathedral domes representing great scenes of the Church’s history. Hundreds of priests, soldiers of the faith, and other faithful workers traveled along stone ramps on their way to their duties. Simon wondered how many of them secretly answered to Shabram’s Imperial Intelligence.

“The Lighthouse is seven hundred floors tall, all of them linked by stairs, magical doors, and enchanted elevators that open to individuals based on their mana signature,” Beatrice explained during their tour. “You will be allowed access to the first three hundred as an aspiring squire, Lord Simon, but your retainers will be limited to the visitor areas on the first hundred.”

Simon nodded obediently, but began to struggle with a general sense of unease. Something he had never quite experienced before. On one side, the Overlord inside him felt threatened, exposed, observed by sacred power; and on the other, he felt welcomed, called by something below.

Trapped between Light and Dark.

There’s something strange about this place, Simon thought. Wait… didn’t Father’s demonbarrow map put one in Valendre? Could a Zodiac Fiend have been buried under this place’s foundations?