Chapter 95: The Church of the Stars (7)

The very first thing Simon asked for after the ceremony was to request access to the forbidden archives, which was granted to him.

“Our restricted library is available only to Templars, Confessors, sworn priests, and our head librarian,” Mastemo explained on their way down the elevator. “You are free to examine the books there as you wish in your free time, though you are not allowed to take any book outside the premises for security purposes. Whatever information you seek is either there, or does not exist.”

Quite the bold claim, but Simon was wise enough not to question it. “Thank you, Your Eminence. I hope this will let me understand my visions better.”

“Your thirst for knowledge is both a virtue and a flaw, Simon,” Mastemo warned him. “Believe me when I say our world is built on lies. Nothing is more precious than the truth… and you will find no heavier burden.”

“It is one I will gladly bear.” Simon took a deep breath, feigning unease. “The Light’s plans for me remain unclear. I need to understand them.”

“Awareness will come with time and wisdom.” Mastemo put a hand on Simon’s shoulder in a near-paternal fashion. “I will have a very important task for you, my new Templar, but that can wait until tomorrow. Join me in my office at dawn.”

Some Zodiac Fiend hunting or political task, no doubt, Simon thought as he nodded. “I am at Your Excellency’s service.”

The elevator stopped on floor three-hundred and five, then opened up to reveal a breathtaking sight: a vast, circular well with rows upon rows of books, scrolls, and parchments plummeting downward along spiraling flights of stairs and platforms hosting study desks illuminated by flickering lanterns. Some bookshelves rose so high they required ladders to access, each of them neatly separated into floors and dedicated to a particular field of study. It would take lifetimes to read it all.

However, the room wasn’t nearly as surprising as the figure Simon found there, reading a scroll on a table near the elevator.

“Brother,” Norbelle said with a mock reverence. “You look dashing today.”

“Norbelle?” Simon blinked in surprise.

“Princess,” Mastemo said, his tone calm and even. “I was not informed of your visit.”

“I didn’t wish to trouble your mind, High Confessor,” Norbelle replied with a hint of subtle disrespect. “I was just passing through in my search for knowledge. Phoenix-related matters, I’m sure you understand.”

“I do.” Was that annoyance Simon picked up in the High Confessor’s voice? “I take it that the Queendom agreed to our proposal?”

“Yes, I should be binding the Phoenix shortly. That will make two out of five, for now.” Norbelle smiled mischievously. “Maybe my brother could help find me a third.”

“If I deem it necessary.” Mastemo glanced down at the smaller Norbelle until her face reflected in his mask. “Do not toy with me, princess. The Church supports your saintly mother, but our resources are not yours to misuse.”

“Duly noted,” Norbelle replied with a tone that implied she would ignore the advice. “Anyway, I’ll teleport back to Cocagne soon. Don’t let me interrupt whatever you were planning to do.”

Simon had the suspicion Mastemo was considering smiting the princess where she stood, but he had enough self-control to restrain himself. “Stay here as long as you wish, Simon,” he said upon excusing himself. “I will meet you tomorrow to discuss your new duties.”

Norbelle watched the High Confessor leave through the elevator with a chuckle. “The poor Cleric,” she mused once only Simon and she remained. “It rattles him to know I can teleport into his secret archive without alarming his church-sense.”

“His church-sense?” Simon inquired.

“You don’t know?” Norbelle gave him a bemused look. “A temple is a Cleric’s territory. Mirror-Face controls this entire Lighthouse the same way Father controls Frightwall. He can shift the floors around, punish interlopers, even observe them from afar. I’m sure the creep is watching us as we speak.”

Simon suppressed a scowl. He had suspected Mastemo would keep him under close surveillance, but he didn’t think it would be so extensive. Anathemic Secrecy’s false stats should at least shield him from discovery by deceiving divination attempts.

“You shouldn’t speak of His Excellency that way,” Simon said with a faint smile.

“If we don’t remind the High Mirror-Face of his place, he is likely to forget himself.” Norbelle put her hands behind her back and smirked at him. “I’ve heard you became the quickest squire to rise to the ranks of Templar Knight. Is it true you killed a gargoyle in a single blow?”

“It was an accident,” Simon replied. His half-sister was sharp, and she might infer much from limited information.

“Is that supposed to make it sound less impressive?” his sister teased him. She leaned over to whisper in his ear. “Did Mirror-Face try to marry you off yet?”

Simon frowned in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He begged Mother and Father to let me marry dullards with drops of Visionary blood so the gift would pass on to our kids. They ignored him, of course, but I’m sure he’ll try again with you.” Norbelle put a finger on her lips. “Except… you won’t have much of a choice because of that stupid vow you made.”

“I see…” It didn’t entirely surprise Simon, but he suspected the High Confessor had more down-to-earth designs for him. “I trust His Excellency will find the right partner for me.”

Norbelle squinted at him. “Now, something’s wrong… weren’t you planning to graduate and flee the continent like a scared cat not two months ago? You wouldn’t swear a binding oath without a damn good reason.”

“I’ve had… visions whose nature I cannot entirely explain, especially since I lack a third eye,” Simon replied. “I hoped this place would provide me with answers.”

“I’m wounded. You would trust a cabal of old priests’ words rather than turn to your genius little sister? Then let me enlighten you.” Norbelle sat on her worktable with a small chuckle. She sounded rather proud of her joke. “Whatever visions you receive come from the other side.”

“The other side?” Simon raised an eyebrow. “You mean the Dark?”

“Indeed. Visionaries connect to the Worldsoul to predict the future, but for us descendants of Overlords and demons? The Abyss calls to us.” She crossed her legs. “I suspect that is why Father has been invincible for decades. The Overlord has a foresight ability of its own, except it derives its power from the Abyss and works slightly differently than those of Visionaries.”

“So you are saying there can be prophets on both sides?” Simon scoffed. “That’s quite the heretical take.”

“But that doesn’t make it untrue. I can tell you’re not too surprised yourself.”

“If that were true, Norbelle, what would that make you?” Simon teased her. “Someone with both a third eye and an Overlord for a father?”

“It makes me the best, what else?” The worst part was that she believed it utterly. “Others see a part of the show, but little old me? I see it all.”

Not quite, my prideful sister, Simon thought. You only see the future in which the Overlords won, not the twists and turns it took for us to get there.

Norbelle’s theory was sound, the same way Shabram suspected something close to the truth, but it only worked within the framework of linear time.

“It’s an interesting theory,” Simon said as he walked down the stairs on his way to the chronomancy ‘floor’ of the spiraling archive. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

He thought that would end the discussion then and there, but Norbelle was too sharp for that. “Why are you struggling so hard not to smile smugly? Like you know something I don’t?”

“You’re imagining things,” Simon lied.

“Truly?” Norbelle chuckled. “You would have thrown Father off this tower, do you know that?”

Simon froze where he stood, his flesh still like stone.

“You were a Templar back then, in my dream.” Norbelle playfully bit her finger. “You threw him off the Lighthouse after he failed to teleport away, and he plummeted to his death seven hundred floors below. I think that’s why Father never let you join Mirror-Face. He saw it too.”

Simon met his half-sister’s gaze, his heart sinking in his chest.

She… she had dreams of the reigns?

The truth was that he remembered throwing his father off a tower to his death, but he couldn’t recall the details. He certainly never realized he did it from the Lighthouse, or that he was a Templar.

Either Norbelle was somehow messing with him, or she could dream of previous reigns like he did… except her own visions had been far more detailed than his own; perhaps because she saw them from a third-person point of view rather than through Simon’s own eyes.

She could dream of Father’s reigns too… Simon struggled to keep a straight face as a horrifying possibility crossed his mind. Can she dream of mine?

The Overlord Class stirred within him, like a beast roused from its sleep by possible danger. It was not yet roused enough to strike, but the pressure was there, ready to pounce if Norbelle guessed a little too close to the truth…

“What else did you see?” Simon asked warily, his sister grinning upon realizing he had grown curious. “During that vision?”

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“Not much. Those dreams always centered around Dad’s death. Nothing like the awakened visions I receive from my third eye. I think it’s because the Overlord’s Perks let him predict his death, and those visions ripple through the Dark.” Norbelle played with her hair. “I saw Mother and Louis kill him often, too. I think one of them finally succeeded.”

She could see Father’s deaths, the same Simon only ever dreamed of them. Was that because those ended reigns rippled through the Dark like echoes? If she ended up seeing Simon’s own deaths while dressed as the Overlord…

No, no, I only started having those dreams in the past few years, over a decade into father’s reign, Simon told himself in an attempt to keep his calm. Norbelle wouldn’t act like this if she knew the truth. Whatever mechanism allowed us to see the reigns’ endings hasn’t yet started for me.

His best bet was to remain evasive. Avoid catching her attention even more than he already did.

“Well…” Simon replied with a scoff. “You would be right.”

“Since when have you grown so coy and mysterious, brother?” Norbelle leaped off her table and playfully walked up to him. “You should come to Cocagne. It’s dreadfully boring so far, and I could use a distraction.”

So you can watch me more closely? Simon forced himself to smile. “I thought your takeover of Cocagne was going well?”