Chapter 99: The Church of the Stars (11)

Mastemo took the news about as well as expected.

“Cubirah and Barbas, both slain?” His hands tightly gripped his chair’s armrests, the noise echoing in his office. “Beatrice and Silence, gone?”

Simon nodded grimly. He had used his teleportation gem to return back to the Lighthouse with both the sealed crystal and his fellow Templars’ remains. The box holding Exodeos’ miasma crystal sat on the High Confessor’s office like a grim trophy.

“They fought valiantly and slew the demon,” Simon said. “Ser Barbas and Ser Cubirah landed the fatal blow, but… I’m sorry, Your Excellency, their wounds were too great. You have seen their bodies. I couldn’t do anything, even with prayers.”

Mastemo looked down at the box in disbelief. He hadn’t questioned Simon’s story that he had been mostly watching the fight from the sidelines due to his low level besides asking for a few details, but that was mostly because the idea of Beatrice’s entire squad having been wiped out shocked him to his core.

“I feared the mission might end with a casualty or two, but for my most elite Templars to be wiped out by a single demon… and it being weakened on top of that…” The High Confessor held his mask with his hand. “This Exodeos would have likely contended with the likes of Prince Louis or Her Grace Euphemia at full power.”

Did you underestimate the creature, Your Excellency? Simon thought before fishing for information. “With all due respect, Your Excellency… what was that thing?”

Mastemo clasped his hands. “Have you heard of the tale ‘The Heroes and the Zodiac Fiends’?”

Simon nodded sharply. So the Church did know about them. “It’s a story about the twenty-two Noble Heroes fighting demons and turning them into constellations.”

“I fear it is no story, my boy, but history,” Mastemo replied. “The truth is that the elves were not originally inspired to create the Noble Classes to bless the mortal tribes, as they would like us to think, but to fight a group of malevolent archdemons who had intruded upon our world eight hundred years ago.”

Simon feigned shock. “You’re saying we fought a monster from the Age of Heroes?!”

“Yes, which was unfortunate. I had hoped to transfer that monster into a more secure cell before it could escape.” Which implied he knew the Zodiac Fiend was close to freeing himself on his own. “I suppose it was the will of the Light that I sent you to confront this creature on the day it chose to escape its seal, to prevent it from laying waste to Bujan.”

Simon kept his mouth shut. He knew from experience in his past reigns that Exodeos only tried to escape because they attempted to move its crystal. The Zodiac Fiend would have likely been content to wait a year or so for the black comet to empower him otherwise.

Ironically enough, his father’s approach of just isolating Mount Perun had kept the region safer than Mastemo’s more hands-on approach. Simon wondered if Balzam Magnos had learned that lesson from a previous reign of his own.

“Cubirah and Barbas perished as martyrs for our cause, and I fear Silence may be gone forever if killing the demon didn’t cause it to spit him out, but Beatrice could still be saved,” Mastemo said. “Banisher is a Tier IX miasma spell that banishes the target to another dimension without killing them. I will contact Princess Norbelle with haste. The Summoner can call upon creatures from other planes, so she might be capable of recovering Beatrice with her Noble Class. Since you regularly visit the forbidden archives, I please ask you to look into the matter as well.”

“I will do what I can, Your Excellency.” Simon hesitated about making a sensitive inquiry and decided to push on. “May I ask something, Your Excellency?”

Mastemo nodded curtly. “What is on your mind, Simon?”

“How was the light megalith created?”

“All megaliths are massive pieces of manalith that absorbed elemental energies and the people’s faith over centuries, usually after a long-dead manatree underwent fossilization,” Mastemo explained. “The light megalith differs in that it channels the element closest to our god. Although the prophet Pharis received visions of the Light that revealed its true nature and purpose, the megalith was already considered a sacred object in what would become the Kingdom of Lore long before her birth.”

“So there was no miasma involved in their creation?”

“Of course not. Where did that sordid and absurd notion come from?” Mastemo glanced at the sealed box. “Ah, I understand. You think this demonic crystal and the megaliths could be related. Yes, there is a possibility that some vile megalith of the Dark exists somewhere and that these Zodiac Fiends were spawned from it.”

Except that Dark megalith would be in the depths of space and the size of a comet rather than a house. This wasn’t what bothered Simon, however, but he had no way of delving deeper without blowing his cover.

Why were light megalith prayers linked to his Miasmic Archmage Perk of all things? Did it carry a speck of darkness inside itself?

Come to think of it, could Simon pray to Abraxas and cast dark-aligned prayers? Did those spells even exist?

So many new questions and so few answers…

“I grant you time to rest and recover, but I will need you again on the night of the New Moon,” Mastemo informed him. “I ask you to meet me at the observatory then.”

Simon’s head perked up with interest. “The observatory?”

“Indeed. Thanks to this crystal, we can finally uncover the truth that the Dark cravenly seeks to hide from us.” Mastemo put a hand on the sealed box. “We will gaze upon the black comet you have seen in your dreams.”

Something that Simon couldn’t wait for. Mastemo soon dismissed him, and he moved towards the door pondering how to organize his free time.

“Simon.”

Simon froze, his head peeking over his shoulder at the High Confessor.

“Do you swear to the Light, on your honor as a Templar, that things happened exactly as you said?” Mastemo steepled his fingers. “That you did not forget nor hide anything?”

That was a loaded question. Simon could tell that the High Confessor was invoking the Templar oath’s clause compelling them to obey their superior’s every order. He was openly doubting Simon’s words.

“I swear it, Your Excellency,” Simon lied.

A dozen reigns spent infiltrating various factions let him say those words without showing any sign of deceit. His Treacherous Title shielded him from the consequences of breaking his oath, and no bolt of divine retribution struck him.

Mastemo studied him for a moment, then wordlessly nodded. Simon hoped the absence of divine retribution had assuaged his new mentor’s doubts for now.

Simon opened the door and walked away, feeling the High Confessor’s gaze on his back long after he crossed the threshold.

Eole was overjoyed to see Simon again, as were his retainers. The Church of the Light kept the disappearance of the other Templars lost in Bujan under wraps for now, so everyone thought he had simply returned from an exercise with other knights abroad without issue.

For his part, Simon had feared he would return to find that the Cobweb had abducted his friend. Simon was pleasantly surprised to find that Mastemo had held up his end of the bargain and put Eole under his Templars’ protection, though not for the reasons he thought…

“You want to help His Excellency?” Simon asked, slightly taken aback.

“Yes, I have agreed to assist the Church of the Light in refining its elixir and removing its side effects,” Eole confirmed, albeit with clear hesitation. “I do not agree that being a shifter is necessarily wrong, but should it be proved that they could fall under demonic influence… then they should have a choice on the matter.” Simon scowled, which she picked on. “I only agreed on the condition that taking the completed elixir would be voluntary. Lord Mastemo swore it on his megalith under witness.”

Simon couldn’t help but notice that the promise didn’t extend to the unfinished elixir, which had driven most of Telluria insane in a previous reign. “Would shifters truly take this offer?”

“I doubt many will,” Eole confessed. “Shifter tribes have existed for centuries. Being a lion or a centaur is more than a physical change; it is their life. And beyond their cultural heritage, shifters enjoy benefits humans do not. Would you agree to stop flying, if you could?”

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“No.”

“The same goes for me.” She smiled at him. “I am not proud of what my people did, if Lord Mastemo is right… but I am still proud of being a kish.”

“I see.” Simon returned her grin. “I will hold His Excellency to his oath then.”

And if he lied, then Simon would know it soon enough.