[XASTOL CITY WALLS]
A hooded man in a long, ankle-length green winter coat allowed a soft smile to play on his lips as he listened closely to the saluting happening on the other side of the wall. He was far enough away not to be seen by the envoys, but didn't come near the Weeping Forest.
He was the same man who had broken into Xastol three months ago and killed Counselor Ruo Murong. And not too long ago today, he had broken in yet again to collect on the mountain of Jidan ore owed to him by way of his deal with the late Speaker, Banderd.
TMP TMP TMP
The sound of muffled footfalls approached from behind him, but he didn't turn. Instead, he crossed his arms and admired the grandeur of the walls.
"You seem pleased."
Behind him, another figure in a similar green outfit had stopped, his blond head cocked to the side with mild curiosity as he spoke to him. He was shorter than the intruder, and unlike him, he bore no emblem of the Eclipse Guild: the ram's head over two axes.
"Did the recovery of the Jidan go better than you'd hoped?" he asked, his blue iris glittering almost awkwardly as light reflected within it. "It isn't often you ask for my assistance in slipping past security. Those walls are nothing to scoff at, even with my prowess."
The hooded man didn't register a single word. Instead, he thought of Banderd, pride swelling in his chest. "When I last came here, I met an interesting person. He's gone now forever, but not before changing greatly, like I thought he would. You hear what's going on behind the wall, don't you, Leznar? It's because of him that the city has come back to life today."
He closed his multi-colored eyes and felt the breeze along his face. "Banderd Murong and his family were brave. They stood up against the oppression of Xastol and its laws. They fought for something greater — something equal. Their choice will now allow thousands to make their own."
He opened his eyes, moving his gloved hands towards his hood, and slowly pulled it off. Leznar's thin lips pursed into a smile as he took in the man's full appearance.
A winter storm given human form. That was the best description of the man before him. His hair was tousled, dark-green, giving him a windswept and distant charm found in most high-borns, but also with enough wildness to feel unraveled. His upright frame was lean yet defined, as if battle-hardened; something attributed to his penetrating and narrow eyes. They felt sharp — almost analytical — but when they shifted, they felt unsettlingly intense, like he'd seen too much. And the truth was that he had. So much so that any other person would have been driven mad.
Leznar, as his lieutenant and right-hand, knew the man's reputation well. He simpered a knowing look and joked, "To think that the leader of the Eclipse Guild would be so melancholic. What would your followers think?"
He paused for a second and grinned. "Eh, Mercurius?"
At last, Mercurius smiled, turning his head to him with his brow and pointer figure raised, and made a shushing motion. "You're too loud, you old demon. Do you want everyone to know we're here?"
Leznar scoffed and spun around without care. "If you were that easy to catch, that Church would have had you executed by now. You're not the Enigmatic Ram for nothing."
Mercurius mulled over the nickname for a moment while following him. "Enigmatic..? Is that what the Uppers have been calling me? It's a horrible nickname. I know kids who could probably do better."
"For someone who's supposed to be dead, you sure do speak a lot, don't you, brat?"
Mercurius threw up his hands and shrugged. "Well, not many people to talk to. Shame I'm stuck with you, aren't I?"
Leznar's eyes glittered again. "Yes," he said with a smile. "A shame indeed."
They silently vanished with a blur of speed, disappearing from the wall's sight. Inside the Weeping Forest, however, someone's watchful eyes had been fixed on the two operatives for a long time.
Nahasch stepped out of the shadows, Tannin by his side, and glanced from Leznar and Mercurius to the top of Xastol's walls.
It seems it's begun already. The agents of fate and the wielders of destiny… which path will overcome the other?
He brushed his palm along Tannin's head and smiled softly. "This age will prove more enjoyable than I thought."
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[XASTOL CITY, IRON-HAMMER FORGE — A FEW DAYS LATER]
Hidemi jumped into the air, blubbering loudly, and tackled Shao with a hug. The unsuspecting dwarf was knocked over and landed on the ground with a low groan. "Owa!" Hidemi called. He buried his face into his mentor's chest and cried, happy to see him again.
"Young master!" Shao smiled and hugged him back. "It's been some time, have you been well?"
Around the pair, the other forest dwarves had gathered around Iron-Hammer Forge with accomplishment in their eyes. Since Hidemi had placed first in the Dwanivit and Ivan's name had been cleared with Banderd's diary, the Council's first order of business was to recover the lost dwarves that had been exiled from Xastol and sent to the Weeping forest. They felt that if they were to truly move forward as a people, then they couldn't continue to punish those who followed what they believed in above Xastol's old laws. Change couldn't be had that way.
Behind Hidemi stood Aleximus and Jacender, the latter of whom bared a wide grin for all to see as he watched his friend reunite with the people who helped him.
"Ahem," someone coughed. Shao raised his head, prompting Hidemi to raise his. Everyone turned to see three men approaching the forge's entrance, and their expressions shifted slightly to uncertainty. These men, they recalled, were the Council of Xastol, led by Ivan, Huin, and Gido Murong. The same Council that had been the cause of their decade-long suffering in the Weeping Forest. Though they were grateful to be back in the city, none of them had been present to witness Xastol's change. Needless to say, the forest dwarves were not too trusting or fond of what the Council had stood for.
Ivan, noticing the change in attitude, came near first. His outfit was still simple, as he was not yet adorned in a Murong hanfu, and he had not yet shaved, but he was noticeably cleaner than he was a few days ago. He smiled, pleased to see his old travel companions and extended his arm to Shao.
"It's been a long time, old friend. I hope you don't hate me too much."
Shao met his gaze briefly and then grinned, too, unable to hold back his anticipation. He grabbed onto Ivan's hand as Hidemi slipped off of him, saying, "Nonsense. I'm just glad to see you."
He rose, finally face to face with his best friend for the first time in years. The two exchanged a look — remorse, guilt — then, they embraced each other tightly, neither one letting go for a long moment.
"I hear you took care of my son," Ivan whispered. "Thank you."
"There wasn't much for me to do," Shao joked. "The Young Master had wonderful parents already."
A tear streamed down Ivan's cheek as he and Shao let each other go. "The Sentries say that they found you all at the outskirts of the forest," Ivan said. "I thought you'd all still be with the Lord."
Shao looked to his friends and shook his head. "The Lord Of The Weeping Forest… he had somehow learned you'd be coming. He told us a day in advance that the Sentries would find us and told us to wait outside the city limits."
Nahasch! Jacender and Aleximus surmised in sync. Did he plan all of this?
Aleximus contemplated the revelation deeply, eventually concluding that he hadn't. No, he thought. Or is it that… he had so much faith in what we could do here in Xastol..?
Ahead, Ivan sniffled, ridding himself of the last of his tears, and turned his attention to the other forest dwarves.
"Thank you," he repeated. "To all of you. We wouldn't be here if it weren't for your loyalty. You believed in something much greater than me and loved my son despite my absence. I am undeserving of you all."
The dwarves shook him off with roused laughter, shouting:
"It was the least we could do!"
"We're just happy to see you alive, old man!"
"You've always been sappy, haven't you, Ivan?"
Aleximus's eyes softened at the intimacy of the men's words. It felt real — like a shared history had been there long before Xastol and would persist long after Xastol. He wondered if that feeling was what it truly meant to care about others selflessly. Jacender was his only worry, and even though he had opened his heart to Hidemi, Aleximus felt deep down that he wouldn't ever be able to care for others the way his brother could. It wasn't possible to trust anymore.
Gido and Huin drew nearer, earning them stiff looks.
"It seems they're not entirely happy, are they?" Ivan asked Shao.
Shao exhaled gently and shook his head. "You can't blame them. The Council is the reason they suffered within that forest. The boys have told us what happened after the Dwanivit and how the city has changed, but it's not so easy and quick that people forget. The fact that the Council stands in front of them reminds them of everything we've been through since we first left Xastol. They probably also don't like the idea of another Speaker being elected."
Ivan raised a brow. "I wouldn't worry about that."
"..?" Shao noised.
Ivan faced his old companions, shouting, "There will be no new Speaker of the Council."
Confused grunts and whispers poured out.
Gido nodded. "My brother is right. We've discussed it amongst ourselves, and we've decided that what is best for Xastol is not one man holding the power to influence the laws and morals of everyone else."
Huin adjusted his glasses. "Quite right. From now on, Xastol's Council will become self-managing, with all thoughts and ideas considered equally. We'll strive for full transparency and keep the best interests of our people in mind, not just the city's."
The change proved a welcome surprise to the dwarves. Even Jacender whistled with delight. Shao looked from Ivan, who gave him a "it's real" type of nod, to Hidemi, who held up his thumb triumphantly and huffed air out of his nose.
"As for the reason we asked for you to come here," Ivan said, digging into his breast pocket. He revealed a blue scroll with the Murong clan stamp and handed it to Shao, who opened it. "...Iron-Hammer Forge is often visited by many young dwarves who wish to excel in their craft and become master Sanctum-Smiths. Never before has the forge had any teachers."
Shao's expression slowly transformed as he put together what Ivan was asking of them.
"Starting today, should you choose to accept the post, Iron-Hammer Forge will be under your jurisdiction. We hope to introduce the next great age of dwarves by way of rigorous training, tapping into the dormant potential of all of Xastol's children. Think you're up to that task, old friend?"
Shao studied Ivan's expression for a long minute and realized he was serious. There was no place to argue or question it, even if he'd wanted to. He and the others had understood in that moment that Ivan and the Council were doing this as a way to prove the changes being implemented in Xastol. This wouldn't be how it was before, they thought. It wouldn't be perfect all at once, and there would be some bumpy roads, but Xastol would finally become a place for its people and not just about its people. It would be better.
"We accept," Shao said with a bow. The others followed suit and saluted Ivan for the chance. Gido, Huin, and Ivan did the same, despite their rank. They were all equal now.
Hidemi signed with his hands, grinning ear to ear as he did, saying:
"Let's make Xastol greater than it ever was!"
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[CIELTERRE, CHURCH OF GABRIEL EVANGELIST BRANCH, THE BLACK INSTITUTE — TWO WEEKS LATER]
A young woman sat at a grand desk in the center of the Black Institute's chancel, where behind her, carved into the quartz wall, was the figure of an Archangel, hooded and divine. His eyes were hardly noticeable through his headwear, but somehow, they shone with gold brilliance, as if he were alive and not a rock.
Above his head rested a simple phrase: "The meek, guided and culled by the waves of unfairness, will find reward in our Lord's mercy."
To her left and right, along the walls and even further down near the modest nave, stood segmented round-top windows of stained glass peeking outside towards the open road. Above her, in the spiral created by the institute's steeple, poked out a singular ray of blue light that ran straight through and hit her desk.
The receptionist adjusted her aviator glasses and pulled at her red collar as she glanced from the folded letter on her desk to the organ vestry adjacent to her.
It's hot, she thought. After all the rain and snow the past few weeks, you'd think the weather would calm down a bit, huh? The change feels super drastic!
Her eyes focused on the painting next to the organ, and she relaxed slightly. In it stood two young teens, their faces obscured by the sunlight pouring in from the side. They stood side-to-side with an older man wearing spectacles holding a staff with two snakes entwining around a strange gem. The elder wore a silky-white chasuble adorned with golden-red buttons flowing down his torso in the shape of a cross. The mitre atop his head was indicative of his position as the pope, but what drew the girl's attention was his eyes — eyes that shone with the same intensity of otherworldliness as the archangel sitting behind her.
She spun her chair around, making sure to face the statue protruding from the wall, and folded her hands together, holding the gesture for a moment before pointing to him, then her head, her heart, and finally pressing her palms together a second time and kissing her hands.
"Oh Lord Gabriel," she whispered earnestly. "Please bless both His Grace Damien and His Grace Richard with a safe return. They've been out and about so long in the far corners of the continent that I worry for their safety. Ovarem Dominae."
She finished her player and slouched back into her chair, bummed. Out of all the Evangelists, why did I have to be forced to watch the Black Institute? She closed her eyes, ready to drift off into sleep. Everyone else gets to be out on the continent or in Nazareth, and yet I'm stuck here on the border of Zenica—
THUKK!!
Her train of thought was interrupted by a sudden opening of the building's door. The next thing she heard was the overzealous boom of a young man's voice shouting, "HELLO!", throwing her eyes wide open as she snapped back awake.
That voice—!
"GRIER?" the voice yelled again. "ARE YOU STILL ASLEEP?!"
"Careful, Damien, you might wake her," another voice said softly. Grier rose to her feet, recognizing the voices straightaway, and hopped over her desk, nearly tripping over her tight vestment, and sped down the hall as quickly as she could.
As she rushed down the aisle, she made out the figures of the two men who approached her. Walking behind them were other Evangelists holding bags and chatting happily amongst themselves.
"Everyone!" Grier shouted, "You're finally back!"
The man who had called for her before looked up, drawn by her yelling and screaming, "She is awake!" to the others with a grin plastered on his face. "I told you, Richard!"
The shorter man by his side shared a polite smile and raised his brow in defeat. "Seems so."
They both pulled back their red hoods to reveal their faces. Both brothers looked exactly as they had the day they'd departed one month ago, and they left her in charge of the Black Institute. The Archbishops had the same short, spiky hair, but it was only Richard, the shorter of the two, whose black bangs almost completely covered his eyes. The older of the two, Damien, was blonde-haired and did not suffer from the same problem. His posture was much better than his brothers, and he kept his head held high to scan the entire room with confidence.
The other Evangelists rushed forward and greeted Grier, some hugging her, and others rubbing her head. "Little Grier!" someone smiled. "You're still holding this place together?"
The others laughed at the joke, earning them a childish pout from Grier, who crossed her arms and very grimly mumbled, "Hello, Marceus."
Marceus had a face like a chisled sculpture — perfect, but made others want to break his nose. "I bet Julian five Vitra that you'd be asleep," he whispered as he ran his hand through his hair. He slicked it back easily, without any gel, and winked at her.
"You're gonna have to repay me, you know."
Another Evangelist tossed his arm over Marceus's shoulder, pulling him away from her with a grin. "Alright, Loveboy, let's leave Grier alone, okay? We have to unpack."
"J-Julian?" Marceus groaned. "L-Let go of me!"
"No can do! Let's go, buddy!"
The others chuckled and helped Julian, grabbing onto Marceus and pulling him away as he grumbled under his breath. Grier smirked as she watched them go and faintly heard Julian whisper something about, "You should've just bet me ten Sol pieces instead…"
"Looks like Marceus can't stop hitting on you, can he, Grier?"
Grier spun, finally coming face to face with the Archbishops. She gave them a cuspid smile, like she was greeting relatives, and hugged them. "Your Grace — Your Grace — it's good to see you!"
She examined the illustrious golden-red overcoats around their shoulders and took in an uneasy breath. "Wh–You—" she spluttered. "What have you done to your coats?! The Father made it clear that you should be taking more care of them, Your Eminences! You are Archbishops — you must act like them!"
Damien blinked for a second before guffawing so loudly that Grier covered her ears.
Once he was done, he wiped the tears coming from his eyelids and held his belly. Grier sulked and humouredly beat against his chest with her fists. "It's not funny!"
"SORRY, SORRY!" Damien bellowed. "I DIDN'T MEAN TO LAUGH!"
Grier hung her head, all too familiar with Damien's ecstatic demeanour to know she wouldn't ever get him to stop yelling. He didn't even do it on purpose — he just always seemed to do it.
Richard reached out and patted her head, his touch as gentle as always. "Exhumation in Durlin was more difficult and messy than we expected, so we couldn't help getting our clothes dirty. We promise to do better next time, little Grier."
Grier felt like a child underneath his palm, but she was not resistant to his touch. Damien and Richard had always been kind to her since the day she had been chosen to be a part of the Church's Evangelist branch. She remembered feeling intimidated by the idea of reporting directly to the Archbishops themselves, but it wasn't long before she'd become a part of the family the two had cultivated here with the others. It was the true reason she never liked being left behind on missions and outreach.
They always ask me to stay behind whenever they go out. She noticed the dried bloodstains on Damien's collar and averted her gaze. They always say it's boring, even though they come back laughing and smiling, and yet… I can tell. What everyone must have seen… it had to have been horrible, wasn't it?
She thought of the news broadcasts and how they had told the people of Sanctafei that the Archbishops would lead an Evangelist unit to get to the core of the Durlin disappearances. What kind of monster would do that to those people..? A whole town. All those lives — gone, like they'd never existed…
Tears welled in Grier's eyes. Her heart ached and shattered at the thought of all the dead children of the massacred families.
The Pope suddenly asking the Archbishops to investigate Durlin… The attacks in the north… Rumors of a strange organization causing stirs all over the continent… It feels like something is going to happen soon, something that changes everything forever. And I'm not sure if it's going to be good.
Before she knew it, tears had begun streaming down Grier's face, accompanied by a muffled blubbering. Richard's expression shifted, ready to say something, but it was Damien who took action first.
FWP!
The Archbishop's hands wrapped around Grier, and for a long moment, he held her tightly, letting her cry in his arms.
"There, there, little Grier. Let it out."
Grier wailed and moaned until she was spent. Once Damien was sure she was done, he let go of her and leaned down low so they would be eye-level. His irises were shaped like shining stars.
"GRIER!" he said with his usual smile. She snapped back into it, his intensity hypnotizing:
"BELIEVE IN US! WE'LL TAKE CARE OF IT!"
Hope shot through Grier and warmed her body in a way the spring sun could never do. Her lips formed a smile, not because things had been fixed or anything like that. No, what made Grier smile was knowing that no matter how long the brothers were gone, they would always be able to instill within her the same hypnotic spirit of faith that they'd always projected. They were much like the Archangel statue behind her: powerful and transcendental. In a way very much like the Pope himself, the pair represented everything that made Grier fall in love with the thought of Gabrielism. But unlike the Pope and the angel their Church worshipped, the Archbishops felt tangible, like holiness given form. It was comforting for them all to have that nearby.
Grier nodded and sniffled one last time before putting on a tough face. No matter what she did, she always seemed like a baby. It was what everyone found endearing about her, why they wanted to protect her so much.
"Oh, right!" Grier said, remembering something important. She ran towards the desk where she'd been sitting earlier, picked up the folded letter, and ran back to them.
"A letter was sent via owl a few days ago to Eburacum: Zenica's horse rental company. The sender was flagged as a person of note by the Church and was sent here for your review before it was rerouted for Nazareth. I've been holding onto it, but I…" She sheepishly turned pink. "...I might have taken a peek or two."
Richard smiled, accepted the letter, and handed it to Damien without taking a look. "Where did the letter come from? And the sender?" he asked.
"Xastol City," Grier responded. She adjusted her glasses curiously and said:
"The sender's name was Ivan Murong."
[THE FLUX]