"It would seem that you've hit a wall, brother. Lord, excuse me, Marquis Aventia isn't a simpleton. You bet on the wrong horse." Prince Dalton nudged the man next to him as they walked away from the throne-room.
The other grumbled in response, "You make me sound like I am his enemy." Prince Arlin responded.
Dalton smirked, "Oh brother, who are you trying to fool? I would have to be blind and deaf to not notice your involvement with the Ironhoof family." he shook his head, "But you are really out of luck, aggravating two fresh rank three mages, and Duchess Debora as well. Haha, I'd hate to be in your shoes right now."
Arlin grabbed his brother's shoulder, "What do you mean? Why would the Duchess care when she has been staying neutral all this while?"
Dalton raised his eyebrow, "You are joking, aren't you?" then he covered his mouth as a smile crept up on him, "You truly don't know, do you?" he almost felt bad, if only it weren't beneficial for him if his siblings all fell short.
Seeing Dalton acting like that unsettled him, it was bad enough that Aventia survived the duel, but now he was also learning of a secret alliance between them and the Duchess?
"It's only a matter of time until Marquis Aventia finds out who backed his mortal enemy, if he hasn't already, judging from how he kept on glancing in our direction during the audience." Dalton brushed off his brother's hand, "I look forward to both of your next moves." he walked off, leaving a stumped prince behind.
'Is reconciliation possible?' Prince Arlin fell into thought, but there was also a second choice, one that made much more sense to him, '...or I could destroy them before they get to grow.'
... ...
Once Cykrus stepped inside of the cathedral, he felt like an ant, the vaulted ceiling reached up to the skies, supported by massive stone pillars, carved with depictions of humans, graces, and miracles.
From the moment he passed through the entrance, he felt like a set of eyes had laid their sights on him.
He looked around himself, but there was no one to be found that could create this eerie feeling.
Worshippers were spread across the entire first floor, kneeling and praying in the direction of the giant altar at the other end of the cathedral.
The space was big enough to hold thousands of people at once, and yet it was extremely quiet, only when passing by the devout believers, could one hear their whispered chanting.
Cykrus was walking with heavy steps, he was letting his full rank three aura leak onto the people around him; regular humans would tremble under the severe pressure, but those next to him either did not care, or notice, that an external force was pressing down on them, and simply continued with their prayers.
On the other hand, the feeling of being observed intensified, someone noticed him when he entered, and now they were paying closer attention.
He continued walking, the figures standing on the altar became clearer, as did the statue in their midst, it was a five-meter-tall pillar, from which many faces and countless limbs protruded, arms that held all sorts of weapons, and legs that wore different kinds of armours, it was an amalgamation of hundreds of people, created long before the current time, but kept in pristine condition.
Cykrus passed by the staircases on both sides of the hall that lead into the upper levels, there stood warriors clad in gold and red armour that glistened from the light that entered through the stained glass.
They had no aura to speak of, but the church was known for its otherworldly powers, each miracle stranger than the last, which made them unpredictable.
Were it not for his agreement with Simerlin, Cykrus would steer clear from anyone that was involved with the church, but alas...
The people atop the altar were oblivious to his approach, they continued performing their ritual, waving around metal incense burners that were suspended from chains.
Four people were carrying out this ceremony, all of them wore lavish robes with the usual white-gold and red colour theme, setting themselves apart from the regular believers, but also because they were separated by a wall of warriors.
Cykrus stopped, his aura heavily weighed on them, causing even their armours to quiver, yet they managed to resist it to a degree, as one of them raised his hand, "Halt. No one may interrupt the ceremony." he spoke in a tense and commanding tone.
"I don't care about your ceremony, I want answers. Now." he lifted his hand, and the rocks the cathedral was built with reacted, a spike shot out of the ground, but stopped as it pierced into the man's armour, before it could penetrate through his body.
"And if you cannot give them to me, I am sure those people behind you will." Cykrus continued, and as he took another step, a warm light enveloped him, keeping him in place, like a tight embrace.
He looked down, no matter how much he exerted himself, he could not budge an inch, then his sight trailed over to the warriors, one of them had raised his clasped hands, making it obvious who the caster was...
Cykrus rolled his eyes, another rock shot up from the floor, hitting the warrior square in the chest, then another that arced to crash into him from above, causing him to hit the ground without as much as a grunt, which released the binding on Cykrus.
The armour was dented, and the person wearing it was as still as a log, the rest rushed to encircle Cykrus, bright patterns suddenly shone on their armours, another rock rushed at a warrior, who raised their arms to block the strike, and to Cykrus' surprise, they managed to resist.
A glowing palm closed in on him while he was stunned by his spell's failure, but with their movement slowed under his pressure, he managed to turn his wrist, another pillar rose that wrapped itself around the arm that was coming for him, while the other warriors became encased in a wall of rocks, unable to free themselves.
Cykrus looked over to the altar, but the people atop were showing no response, they leisurely moved on with their ritual, "Still ignoring me?" he turned back to the warriors, "Then let's stress test that armour of yours. We'll see when their compassion for their fellow believers kicks in."
The warrior that had his arm trapped winded up a punch, then slammed against the rocks holding him, but the noise that ensued was from metal clashing against metal, and after a second glance, he saw that the stone was coated in a metallic sheen, "Can't have you escaping when you will be my voluntary subject." Cykrus sneered while stretching his fingers towards them.
"I must admit, I've never tried to bend armour before, I am not even sure if I can control it the same way I do with earth, but you'll help me find out, won't you?" Cykrus asked while sneaking a sideways glance at the four people on the altar... still nothing, "Tch. Well, don't scream too loud, after all, we wouldn't want to interrupt your precious ceremony."
Cykrus' palm pressed against the shining chest-piece, it almost reminded him of his own spell, but this wasn't some regular iron, they were a type of artefact.
The armour vibrated under his touch, "Hm, like this maybe?" he expected the warrior to make some noise, but there was nothing.
Waves rippled over the metal and deformed the armour, the warrior tried to lift their hand, to fight back, but the joints on their shoulder and elbow grew stiff, "I wouldn't move if I were you. Wouldn't want to risk anything going horribly wrong." Cykrus warned, but he felt the intensity of the gaze that lingered on him all this time change.
"I ask that you refrain from any further actions against the followers of my church." a voice boomed in his ears, forcing Cykrus to cover them, an action that was in vain, as the same voice continued to speak inside of his mind, "Tell me who you are, so that I may plead with the gods to have mercy on your soul, once I send you to them."
"I am Marquis Aventia, and because of your inaction, the life of my only disciple has been snuffed out!" he shouted in retaliation to the threat.
A short-lived silence followed, then the voice returned, "I do not understand what you mean by that." it answered, no longer within his head, or as angry as it had appeared to be a second ago.
Cykrus turned towards his left, a new figure was approaching him, he had been expecting the guards from the stairs to come rushing at him after his initial display, but contrary to his expectations, they remained perfectly still, instead, he laid eyes upon a lean and tall man with bright blond hair that reached down to the ground, he was wearing a thin white gown, through which his muscular physique was clearly visible.
He was walking through the cathedral barefoot, and looked like he was in his twenties, for the first time since Cykrus entered, the people on the altar moved, they fell to their knees at the sight of the man, "Pope Orwelis! What is going on here?!"
The young man offered them a benevolent smile, "Nothing you would need to worry about, proceed with the ceremony."
"O-Of course." the four nodded in unison, hurrying back to their task.
Cykrus took a step back, 'The pope?!' his mind screamed, his hand twitched, 'What rotten luck! First the king, now this!'
"Cat got your tongue? Explain yourself, it is last chance I'll offer you. His Majesty may favour you, granting you the title of Marquis, but no matter how much power your family may wield, it all is worthless in the face of the gods and their agents." the supposed pope pressed.
"Neither you nor your gods scare me. Because your members were incapable of reopening the portal, my only disciple is forever lost in another plane!" Cykrus clenched his fist.
Pope Orwelis tilted his head, "Are you referring to the Sunless Mire?"
"What else could I be referring to?!" Cykrus bellowed, enacting a fit of rage.
The young man touched his temple and shook his head, the fury from his eyes and face vanished, as he moved towards Cykrus in a carefree stride.
Cykrus raised his arms, preparing for a confrontation, but Orwelis placed his hand on Cykrus' stomach, then gently pushed him aside.
His shoes scraped against the floor as he slid back, unable to withstand the overwhelming force behind the shove!
Orwelis reached behind his ear, plucking out a strand of his hair.
It disappeared the moment it left his fingers, replaced by a golden glow that he grasped as if it were solid, then flicked it at the earthen wall that encased the guards, crumbling it in an instant.
He knelt beside the two who had borne the worst of Cykrus' attacks and experimentation, the same glow seeped into their battered bodies through the cracks of their armour, "Anger is a vital emotion for humans, it allows us to express grief, and is a natural response, but allowing yourself to be consumed by it, and resorting to harming others, is pitiful."
"I can tell that you held back, though this does not excuse your actions, I can also hardly blame you." the pope continued.
Cykrus sneered, "Oh? You think you know how I feel?"
"Indeed, I do, despite my current position, I too was a regular human once. I know the feeling of loss, however, to become pope, I had to discard everything in the pursuit of my devotion, including all emotional attachments."
"So what? I did not come here to listen to your lectures." Cykrus remarked.
"That's a shame, you could certainly use them." Pope Orwelis got back to his feet, and so did the warriors, who had yet to express any discomfort or pain, "Your disciple may not be lost yet. The information hasn't reached all families, but the gods entertained our pleas and have decided to assist by creating a new portal to the Sunless Mire, if you wish to be reunited, then I advise you to use this opportunity and join His Royal Highness' expedition."
"And if he has already died?" Cykrus glared at him.
The young man held his chin, speaking slowly as he contemplated, "Then it could be seen as our fault..." he looked up at Cykrus, "I assume you are looking for reparation? Fine, be it to make up for his death, or to prevent it... follow me." Orwelis started walking towards the staircase, gesturing for Cykrus to follow using his index and middle finger.
'That... went better than expected.' he sighed internally as he trailed behind the blond hair that was getting dragged over the floor, and up the stairs.
Cykrus shot one more glance at the entrance, but his partner in crime was nowhere to be seen.
At the end of the steps were long corridors to the right and to the left, along which were countless doors and patrolling squads, the interior lighting was exactly the same as in the royal castle, powered by runes to act independently.
He tried to sense what lay beyond the doors they passed, but no matter which door it was, they all made his head feel numb, blocking all his attempts.
Then he shot a sceptical look at the back of the pope, he wasn't convinced that everything would be resolved so easily after he attacked the church's guards, right under their own roof.
Cykrus touched his stomach, he wasn't injured, but it felt strange, 'Like His Majesty, this guy could probably make dissidents disappear without others batting an eye...'
"Please excuse my lacking knowledge but are the popes of the church usually this young?" he asked.
Orwelis continued walking, "Why? Because older humans are more devout? If you think that, then you are mistaken. Faith is not dependent on someone's age, or would you call yourself a strong believer?"
Cykrus narrowed his eyes, "Not particularly, no."
"I expected as much. No believer would lash out against his fellows, like you have today, but the gods are kind, and I strive to be the same to forgive minor offences." the young pope shrugged his shoulders, "To answer your question: when the current pope nears the end of their time, they will handpick the next candidate, whether they are a follower of the church or not doesn't matter then, as they will be under their tutelage, until they are fit to inherit their everything. Unless, of course, the gods intervene to remove a candidate. So yes, should the chosen be a child, then they might still be rather young when they are put in charge."
"The gods? Has that happened before?" Cykrus frowned.
Orwelis nodded, "There was a time where a pope's candidate had betrayed the trust of the entire church and conspired against the very gods. It is an event that we remember as a stain in the church's history, that must never be repeated. Since then, our doctrine has changed slightly. But that was a long time ago, no one that witnessed it is alive anymore, only scriptures can tell this story now."
He placed his hand on one of the doors, "Through here." it brimmed with life at his touch, there was an audible click of a lock moving, then it swung open, to reveal yet another dimly lit hallway.
Cykrus' nose curled; an awful stench flowed out of the room, the horrid air filled his lungs, he coughed and covered his mouth, "What is in there?"
Orwelis headed inside without answering, "Come." he said.
Cykrus shielded his mouth and nose using his elbow, and stepped inside, the lacking light made it harder to discern, but along the path, on both sides were cages...
The door slammed shut behind him, another click informed him that his only way out was gone.
He pushed further inside, his eyes tearing up from the awful smell, while the young pope seemed unaffected.
"What the-?!" he stopped in his tracks, disgust welled up inside of him, the cells around him, each of them was holding a prisoner.
"What are they doing here?! And why... do they look so afraid?" Cykrus squatted down in front of one of these cells.
Pope Orwelis halted, he returned to stand next to him, looking at the one within indifferently, "These inferior beings here allow us to learn more about their kind, what works well against them, and what doesn't."
Cykrus couldn't look away from the shaking beast, both of its hairy arms were no more than stumps, dark red blood painted the ground and walls around it, it was backed into a corner, whimpering quietly.
The rest of its body had been 'freed' from its fur, there were scars that never healed, chains biting into its flesh, and small stakes that pulsed with energy.
"You abduct other races to perform inhumane experiments on them?" Cykrus shuddered.
"Your description is a bit over the top but essentially correct." Orwelis affirmed.
Cykrus looked at him with an incredulous expression, "Is this the kindness you were referring to? Do the gods know about this?"
Orwelis chuckled, "How could they not? Everything we do is their intent, for we are their hands and feet, loyal subjects that jump to action whenever they call." he glared at the monster, "Do not be mistaken Marquis Aventia, these things are hardly intelligent, acting as if they were equal to us humans would be an affront to our entire species."
"The worlds they inhabit are rich in resources, it would be an absolute shame if they were not put to good use, which is why the Order of Purity, alongside His Royal Highness' men, are sent into these planes to acquire them for us." he continued, "They are essential for the growth of mankind, and the only ones deserving of them."
Cykrus turned his head, not just this one, but in the next cell, and the one beside that, and all the others, in each was a captive of a different race, their size and body-structure couldn't be more different, but what they all shared, was a look of terror whenever they locked eyes with him.
Orwelis walked down the corridor, then came back holding one of the stakes that were pressed into the bodies of the creatures around them, he held it out to Cykrus, "Take this as a token of apology from the church. I hope that it may aid in rescuing your disciple, for every loss of human life to these wretched beings brings a tear to my eyes."
Cykrus stood up, he accepted the stake and instantly felt a wave of regret wash over him, "What does this do?" he asked, not sure whether he wanted to know.
The pope spread his arms wide, "Plunge it into the bodies of these savages that deserve death and watch them squirm in pain as their strength wanes."