From his carefully managed office on the second floor of the West Minster Cathedral*, Bishop Nicholas Clarke carefully read the various reports and messages that filtered through the various channels of information. His once strong and capable body had grown muted by the duties demanded by his position. Even the rugged black hair had begun to show the slight tinges of grey, ultimately caused by the heavy burden of scores of both public and private duties weighing on his soul.
The ever-growing count of wrinkles on his face only seemed to grow as he reviewed the daily consignment of documents, detailing many such instances of paranormal occurrences. Each report gave a grave recounting of werewolf attacks, vampiric sieges, witches trading all manner strange potions and the odd demonic cultist. Each one took its toll on the bishop's mind, often leading the high-ranking clergyman to secluded prayer or emotionally detaching himself as to address the abundant threats.
The few clergy who joined him in the office mostly were willingly ignorant as to the actual threat of the supernatural, only there to bolster their chances of promotion to a post with-in the Vatican's ranks. They had been palmed off to their sect due to their many short comings, likely hoping that their careers would be cut short by the actions of a malevolent force. Unfortunately, they were also unsuited for combat and were soon promoted upward to avoid any supernatural secrets from being revealed. Unless they had an aptitude for a specific area, most of them remained in administrative and logistical roles as to make some use of their abilities.
As a result, the general advice and assignments from the attending clergymen were often shortsighted and overly ambitious, focusing more on directing attention to issues which would boost their own religious accolades and pad their own track record. There also existed a tendency for purity of belief, zealously believing that threats to public spirituality took precedence over more physical dangers. These beliefs often perpetuated among the incompetent priests, as they usually conducted discussions with-in their own circles with seldom descending opinions.
One such example: was the sighting of a necromancer prodding around an ancient pagan burial tomb that predated the Roman settlement of the isles. This particular report was dismissed as unimportant by most of the attending advisers. Many did not see the imminent threat that sixty or more unfeeling corpses could pose. Instead, they focused their attention on a solitary witch selling herbal cures to peasants in some far-flung farming town, as the corruption of the flock apparently demanded more of their already stretched resources. Each one got a stern talking to and an invitation to help with the clean-up of the necromancer's devious plans, as it “even a novice could deal with a stack of bones.” None of said advisers accepted the invitation.
With the abundance of incompetent clergy, the few competent ones were given a lot more freedom and responsibility. The more 'desirable' jobs with-in their order (such as trainer, researcher and archivist) were only given to those deemed to have “the required cognizance of their position.” Each currently serving member had countless stories about the foolish actions of the aforementioned clergy, often accompanied by 'unchristlike' utterances behind closed doors. Through their arrogance, they would often complain about being not being given a chance to prove themselves, only to retract such claims in the face of danger or fail to notice various discrete tests given to them.
Nicholas's musings on the latest letters was interrupted by one friar's rude grumblings about one of the better night hunters returning, with a female plague doctor and some foreign nun entering in tow. The bishop quickly deduced the medicine-woman's true identity, which was entirely lost on the assembled priests, and motioned to let the man enter the chambers. It had been nearly six moons since he had last seen William, which now seemed like a decade considering how much he had changed. Not only how he held himself, but how he glanced and judged those around him. Long gone were the days of blind and self-less fanaticism, replaced by a rough appraising and more calculated temperament.
“I have returned, Bishop.” William said, bowing before his superior. “I bring mixed news.” The various clerics gathered around, using the pretense of notetaking to avoid doing their usual work. “Speak,” commanded Nicholas, internally hoping that it was mostly good news. “On our return to London, we stopped by a small church that bordered on several minor communities and a nearby woodland. The church was set upon by demon worshippers during a full moon, intent on using the members as sacrifices to summon a powerful demon.” The battle-worn cleric then produced a cloth pouch, adorned with various holy symbols and scripture, a quick glance inside showed that it contained around a dozen cursed nails made from some unknown metal of foul origin.
“I am ashamed to admit it, but I was near useless in the attempts to repel the demonic forces.” confessed William. “Were it not for the intervention of a large force of pagan spirits, the devils would have surely succeeded.” One of the priests was about to make a statement but fell silent from the bishop's sudden glare. “What of the church?” Nicholas asked, annoyance coating his words. “Thanks to the kindness of the pagan gods there was but a single casualty, with a second lost due to various additional circumstances.” The inference and the subtle glance at the nun standing awkwardly steadfast beside him was also lost on the observing clerics.
“Understood,” Nicholas sighed, before motioning non-essential personnel out of the room. “I want everyone to leave, now. Only William and the two outsiders are to stay. No arguments.” The vampire quietly raised her hand, as to make a request, “Do you mind if I send Sister Julianna out with them. She has not been to a temple like this before and likely would not add much to our conversation.” His assessment of the nun was that she was currently out of her relative depth, unsure as to her current loyalties and would be of little use.
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“That is acceptable,” he said looking to the least useful adviser. “Crispin, show her around the main temple and keep watch on her. If you notice anything useful let me know, otherwise I am sure that the doctor will graciously provide a tithe in payment for a serviceable tour.” Crispin, only seeing a chance to skirt his duties and receive some form of payment, suddenly found some manners as he escorted the uneasy sister from the room. As the door closed the sounds of Crispin's enthusiastic lecture and the grumblings of the others could be heard, until silenced by the closure of the heavy wooden doors.
Now freed from the useless noise, he summoned the pair to nearby seats. “Now, tell me what really happened that night. You won't be punished for merely interacting with the wild gods.” William quietly explained the full events at that small church, including both the various creatures and the demonic plot. The vampire simply listened, adding the occasional correction or expanded explanation when called for. The longer that he continued his recounting of the events at the small church, the more confident he seemed to be, as the night hunter came to understand that the concerns were that of the supernatural and not of his own actions.
Once satisfied with the full report, Nicholas sat forward to a position reminiscent of prayer. “Considering everything as a whole,” he sighed “You did well. Keeping both the number of causalities and witnesses to a minimum. While leaving the resolution to the pagan gods and losing a sister to a vampire was not ideal, given the results it can be considered an acceptable outcome.” Were the priests present, William would've been chastised for not throwing himself into a fight far beyond his capabilities.
“Victoria, was it?” Nicholas asked, already preparing the upcoming conversation in his mind. “I know you have the mark of our lord, show it to me to prove that you have not deviated into greater darkness.” As she rolled back her arm, as to reveal her arm, she asked “Do you mind if I don't show its complete light, given my own constitution.” “That is fine” he remarked as the distinctly divine glow emanated from the thin intricate lines running up the vampire's arm. The vampire had apparently remained with-in the angel's graces, even with her taking one of their god's followers.
“Given the results,” Nicholas began “I think you have demonstrated good judgement when it came to your actions. As a consequence, I am promoting you to work underneath me here.” The bishop watched William stammer sentences about his desire to remain as he were, risking his life for the innocent. “William, you are taking this promotion. Your conviction is needed here, where those morals are most needed. Take a look at these...” he said, handing over a stack of papers. A cursory glance was enough to gauge the relative value of the asinine requests from the clerks. “What in...” the Night hunter said, incredulous rage growing in his visage. “This is what I need you to help deal with. More lives will be saved with you here.” Nicholas's words finally reached him, “Go see the quartermaster. We will do a promotional ceremony next week.” With bow, he left holding a scrawled note as to confirm his new status, still processing his newfound standing.
Nicholas was now alone with the vampire and, despite the expected atmosphere, was surprisingly at ease. “Unofficially,” the bishop started. “Thank you for influencing William. The boy has often been focused on saving lives, often to the detriment of his assigned mission. But you understand that, officially I cannot.” The vampire sat unmoved, simply watching the bishop from under her crow-faced mask. “Your existence, as complicated as it is for the church, does provide certain opportunities. I have read the reports from York. As long as you are compensated fairly you are generally willing work in earnest with us, is that fair to say?” Her voice spoke, remaining unemotional as she confirmed his statement. “Yes, that is more or less accurate.” Nicholas produced a sea map, written in Portuguese** with English translations underneath the various ports.
“This is a map obtained from a priest based in Portugal.” He said, passing it onto the doctor to study. The parchment had evidently garnered enough interest for her to remove the avian mask, as to better read the map in question. “The sailors have experienced more work in the vast lands south, beyond the Saharan desert. Due to the increased activity and rumors of gold being present, there has been a growing interest in the region. The church's involvement in the region is not my responsibility, that being said the supernatural entities which live there are.” Victoria had already placed the document back down, listening intently whilst making calculations in her head.
“I would like to hire you to escort one of my night hunters and three scribes on a tour to the remote villages with the goal to document some of the supernatural creatures of the region, in case they were to find their way to our shores.” She paused for a second, collecting her various thoughts. The gears in her mind were turning, even though they did not show on her ever-passive face. “I need a day or so to come to a decision. I assume that payment would be fair, and your chosen delegates will not be overly prejudicial to my existence.” Nicholas stood up to escort her to the door, “Do not worry about our side, your potential expertise in the area is something I would rather not lose due to hostile agents. Let me know in the coming days as to your decision.”
She left the room as to wait for her familiar, her bird-like mask re-adorned. As much as she tried to hide it, he knew that she was at least interested in the proposed journey. He could not tell as to her underlying reasons why, but he trusted the detailed reports of his men and the unshakeable mark of his lord to the extent that no pact was needed. He watched her from the second story balcony, pretending read a bible beneath an elaborate painting of Jesus and various saints.
The vampress remained in her quiet state of contemplation, taking a corner spot on one of the pews on the ground floor, waiting until her familiar returned from the guided tour. It did not take long to spy Crispin guiding the dark familiar around the church, lingering at one of the paintings gifted by some noble under the guise of charity. His assistants would likely get a scolding for their lack-lustre observational skills, missing a vampire underneath their nose is unforgivable.