Cardinal Spyridon II: Crimson Words
The Twenty-Forth Day of the First Moon, 874 AD.
Athio, Aegan Hills, Western Dathan.
He set the book down as he heard a knock at the door. He hadn't been expecting any visitors, not at the moment anyway, but he was always willing to talk to someone. Well, he was always willing to talk to most people anyhow; some people would never be worth speaking with, but they were few and far between.
"A moment, if you please," he called out, "I'll be with you in but a moment."
He could have let them in right now, of course, but he'd rather hide the book first, just in case. He slid the book that Sin had left behind for him to find into a small drawer in the desk he had been working at, and then rose to open the door.
"Good evening, friend of Sin. May I enter?"
He stood there, stunned, for a moment. Before him was one of the Sisters of the Monastic Order of Saint Khidon, resplendent in plain yet striking crimson robes. She looked... well, at a glance, she looked forgettable. Not in a bad way, but more as though she were intended to look forgettable.
The thing that had shocked him though was the fact that she had talked to him. The monks and nuns of the Monastic Order of Saint Khidon did not talk to those outside of their order, or at the very least it was so rare as to give rise to the belief that they never talked to people outside their order. He'd heard that they all talked fine enough within their monasteries and other assorted bases of operation, but never outside of them like this.
He nodded, recovering from his daze, and invited her inside.
"Please," he said, "make yourself at home here. I apologise if I haven't any food nor drink to offer you at this moment, for I was just catching up on some reading and paperwork and lost track of time. If you would care for something to drink I could see to getting you some clean water?"
The woman shook her head, but smiled nonetheless.
"You are too kind, friend of Sin. I am well satiated at this moment, however. If it is of no issue to you, I would like to speak with you for a while. The order sent me so that we might know who you are, friend of Sin. Our vows prohibit us from speaking outside of our sacred grounds, just as they prohibit outsiders from entering uninvited, which put us in a bit of a conundrum: we could not speak to you out here, but no-one would invite a cardinal in there. My vows were therefore suspended with the understanding that I would talk to you, here, with no-one else and nowhere else. I am here to learn of you, and of how well you would work with our order if we were willing to make it so.
"Does that sound amenable to you, friend of Sin?"
He nodded, still mildly cautious and a little confused. Why were the Monastic Order of Saint Khidon coming to speak with him? Before now they'd always just had one of the members of their order send written letters and reports to him or Hawk to showcase their support, so why the sudden change in their policy? What was it that had convinced them to step forwards out of their monasteries and speak with him in person?
It was with no small amount of curiosity that he eyed the newcomer, who claimed to be of Khidon's order. She wore the robes of the initiated, moved as he'd seen those that formed their processions moved, but there were other factors that made him wary; he knew that the uninitiated such as himself were not supposed to be spoken to by members of the order, hells, even Sin hadn't been allowed inside their hallowed halls, and that was forgoing the fact that this was not supposed to be an order which really kept to the teachings of Saint Khidon, first amongst the arch-heretics who's work was considered to be damned in perpetuity by the church proper. This order had been sanitised, stripped of all that had once made it unique save its ascetism, and most assumed even that to be a farce. Spyridon didn't believe it to be so, but in all honesty that was only because he'd seen the comings and goings of wealth to and from their places of work, and had tracked how much of that had been spent providing for the needy.
They literally couldn't have been rich, not unless there were seams of precious metals like silver beneath their monasteries with smelters and mints beneath each priory. There was literally no way they hadn't kept to their ascetism, but he only knew that because he'd seen the evidence. To those outside, it would have made more sense to give the rumours of ascetism an eyeroll. Many were the monasteries that claimed to have forgone opulence, and few were those who did not dine on seven course meals each night. And if, as the claims amongst the clergy went, they had indeed abandoned the rest of Khidon's doctrines, the man's heresies, why would they keep to the one that was only to their detriment?
Sound clergymen such as himself knew that they had forgotten everything they had once been given by the real Saint Khidon, save only their names and their relative ascetism, for the teachings that the arch-heretic had once preached were long gone from the order's memory.
Or were they? Sin had certainly seemed to believe that they'd maintained something of the old teachings, if the man's half-rambling journals were anything to go by. He seemed to think that there was still an element of mysticism in their secretive ways of worship, rejecting the more words-as-written orthodoxy of the mainstream New-Church. Spyridon hadn't spent enough time around them to truly attempt to work out their belief system, but if Sin was capable of being a Khidonean and keeping it a secret his whole life then who was to say that the most secretive order of monks in the known world wouldn't be able to keep such a heretical creed themselves?
It was something to consider as he let the woman in and pulled the chair out for her at the desk. There was nothing particularly remarkable about the woman, save that she had a mild sort of intensity about her gaze, but even that wasn't anything truly out of the ordinary given that she was a spokesperson for the monks of Khidon.
She took the seat opposite him, and nodded at him in what seemed to be appreciation after giving a cursory glance around his office.
"You keep little wealth here, friend of Sin."
He pursed his lips a little. Was this a test of some sort, or was she merely noting a fact?
"I have little enough need for gold and jewels. Jewels pay for alms, coins for arms, and all the silks and spices in the world would do little in the hands of someone who wouldn't know how to use them.
"I live comfortably enough, of that I will not lie. I sleep in a featherbed and have never needed to forgo a meal due to lack of coin, but you will not find me with spools of golden thread and jewel-encrusted gowns."
The woman looked at him a little longer, glanced around the room again, and nodded before continuing.
"So seems to be the truth of the matter. The blessed saint would be proud. Tell me, friend of Sin, if you would be so kind? What do you make of his other teachings? What do you make of his life's work?"
He shifted a little in his chair, suddenly feeling as though he'd just been put on the spot.
"Well, it's... Sin's life was dedicated to protecting people. To keeping them alive. His life's work is what we all should have been doing."
The woman nodded, a small and yet predatory smile on her face.
"That is not the question I asked you, friend of Sin. True though it may be, it is not the question I asked you. What do you make of the blessed Saint Khidon's work, friend of Sin?"
"I... I don't-"
"Then you have not read his words, friend of Sin? Do you not think others have taken notice in your readings as of late? Of your... journeys downwards?"
"What are you-"
"You follow flames and chase shadows, friend of Sin. You read from books that you should not. So tell me, if you would be so kind, what you make of his teachings?"
A chill ran down his spine as the smile fell from her face a little. He didn't know what the correct answer was here, didn't know whether she was trying to find out if he was a heretic to try and get him killed or to offer him support. In the end he simply took a deep breath, and elected to go with the truth.
"I do not believe in them. But they are fascinating to me. I cannot bring myself to find truth in his words, but I can see why so many others did in those ancient times. Why some still do today, hidden from public eye though such worship may be.
"I don't believe in his words of mysticism, though I do agree with his words detailing reforms to the structure and laws of the church. And, though I would never have admitted so even but six moons ago, I can see that the man was a truly skilled orator."
The woman looked at him a little while longer, and then shifted back in the chair a little.
"Well," she started, a curious glint in her eye, "it seems that you might be just the person the order has been looking for. We would have liked to continue working with your friend, but his actions grew too rash and the voice too loud. You've got a sounder mind, freed from violent impulse and irrational action. You lack his killer's mentality, of course, but then we can't all be perfect.
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"The Monastic Order of Saint Khidon has already pledged itself to your rebellion, friend of Sin. Many people forget that, though Athio has been our home for so long, we are only here because we were forced from Aegos long ago. We built things here and there that have remained hidden for a very long time, friend of Sin. Powerful things. They will not help you win this war, but they will help keep us safe through the second war that matters.
"Keep your eyes trained the same way as the statues within the cathedral are trained. Look as they look. You'll see what we fight when the time comes.
"As for Aegos, well, we're bound there in a way most do not understand. Even within the priories of our order, they do not understand. There are a few who know within the nunnery from which I hail, and from the three monasteries of our order. I would also be surprised if those atop the hermitage do not know, for their ways are strange and mystical even to the rest of us who don the crimson robes of our most blessed saint. Even still, there are few who know. Few who understand.
"The Monastic Order of Saint Khidon will fight alongside your rebellion, friend of Sin, in order to go home. We must go home, for we have been away for too long. The wards need repairing and maintaining, and a new heart must be found. We have been away for far too long.
"Our order was never large, but we are not without militants. We will fight with a fervour you would not believe, should it help us get home. Lead us there, friend of Sin, and the order will be loyal to you for as long as you walk this world."
He swallowed thickly, barely understanding portions of her speech. Her eyes seemed to have glazed over a little in parts, as though searching through a long-gone memory, but there was something about the way she said things that made it abundantly clear that she believed every word that she said. There were no lies, intentionally at least, leaving her mouth.
"What do you mean, wards? What heart? We welcome your support, and I thank you most profusely for it, but you speak in riddles and half-finished statements."
The woman smiled to him, and slid a piece of parchment over to him with a what looked to be a list on it.
"See if you can find these within the libraries of the keep, or indeed the wider city. Let me know how many you can find, and what you think of them. I will meet again with you shortly, that I can promise you."
He gave a brief read through the list, and felt his eyes widen a little more at every name. Many of the names were fragments of Saint Khidon's other works that the man had been writing before his disappearance or execution, and though the others might not have been as well known or penned by authors as widely revered or scorned, they were all texts that would surely have gotten him killed even before the church had taken over Aegos.
They were all works deemed heretical to the utmost. They were all deemed to be dangerous.
"These are all... I'm sorry Sister, but all of these works are illegal to possess!"
The words rang hollow even to him, a weak attempt to say he wanted no part in this when both of them knew he did. Sin had dedicated half of his life to learning about these things, about the more mystical creeds that coexisted alongside the faith and had long since been stamped out by the legalist creeds that formed the modern church, and Spyridon knew that he would not be able to stop himself from continuing the unfinished work of his friend in any aspect.
In some ways he was living Sin's life for the man, instead of his own. He wasn't sure if that thought comforted him or not.
She smirked at him.
"So was the one left for you at this desk by our late friend. That has not stopped you from reading the knowledge left behind within its pages. Or is it merely that the first was given to you, and you fear having to search for yourself?
"There is nothing to fear from the books I present you, friend of Sin. Fear is merely a vestige of the primitive mind that inhabits and inhibits us all. The books will not report you for reading them, nor will they tell others of the secrets you keep within yourself. The only person you may feel justified in fearing through such a course of action would be your own conscious mind, as it roils and rebels against the upheaval of the old. It is no more than the sheepdog fearing the hungry wolf, and yet the dog stands guard over the flock all the same. It cannot allow itself to be scared, or at least not in a way that matters. Not in a way that would cause it to doubt itself, to doubt its ability to defend the flock; where doubt goes, failure shall follow.
"You cannot allow yourself to be afraid anymore, friend of Sin. You cannot be scared of finding the answers you seek with your own hands. Find these texts, when you can. Read them through. I would like to hear your opinions on their works at some point, and to see which texts you think would be good follow-ups to these ones in terms of learning. I do look forwards to our next visit, friend of Sin. I look forwards to seeing what you get up to.
"The eyes of the heart are upon you, friend of Sin. Do not let them find you wanting."
And then, without waiting for any verbal permission to do so, she left the room.
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He sat there for quite some time after that, lost in thought. In all honesty he was trying to piece together half of what she'd said, for it almost sounded like she was giving him a riddle at times. What did she mean when she said that the order were bound to Aegos? Was there some sort of deeper meaning to her strange, half-nonsensical ramblings about sheepdogs guarding from wolves and fear that dwelt within the mind, or was it simply a poorly-constructed metaphor?
The eyes of the heart are upon you. Do not let them find you wanting.
The eyes of the heart.
The heart.
There was something important about that, he knew. He hadn't read anything about the 'eyes of the heart', whatever that was supposed to mean, but he did know that the heart was a recurring motif in many of the passages in the Book of Saint Khidon. Were they penned by the man himself, or one of the many authors who had doubtlessly had a hand in 'adding' to the book since the man's passing? If they were his words, were they simply some sort of archaic and poetic turn of phrase? They certainly had seemed to be something else at times, something different.
He knew that he had read more than one passage that mentioned a heart before, and more than once in the context of the city of Aegos as well. Was it- no, that was too far back, it had been-
Aha!
He smoothed out the pages a little for ease of reading as he found the correct section, and though he had no need to aid his own reading he still found himself tracing his position on the pages with his index finger to make sure he kept his place and didn't end up with his vision jumping up and down lines in confusion. He needed to make sure he read this properly if he wanted to confirm his hunch.
As soon as he found the section on the page he wanted, he started to read aloud. It was only a whisper, for he was still worried of someone overhearing him, but he read the words aloud nonetheless.
"And so the unfavoured child did take on the favoured's mantle, and he did raise his voice of timidity into the din of war. And there, amid a sea of slate, was the blood bid to be spilled gathered by the thousand-head in sacrifice to the spirit of all mankind. He did raise his hand and raise his voice, and it was the voice of the favoured that left his mouth, and all the lands of the kindred he walked amongst were overturned in war."
He continued reading raptly, almost certain now that he was reading too far into what could only be vague ramblings but fascinated nonetheless. He hadn't given this passage any thought until the Sister had made that comment about the heart, but now he was kicking himself for not trying to read into it further.
"And they did make war upon each other without pity nor remorse, for none save the Saints knew that the heart of Aegos lay not in its senate nor in its people, but beneath. The veins of the city did run dry, with nothing left to spill. And so the unfavoured child did become the heart that beat within Aegos, and found that the weeping was lost to him evermore."
And there, all too abruptly, the chapter ended. He could piece together tiny pieces of what the book was trying to say, could see that it was alluding to the rebellion against the Most Devout Church of Aegos which seemed insane by itself, but the finer details of what was being hinted at were lost to him. He needed more information, and he needed it badly.
What did the passage, and the Sister for that matter, mean by 'the Heart'? Was this all in some way related to that strange night not so long ago, when his candles had formed an inferno and a shadow had called him far beneath the keep?
He chewed his lip a little in trepidation. All it had taken was one conversation and one book, and he was already sliding into heterodoxy. This line of study was sure to damn him if he continued, may have already damned him already.
But then he had his duty to the people of Athio. If he could use this somehow, if this did end up being a tool by which he was able to exorcise the Most Devout Church from Aegos, then surely he had an obligation to use it? What else was there for him to do, if not push forwards through his doubts and act as Sin would have?
He supposed that in order to get a better idea as to what he needed to do, he should probably ask himself some questions about what he had read. Were there more passages like this? What else had Khidon seen, seen and hidden in his works for people so many years later to find? Would such texts still remain today, or would they be long since lost?
He didn't know. What he did know was that he had a long day of sifting through the libraries of Athio ahead of him. He needed to find out what else Khidon had predicted, needed to see if there was anything that might foreshadow the movements of Admeta or the Imperator, needed to use this as a resource as well as an inspiration.
Maybe, he thought to himself, these texts might describe that which I need to become to prevail here. It was a long shot, sure, but it was better than nothing. Besides, the Sister seemed to know something that he didn't; she wouldn't have recommended those other texts just to provide him with some light reading before his evening rest.
It was confusing. All of it was confusing. That didn't matter though. There was something deeper buried in these texts. Something important. He wasn't a believer in the words of Saint Khidon per-se, and it would certainly be a strange day indeed if ever he took on such beliefs, but there was something different in these texts. He wasn't reading this to reignite a faith that had long since burned away, nor was he particularly interested in becoming a pawn in whatever game the Monastic Order of Saint Khidon was playing. No. Right now, he was interested in ensuring the success of the revolt he was heading with Hawk. If that meant he had to play the game of the maybe-actually-real-Khidoneans that made up the monastic order for a while, then he'd do it. He was still not convinced by their faith, no matter the oratory skills of their patron, but he respected it nonetheless. He had needed to, ever since finding out that Sin had tied his beliefs and identity to them in secret.
Spyridon wasn't willing to commit himself to the label of Khidonean, not given that he lacked the belief in what came after which was at the core of the tenets of the doctrine, but he knew that in pursuing this path he wasn't going to be following the orthodoxy of the faith either. He would be, in a sense, blindly stumbling down his own path.
Well, so be it. He was going to unravel the game that the order wanted to play with him, he was going to find a way to win this revolution as swiftly as possible, he was going to ensure that the Imperator was ousted, and he was going to avenge his friend. He would make sure that, no matter what, the name 'Cardinal Sin' was not soon forgotten. He was going to make his friend proud, and he was going to keep his people safe.
He was not going to falter. He was not going to let this all come falling down.
He stared at the book again, that damnable and yet so very interesting book, and smiled.
"You left me more secrets than I thought, didn't you Sin? Well, I suppose it can't be helped, can it?"
He rose from his desk and made to leave his chambers. He had a library to visit, and a list of texts to find.
"If you had left me some more instructions for this matter things would be easier, but I can't hold it against you.
"You always did have a flair for the dramatic, after all."