“Bless you, Cardinal.” A low ranking priest bowed before Cardinal Abeau.

If I have to keep stopping and bowing to every one of these simpletons I’ll die of old age before I reach the end of this hallway!

“As to you.” Abeau forced his most warm smile and bowed his head. “May your day be blessed by His Holy Grace.”

The priest bowed and continued on his way. Abeau could barely hold his face from contorting in rage and disgust.

“At this rate-”

“Your head will pop off. We’ve heard it a thousand times already.”

Abeau angrily glared at the nearest person, Bishop Moïse. The Bishop was still very skittish after their flight from Qaiviel but now that he was surrounded by thick stones walls and thousands of loyal guards he had calmed somewhat. Unfortunately for Abeau he was not the one that had spoken. That honour belonged to the tall, gangly man to his side.

“You’ve been grumbling the moment that we got off that ship.” He smiled, a smile reserved only for the insane, yet the words emanating from his lips were anything but. “I thought a few days in the sea air was supposed to be good for you. Perhaps I heard wrong?”

“You did not hear wrong, Vardon.” Abeau raised a stubby finger to the man. “But...I think you know why I am agitated.”

Vardon nodded seriously. “Yes. We are not here for a good reason.”

“No…”

Vardon stood at the head of their small procession of priests, laden with precious books and materials. He was the head researcher, the man who had created many of the Stitch Soldiers and had overseen Caiden’s improvements, their best and most stable creation. His knowledge about the Stitch Soldiers was immense and his value far higher than Cardinal Abeau’s. Despite this he was more than happy to follow Abeau’s instructions.

“Are they going to kill us?” Moïse asked bluntly. The man had lost considerable weight during the journey, now he was just fat.

“I doubt it.” Abeau nodded them forward. “But the longer we make them wait the worse it’s going to be.”

“Do you want us to wait here?” Vardon asked. He looked to the ceiling. “I could spend some time here and just...Look.”

Abeau followed his sight, as did Moïse. Vardon smiled as he studied the roof of the immense cathedral, the largest cathedral in the known world. The structure was easily the size of a small city and just as tall. One continuous painting decorated the roof, depicting heroic ancient battles along with The Holy Father’s visage looking down on them from the centre.

“I remember someone trying to explain to me how they built this,” Abeau said softly. “How they painted...Enough of this. We can stare at your paintings for as long as you like when we’re done.”

Vardon only smiled and waved his fellow researchers to follow. They were like Vardon, to a degree, but were far more sane and easy to talk to. They were also the ones to carry all of the materials they had rescued from Qaiviel. Vardon never once offered to help and Abeau was not about to ask and potentially upset him. He had no idea what went on behind that man’s smile.

Abeau had to bow and play nice to dozens of priests that he passed. Though he was of a higher rank he was not a Cardinal of the Holy Kingsland. If anything he was a disgraced man from a land that had fallen from the light. He didn’t wish to push his luck any further than necessary.

At the end of the hallway stood a dozen guards, wielding menacing halberds and thick metal plates. Their visors obscured their faces but Abeau knew they were judging if they would actually be a threat.

“Cardinal Abeau. I am here to see the Conclave.”

The guards said nothing and scoured him with their eyes. Again Abeau did nothing, he was not intimidated by these people one iota. If he was he would not be able to withstand the scrutiny of the people he was about to face.

"Very well." The guard knocked on the door with the back of his armoured fist. "They will see you shortly."

"Thank you." Abeau bowed his head but did not offer his blessing, nor did he expect to receive one.

The door opened, a young man waited on the other side and ushered them in. Abeau took a deep breath and entered. The room beyond was far more sparsely decorated than outside, however the pieces were of exceptional quality and supposed holiness. Abeau did not understand how the rusted remains of an ancient dagger could be a holy relic. He kept his mouth shut, just in case someone was listening.

"The Conclave gathered the moment you arrived at the port." The young priest spoke with an incredibly high pitched and soft voice. Abeau was glad that he had not been forced to become a eunuch when he was younger, only to miss life's great pleasures.

"I understand. Is everyone here? At least one or two are normally away."

"Today they are all here." The young priest softly sighed. "For better or for worse."

"Probably worse," Abeau said snidely.

"Do you wish to freshen yourselves before meeting them? It would take little time."

"We will be fine." Abeau smiled. "We've already wasted enough of their time."

The young priest led them further into the Cathedral before beginning to descend a flight of stairs. Again murals and paintings adorned the white walls gaudy golden edifices, much to Vardon's delight, but they had no time to delay. Eventually, the stairs flattened out and led them to a large door. The guards here were far better armed than those above, magically enchanted weapons and armour, for beyond the Adamantium barred doors lay the assembled Conclave, rulers of the Holy Kingsland in all but name.

The guards saluted as the priest knocked on the door. A tiny porthole opened, an eye stared through for just a moment before slamming shut. Metal ground against stone and one of the doors began to open.

"Don't say anything." Abeau looked to Vardon and Moïse. "That means both of you. Not a word. Understood?"

Both nodded but Abeau wondered if Vardon was going to behave like normal, uncontrolled but with a flair of genius.

The air changed the moment they stepped through. Somehow it felt old and warm, like no fresh air had reached these depths in some time. In all likelihood, it had not.

A raised plinth lay in the centre of the room, surrounding that were the Conclave, ancient men resting in large, plush chairs, those too raised above the ground. Each man wore resplendent clothes, signifying both their station and the wealth of the Church. Abeau did not know most by name, most were just bitter old men, except for the man sitting across from the plinth. The leader of the Conclave. The Ethereal Pope.

"Step forward," A guard said loudly. Abeau did not see them initially, their armour blended in nearly perfectly with the shadows and their surroundings. "Cardinal Abeau. The Conclave wishes to pass judgment upon you."

Judgment? Most of these old men haven't done anything for most of their lives. Except...Except indulged in certain vices. I've never understood why they go for them when they're so young. Nothing is developed...Perhaps it's the sense of power? A sense no one their own age has ever given them.

Abeau's thoughts elicited a faint smile on his face. Rather than hide it he simply walked to plinth, motioning for the others to stand back. The researchers waited near the door, they did not have the opportunity to try something stupid.

"Greet-"

“How dare your worthless hide in our presence!” One of the decrepit men yelled. “You dare to show yourself before us, before the holy place after what you have done!”

Abeau said nothing, nor did he even move his expression. Instead, he flicked his eyes to the Ethereal Pope. He sat motionlessly, barely blinking as he watched the proceedings.

So he wants to see how I handle this? Fair enough. I wouldn’t put my neck out for someone who appears to be in my position.

“Are you done?” Abeau asked. The old man fumed, so much anger coursed through his wrinkled face that he could not properly formulate words. “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted...Greetings, honoured members of the Conclave. My name-”

“We know who you are!” Another old man yelled. The first nodded emphatically, some of the others shook their heads and suppressed a wry and knowing smile. “You are the sole reason Qaiviel has fallen from the light. Fallen from the holy path-”

The man stopped as he suffered a tremendous coughing fit, spraying off coloured spit over his desk. Abeau remained perfectly silent until the man stopped.

“My name is Cardinal Abeau.” Abeau bowed. “And I have come from Qaiviel. We were unable to stop the faithless from assuming control of the kingdom.”

“You-”

The Ethereal Pope raised his finger. Immediately the man fell silent, even though the Ethereal Pope had barely moved or even blinked.

“You squabble like children.” The Ethereal Pope spoke softly, with a slight crackle to his elderly voice. “Not befitting members of the Conclave. Perhaps that is why Qaiviel has fallen from the light. Surely one of you must have interfered...It sounds like something old, sad, little men would do.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

The other members of the Conclave fell incredibly silent, especially those that had spoken before.

“Continue.”

“Despite what is being said I do have to inform you that Qaiviel has indeed fallen.” Abeau waited as the two old men began grumbling under their breaths. “We have fled those lands to tell you what happened. Which, I might add, I would have already done if we had not been so rudely interrupted.”

“You had considerable wealth and resources.” The Ethereal Pope’s bony finger tapped a small stack of papers before him. “And the support of King Harold and his mother, Valerie. How did you lose?”

Abeau took a slow deep breath, to grant him time to properly think.

There’s no point in lying...But if a few things are omitted or changed then it’’ll still look acceptable.

“Unfortunately the coup was launched too early.” Abeau began. “Valerie killed the King, but...He was about to outlaw the Church from operating in Qaiviel lands because a few of our followers were overzealous in dealing with a distant member of the royal family.”

“If you were forced to act then you had no choice.” The Ethereal Pope slowly nodded. “But you should have had more than sufficient forces. Not to mention Qaiviel was the testing site for our research.”

“Those items performed extremely well.” Abeau smiled. “Extremely well. However there were complications. Specifically, a mercenary that proved to be extremely dangerous to our research. Though we lost one of our most successful experiments it would have destroyed King Leo’s forces…”

“Some ridiculous story of a mercenary mage.” A third man began to speak. “Just to cover up for your inadequacies.”

The Ethereal Pope scoffed. “Though it sounds implausible I have conducted thorough investigations and discovered this to be true. So, before you begin accusing another of hiding behind a figment of their imagination I suggest you look at yourself. You may think that you covered up your little incident but I know the truth. So be quiet.”

While the other two noisy priests merely grumbled and silently blustered when the Ethereal Pope talked them down, this man positively quivered in his robes. He shrunk low, trying to be subtle but could have not been more obvious, while Abeau tried to hide his smile.

“I understand that this is a difficult time,” Abeau said. “But, and I know this is unfortunate, but I speak true. I believe that this heretical mage was instrumental in defeating our forces in Qaiviel. Or...At the very least, destroying Caiden. He had fallen into such a state that he could have destroyed Leo’s entire army but was destroyed before he could do any significant damage.”

Abeau glanced at Moïse. “Attempts to assassinate him were unsuccessful, despite using every available method.”

“Unfortunate.” The Ethereal Pope slowly nodded. “Very well. I think we’ve heard enough. This all happened in such a short time too, far too quick for us to mobilize forces to aid you...It is very unfortunate.”

“It is.” Abeau bowed. “However, we were able to escape with all of our research intact. We can resume our research at any moment.”

Vardon took a step forward but quickly stepped back. Abeau was glad to know that he, of all people, could determine that now was the right time for him to speak.

“I see…” The Ethereal Pope rubbed his chin. “The Conclave is dismissed. I will speak with Abeau and his companions alone.”

All bar the three cantankerous old men left without incident. Those three required the guards to usher them out. Once large and metal covered hands touched their shoulders. They gave a final grumble and filled out of the room.

“Your research assistants can stay here.” The Ethereal Pope groaned and pushed the chair back. “You and your two...Friends, come with me. There is more to discuss.”

Two guards rushed to his side but the Ethereal Pope dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He dropped down and began walking around the tables towards Abeau. Now that he was free from the chair his back was very stooped, it took effort to raise his head but he was not mentally feeble. Far from it. Abeau had seen many people far younger than him without as anywhere near as much intelligence and drive that hid behind those old eyes.

“It is unfortunate that we were unable to send assistance.” He stopped at the final table and nodded to the far wall. One of the guards hurried and opened a door, almost identical to the surrounding wall. Beyond a bright warm light shone through. “We had started to mobilize forces but the last message we received, it was not going well. We dared not send forces against King Leo or Queen Lila while they were in command. Going such distances without a clear supply line...And with the pirates...Not to mention the Mycean’s would think we were about to invade them. Our ships would fill the seas, filling them with terror. Especially when they realised how many soldiers were traveling in those ships. Perhaps just by the sheer amount of vomit trailing behind.”

“But they are a potential target.” Abeau followed the Ethereal Pope into the room, Vardon and Moïse right behind. “If it weren’t for the Conflagration it would be an easy decision.”

The hidden room was exceptionally well furnished and surprisingly comfortable. The hot and stuffy air had vanished, through what means Abeau did not know, replaced with a delicate and not unpleasant smell of fruits.

The Ethereal Pope shuffled to a plush chair and gently laid himself down. When his rear made contact a soft groan escaped his lips. Now he could straighten his back and sit normally, the weight of his body was no longer being lifted by frail and old muscles. He motioned to a large couch, which Abeau took. Vardon and Moïse took the other spots, further down as to not crowd Abeau.

“Mycea is a target.” The Ethereal Pope removed his hat. Abeau was surprised to see all of his hair still present, albeit grey and frayed. “But that is what you were supposed to be researching in Qaiviel. It appears we will have to return to more traditional methods.”

“They did perform well.” Abeau glanced at Vardon. “I’m sure that with some further experimentation they will serve well as shock troops.”

The Ethereal Priest slowly nodded. He placed his wrinkled hands on his knees.

“I do not think that I am long for this world.” He barred his teeth. “Every day I can feel death drawing closer and closer...But. I do not wish to leave the Church in a worse state than when I found it.”

Abeau cast his eyes down and away. Though he did not care about his feelings, acting completely uncaring was not the right move.

“Losing a Kingdom…”

“Is a significant loss. But I intend to see it brought back under our control before I die.” The Ethereal Pope smiled. “And if we can gain some more territory than that would be even better. Tell me.” He shuffled slightly to face Abeau. “Do you think this mercenary mage will be an issue?”

“Absolutely. Especially if we try and invade Qaiviel…” Abeau clicked his tongue. “From the reports he’s a Graterian man travelling with a Bebbezzarian woman. There were also some talk of a woman wearing a mask and a Clanswomen with him. Someone from the Silver Eagle clan.”

The Ethereal Pope scoffed. “An odd mix. Truly an odd mix. Hire assassins from every corner of the Shattered Kingdoms. It doesn’t matter how much, offer whatever they desire so they will kill him.”

“Ac…” Moïse quickly shrunk down. Abeau, though a little annoyed, silently urged him to speak. “According to some of the assassins that failed to kill him in Qaiviel they were almost successful. If they were not in such a crowded place…”

“I’m sure this mage would have been able to use his magic more effectively then.” The Ethereal Pope ran his fingers along the bridge of his nose. “Regardless, no one can survive a bolt to the head. I will see to it that they are dead.”

“And...What of us?”

“You…” The Ethereal Pope smiled. “I shall indulge myself for a little while. An old man, like myself does not get many chances-”

I’m sure the ‘boys’ are grateful for that.

“But what do you suggest we do?”

“We…” Abeau looked back, hoping that one might have an idea. Vardon did not but Moïse silently mouthed a word. “Bebbezzar.”

“What about it?”

“They are still in a civil war. Fractured and divided, they would not stand a chance against our might. Even without the Stitch Soldiers-”

“I detest that name.” The Ethereal Pope leant back. “Could you please use the name we all agreed on?”

Honestly, that’s what they look like. You can call an apple a pig but it’s still an apple.

“The Ascended. Even without them Bebbezzar would not last long in its current state.”

“There are many faithful in Bebbezzar.” Moïse offered. “That could be a...pretence.”

Abeau nodded. “And it would keep Mycea off our backs.”

“The Dark Elves are now peacefully trading.” The Ethereal Pope’s eyes narrowed. “So they won’t be an issue to our fleets. Not that we can navigate their mists effectively.”

“Bebbezzar would serve as good ground to organise and continue onwards to Qaiviel.” Abeau smiled. “Then perhaps take out Seocuria and their Beast-kin slaves and even Graterious, the last power in the Shattered Kingdoms that could oppose us.”

“Aren’t you missing one?” Vardon asked. “I’ve seen the maps of the continent. There’s still the Clansmen-”

Abeau scoffed. “They aren’t as much of a threat as they think they are. The Knight orders are able to keep them at bay easily.” Abeau’s brows furrowed. “So long as they attack in the right direction.”

“I was trying to say…” Abeau almost laughed as Vardon looked to be pouting. “That I’m sure there’s another one. Actually another two.”

“There’s the Wood Elves to the south.” The Ethereal Pope frowned lightly. “Then the dead Kar Kingdom. I’m surprised that neither Qaiviel nor Graterious took that land.”

“It is infested with monsters and beasts. Qaiviel did not wish to antagonise them and Graterious has political issues.” Abeau shrugged. “Valérie was convinced that there was something terrible there. Leading a crusade against something that lay there. A truly powerful foe, she said. She was mad. Quite insane, especially near the end.”

Abeau leant back and crossed his legs. “She was bedding her son. And was pregnant with their incestuous child.”

The Ethereal Pope scoffed. “To think either of those...The dead Kar Kingdom. We will sweep through there after dealing with Bebbezzar and Qaiviel. Graterious won’t expect it. Then we can deal with Seocuria and their disgusting Beast-kin slaves.”

“Are you trying to become the United Empire?” Vardon asked. “Seems like it.”

The Ethereal Pope slowly started to smile. “Perhaps that isn’t a bad thing. The United Empire controlled almost all of the world. And if it weren’t for the Wood Elves they would have...They will renounce their belief in their goddess, Nithroel, in time. In time...Certainly not in my lifetime but perhaps in yours.”

Abeau said nothing but slowly nodded.

“How will we prepare for the assault on Bebbezzar?”

“You.” The Ethereal pope raised his hand to a book on a table. The guards, standing at the door, rushed and retrieved it for him. “Thank you. You, all of you, will not be involved with planning the invasion. Too much busy work; troops, supplies, ships and money. Any fool can do that. Perhaps I’ll get some of those grumbling gits to do some of the work?”

“Are you sure you want this invasion to fail?”

The Ethereal Pope laughed. “They’ll do it well, since I’ll tell them to do it. And I’ll bring up your name just to give them a bit of incentive. But...But I want you to continue your research.”

He unfurled a map of The Holy Kingsland.

“You and your friends will head to here.” He pointed to a small monastery, nestled in the mountains but close to the coast. “Currently it is not being used by anything more than a small covenant. They will be removed before you arrive. Use that as the base of your new research. Take all the prisoners you need for experiments. But do not waste them needlessly.”

“I understand.” Abeau glanced back to see Vardon bouncing his feet up and down like an excited child. “We will produce results and quickly.”

“I must acquire more materials.” Vardon calmed himself with a few quick, short breaths. “But that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Good. Money will be provided, as much as you need, but do not spend it on frivolous activities. If you wish to do that use your own money.”

“We understand that this is incredibly important work,” Abeau said. “I believe that we should depart this afternoon, at the very latest.”

The Ethereal Pope nodded. “Good. Good. I look forward to seeing your work, to see an army like this Caiden you speak of. That would be truly remarkable. Might put some life back into me.”

The Ethereal Pope closed his eyes, signalling the end of the conversation. Abeau quietly stood up as the guards moved to escort him away.

You’re right. You don’t have long left for this world. But this will be useful. Perfecting the Stitch Soldiers will go a long way…

Abeau paused.

What do I want?...Oh well. There’s still time to work that out. If I can rule Qaiviel that will be a start. Who knows, I might end up as the Ethereal Pope after this is all done. A stray bolt might just fly straight through his head…