Prologue

Frank was not pleased. He had been woken from his rest in the dark of the night by a very scared young nun, who had informed him in a hurried whisper that the lord Mayor required his presence. The girl (he couldn’t recall her name off the top of his head. Sarah? Sylvia? It didn’t matter.) had said that the messenger the lord Mayor had sent was being unfathomably vague. It seemed that whatever it was must be worth hiding. If it was, then why in the name of all things divine did the mayor need a priest? Frank muttered dark curses as he slipped on his ceremonial robes. As angry as he was, one did not make an appearance at the home of the lord Mayor in the simple garb of a serving priest. 

Frank stumbled through the dark hallways. He sardonically noted that the nun had not bothered to light a single candle on her way to disturb his sleep. It’s probably for the best that I don't remember her name, Frank thought, If I did, I would have assigned her some menial punishment in a fit of rage. Not a good look for a man of God. When he eventually made it to the courtyard, he found, with little surprise, that the girl had also failed to wake the stablemaster. He would need a carriage to get to the lord Mayor’s home, and while he was tempted to just hike up his ceremonial garb and grab a horse, he knew that under no circumstances could a man of his position appear before the lord Mayor driving his own horse. Also, the ceremonial robes would drag in the dust the whole way there, and they had been very expensive. 

Instead, he went back into the abbey, grabbed a candle, lit it off the torch at the entrance, and hiked into the staff wing to wake the stablemaster.

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The manor house was lit up splendidly for the time of night. It looked as though the very air were shimmering. The windows glowed golden, each portraying the splendorous light of one of God’s own angels, and, were it not for the all-pervasive silence, Frank might have believed that a banquet was well underway. However, the silence was indeed present, and it made itself known. It strode about the house and grounds pompously and forcefully, the master of it’s domain. It quelled the snuffling of the horses and hushed the curious maids. The contrast of the scene, bustling beauty and fearful quiet, was enough to make Frank shiver as he stepped out of the carriage. 

“There you are, what took you so long?” A voice bellowed out across the quiet, sonorous and deep. The lord Mayor. “Well, sir, you see…” “Never mind that, get inside, quickly now. I trust you recall your training?” Training? “Sir?” “Not here, I’ll explain further away from prying ears.”

The front doors closed quick behind them as the lord Mayor’s long stride and his hurried pace quite nearly forced Frank to sprint to keep up. The priest, out of breath and out of sorts, was quite tempted to demand an explanation as he wracked his mind for what training could possibly require him to be woken as the moon was at its zenith. Is there a werewolf about? No, it won’t be a full moon for three more weeks. He was still pondering this question when two large hands grabbed him by his shoulders and thrust him through a pair of doors into a dark room with only one candle, situated directly in the center.

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No, that isn’t a candle, it’s something else. Frank squinted to make out the forms around it, and found a woman, holding a baby. It was no fire that glowed, but rather the child itself.

A hero. A bloody hero. No. Never. Not here! Frank began to panic. Heroes are always sworn in by the pope himself! Never by mere priests, and never in the dark of night! This is a crime of the highest order! Surely, I must be misunderstanding something, thought Frank. Surely this is just a demonic possession. I can handle a demonic possession. That’s much more in my wheelhouse. It was a few moments before Frank realized he’d frozen in place. The lord Mayor was looming over his shoulder, a half step behind him. “Soooooo... My lord Mayor. How can I assist you at this hour of the night?” Frank had turned his head and shoulders only, his feet were rooted in place, and all he could see of the lord Mayor was his monstrous silhouette. “What, are you blind, priest? The boy is a hero. He needs to integrate with his power immediately.”

Oh. Even in his own head, his voice was a whimper. It was one thing to defy convention and the unwritten rules of the church. That was scary, but he would survive. He wasn’t quite certain he could say the same about refusing the lord Mayor at this point. He’d heard the tales. A nobleman made noble on his own merits, his merits being his bloodthirsty indomitability on the battlefield. He was famous for his violence. Now he was standing in arm’s reach of Frank and making demands. He was also blocking the exit.

Frank swallowed. “Well, you see, my lord, the process to integrate a hero’s soul is restricted knowledge. We priests may have the divine power but the ritual is entirely unknown to us.” He chuckled nervously. He knew his eyes were swimming but he couldn’t remember how to make them stop. The truth of the matter, of course, was that the ritual WAS restricted, but every high level priest knew it. It was considered an emergency procedure. The mere thought of humanity having a born hero but no one to swear him into power in humanity’s hour of need was so terrifying that the church had, for a few decades, required every single member of the clergy to learn it, just in case. Since the Armistice, however, the church leadership had calmed down a little. Frank, being a high level priest, of course knew the ritual by heart. He could recite it in his sleep, or while staving off his own demonic possession. However, he thought, I sure would like to get out of this situation without being brought before the Council in Apotheosis for crimes against humanity. Or dying.

“I knew you would say that.”

You what?! “You what, my lord Mayor?”

“I knew you would say that. I researched the topic myself almost the instant I knew my wife was pregnant. I also know that the ritual itself is a very loosely guarded secret. In fact, can it even be called a secret if every clergyman over the age of 32 knows it? So once I became aware of the issue, I had my man Dmitri- Wave hi, Dmitri-” A man very briefly appeared from the shadows on the wall to Frank’s left. He gave a noncommittal wave and was immediately swallowed once again by darkness. “Yes, I had my man Dmitri locate a copy of the instructions for the ritual.” He reached into his vest pocket and removed a folded sheet of paper. “This should serve you well enough, I imagine. Now get to work!”

“I... Yes, sir.”

“Good man.” 

After a brief period of nervous mumbling and flashes of divine light, the child stopped glowing and the priest was allowed to leave. On his way out, however, The lord Mayor’s hand found Frank’s shoulder once more.

“One more thing.”

Frank's heart stopped. “Yes, sire?”

“Best not to tell anyone you just committed a crime against humanity and the divine order here tonight, eh? I wouldn’t want to have to tell the Council all about how I was completely unaware that my son had already been sworn into power by a rogue priest.”

“...Yes, sire.”