Their arrival and disembarkment were smooth and practiced. Black-clad footmen set step stools, opened doors, ushered them out of the car and into the house, then quietly closed portals behind them. Maids in black dresses poured them drinks in an opulent salon too crammed with elegant things to be called elegant. After a suitable waiting period, far longer than Maia had to wait to see Her Holiness, they were admitted to the legendary chamber where the Firsts held their deliberations and maintained their prominence over Unity City and all of Dace. Every province governor, city mayor, town council, and bureau head was held by strings that led back to that room, to five old spiders on big gilded chairs, set on a dias to look down at the ranks of hard benches before them. They were all old and some were less hale than the others, leaning wearily in their comfortable chairs. But all of them had the clear eyes of merchants and power brokers. Collectively, there had to be over two hundred years of ruling experience sitting on that dias.

Besides the five Firsts, there were dangerous-looking guards posted at intervals along the walls, each of them dressed in black but in their personal style, with their chosen weapons in hand or within reach. The lingering perfumes spoke of supplicants recently departed, through a door on the far side of the room. The group from Enclave wouldn't know who else was meeting with the Firsts today, and nobody else would know they were here.

A variety of articles were hung from the walls, and Maia would have liked to study them if she had the time. They were trophies of every notable adversary the Firsts had crushed through the centuries. Banners of nations disbanded before the Treaty of Alignment, shields bearing the crests of extinguished noble houses, weapons captured from would-be conquerors, flags of independent merchant companies that grew a little too ambitious, and even the masthead from an infamous pirate ship.

The five guardians and one disciple entered, followed by a Pinnacle attendant carrying the wrapped manifesto. Enclave stood before the Firsts and gave a normal greeting bow, no lower than they gave to any other kings, and Maia had to fight the hopeful feeling in her chest that said maybe this was a meeting of equals and not a report to superiors.

"Well, well," croaked the Kassra, the First Karolo, "you've made it here at last, granddaughter. I always thought you would. I was so pleased when Phrenos put up your name for admittance."

"Admittance to what, Grandmother?" There were muted chuckles from the other Firsts. Maia knew, but she didn't want to know. There were rumors, since practically her first day of classes at Enclave. She never wanted to believe it, and now she needed to hear it said aloud to be confirmed.

"This is the Shadow Council, as you suspect. Don't make that face, dear. You arrived here all on your own, through skill and hard work. I never lifted a finger for you."

Maia ran to the church to escape the constant machinations of her family. She should have run a lot farther.

"But first, we have some housekeeping to do. Dean Golonzo, please administer the vow."

The dean rose and stood by a lectern stacked with ancient boards: an early copy of the third book of scripture, Disciples, older than the building. They wanted her to read Vow of Obedience, the same vow that all disciples and their apprentices were recently forced to read. It was binding. Sometimes, it was too binding. She glanced at mad Paraskevi, who couldn't hear a good word about Nexus without foaming at the mouth.

Maia's worry-worm was gone, replaced by the sensation of falling into a trap. It was already too late for her. She knew about the Shadow Council. She had to read the vow and join, or they would dispose of her. The men in this room could do the job right now, effortlessly. She would end up in a report somewhere, another accident among Leadership. Or another suicide, one more Guardian who succumbed to the pressures of their heavy burdens.

You don't have a drop of spirit in you. That's what Phrenos had said. Since her encounters with Nexus, Maia had plumbed the library for more esoteric texts about Spiritual Arts, writings that nobody had touched in decades. The vow was technically a curse because it turned a practitioner's spirit against them. Someone who was already loyal would be unbothered by the vow. Someone without any spirit at all would be wholly unaffected.

Phrenos was perfectly sane. Was that because he believed in Heritage or because he lacked any spirit for the vow to latch onto? Golonzo believed with his whole heart, which explained why he was normal. But did he truly not understand how the vow worked? Wasn't he going to warn the Firsts that it would be useless on someone who lacked spirit?

If Maia refused the vow then she would die. So she took a gamble on a long-dead author who claimed it wouldn't change her.

"I am Guardian Maia Karolo," she pledged with one hand on scripture. I believe in the one god whose name is Olyon. Saint Bahram was His final messenger. Enclave is His chosen church. The Five Families are His chosen bloodlines, sanctified to guide the church and enact His will on the world."

"We raise our voices to you, Great Olyon," intoned Golonzo, "and offer up this woman's loyalty …" There was more to the prayer, but Maia didn't listen. She'd heard it too many times already. She closed her eyes and waited for the change to happen, the twisting of her thoughts against herself.

To set a mind against its natural inclination, to put a person at war with themselves is a terrible act. No good is great enough to compensate for such an ill deed. Dean Garsharp had written that in the days before he died. The words might even be the reason for his death. The zealots did their best to erase him.

But the change never came. There was only relief, sneaking in by degrees, loosening the noose around her neck. The prayer couldn't work on her, and Golonzo didn't even know.

She recalled her time with Phillip the Younger during Lavradio's civil war. He had offended her on several occasions with his contempt for Enclave's teaching methods and lack of theoretical grounding. "Your people have no idea what prayers are," he'd tell her and then refuse to explain. She had been shocked at his arrogance, but now she was starting to sympathize with him.

"Isn't that better?" croaked grandma Kassra. "All those pesky doubts are gone now, aren't they? Phrenos, you may begin with the financials." The head of the Guardians handed over the boards for the monthly transfers for a routine inspection while Maia groped for her next moves. They had to think she was affected by the vow, or else they'd kill her.

Phrenos spent some time explaining the missing transfers from Lavradio, and the possibility of an even lower payout next month.

"Unacceptable, President Phrenos," said Nikola Namalous in his silky voice, "you must demand more from the temples. They have fallen far behind. Have all the temples preach about regular tithing this month. Remind people their souls will suffer if the church does not thrive."

"That strategy is played out, First Manalous. They resent the church, especially when Nexus services their needs better, albeit through heretical and sinful methods." Maia was sure that the last phrase was inserted to defer any rabid comments from Paraskevi. "We demand money from them but offer nothing in return."

"We guard their souls," tittered the First Pearlcamp. "Nothing is more precious than that."

"Do we?" asked Phrenos, which surprised Maia. She would never have marked him as someone capable of defying the Firsts, not even a little. "The commoner who sends us their coin can't see that, not when Nexus is doing all the work we used to. We need their hearts if we want their coin. Let us deploy disciples."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"The realms have not paid," grumbled the First Donglar.

"They will never pay." Maia was shocked at her own interruption, but it was too late to take it back. "Lavradio, Gallia, and Ullidia will never pay because they don't have the sums we're asking. You're demanding they ruin their realms with debt or be eaten alive. The other realms will pay eventually because they have the money, but those three will choose death by monster over extortion."

"Tenobre will be brought to heel," First Donglar demanded, "and bow to the First Families. As Dace belongs to us, so will all the realms. Our Heritage is to rule them all, for Olyon's sake!"

"Have you all read the vow?" Maia's mouth was running ahead of her good judgment, a measure of rattled she was. All five heads nodded in unison.

First Fortuna practically sang, "We are all loyal to Olyon. We must rule Tenobre as His stewards and for the good of the continent. Only the Five Families are fit to lead the world. Kings and councils will yield to us!"

There it was, the endless ambition of old spiders, everything she thought she was running from. How stupid had she been, to think the Firsts would keep their fingers out of something so rich and powerful as Enclave? She wanted to ask them how long they had been taking the vow, but her good sense was catching up to her situation, and she thought better of it.

It was too late to back away now, so Maia pressed forward. "We'll make no progress in that direction until Nexus is dealt with. They've stolen secrets and power from Enclave, and they've put those resources to good use. It'll take more than sermons and insults to dislodge them." To the lone attendant in the room, she said, "Bring the package here."

Maia loosed the tie that kept the Manifest Shield shrouded and let them have a good, long look at it. She boldly climbed the dias and planted it before them, close enough to read. The articles didn't say as much but, point by point, they rebuked every part of Bahram's legacy. They said anywhere the faithful met in prayer was a temple; disciples owed their highest allegiance to Olyon and the Four Tenets; practitioners could come from anywhere, however humble their origins; the Heritage of the First Families was a lie designed to concentrate power in Enclave. There were more articles, and every one of them enraged the Firsts.

Nikola Namalous was first to speak, in his smooth voice that had disarmed countless opponents. "How do you propose we deal with this upstart?"

"It's too late to make deals with him. We should have admitted him when he was friendly, taken all his ideas for ourselves, and then defrocked him. He's not of first blood, after all."

"He is talentless!" spat Paraskevi. "He would pollute our ranks with his perversions! He must be killed!"

"Sit down, Paraskevi," croaked Kassra, "the rest of you join her. I want to hear what our newest member thinks of our situation. Please continue, Maia. Why do we care about this object? We've seen this 'manifesto' in paper broadsheets distributed by cartmen.

"It's the material, First Kassra. It is made from the shell of the monster in Kravikas, the one we couldn't kill. The deans can't remove the light prayer from its letters. Our workshop can't damage it."

"We'll see about that," said tittering Pearlcamp. "Kadivo, come break this annoyance."

A fighter, a man larger than perhaps any Maia had seen in her life, two heads taller than her and five times heavier, climbed the dias, took the tower shield to one side, and propped it against the wall. His weapon was a hammer with a haft as long as he was, with two heads: a flat face on one side and a spike on the other. His muscles bulged against his uniform and strained the seams as he hefted it, swung it full circle, and drove the spike into the offending shield.

The hammer bounded off the shield, which was unharmed.

Dean Golonzo sighed and rose to his feet. He was still tired from the Mandate and knew how futile the exercise was, but he granted Kadivo a prayer for strength. Maia noted he didn't offer any other enhancements to counter the possible side effects like a Nexus disciple would. Nor did he ask for the man's numbers or offer to tailor the prayer for his needs. Galonzo said the prayer and his target got whatever he got. They had to wait a little longer, while he repeated the process on Kadivo's hammer.

Kadivo had a reputation to maintain: he had pierced or crushed the shields of over a hundred men who had opposed him. When he wound up for his next swing, his killing intent was so clear the entire room backed away on instinct. This time, the hammer did not spring back but followed through while the wall gave way until the shield's edges had cut into it. He circled the hammer for another blow, ignoring the calls to wait because it could be dangerous, the wall might come down, and he drove the spike again. The meter-thick wall of brick shook off all the swords, banners, sigils, and badges in a rain of trophies. What was left was a hole with the Manifest Shield embedded deep inside. The thick bronze spike of Kadivo's hammer lay at the foot of the tower shield, broken.

"He thinks he's indestructible! He believes he can replace us! Kill the Heretic." Paraskevi had to be shushed and pushed back into her seat by Guardian Ludo. Nobody was in the mood for her rantings. But, she wasn't wrong.

"That's quite interesting," said the silky First Namalous, "we should leave it there until we kill the heretic. Then we'll find a suitable space for it, among the rest of the failures."

First Donglar didn't care about the wall or the shield. "Fine. But what do we do about this Phillip person?" Five pairs of eyes turned to Maia.

Maia knew the best they could hope for at this point was a negotiated settlement that let both churches operate without interference. Enclave was the church people knew, and they would stay with Enclave if all other things were equal. But the people in the room with her weren't open to the idea. So, she did what she usually did to get difficult people to see reason: she suggested something so outrageously expensive, so obviously ruinous, so immoral, they would desperately reach for more sane solutions.

"Sending disciples won't be enough. He has too many of his own, however inferior they may be, and they're multiplying like rats. He's taking our healers and making them into his version of disciples."

The Firsts all grunted their agreement that Nexus was like a nest of rats, taking up space in their house, stealing their followers, nibbling away at their cash stream.

"Nexus has won every disciple-on-disciple contest. Our strongest practitioners have defected, or they've been killed at the hands of the heretic. We must respond with more than a few disciples. We must send all of them, all at once, backed by the largest army Tenobre has seen in generations. Empty the vaults to hire the Grand Company, as many men as we can get. Send material aid to Kashmar. Lean on Moldonia for weapons. Raze Nexus to the ground and kill its people. Burn every garden, kill every hunter, and take the rest prisoner. Kashmar can't complain if we take most of the spoils because they'll have what they've always dreamed of — total control of Kravikas, no more north and south.

"When the war is over, let the debt-slavers ply their trade everywhere in Tenobre. Their society pays us the best returns per capita, so let's export the practice everywhere. Hyskos can start by selling off the prisoners of war. We'll take a large cut of the proceeds, and we'll keep taking percentages as Hyskos expands into countries that were too quick to abandon us. The people who wouldn't donate to Enclave will serve us another way."

"Very bold, Guardian Maia!" Kassra's wide grin of aging teeth was the most approval she's ever had from the old woman. She had seen through Maia's ruse, understood the reasons behind it, and would guide the Firsts into a more sane response.

Maia hadn't reckoned with the effects of Vow of Obedience.

First Karolo pounded the arm of her chair as she spoke. "This is the moment to risk everything to gain everything. With Nexus out of the way, Tenobre will be ours for a thousand years. We'll make everybody who turned their backs on us pay in blood and gold."

"We can release both contingency funds," added First Pearlcamp, "and the emergency reserve."

First Fortuna shook a fist. "Phillip the Ratling set himself up as an equal to this body. He'll learn what we do to the arrogant!"

"Wipe the Calique from the desert," commanded the First Donglar, "make that a condition of our aid. Not a single garden can be left standing. Punish those backward tribes for siding with Nexus."

Maia stared at them, unbelieving. They weren't supposed to like that idea. They were supposed to jump for a less insane solution, something reasonable. It had always worked before.

"An existential threat deserves the maximum response," Namalous nodded. "Empty Enclave. Throw every disciple we have at the heretic. Only students and some healers should be left behind."

"And the hierarch," amended Phrenos. "The Holy Mandates must be kept."

The Five nodded their heads and started discussing particulars while Maia sat down heavily on the benches. She wanted to shout at them, tell them to wait, that tens of thousands would die just to line their pockets. Giving free rein to debt-slavers wasn't just immoral, it was against scripture and and the Treaty of Alignment. But she had given voice to what they all wanted to hear, and there was no stopping them now.

Her eyes fell on the shield, buried in the half-ruined wall, its letters glowing hypnotically over the surface of Darkmaw's shell. She looked at it, and she knew. This was what he wanted. She had discounted the shield as another one of Phillip's stunts, a chance to show off, but it wasn't that. There was no reason to lob such an incendiary object at his enemies except to push them into rash action.

What Maia didn't understand was why he would want total war against Enclave. Surely, he didn't think he could win.