"Who did this?" I ask.

I've managed to hand back the manifesto without tearing the paper further. They insist they need it. If I could, I'd throw it in the nearest fire and burn it, but I doubt anyone will let me.

I haven't touched the overturned chair. I'm not going to sit. How could I sit at a time like this?

"There are seven copies of the manifesto," Zar'Hazel says. "One for each temple. Each with it's own unique handwriting. My scholars believe they have determined the identity of one of the writers."

"Who?" I say. My temper boils, and I have some idea of what I'll do when I find out.

"We'll tell you, Aegis," Ralen says, "If you pledge your discretion and secrecy in this matter."

"Why should I have to do such a thing?"

"Because," Zar'Hazel says. "There appear to be traitors in our ranks. Why they've chosen this moment to show their hand, I don't know. But until I know more, I don't want to show mine."

He's right, of course. Better to draw all the traitors out than to catch one and let the rest go free. If it can be done.

Lean forward, palms on the table. "Seven copies. Seven people, colluding together. Unless there's an eighth. Someone who wrote the original. The ringleader." I pause. "Unless there's more. And there must be, for them to be so bold."

"The manifesto's were removed immediately," Ralen says. "First thing in the morning. But the message has been received. By us, if not the common people."

"And what message is that?" I say.

An awkward silence follows this, which seems to contradict the claim. A clear message doesn't beg pontification. It simply is.

Unless you counted the manifesto itself. In that sense, the message was straightforward enough. Though it rambles on a bit, and arrives at it's conclusions in a bit of a roundabout way.

It's a call to arms. It's a defiance of the current order.

It's blasphemy.

"They want to make a bid for peace," Ralen says, finally. "They want to end the war. And they want to see who agrees. Who will side with them. But they do so with anonymity."

"But not complete anonymity," I say. "Tell me."

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"I would also like to know as well," Kazen pipes in. "I'd rather have at least some idea of who my enemies are."

Ralen doesn't answer. She just looks at Zar'Hazel, who seems quite lost in thought. He runs a thumb back and forth across his chin.

"He's one of us," he says. "An Aegis. A General, in fact. Tayvin himself."

General Tayvin.

The General Tayvin? The one who can be found, day in and out, inside the central temple, kneeling at the alter, whispering quietly in prayer?

It comes as a shock. It seems impossible. But the more I contemplate it, a sliver of sense begins to emerge. Tayvin is good friends with multiple priests within the Heraldic Order. And I've long suspected that certain members of the Order are motivated by status and wealth more than anything else. But that's just a confirmation of my own biases. My cynicism bleeding through, marring the picture.

Is it really so easy for me to turn on my fellow brethren?

"Can I see the evidence?" I say.

Zar'Hazel nods. "You may have access to the documents. We gathered hundreds of letters and notes for reference. Tayvin's the best match my people have been able to find. And the more of his handwriting they compare, the closer a match it becomes. So for now, it's just about all we have."

Kazen seems as shocked as I am. "Surely it couldn't be true."

Zar'Hazel sighs, and takes another sip of his tea. "I've known Tayvin a long time. When you've served Varcovith as long as he has, it's become a part of who you are. The words and motions and gestures that seem like proof of his faith to us are just second-nature to him. Though in his heart he's turned from God, he couldn't change his behavior if he tried. I doubt he'll be able to for a long time yet."

"You're convinced of his guilt," I say.

"We'll know who is guilty soon enough," Zar'Hazel says. "For now, I will operate on the assumption that he is. For now, my circle of trust--complete trust--is the size of this room."

"Small circle," I say.

"Your steadfastness in your beliefs is one of the reasons I chose you. And you two as well," Zar'Hazel says, addressing Ralen and Kazen. "I was already planning for the three of you to head a special incursion into Alveranderan territory. This recent turn of events has merely pushed the timeline."

"You already knew about them," Kazen says, eyes wide. "The traitors." It's not a question.

"There's an asset I need to seize. Right now, few know of it's existence. It's hidden away, in a town just inside the southwestern border of Alverand. A place called Tantern. It's mining territory, and it's well-defended."

Kazen frowned. "You make it sound like we're launching an attack. There's no possibility that we can sneak in and take this thing?"

"I can only trust my Aegis' with this," Zar'Hazel says. "The attack exists to mask the purpose of the operation."

"You don't want Alverand to know what we're doing?" I say.

Zar'Hazel shakes his head. There's a sad, distant look in his eyes. "I don't want Daroven to know what we're doing."

Suddenly, I do kind of feel like sitting down. I grab the overturned chair, right it, and scooch it back toward the table. By the time I'm seated, it feels like enough of a somber silence has passed. It feels like it's time to speak again.

"What can you tell me about the asset?"

Zar'Hazel rolls the cup, spinning it slowly back and forth between his palms. Steam rises, creating a misty atmosphere in front of his face.

"I can describe what it is, to you," he says. "It's appearance. It's weight and dimensions. You need to know these things, because you're going to be the one to find and transport it. But as for it's true nature...even if I told a man like you, a man of faith...I'm not convinced you would believe."