Ainsworth had returned to the main Cathedral in the middle borough after exiting the Astrologer’s Labyrinth, standing before the Archangel of Heaven’s Roses, Selaphiel.
“Did you have a hard time in the labyrinth?” Selaphiel had a knowing smirk on his face, leaning back in his chair. Dozens of stacks of disheveled papers were spread across his desk, although he didn’t seem to pay the mess any mind, so Ainsworth ignored it just the same.
“There were definitely some troubling aspects, but I feel that this time around, I was sufficiently prepared to handle them.” Ainsworth shook his head in response to the Archangel’s question.
“It only gets worse as you go on. In truth, even I am a bit terrified to try and progress my own abilities.”
“Are you really? This puzzled Ainsworth. How terrifying could the labyrinth be to scare such a powerful man? Of course, just because one possessed great physical power did not mean they were sufficiently equipped to deal with the mental encroachment of such a place. That was the true danger of the labyrinth, the madness it tried to bring to oneself. “I saw many Roses traveling by cart out of Leiden the other day. Are they being sent on a mission somewhere?”
Selaphiel shook his head. “No, they’re going back to Lindgram. Heaven’s Roses is falling apart, Mr. Benedict. I’m sure you’ve already recognised this. Most members who rise above the rank of a blue Rose realise this aspect of our organisation. To put it simply, the ‘higher-ups’ don’t quite care what we do anymore. They think our work can be done just as easily by the Peacekeepers they keep pouring into each town and city throughout the continent. We’ve stopped receiving funding, new members, and other resources almost entirely. They’re taking back most of the remaining members sent to clean up the Nameless here in order to defend the capital instead.”
“Why are you telling me this? Isn’t this the sort of thing that should be kept secret?”
Selaphiel smiled, leaning his head on his hand lazily. “In truth, I’ve also begun to think that we’re nearing the end of our organisation. I don’t think it matters who I tell of this, anymore.”
He paused for a moment, glancing at the window which revealed the sheen of moonlight on the edge of its panes.
“I’ve put forth a motion to the other Archangels.” Selaphiel smiled coyly as he spoke. “I wish to start producing Black Mages for the sake of our organisation’s growth.”
“Won’t that be a dangerous endeavour? Isn’t the entire reason we’ve strayed away from that choice due to their natural inclination for evil?”
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Selaphiel nodded his head. “Yes, that’s certainly the truth. But you must think about the grander picture. If the Peacekeepers have outgrown our own usefulness, then we have to expand to other aspects that they can’t think of filling. I think sometimes, the outcome has to be sought out despite the dangers. This is one such event. Moreover, I think I can use your white Rose, ‘Nicole Auirore’, as a case study to cite. They might be convinced in this way.”
“You want to use Nicole in order to convince the other Archangels? I suppose it could work, but isn’t his past a red flag in that regard? He became a Black Mage at such an early point in his life. He will have grown up differently in comparison to a man who joins Heaven’s Roses at say, the age of twenty, and from there decides to go down that path.”
“He’s all we have. And if it’s not this motion, then I truly have no other ideas.” His eyes grew a bit dreary, contemplative as he stared out the window of the Cathedral’s upper floor window. “If it isn’t this, then I’m content to let our organisation die, I think.”
Ainsworth parted his lips as if to respond, but lost of words, closed them just as quickly, only looking back at the Archangel with a despondent gaze.
Suddenly, the door to Selaphiel’s office swung open. In stepped a man in a bright-white cloak that bore an insignia of a multi-blossomed blue rose on its shoulder and back. It was a blue Rose that Ainsworth had come to know when rising so quickly through the ranks of Heaven’s Roses, a man named Dietrich Reiche. He immediately fell to one knee before the Archangel, bowing his head. “Lord Selaphiel, there’s been reports of increased activity on the Eighteenth floor of Etten-leur! Screaming, howling- one man was said to have traveled there to investigate the matter and has yet to return!”
Selaphiel let out a sigh, sitting back up in his seat as he adopted a serious expression. “But while we still yet live, we should take our duties seriously. Mr. Benedict, take charge of Reiche’s Blue Roses and that White Rose team of yours and go investigate the matter. If you require further assistance, or encounter another Named, send a pigeon. I will personally join you.”
Deitrich Reiche glanced towards Ainsworth out of the corner of his eye, grimacing. This was a common expression given to Ainsworth by his compatriots. While a Blue Rose might have spent several years trying to progress their own abilities in order to reach the necessary level for a Red Rose, Ainsworth had rapidly progressed his abilities through the guidance of Selaphiel. Of course, Dietrich didn’t know that this was partially due to Ainsworth’s sheer desire to grow stronger, that unfathomable horrors did not necessarily deter him, and so he ascribed all of Ainsworth’s growth to coddling.
“Mr. Selaphiel, isn’t this too much responsibility to put on me?”
“Most definitely. If you fail, it will tarnish my reputation severely. That is the risk I take endorsing you, Mr. Benedict. So, will you run away scared?”
A grin curled up Ainsworth’s lips. “Why would I do that?”
He turned away from the Archangel, letting out a sigh as he walked towards the office door.
Dietrich reluctantly stood up, his head still bowed towards the Archangel. He couldn’t believe that Ainsworth, who had only joined Heaven’s Roses a few months prior, was referring to such a high being with simple honorifics. Wasn’t this too close of a relationship for them to have, even despite the circumstances? What could that Archangel possibly be thinking?
Ainsworth called out to Selaphiel as he waltzed out of the office door, a mad grin plastered on his face, white cloak fluttering behind him, “your will shall be done.”