Gerald and Father Ache locked gazes in the gloom. Rows of empty pews faced them both. Flickering candlelight danced upon the seats.
The Father’s voice was the first to break the silence.
“As expected, [Penitent] Gerald, you have risen to meet the occasion of Rank 2. How did it feel?”
Gerald only nodded. The depth of his usual bow had reduced greatly.
“There was no honor in the act, Father.”
The chuckle that followed was far more human than Gerald remembered of the Father recently. Must be since we’re still in public. It’s the kind of laugh he would have revealed to Gerald the drunkard.
“Not that,” he replied, flicking his withered hand dismissively. A manic gleam came over his eyes. “How was your Suzemony?”
Gerald cocked his head. “I don’t understand. It was... alien. Not painful, but not pleasant either.”
Father Ache frowned. “[Penitent] Gerald, Suzemony is the most rapturous thing an [Acolyte] can experience. It is a moment of great closeness with the Jointed Goddess. Take care to savor it in the future.”
I suspect it must be different for the punished, Gerald thought but did not say.
Father Ache turned his disappointed face to the side. Warm light shone at the edges of his profile; gathering in wrinkles on the bridge of his nose.
“That said, you might not have another chance to experience Suzemony,” he muttered. “Regardless, you’ve uncapped the Level of your first skill. Look upon your Blessing; above the Aces, you will see a new piece of information.”
Gerald checked.
Points: 1
Attack: 1
Core: 2
Endurance: 1
Speed: 2
“It is so, Father.”
“Whenever you increase the level of a power—such as, for instance, your Aura of Thorns—you will receive a single Point. The Point can be invested into any of the four Aces to increase its value by one.”
Gerald blinked. “Then wouldn’t those closest to Suzemony have an advantage in battle over those who have been recently elevated?”
“Indeed... Moreover, elevated is a good way to describe it. Suzemony itself is derived from the old tongue's root word ‘susum’, which means upward. And of course, the act ends much like ‘ceremony’.”
There was a short silence after that pronouncement.
“I did not take you for a linguist, Father.”
Father Ache chuckled. “To be a student of the occult is to research all fields in search of hidden knowledge. But I forget myself. We are here to discuss the leveling process. All you need to do is practice your power frequently. Simple, right?”
Gerald held his tongue. The old priest flicked him a smile and then went on.
“For an [Acolyte], it is simple to train. They must activate Joint Lock on a large number of targets. But tell me, [Penitent] Gerald, how often do you encounter true enemies acknowledged by your power? How often do you expect to be able to use that power in peacetime?”
More than you'd expect, but I want to see where this sales pitch goes.
“Not often, Father.”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Father Ache's curled lip could not quite be called a smile.
“It would you take a year of opportunistic practice or a month of reckless, suicidal behavior to become eligible for Rank 3. In fact, I know a place that will feed vicious beasts to the flame of your experience. At the nearest edge of the Orthodoxy’s reach, there lies the City of Accursed: Undergrowth. Three deific factions war in its alleys. Would you care to represent the fourth?”
Gerald's eyes flicked back and forth.
I suspect I could train just as well on the beasts of the Gnarl, but...
Gerald recalled crawling intestinal webbing, red worms, grinning eye-sockets. He shuddered. Never again. I refuse to step foot in that place.
Gerald spoke up: “If you'll allow me the honor, I would request a detachment of [Penitent] forces to accompany me in Undergrowth, as well as all available information on the Accursed we may encounter.”
Father Ache raised a black feather of an eyebrow.
“No [Acolytes]? You should understand that indicates a lack of trust in our Lady's caste system. The other high-ranking believers will develop grudges.”
He's not content to commit [Penitents] alone to this. Why? Does he fear that I will create a splinter faction? Upset his carefully-crafted balance of control? Or does he value [Penitents] more than he lets on?
Gerald grit his teeth.
And I have no idea if he's warning me about the other [Acolytes] or merely through them. Thus, the only safe move is...
“I do not wish to have my command usurped... but it cannot be helped. Very well; send two Rank 1 [Acolytes] with me, including Anna. I shall return them at the cusp of Rank 2.”
Concessions!
Father Ache grinned wolfishly. “I shall grant your requests, [Penitent] Gerald.”
“...And how is little Desmond?”
“Oh, he's made quite an impression on the [Acolytes] who stay in the Chapel proper. The boy takes in our materials well. Admirable, for an outsider. He may be Blessed when he comes of age.”
Gerald's eyes hardened. “Surely, Father, the world of Blessed is no place for a child!”
“Do not take that tone with me,” snapped Father Ache. “That is why we are waiting until his adulthood. I know full well how cruel fate can be to children, [Penitent].”
Gerald recoiled as if slapped.
“...Forgive me, Father. I forgot my place in the height of passion.”
“See that you do not forget again.”
Father Ache searched Gerald's expression, then nodded briskly. “You'll have your regiment by Tuesday. May our Lady bend our fate.”
Gerald turned at the dismissal. “May our Lady bend our fate,” he murmured.
----------------------------------------
Gerald massaged his eyes as he read of the factions that had laid claim to Undergrowth. The report was positively brimming with flowery language that filled him with a deeper headache each line.
Most of it is Lady Brenda’s work, no doubt. I can’t believe I have to take notes on these notes!
His quill flew over the parchment, summarizing, picking apart.
First to arrive, but weakest of the three: the heretical followers of God Hypnagog, who ruled dreams, persistence, and altered states. The group had access to only one class: [Hypnotist]. Reports gathered from the Traveler’s Guild indicated they could extend the duration of any mundane affliction; from poison, to sleep, to even burning. It wasn’t known what [Hypnotists] could do at higher ranks.
Next came the [Preceptors] of shattered Goddess Moon Omen. Moon Omen ruled over mystery and fragility while alive; now, in death, her domain had reduced itself to stillness and nothing else. The [Preceptors] were numerous. They were somehow still able to undergo Suzemony, despite the fact that dead deities should not exist to promote their Accursed. However, the main power that they wielded had been extensively documented, so they found it difficult to establish a foothold in Undergrowth.
In essence, their power was much like Joint Lock. [Preceptors] could enforce stillness on an area; those who refused to abide by this rule would accumulate psychological torments. If the [Hypnotists] had been unaware of the rule in advance, they might have been defeated en masse.
As it was, they merely had to sit still whenever [Preceptors] approached and ignore their jeers. There was a tenuous balance between the two forces. The fact was that both the Accursed factions had little in the way of direct combat power.
Thus entered the followers of wicked Goddess Pulsar, who ruled blood, conquest, and tempo. Unlike the other two factions, Pulsar had two classes to bestow: [Dancer] and [Carver]. They had appeared in the last two weeks, throwing Undergrowth’s delicate economy into disarray with sprouting brothels and underground arenas. They had not yet made real moves to evict Hypnagog, but were locked in open war with Moon Omen. The power of enforced stillness was anathema to Pulsar’s [Dancers] and [Carvers] both, stalling their advance.
It was into this tumultuous situation that Gerald would lead a group of only seven Blessed.
Including himself.
I should ask for more men!