Light and darkness. In the cardinal’s mind the Grand Cathedral of the Order in Quintus was a perfect amalgamation of those polar opposites. The building itself was more of a fortress than a temple with its thick, reinforced concrete walls and tiny, narrow windows. Those same windows however were still enough to dress the place in a dim light with countless shades in the corners.

The interiors were solemn, almost depressingly so, and completely puritan. No statues, no frills or marble vestments, only grey concrete and steel, function over aesthetics. In his eyes the cathedral seemed almost too perfect of an allegory to the organization it housed. On the outside it was grand, unshakeable and on solid foundations, but the inside was nothing more than faint rays of light consumed by a sea of shadows and secrets.

He softly smiled at his own thoughts and quietly started walking through the dark hallways once again, his simple grey robes lightly waving in the air, momentarily lending him the image of a ghost soundlessly floating through the shadowy corridors. The sun was on the top of its route in the sky yet the halls were terribly dim and he was sure that without his several years’ worth of experience he might have completely lost his way in the labyrinthine underbelly of the cathedral.

With heavy steps he wordlessly contemplated upon the news he just received. The problems weighted heavily on his mind as if he was carrying a mountain on his back, and to be precise, he felt exactly like that. The troubles he had to deal with day after day had already etched deep wrinkles upon his forehead, and although his face was still of a young man’s, one couldn’t help but find him at least middle aged at first glance. The white streaks in his short brown hair didn’t help either. His steps came to a sudden halt as he turned around a corner and faced a familiar sight, yet one that he never really got used to.

It was one of the very few ornamented sections of the building, a wonderfully detailed piece of art depicting the Reckoning War’s events in a long series of frescos along the walls, from beginning to end. The beautiful colors and lifelike characters captivated him every time he laid his eyes upon them, even though their majesty was greatly tarnished by the unforgiving fangs of time and the less than stellar lighting of hallway.

No doubt these were made immediately after Nov’Elsfaan’s descent by the hands of an overly eager artist, possibly even before the Order itself was forged by the turbulent events of the following decade.

He quickly looked over each of the scenes as he passed by them, but his eyes were always drawn to the final, half-finished piece. As he stood in front of it his eyebrows involuntarily furrowed, etching yet another wrinkle upon his face.

The scene depicted was clear and simple. It was the iconic figure of the First Prophet, clad in his crimson armor and black coat, raising his hands towards the skies in reverence of the descending Nov’Elsfaan. It was, however, clearly incomplete. The background was all white, unlike the vivid imagery of the other scenes, and the Prophet was slightly off-center.

Anyone could tell this was only slightly more than a rough sketch of the final product, yet they would still have found it a breathtaking memento of a historic event. The cardinal knew better. He knew the truth, the whole truth behind that missing background, and it was something that carved more wrinkles onto his face than anything else. Well, maybe save for a certain brat under his care, but that was beside the point. After a short, tired sigh he steeled his expression and continued on his way.

He was still more than a few paces away from his destination but he could already hear an angry voice he knew all too well. As he opened the door to the inner sanctum of the cathedral he found himself face to face with the owner of said voice.

Randall: "This is an outrage!!!"

?????????: " I told you to stop shouting...!"

The two people in the room were polar opposites. Bishop Randall’s figure seemed large and imposing, even with his receding hairline and sunken eyes. He was completely overshadowing the teenage girl sitting on the pedestal in the middle of the circular atrium sporting an expression that somehow managed to convey both indignation and boredom.

Her long, spotless white ceremonial robes seemed eerie yet beautiful in the dim, artificial neon light shining down upon her. Her face was shapely and feminine, with long eyelashes and just enough baby fat on her to show that she hasn’t quite got out of puberty yet but she wasn’t a child either. Her garments were similar to what a princess from a story-book would wear, all flowing silk and billowing skirts. Her head was even sporting an unadorned yet elegant tiara holding his raven hair back. As she finally noticed the cardinal and their eyes met, she let out an exaggerated sight and stood up.

?????????: "Finally! Where the hell have you been?!"

She simply shoved the flabbergasted Randall aside and moved to the cardinal, her waist-long black hair floating behind her like a comet’s tail.

?????????: "Do you have any idea how long I had to listen to his moaning!? Do something already!"

The man let out a tiny sigh under his breath but didn’t let the exasperation show on his face. As much as he hated to admit it, he was already used to the ‘esteemed Oracle’s’ spoiled behavior and he didn’t even bat an eye at her demands as he turned to Randall, ignoring her entirely.

Cardinal: "Sorry for making you wait bishop. What seems to be the problem?"

Randall: "The problem? The PROBLEM?!" The old man’s voice was hoarse and his last word felt more like a shriek than anything else. "It’s not a ‘problem’, it’s a disaster! A blasphemy of the highest degree, it’s a—"

The cardinal swiftly raised his palm and the bishop became silent on the spot. He knew Randall for many years, even if only tangentially, and he knew that if the usually absent-minded and peaceful man was this agitated, something big must have happened.

Cardinal: "Start from the beginning please, I only heard the abridged version of your initial report."

The bishop gave him a disgruntled glance and let out a worn-out sigh. With a sudden change in his tone he started speaking in a soft, almost reverent voice.

Randall: "As you wish, you Honor. Please excuse my earlier outburst." He slowly licked his thin lips and continued. "Two days ago, I was sent out with a group of Type-Os to…"

????????: "Booooring! Get to the part where your party’s ass got kicked!"

Cardinal: "Cassandra…"

Cassandra: "What?"

The girl effortlessly shrugged off the Cardinal’s reprimanding tone; his piercing gaze couldn’t even graze the walls of her ego.

Cardinal: "You are the voice of Nov’Elsfaan, you should mind your words and tone."

Cassandra: "Why? He would have said the same too!"

The agitated bishop suddenly stepped closer to the two, demanding their attention.

Randall: "May I continue?"

Cardinal: "Yes, by all means. Please do so."

Randall: "So as I was saying, I was leading twelve Type-Os when I was ambushed."

The cardinal involuntarily raised an eyebrow. From the initial report he already heard about an attack on the bishop, but he had a hard time imagining anyone in their right mind would assault a priest of Nov’Elsfaan accompanied by a dozen Type-Os.

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

Then there was another question: Where did the bishop get his hands on twelve of the monsters? They only had about thirty at the cathedral in total and he personally had to authorize every deployment, yet he didn’t remember ever filling the paperwork. Unless…

He sent a sharp glance at Cassandra, though she didn’t seem to notice. Right, if it involved the Plan, she could have issued the order. On the other hand this meant that the girl was acting behind his back. After a moment of hesitation he decided to keep quiet and play along, but also made a mental note about ripping the brat a new one later.

Cardinal: "Ambushed?" He finally asked, hoping that his hesitation would be interpreted as surprise.

Randall: "Yes, and…"

Cassandra: "Stop dancing around it!" Cassandra glared at the bishop and then turned to the cardinal with almost childish glee. "It was Ahazkun!"

The moment he heard the word Randall’s face became red with anger. The cardinal quickly raised his hand once again before the situation could get out of hand, though he had to admit he wanted to smack the girl over the head himself, and sent another sharp glance to Cassandra. Once she recognized the gesture and grudgingly settled down he turned back to Randall and spoke with a firm tone.

Cardinal: "Tell me the details."

Randall: "Yes, of course..." Randal said, still agitated. "As I said, I was ambushed by a single man who destroyed all twelve Type-Os."

Cassandra: "I bet it was awesome!" The girl exploded again, enthusiasm spilling forth from her like a fountain. "He mopped the floor with those ugly critters in a minute! Pow! Bang!"

The two men glared at the girl in unison and after a short pause the cardinal simply said;

Cardinal: "I believe it would be best if you just disregarded her for now. Please continue."

Visibly vexed, the old man nodded and continued.

Randall: "So, as I said, the assailant destroyed my troops. He claimed to be the ‘Silver Oracle’ and the ‘Third Prophet’, by the name of Ahazkun. The man was obviously using some powerful magecraft, and…"

Cassandra: "You heard that! He is finally ba—" Before she could finish her line the edge of the Cardinal’s palm lightly struck the girl on the top of her head with a barely audible thump. "Ouch! Hey!"

Cardinal: "Quiet down. This seems like a serious issue." He said, and then in a barely audible hiss he added; "I am mad enough at you already, stop testing your luck."

Cassandra gave a pointed look at remark but in the end she averted her gaze and crossed her arms in a pout. After the quick reprimand the Cardinal turned his full attention to the man in front of him. For the first time since the old man has known him, his eyes seemed to be filled with a vigorous light.

Cardinal: "Randall…"

Randall: "Yes, your Honor?" He answered, his back reflexively straightening.

Cardinal: "Tell me everything…"

~~~

Kiseki: "Yay! We are finally here!"

Adhi: "It took longer than I thought it would…"

The strange pair entering the small chapel in the middle of the abbey complex on the mountain stood out like a sore thumb amongst the knights and other servicemen performing their daily prayers. They wore clothes completely unfit for the mood of the building, or practically any building of this era if we were at that. One would almost think they were a couple waiting for their wedding to commence, though considering the environment even that interpretation would have been off the mark.

While the place was called a chapel, it was only self-appointed jargon, something the Order very much liked to abuse in order to dress its mundane institutions in sanctified guise. As such the ‘chapel’ was closer to what one would consider a cut and dried example of a barrack. Sure, the religious iconography was there, like everywhere else the Order set foot, littering the dull brown walls with scrolls and golden eyes, the symbols of Nov’Elsfaan. In the grand scheme of things it hardly seemed to be more than lip-service.

However what the place lacked in piety, it made up in big, burly armored men. Men who were all stopped on their tracks and sending suspicious glances towards the newcomers in the doorway.

Adhi: "Hey, easy people, easy! We are not here to fight you or anything." The man protested with hands in the air.

Kiseki: "Wait, are you sure about that?"

Adhi: "Now that you mention it…" The man mused absent-mindedly as he lowered his hands. "Where did you put that letter again?"

Kiseki: "I gave it to you."

Adhi: "No you didn’t."

The two of them crossed their arms in unison, apparently deep in thought and not caring about the eyes surround them the slightest.

Kiseki: "Why do you need it anyway?"

Adhi: "To make sure if this is the place where we meet or the place we are supposed to blow up."

Kiseki: "Oh." She giggled with an innocent mirth. "You are so clever!"

Adhi: "Right. So, where is it?"

Kiseki: "I gave it to you."

Adhi: "No you didn’t."

Knight: "Excuse me…"

The back and forth between the two was broken by the arrival of a new participant joining the fray. As they looked up, a tall man was standing in front of them. He was wearing what seemed to be a polished dark gray breastplate made of a number of interlocking plates, its surface adorned by various symbols and short phrases of litany engraved into the metal itself worn over lightly padded riot gear.

It was a weird combination of the aesthetical platemail of the templars and the more practical garment of a knight. In short, it was the traditional armor of the bodyguards and knight officers stationed in very important places, where being imposing and being useful held equal importance when it came to the uniform design.

The man cleared his throat and looked at the couple with slightly skeptical eyes.

Knight: "Who are you people?"

The male half of the duo flashed a juvenile grin that had no business on a grown man’s face at the knight and offered a hand.

Adhi: "We are the C—"

??????: "I told you idiots to wait for me!" Adhi was suddenly interrupted by a tall, wiry man bursting through the door behind them and he glared at the two from under his dark cowl. After taking a moment to catch his breath he straightened himself, and looked over the situation with a desperate twitch in his eyes. "Please don’t tell me you already got into trouble…"

Kiseki: "Oh, of course we didn’t, silly!"

Adhi: "Right, have some faith in us!"

Judging by the man’s exasperated expression he had about as much faith in them as in unicorns, but he decided it wasn’t the right moment to give them a lecture. Not that it would have helped. It never worked before either. In the meantime the knight continued to cautiously observe them.

Knight: "Could one of you please tell me what’s going on?" He finally spoke with barely concealed irritation.

??????: "Right…" The brown-clad man nodded as he removed his cowl, revealing a short military crop underneath, and flashed the Order insignia on his jacket. "Sergeant Viktor Delaise, Northern Border Guard."

Knight: "Colonel Harran, Sextus Aquilonis," The knight answered dryly with a small nod. "Now, about my previous question…"

Viktor sighed in exasperation and pointed at the two behind his back with his thumb over his shoulder.

Viktor: "These two are mercenaries that were called in by your abbot for something. I met them in Viginti and I was ordered by my CO to accompany them to make sure they get here."

Harran: "Viginti?" The man’s brows slightly rose as he glanced back at the two again. They were apparently arguing about something involving camels, but something told him he didn’t want to listen too closely, so instead he turned back to the sergeant. "Isn’t that town the other end of the continent?"

The brown-clad knight let out a tired groan and nodded in a slow, deliberate manner.

Viktor: "Precisely."

After a few seconds of thinking the colonel’s eyes suddenly opened wide with recognition.

Harran: "And you say they are mercenaries? We were expecting a pair of mercs two weeks ago, but…"

Adhi: "Oh you were waiting for us!" Adhi suddenly interrupted with another unnerving grin. "Then this is not the place that we have to blow up after all."

Kiseki: "Good to know." The woman nodded merrily.

The man in front of them was visibly confused by their behavior.

Harran: "So, are you…?"

Adhi: "The Calamity Couple!"

The tall man blinked in surprise, then he blinked again in disbelief, then finally he blinked a third time in incongruity. Then, at last, he looked over at the totally exhausted sergeant and whispered:

Harran: "Are they always like that?"

The young soldier’s lips twitched up in a flash of madness and he replied:

Viktor: "All. The. Time."

The colonel visibly shuddered for a moment but then he cleared his throat and addressed the pair again.

Harran: "The abbot has been waiting for you. This way." Afterwards he turned back to Viktor and gave him an appreciative nod. "As for you, soldier, consider yourself off-duty."

Viktor: "Thank you sir."

Without any further ado the sergeant turned 180 and left the premises as if fleeing.

Kiseki: "Yay! I’ve never met an abbot before!" Kiseki drew the colonel’s attention as she moved up to him with bouncy steps. "Is he cute?"

The armored man paused for a moment brought forth by his brain desperately trying to un-hear the question.

Harran: "The abbot is the leader of this branch of the Order’s military," He stated dryly.

Kiseki: "So… he isn’t cute after all?"

Harran: "Just… Just follow me…"

As such they descended into the back of the chapel, and unbeknownst to them their already exhausted guide was already contemplating whether the sergeant deserved a promotion or court marshal for delivering these two…