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In the Great Cathedral of the True Church of Harris. This was the most holy place for Harris believers. It was a temple so large it rivaled the royal castle itself for sheer size, and its main hall had room for tens of thousands of worshippers. The upkeep of the Cathedral naturally required a great many hands, and there were normally dozens of Church initiates to be found in the place at any time of the day or night. It seemed likely that the Cathedral had not been completely empty even once since it was built.
Still, it was quieter at night than it was during the day. Several knights patrolled the building to help keep it secure, but even they were careful to step as quietly as they could so as not to disturb the tranquility of this holy space.
Somewhere deep in the Cathedral, in a place few entered—indeed, that few even knew existed—a man and a woman were speaking together.
“And what progress has been made?” the man asked. He was just on the cusp of old age. His face was thin, and the clean white of his robes gave an impression of meticulousness. The embroidery on the mantle draped over his robes indicated his station as Dominus Doctrinae of the True Church of Harris.
This was Justin Chambers, the highest authority in the True Church of Harris. It wouldn’t have been too much to say that he embodied the Church.
The woman across from him was the exact opposite. The opposite sex, obviously, but she was also young—only in her mid-twenties—and she somehow exuded an air of eroticism. Her eyes, her gestures, her voice, her tone: all of it would make any man, regardless of his usual “type,” want to dominate her. And perhaps she was intentionally inviting as much.
A glance was more than enough to reveal that she was no priestess of the Church. She was different from the other adherents of the faith. Her outfit was mostly black, and the neckline revealed her generous bosom. She wore long white gloves that came up to her elbows, the palms of which were inscribed with circles full of complicated symbols.
The circles were the proof that she was an alchemist. Alchemists were widely reviled by the True Church of Harris as heretics. They were not allowed to set foot in the Great Cathedral, and they were certainly not allowed a face-to-face audience with the Dominus Doctrinae. At least not officially.
The woman’s name was Yaroslava Bernak, and she was very close to Justin—in fact, she was (unofficially, of course) his personal alchemist.
The room where the two stood was something else that shouldn’t have existed within the Great Cathedral. It was full of devices that looked very alchemical, and pipes crawled across the walls as if the building itself had veins.
Understandably, the vast majority of believers knew nothing of this room. Nor did they know that most of the “miracles” perpetrated by the True Church of Harris were the result of tools and even living things produced by alchemists the Church had kept captive through the generations. And they most certainly didn’t know that alchemists had then been publicly declared heretics by the Church so that the true faith could have a monopoly on such miracles.
“Progress? What do you mean?” Yaroslava looked genuinely puzzled.
“I mean, have there been no further reports since then?” Justin’s voice was calm. It was a voice the faithful were accustomed to hearing each day, expounding upon Church teachings. Now there was just a touch of annoyance in it. Only the slightest hint, such that even if someone else had been present, they might not have noticed it. Only Yaroslava detected it. Both of them knew perfectly well why he was upset.
It had to do with the “Blue Angel.”
The thirteenth angel, unlike his predecessors, had been born with his personality and memories intact. To their shock, he had gone on a rampage through the capital, devastating the area, and then vanished. Among his victims had been the previous Dominus, as well as the captain of the Missionary Order and many missionary knights. Yet despite all the wounded and dead, they hadn’t succeeded in even capturing him, let alone killing him.
It was a tremendous scandal for the Church. They had been able to hide it from the rank and file believers, but such a lopsided mauling would surely damage the Church’s authority. They weren’t able to send out large search parties, but behind the scenes the Church continued to look for the Blue Angel. Not long ago, they had found him.
He was in a small frontier city called Friedland. Not only that, but he had effectively destroyed two entire units of a Missionary Order civilizing expedition that had moved against him. If it was at all possible, the Church wanted this angel dead.
To merely bring more force to bear against him, however, would be foolish. The very existence of this creature was a black mark upon the Church, and committing four or five missionary units to a single small town would only fan the rumors of the angel’s existence.
What was needed here was not simply overwhelming power. Instead, a surgical strike was called for, an elite assassin—working alone, if possible. That was what had been in Justin’s mind when he had ordered Yaroslava to create just such an assassin. Specifically, he wanted another being with the same capabilities as the Blue Angel.
And so a fourteenth angel was made, the first born by Yaroslava’s hand. But she had had to move quickly, forcing her to work according to the research notes left by the Church’s most recent alchemist, Jirina Urban.
Thus the fourteenth angel was sent off to kill. But she had certain instabilities—she seemed almost lost—and she showed no sign of sending reports back to Justin and Yaroslava. Horses and carriages had been readied for her, so she should have been in the area of Friedland for quite some time now, but she had sent no word.
This new angel retained her personality so that she would be able to go toe-to-toe with her target, but it also made her difficult to handle. She generally did as Justin and Yaroslava asked, but it was sometimes impossible to tell what she was thinking.
It was the retention of its personality that had caused the thirteenth angel to go berserk, so it was only natural that Justin be somewhat concerned the fourteenth angel might do the same. If she were, say, to join forces with the Blue Angel in Friedland, the result would be catastrophic.
All the more reason Justin had told Church operatives in the area to keep an eye on her. But...
“I ordered the Missionary Order units operating near Friedland to see what she was up to, but after the recent defeat they have their hands full with their own patrols, nor can they spare many people from Aldreil.”
And that was why he was here, inquiring whether Yaroslava had heard anything from her new creation.
“No, milord, nothing.”
Justin looked a bit sullen and sighed. “And does this not worry you?”
“Worry me? Why should it?” Yaroslava almost seemed to be teasing him. “What is it you think I have to worry about? I don’t believe anything has happened to warrant concern.”
Justin was silent for a moment. Yaroslava seemed awfully sure of herself. What gave her the confidence to be so calm?
Finally Justin said, “We spoke of assassination, but he and she have equal capabilities as angels. If so, there’s no guarantee that she will be victorious. Indeed, I know full well that there is no guaranteed triumph on the battlefield. So where does this nonchalance of yours come from?”