"Captain, stop and think about this!"

Elias' voice was a bit hoarse as he entreated me to listen, his arms outstretched as though he was barely stopping himself from grabbing my cloak and dragging me to a halt by force. I knew he would not, not here on the grounds of the Grand Temple. I didn't want think he would dare do something like that elsewhere either – surely he respected his Captain enough not to cross the line like that – but if I was honest, I could not be certain. I was being unusually reckless.

I felt a twinge of guilt hearing the note of desperation in his voice, but it barely registered above the fury that was blazing through me. It was not that I wanted to torture Elias, and I despite my hot temper, I always made it a point not to act out of rage. Growing up as the illegitimate eldest son in a corrupt dukedom meant you learned lessons like that early and painfully: acting in anger usually mean ignoring logic, and acting illogically would quickly get you and those around you hurt or killed. Me leaping off my warhorse and practically running through the gates of the Grand Temple with my sword still strapped to my side was probably enough to give poor Elias a heart attack.

There was no helping it, though. Stopping and counting to ten, taking deep breaths, writing a letter with my grievances and sleeping on it, nothing would be able to ease my rage. They were over the line this time, and since I could not ignore my anger, I had decided to show it openly. Maybe seeing the infamously vicious Erik Oeste radiating bloodlust would prompt some of these slimy priests to reconsider their choices. It probably wouldn't, but since I had been forced to come to the bargaining table despite how politically weak my position was, I wanted to at least have the satisfaction of watching them squirm.

"Captain!" Elias was panting as he kept up with me, and I paused. Not because I intended to listen to his arguments, but because I didn't actually know where I was going. I'd never attended a Saint's Ceremony before. Technically, no outsider had in decades, but more than most people I avoided the temple and its people at all costs. My prayers had done nothing to save my mother, after all. And although I had to acknowledge that the information we gleaned through the official 'prophecies' saved countless lives on the border, I'd always resented the temple's lack of transparency as they arrogantly fed us tidbits of the information we so desperately needed.

"They went too far this time, Elias," I ground out, looking around for some sort of sign. Where were we? The Ceremony was at the Spring of Blessings, at the center of the inner temple, but as far as I could tell we were still in the outer ring. Someone in light blue–grey robes scurried across the courtyard we were standing beside, and I waved them down, scaring them enough that they dropped their armful of scrolls. On a better day, I might have schooled my expression into something a bit less terrifying. Instead, after I managed to get directions, I just turned and left, ignoring Elias's muttered apologies to the now–tearful acolyte behind me.

"We have fifteen knights ready at the Azure Pass, with mana readings showing that some sort of rift is imminent in the northernmost section of the border, but we have no details on location or exact timing. There are more villages in that region than anywhere else near the Great Divide. Last time there was an incursion there, over two hundred people died before we could get there. We've been requesting a prophecy for almost two weeks. And they have the nerve to tell us to keep waiting?"

I kept my voice quiet but couldn't hide the tension snapping in every word. Elias had no reply. I knew ranting to him could do no good, and that he was right to say that antagonizing the temple was a potentially disastrous move for me personally. My younger half–brother and the snake of a prince he served would pounce on any opportunity to corner me. But as rash as my behavior might seem to Elias, this wasn't a choice I was making out of the blue. Confrontation had been a long time coming, and if no one else would do it, I would. As the Captain of the Second Order of Knights, the Guardians of the Great Divide, I would not be able to hold my head up at all if I were to stay silent now.

Elias and I stepped through the archway the acolyte had described to us to find ourselves suddenly facing a large set of stone doors before which stood three people, all priests. The one in the center held himself with the calm authority of someone used to being the most powerful person in the room, while the other two looked haughty but could not quite hide their nerves at my appearance and undisguised aggression.

I stopped five steps away, a bit closer to the center priest than was really polite, and waited a long moment before bowing shallowly. The priest tilted his head slightly in scornful acknowledgement, his long, straight black hair shifting off his shoulder as he did so. When I did not introduce myself first, his eyes gleamed and his mouth twisted, but after a dozen more heartbeats during which I could practically feel Elias radiating tension behind me, he conceded. When he spoke, I felt no small bit of satisfaction at my own rudeness. I will admit that I can be a bit petty. There are worse things I can be, too.

"Greetings, Captain. I am Priest Kielan, a devoted servant of the Goddess Lumina and senior member of the Council of Priests."

I nodded, ignoring his jab at my illegitimacy. A proper first address to a noble would include their full name, not just their rank, no matter what part of the military they served in. Insults like these were so familiar to me they felt almost comforting. 

"Thank you for greeting us. I am eager to witness the Ceremony and enlighten myself."

Kielan's pale face twisted a bit more at my flat tone and bald words. "It has been many years since the Imperium participated in a Ceremony directly. Some of the younger priests here had surely forgotten that by the letter of the old laws, Imperial representatives are permitted at all. With more notice, we might have been able to give you better accommodations."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elias flinch slightly, and I imagined I could hear his internal cries of panic. Here it was. There would be consequences for my actions today. Technically, I was within my rights as a member of a ducal family and a captain of an imperial order of knights to attend any Ceremony as an 'Imperial Representative'. But, as Kielan was pointing out, the law was so old and so rarely used that it was more of an esoteric technicality than an actual right. In this day and age, there was a tacit agreement between the Imperium and the temple to stay out of each other's business. The temple had no official recourse when I demanded to attend because of the law, but that did not mean that a political firestorm would not engulf me as soon as I stepped back out of the temple. The relationships between the Imperial court, the aristocracy, the Mage's Guild, and the Temple were not simple, and not even the Emperor could just demand to attend a Saint's Ceremony at the last minute without some sort of political fallout. First, favors needed to be exchanged, bribes made and secrets traded. By brazenly waving a centuries' old contract to demand entry, I was not just being reckless – I was essentially throwing away any remaining chance I had at the  ducal successorship and possibly also my life.

I knew I would not regret it, though. I had never wanted the former, and I was confident I could defend the latter. Moreover, my desire to knock down the temple doors and expose whatever crawled around inside went beyond just needing intel for the upcoming incursion. There were too many secrets, and those secrets hurt my knights and the people we protected. I could still remember Rhiannon's hushed words from last year when she had visited me at the border on an inspection. The princess had always trusted me more than she should, and she let the wine loosen her tongue enough to whisper her doubts about the temple.

"Isn't it strange? The Council used to be a way for the temple to stay connected with the Imperial court. There was supposed to be a balance of power. But in the last thirty years, they have closed everything off. They control all that information; they decide who gets to hear it first and when. Whose to say they aren't deciding to hide things completely? There hasn't been an outsider present at a Ceremony for decades now. Historically those were public events, and now, the temple's words are accepted as the full truth." She looked away, eyes unfocused. "Imagine how powerful it could make someone in the Imperial court to know a prophecy before everyone else, or even to twist the words of a prophecy to suit them? Is the Imperial court really allowing the temple to act without oversight, or have the rules been changed behind closed doors?"

Anyone else, and I might have rolled my eyes at these conspiratorial whispers. But Rhiannon was the only royal I truly respected. We were both underdogs within our families, and our friendship was also a political alliance of sorts. If I could help her take the throne, I would.

It was not just that I trusted her judgement, though. Her speculations spoke to a growing sense of resentment I felt toward the temple and the Imperial court. Money flowed to the temple as donations from nobles and royals and commoners alike. But year after year, I watched knights live and die by the prophecies, these words handed down from the temple as though they were precious gifts. I resented that those in power allowed and even protected the status quo while I had to tell parents their children had died fighting and bury children in those villages that sat without enough protection. When a prophecy did not come in time, priests at the funerals would sigh and talk about divine will, as though the blood spilt was all predetermined and not a product of our choices and the temple's grip on power.