Chapter XI | Happiness Petals

Year 694 a.S., Summer | City Pyraleia, the Capital

“It wasn’t us,” Lana texted Claude over the night. “I swear on my pride.”

“I know that…” he muttered to himself, squeezing his phone so hard the glass cracked. “But what am I supposed to do?”

The Endwolves had a traitor, or possibly multiple traitors, among them. Claude knew it for certain now. Not only were the emblems on their cloaks identical to the real deal, but the weapons they’d used were his. They were the firearms he offered to Lana’s family himself, marked just in case something like this happened. A traitor, but who? They had a rigorous vetting process, and they were all born and raised in the Undersea District.

“Your Grace,” Sir Kamran said from outside the tent. “Lord Timothy Tom and your uncle are here to speak with you.”

“Let them in.”

The tent flaps opened, and the two men walked in. He hadn’t spoken to his Minister of Intelligence a single time since he appointed him, so his appearance now surprised him. And his uncle was there too, of course. He had a way of getting into affairs he had no real authority for getting into.

“Where’s the bride?” Lord Timothy asked.

Claude hung his head and turned his phone off. “Asleep in her father’s tent. It’s been a long day.”

“Good,” Timothy said. “It’s prudent the High Priest not overhear what I’m about to say.” 

“Have you finally started on that job of yours or something?” Claude said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Listen, Claude,” his uncle demanded. “For once, just listen.”

Hearing his uncle speak again for the first time in days made him exhausted. No, it made him finally feel the exhaustion that had been accumulating in him ever since his coronation. He rubbed his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose and realized that all he wanted to do was sleep. He wanted to see his bride, who was kept away from him, and Lana, who no one would approve of, and… He had no other friends. It was a startling realization. Those two were the only people in his life that he actually felt close to.

“The attack done today was not orchestrated by the Endwolves,” Timothy said. “We have insider knowledge that you can trust, so please… trust. It was the Church. The Lord August Caecilius himself hired some random street rats to do this for him.”

“Do you have proof?”

Timothy stepped forward. “Two of their JANITORs confessed everything. That’s all the proof we need.”

“Do you really believe that?” Claude chuckled. “You have a voice recording, I’m guessing? Oh yeah, we could leak it to the public, and they would whisper. But then what? August would climb up to his podium in front of his audience and preach, and they would forget it in a moment. Because otherwise, none of them will be saved in death. Besides, do you know how many of August’s men were killed in that attack? Six. They’ll never believe your proof. And neither will the court, of course. All we have is the word of a couple of nameless JANITORs who probably have it out for their leader anyways.” Claude finally looked up at the two of them and found their faces locked in frustration. He smiled at that. “I could always just kill him. Think that would solve everything?”

“Maybe…” Timothy began to say, but Claude slammed his fist on the bedding below him, and the earth quaked.

“It wouldn’t! Even if I could… do you think she’d ever forgive me for that?”

“Then what do we do?” Timothy said.

Claude sat in silence and refused to meet the eyes of the other two men. He sat for many minutes until Timothy and Morris took a seat as well, and all in silence as they sought solutions in the night. Then finally, a spark. “Do you know who’s at the Head Church in Layer 1 right now?” Claude asked.

The entirety of his Upper Clergy had all come to attend the wedding ceremony and were among the many camping out now, so the answer was one that Timothy and Morris arrived at simultaneously. “Nobody important,” they said.

“Tell nobody where you’re going,” Claude commanded. “Leave now and be quick. Take anything that looks remotely incriminating. Any vital information at all that we can use to lure him out. Understand?”

They nodded.

“Then go. Now.”

❧☙

Compared to the obnoxious rabble of the wedding parade, the Head Church near the center of Layer 1 was almost completely barren, especially now at night on the cusp of dawn. The only sound that remained in the area was of the massive fountain before the church building, where a detailed sculpture of the Goddess herself summoned an infinite falls from the urn she lifted. Timothy paused to admire the gorgeous figure of her, his gaze wandering up from her marble toes to her marble chest, where they stopped and lingered until Morris elbowed him in the side.

“Eunin men are all the same,” he said whilst shaking his head.

Timothy slapped Morris on the back and countered with, “All men are the same,” before moving along to the doors. Morris hung his head, which prevented him from noticing how the neck of the statue craned to look at them, and how its detailed marble pupils dilated as it captured the two in its gaze.

“Something’s wrong,” Timothy said, pausing right before the doors. “The power is off in the area.” 

Morris furrowed his brows and looked around. “How can you tell? The fountain is still running.”

“I’m augmented, remember?” Something seemed to capture Timothy’s attention then and he dashed off to the side of the building, where he caught an injured fake-wolf skulking about. He was already limping and bleeding from his arm, but Timothy kicked his knee in and sprained his leg. “He’s the only one here.”

The fake-wolf had remained silent through the whole ordeal, and continued still as Timothy cuffed him and threw him to the dirt again. The criminal only ever glared at them, with eyes like a feral cat’s. Morris felt instinctively that he did not want to be left alone with this man, but he found he had no choice as his only partner was already gone in the building through a window along the wall. He wondered what he should do. Stay and guard the man to ensure he not get away, or take him into trusted hands himself. And if so, which hands? The Great Spire was the closest, but only the ministers were there now. He trusted the false wolf with neither the Baron Kavesta nor Tristan the Train for almost completely opposite reasons.

Struck with sudden decision paralysis, Morris merely unholstered his E-15 energy pistol and chose to wait there until Timothy had finished his search.