The Looming Shadow

When the inquisitor tasked with interrogating Allen reappeared in the surveillance room, his face was ashen, consumed by profound shame.

“Your Eminence, Archbishop, I have disappointed you.”

Archbishop Lucien, discerning a spark of repentance within him, offered a grave admonition.

“Your demeanor today was overly arrogant. True heretics are not so easily subdued; refrain from applying your mundane experience to tasks of greater complexity.”

“I shall adhere to your wisdom, Your Eminence, Archbishop. I will reflect profoundly on this bitter lesson, vowing never to repeat such an error!”

The Archbishop then turned his gaze to the inquisitor overseeing Marianne’s interrogation, inquiring, “What is the situation on your side?”

“Our progress here has been considerably smoother. Marianne Durand swiftly buckled under the pressure, admitting her attempt to murder Allen de Laval. Moreover, she corroborated that Allen de Laval’s disposition underwent a profound change after his near-drowning, and he now asserts to have received divine revelation.”

“That same afternoon, he clandestinely dispatched his butler to the Inquisition, declaring that cultists would assault the de Laval estate and imploring the Church’s protection. In exchange, he even divulged the location of a heretical stronghold.”

A slight furrow appeared between the Archbishop’s brows. “So, you disregarded this intelligence at the time?”

The inquisitor bowed his head, consumed by self-reproach. “We all dismissed it as mere hysteria from a young noble… Yet, as a precaution, we routinely sent a standard reconnaissance squad to the slaughterhouse. Before reinforcements could reach them, they were ambushed by heretics… All perished in the line of duty.”

A palpable sense of somber mourning permeated the surveillance room.

“Bear this lesson in mind; these sacrifices were entirely preventable.” Lucien briefly closed his eyes. “Do any other anomalies persist?”

“She bears no trace of a False Mark, and she remained unresponsive to the heretical test slogans, suggesting an initial assessment of her innocence. However…” The inquisitor then displayed several harrowing images of injury records. “Her body is covered in old scars, evidence of prolonged violent abuse, and the perpetrator was Allen de Laval himself. Her motive and actions in attempting to murder her master are confirmed. What is perplexing, however, is her assertion that Allen de Laval, fully aware of her failed assassination attempt, chose to forgive her and even offered compensation. She claims it was out of overwhelming guilt that she elected to stay by Allen’s side, seeking ‘atonement’.”

“The sins committed by the nobility are, regrettably, all too common.” The Archbishop’s voice was devoid of inflection, yet his gaze remained as sharp as an eagle’s. “Her sudden realization is indeed praiseworthy, but the cessation of a crime does not absolve her of culpability. As for Allen de Laval’s ‘forgiveness’… that is profoundly aberrant. It is either a miraculous conversion, or…”

Archbishop Lucien abruptly shifted his line of questioning. “Has Allen de Laval had any contact with others?”

“During the days he lay unconscious, he had no contact with anyone. Our investigation into his former social circles also revealed that, theoretically, he could not have possessed any intelligence regarding the heretics.”

“If he is not the root of the problem, then his maid undoubtedly is. Could his obstinate demeanor be a calculated ploy to divert our scrutiny, shielding this maid who might be relaying information to him?”

The seasoned inquisitor’s intuition proved as sharp as a blade.

Marianne’s history of prolonged abuse and the inherent convenience of her position within a noble household perfectly aligned with the criteria for heretical recruitment.

The focus of suspicion appeared to have shifted.

Nevertheless, the pervasive gloom within Archbishop Lucien’s heart showed not the slightest sign of abatement.

If Allen were truly innocent, why would he so overtly favor his maid? And if Marianne were indeed a heretic, what conceivable advantage would she reap by divulging her organization’s intelligence to Allen?

Neither individual possessed a single compelling reason to willingly court such peril, particularly when deep-seated animosity existed between them.

How could such a paradox be reconciled?

‘Something feels profoundly wrong…’

The Archbishop, sensing that the truth might unravel into a complexity far exceeding his initial estimations, began to pace restlessly within the confines of the surveillance room.

Other disconcerting anomalies gradually began to surface.

Allen de Laval himself embodied the most significant anomaly.

Archbishop Lucien, burdened by an unending torrent of daily responsibilities, possessed no leisure to delve into the idle chatter of the capital’s nobility.

Yet, even he had come to hear of the infamous reputation of this scoundrel, young master Allen de Laval.

Lucien paused in contemplation, then posed the question: “You are all familiar with Allen de Laval, are you not?”

All assembled personnel nodded in quiet affirmation.

“He is merely the son of a viscount, and his misdeeds are those of any common dissolute fop. Yet his ‘infamy’ has spread throughout the capital with a breadth and detail far exceeding what his station and actions should merit. It is almost as if… someone is intentionally disseminating it.”

Indeed, this was undeniably anomalous!

A more profound chill subtly snaked its way up the spine of every individual in the room.

An unseen manipulator? A deliberate campaign of defamation? These waters, it seemed, ran far deeper and murkier than they had ever conceived.

“Furthermore… I have also been informed that Allen de Laval has a fiancée. What is the current state of the de Laval household, and what is the background of his betrothed?”

The Grand Master of the Heretical Inquisition, who had been responsible for the background investigation, promptly stepped forward to respond.

“Indeed, he has a fiancée, and she even appeared at the Inquisition two days prior, attempting to visit him, only to be denied entry.”

The Grand Master, having committed the investigation’s findings to memory, proceeded to elaborate them for Archbishop Lucien.

“The de Laval ancestors were, in fact, adventurers who amassed their initial fortune from the nobility by trading in exotic and rare treasures garnered from their global expeditions. Their family then transitioned into mercantile pursuits for generations, eventually rising to become prominent construction contractors in the capital by the time of his father, Bernard de Laval. Bernard, through his extensive network and accumulated wealth, ascended to the rank of a robe noble.”

“Though the de Laval family once commanded immense wealth, they now teeter on the precipice of bankruptcy. Rumors circulating through the city suggest a connection to Crown Prince Charles Durand. Bound by ancient sacred covenants, we are prohibited from intervening in the kingdom’s internal affairs. Consequently, the true circumstances surrounding their financial ruin remain inaccessible to us.”

“Allen de Laval’s fiancée bears the name Livia von Stern, the illegitimate daughter of Border Count Friedrich von Stern.”

Archbishop Lucien’s brow furrowed in a slight frown.

“Friedrich von Stern… a distinctly Imperial name. Is the Border Count of Imperial descent?”

The Grand Master nodded. “Precisely. The Border Count’s territory encompasses the Wallonia Corridor—a strategic buffer zone perennially contested by both the Empire and the Kingdom. The Royal Family successfully cultivated an alliance with him, designating his lands as the Kingdom’s primary defense against Imperial incursions. To solidify this, the Crown adopted the Imperial peerage, conferring upon him the title of Border Count, a position of considerable eminence.”

“However, despite the Border Count’s fluency in Lorraine and his family’s cultural assimilation with the Lorrainers, the von Stern family remains, at its core, an outsider. Consequently, the established nobility residing in the capital universally regards them with disdain.”

“Having only recently arrived in the capital, the Border Count’s family possessed limited influence. To secure an ally for their isolated house—one long-established in the capital yet utterly unthreatening and easily expendable—they naturally approached the de Laval family.”

Archbishop Lucien pondered aloud, “Given that Livia von Stern is an illegitimate daughter, why would she be chosen for a marriage alliance? Surely, among the nobility, this would be perceived as an affront?”

“The Border Count secured a royal charter, thereby legitimizing Livia’s inheritance.” The Grand Master of the Inquisition’s pace of speech quickened. “The von Stern family’s crest is the ‘Star’—a remarkably potent and rare emblem. While the heraldic bloodline of the von Stern family has grown exceptionally thin, rendering them largely incapable of manifesting its full power, Livia stands apart. Her Star crest, it is believed, might even surpass the potency of her ancestors’.”

“The Royal Family’s overtures to the Border Count were, in all likelihood, not predicated on his family’s strategic standing, but rather on their profound desire to harness Livia’s abilities. Many years prior, a distinguished heraldry professor from Saint Norah Heraldry Academy, during an academic expedition in the Border Count’s domain, chanced upon Livia, who was then living in quiet seclusion with her mother in the countryside.”

“Whispers claim she had fully mastered the crest’s power by the tender age of seven—a degree of genius so extraordinary it is virtually unprecedented in a millennium of the Kingdom’s history. The professor, that very day, penned an urgent missive to the King, apprising the Royal Family of his astonishing discovery.”

“Naturally, a legitimized illegitimate child remains an object of contempt within aristocratic circles. The Border Countess, the legitimate wife, originates from a distinguished Imperial ducal house. Her personal orchestration of this marriage, which undeniably carried undertones of banishment, was likely an effort to safeguard the inheritance rights of her own biological children.”

‘The Star crest… a genius born once in a thousand years… Imperial ties…’

Archbishop Lucien’s fingers drummed against the table, producing a dull, rhythmic thud that seemed to reverberate against the strained nerves of everyone present.

“Our ‘counterparts’ in the Empire have remained silent for far too long. When was the last occasion we convened to deliberate the future of humanity?”

“Your Eminence, the last convocation of the Grand Council occurred precisely two hundred and forty-one years ago.”

“When such a multitude of ‘coincidences’ converge upon the de Laval household, can it truly still be dismissed as mere chance?”

The Archbishop’s grey-blue eyes swept across the surveillance screen, lingering first on Allen, who was avidly perusing the Holy Scripture, then shifting to Marianne, head bowed in the adjacent interrogation room’s feed, before finally settling on the empty space beyond.

Just before the inquisitor departed, Allen had requested a copy of the Holy Scripture.

” ‘Though the Lord has bestowed revelation upon me, my comprehension of Him remains regrettably incomplete. Pray, grant me a copy of the Holy Scripture; I yearn to truly know the Lord anew. To immerse oneself in sacred texts is always a virtuous endeavor, not only for myself but for you as well.’ ”

In making his request, Allen did not neglect to subtly taunt the inquisitors for their perceived lack of steadfast faith.

That single remark nearly caused the inquisitor to lose his composure entirely, yet he ultimately provided Allen with a copy of the Holy Scripture.

Whether he was a heretic or not, Allen’s disposition towards reading the Holy Scripture would surely reveal the truth.

As it stood, Allen appeared genuinely captivated by the Holy Scripture, even proactively engaging the guards with intricate theological inquiries.

Allen de Laval possessed no prior affiliation with the Church, yet he was actively endeavoring to forge a connection. What ulterior motive lay behind this?

From the subtle, almost imperceptible threads woven into the fabric of the de Laval family attack, Archbishop Lucien dimly discerned the shadow of an unspeakable entity.

Every clue, every anomaly, ultimately coalesced around Allen de Laval, this infamous scion of idleness.

Who, then, was he truly?

Was the Allen de Laval who awoke from the coma brought on by drowning truly the same person he was before?

Archbishop Lucien, privy to the Church’s darkest, most profound secrets, found himself unable to disregard the glaring inconsistencies surrounding Allen.

Allen’s emergence, it seemed, portended an omen of extreme peril, not only for the Church but for all of humanity.

Archbishop Lucien closed his eyes, as if he could hear the ominous ticking of a doomsday clock.

Before the midnight bells tolled, signaling humanity’s demise, he knew he had to act!

Archbishop Lucien swiftly issued his directives:

“Effective immediately, the operations of the Heretical Inquisition are to undergo significant adjustments. Divert manpower and elevate the surveillance levels for Allen de Laval, Livia von Stern, and Marianne Durand to the highest possible degree.”

“Furthermore, release the master and his maid.”

“Ah?”

The Archbishop’s decisive pronouncement left everyone somewhat bewildered.

The attack on the de Laval household was rife with inexplicable irregularities.

Allen de Laval, despite his body being ravaged by alcohol and idleness, not only killed the assassins but also vanquished a powerful, bloodthirsty False Mark Knight.

To contend with such adversaries, the Heretical Inquisition typically deployed a specialized combat squad for suppression.

Allen, a man without a crest, engaged the False Mark Knight in single combat and, though subjected to bloodletting by the opponent’s crest abilities, sustained no fatal injuries.

What did this signify?

In this era, the combat prowess of a crest-bearer was comparable to that of a modern main battle tank, rendering them capable of a one-sided slaughter against a conventional medieval army!

The sole true opponent for a crest-bearer was another crest-bearer.

Sword Nobles held their transcendent status precisely because they commanded the most crucial military power in this world!

Allen, a non-crest-bearer, defeating a False Mark Knight was akin to cavalry battling a tank and successfully disabling it.

This feat was so utterly astounding that even the Heretical Inquisition chose to suppress the information.

In their estimation, Allen was highly likely possessed by a malevolent entity. How else could his formidable power be explained?

He was a hundred times more terrifying than any heretic!

Yet, Archbishop Lucien intended to release the master and his maid. Was this not tantamount to unleashing a tiger back into the mountains?

“Your Eminence… what profound meaning lies behind such an action?” The Grand Master voiced the collective bewilderment.

“The currents within this affair run too deep. Deep enough to drown the Kingdom, and perhaps… all of humanity.” The Archbishop’s voice deepened, imbued with the gravitas of one who had glimpsed a terrifying truth. “I fear that all of us, including themselves, are mere puppets manipulated by an unseen, formidable power.”

The surveillance room fell into a dead silence, broken only by the faint hum of machinery. An invisible pressure constricted every throat.

“Your Eminence, are you implying…?” The Grand Master’s voice was dry and strained.

Archbishop Lucien’s gaze swept over the assembled individuals; his figure, illuminated by the cold light, appeared unusually tall and profoundly weary.

He drew a deep breath, as if to absorb the weight capable of crushing human history into his chest, transforming it into the strength to press forward.

“My comrades,” his voice resonated with the solemnity of a doomsday prophecy, “I fear this ‘cycle’ of ours is the ‘Final Dark Age’ foretold in the Holy Scripture.”

“The Final Dark Age?!” Several inquisitors gasped in unison, their faces instantly draining of color.

Archbishop Lucien’s gaze pierced through the walls, as if seeing a distant Holy Land, his voice chillingly metallic:

“I possess a top-secret report from the Holy Land. Its thirty-year confidentiality period has now expired, and the time is ripe for me to disclose its contents to you.”

The inquisitors exchanged uneasy glances.

The Heretical Inquisition’s secrecy level was already the highest within the Church, but the Holy Land stood even above that.

Even they, raised by the Church and absolutely loyal inquisitors, were not privy to the specific location of the Holy Land.

For them, this intelligence was a hot potato, neither to be heard nor ignored.

“Your Eminence, though we are inner-circle members, our rank dictates that even for such top-secret intelligence past its confidentiality period, procedures must be followed. So, you see…”

“Today, you may disregard all procedures.”

Archbishop Lucien’s calm words caused the inquisitors’ pupils to constrict.

The elder before them was the de facto highest leader of the Kingdom’s Church.

In a sense, he represented the will of the Lord.

When an Archbishop, who meticulously adhered to rules and regulations, uttered words like “disregard all procedures,” it invariably signified that the Church faced an insurmountable crisis.

Recognizing the gravity of the situation, no one demurred further.

“Your Eminence, please share the intelligence with us! We are willing to bear this heavy burden with you!”

“We have entirely lost the ability to maintain the ‘Holy Land’.”

“What!”

The Archbishop’s brief statement struck them like a bolt of lightning, instantly sending the inquisitors into an uproar.

“If this intelligence dates back thirty years… then now…”

The Archbishop nodded, his words heavy as a funeral knell.

“As you surmise, humanity has little time left. Once the Holy Land falls silent, we shall forever languish in a curse, with no hope of deliverance.”

A suffocating despair instantly enveloped everyone.

A century? To a civilization, it was but a fleeting moment!

“Your Eminence…” The Grand Master’s voice trembled, carrying a glimmer of desperate hope. “What must we do?”

Archbishop Lucien did not answer directly. He subtly lifted his head, and in an ancient, obscure tongue, seemingly from the very edge of time, he clearly intoned a proverb.

The cadence was solemn and mournful, each syllable seemingly bearing the full weight of humanity’s struggle for survival:

“Iter per aspera ad astra.”

His gaze returned to the screen, focusing on the black-haired youth avidly perusing the Church’s Holy Scripture, seemingly oblivious to the encroaching darkness. In the depths of his grey-blue eyes, a desperate, all-consuming fire burned:

“Go and confirm, my comrades. Go and confirm whether the prophesied salvation… has finally descended!”