Callia-

  My first instinct when facing a team of paladins arresting me? Run. I can’t help but wonder if I was actually secretly a criminal in my previous life and not a soldier. Still picking a fight with the paladin order while inside the citadel seems like the height of foolishness. I quickly clench down on that idea, calming myself with the assurance that I’ve committed no crime, and considering the pope's reaction to the queen, I feel confident that she can overturn whatever nonsense is happening. With my backing in mind, I move with the group back into the vault. The ever-present gloom and the stickiness come back as we descend down the dim tunnel. At the far end the vault guards confront us again. The leader of the paladins separates to talk with the vault guard inside an isolated room. I focus fiercely on my sense of hearing; the heartbeat of the men around me is louder than the conversation, but despite that, I can make out pieces.

  “Pope. . . lockdown. . . detain visitors. . .” I missed the rest of the conversation as one of the paladins started shuffling. His clothing and plate armor completely drowned out the whisper I was listening to. To vent my frustration, I summoned the stack of paperwork I had been assigned by the vault guards.

  “Hey paladin, since I’m under arrest, I need someone to fill out these acquisition forms. With permission of the pope, I’ve sent a large amount of food to the queen to support the northern war.” Without hesitation I dumped the pile of unfilled forms into the hands of the paladin. “All ten thousand forms need to be filled with 100 barrels of various foods; half are grain, and the rest are the miscellaneous other foodstuffs in the vault. All forms need to be submitted by tomorrow.” I give a sly smile as I watch the paladin struggle under the weight of the paperwork. His panicked glance at the vault guards, who give him a stern nod, is all the revenge I need.

  “Can’t she fill these out herself while she’s held?” The stoic paladin didn’t accept the nonverbal confirmation and asked out loud, hoping for any other verdict.

  However, his hopes were mercilessly cut down.

  “Important logistical forms cannot be entrusted to someone detained, arrested, or held in any kind of custody except protective custody. She is upholding her duty in passing on instructions and work to the only available official while she is being detained. If there is anyone else in her chain of command who can assume the work, then you can pass the work and the directions to that individual.” I looked over at the emotionless golem of a guard in surprise. While it made sense not to let prisoners join the bureaucracy, I had expected my attempt at offloading work to be summarily dismissed and dropped back on me. At the very least I wouldn’t have anything else to do while down here, but I won’t deny getting out of filling out all those forms was a prize worth being arrested for.

  With that in mind, I looked over at the poor paladin, who was beginning to struggle holding the forms together. A small catlike grin crept onto my mouth.

  “Well, you heard him; only those within my chain of command can fill out those forms. Technically I received the order straight from the pope, but the best you’ll get in terms of official chain of command supervisor would be Mother Lidia; she’s the lady in charge of my floor.” While offloading the work onto the random paladin would’ve been a win, the idea of dumping all of this onto the old hag was too sweet to pass up. The sudden spark of hope in the paladin’s eyes was all I needed to see to know my revenge would be delivered.

  Right as I finished offloading the paperwork, the leaders of the paladin team and vault guard left the isolated room. The paladin leader seemed confused by the mountain of papers carried by his subordinate but didn’t bother to let it delay him. Turning to me, he stated the terms of my arrest.

  “Follow the vault guard to your cell; you are to be held until the pope lifts the orders to arrest today’s visitors. Should you cause issues in your confinement, your stay may be extended at the discretion of the vault master.” With his piece complete, the vault guards took over escorting me, and the paladins turned to withdraw. The massive stack of forms finally tipping over and splashing into a massive pile of loose paper. The vault guard led me back, but I did get to watch as the other paladins abandoned their comrade, who was struggling to scrape loose papers because of the metal gauntlets on his hands. With so many forms, he might well be collecting those forms late into the night. I couldn’t help but smirk imagining the paladin delivering the whole stack in the middle of the night and warning her it was due in the morning.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  My amusement at the suffering of others, however, was short-lived. When I was leaving earlier, the evil sticky presence was angry, but with my return in a pair of manacles, that was all it took for its mood to change. Now instead of being furious at being robbed, it clung to me like I was the latest treasure added to its horde. Despite being an incorporeal presence, somehow the way it clung to me made me feel some level of violation. My good mood from earlier soured real quickly. On second thought, filling out a mountain of paperwork was better than what this place offered.

  Somehow the dim, eerie halls managed to get even dimmer. It was like the stones in the wall and the nauseating presence were hoarding the light. We did eventually arrive in my room. The room was small, very small. It was a small alcove in the wall with nothing but a bed and bucket. The ceiling wasn’t even tall enough to stand inside, as a second room was built on top.

  “Why the heck are you putting me into the smallest cell in the world? Why would you even make cells this small?” Frustratingly, they don’t care enough to answer my questions, instead pushing me down to force me into the tiny room and promptly slamming the metal bars shut, locking me into the new room. Pressing against the bars, I watch the vault guards walk back down the hallway. I’m filled with equal measures of disbelief and frustration. Crouching in my room to avoid hitting my head, I turn around to examine what little I did have. The bucket was for obvious uses, and a bed that was actually just a stone platform with a sheet on it.

  I close my eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to settle the bubbling anger. Then I open my eyes and immediately lose what little calm I had. Technically it was just a small room, with an unpleasant presence, in a gloomy pit. However, considering I have done nothing to be here, it feels entirely unbearable. The whole mess makes me want to vent, but Callen is busy with the elven war, and it isn’t quite time to call in backup yet. Then a thought reaches me: Callen’s busy, but last time I prayed, I actually got an answer. I shifted my position onto the bed and clapped my hands together and vented my frustration. The sticky greed flees as patience fills me. I open my eyes and let a heavy breath out, and a soft smile touches my lips. I slide back onto my stone slab bed and relax. In moments, dreams of running through the forest run through my head, freeing me from the confinement of the cell.

  Mammon

  Mammon watched through the eyes and presence of his contractor. The foolish Helod, the greedy Helod. The mortal had leveraged the rules he offered to excellent effect for many years, but Mammon was aware that soon the mortal would be challenged in ways he was unprepared for. This was of course within Mammon’s design since they had first begun their exchange. For the last thousand years, Helod, in pursuit of power, has unknowingly turned humanity against the faithful and, more importantly, the creator. The faithful, once the protectors of humanity and moral paragons, were now only respected among the strong. To commoners they were considered child abductors and heralds of disaster. Without faith, humanity had nothing to offer. Not that the creator needed faith. No, at best it could be considered petty revenge after he and his master were cast out during the rebellion.

  Helod was a delicious and ironic twist. He was the head of a spiritual order, but he cared far more for possessions and luxury than any moral code. In fact, being the head of the church was never his final goal. No, his influence on the mortal was deep, and even owning the entire world wouldn’t satisfy his greed. To this end the mortal believed in his book all the contracts and rituals, lies, but easy lies for Mammon to abide by. A small army of lesser demons with some mid mixed in were easy enough for him to convince to play along with his plan. With the right nudging and influence, Helod would inevitably spark a civil war among the order.

  Mommon shifted his attention to the one variable that had presented itself so carelessly. The girl, Mommon’s mouth, salivated at the rich scent coming from her. The beautiful divinity that none in the order could match. She might have been sent to stop him, but if he could corrupt her. . . Such a soul and such a blessing bore value that none in the order could match. He reached through the demonic miasma in the vault to caress his new belonging as she walked into his vault. The guards are puppets perfectly suitable for breaking her bit by bit until she is ready to give herself to him. The back of his mind raced as he planned the perfect reward. Suffering and pleasure mixed just right to convince the unwitting to sell their souls.

  Suddenly his hand burned as he was repelled from the girl. Mammon stared in jealousy as the golden mist interposed itself between him and the girl. Behind the mist, the girls' hands clasped together in prayer. Not the fancy ritualistic prayers he had Helod use to lead the blessed astray but a simple clasping of hands and earnest conversation. The fact that such a simple prayer was all it took for him to respond only served to further spur Mammon. Even should the entirety of his plans collapse, he needed her to be his. Above all else he wanted the almighty to lose that which it cherished.

  he exerted when he raised Christ from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms,