Chapter 75: It Is Deemed Necessary

  The last few days had been far more straining for Liora—the Holy Saint—than she had anticipated.

  Initially, the journey proceeded almost exactly according to plan. Liora had led two hundred Crusaders and their supply train from Veythral toward the northern teleportation gate of the Ecclesia’s network. The ancient system connected several vital hubs through an enormous expenditure of mana, and although it allowed travel across thousands of miles, it was neither fast nor flexible. Each jump required stable gates, immense energy, and then conventional travel between the hubs themselves before the next activation could even be attempted.

  From Veythral, they had jumped first to Lyon, then traveled for a full day toward the next gate near Falknov. After that came another day on the road before reaching the gate to Hareth. Until then, everything had gone smoothly. But once they left Hareth behind and began traveling toward the gate leading to Burma, the situation changed.

  Their pace slowed noticeably, because along the road they encountered more and more undead, and although they were not gathered in armies or acting with any clear purpose, they appeared in steadily increasing numbers. They were scattered across fields and forests alike, as if drawn toward the roads themselves rather than any specific target. Each encounter was dealt with quickly and efficiently, yet the pattern was impossible to ignore, because something about it felt wrong, almost as if the undead in this region were organized and intentionally trying to slow them down.

  When they finally reached the teleportation portal to Burma, they’d already lost two days, one more than planned, while the longest march still lay ahead of them from Burma to Tiara. But upon arriving in Burm’s capital, they ran into another problem, because as the largest kingdom in the North, Burm couldn’t simply be treated like a vassal state, and they needed the king’s explicit approval to travel onward to Tiara.

  Normally this wouldn’t have been an issue, since the kingdom was officially a devout follower of the Goddess, but Duke Valtiara was present at court and used his influence to block the request, fearing financial losses if the Crusaders launched a campaign in Tiara during the auction weeks. Because of that, not even Liora herself was summoned before the court, and only the Archbishop of Burm was allowed to speak on behalf of the Ecclesia, trying to convince the nobles that the Crusaders already present should be permitted to continue their march north.

  ???

  “That’s outrageous, and I don’t care if she’s the Holy Saint or the Holy Ass of the Goddess!”

  The shout echoed through the great hall of Burm’s palace as a tall, corpulent man paced back and forth across the floor, his expensive clothes shifting with every sharp movement. His face was red with anger, and his voice was loud enough that even the guards near the doors stiffened.

  “Lord Valtiara, that is heresy!” The bishop of Burm said sharply, rubbing his temple as if a headache were already forming. He stood among several nobles and advisors, his white robes standing out against the darker colors around him. “Please watch your words, my lord.”

  “I don’t need to watch anything,” Valtiara snapped back, jabbing a finger through the air. “The Ecclesia is far away, Bishop. Even with two hundred Crusaders and their supply train, they are still marching through my lands.” He almost spat the last words. “And I will not have foreign zealots trampling my territory because of some so-called divine urgency.”

  “Can’t you see that this is necessary?” the bishop pressed. “The Holy Saint’s fulfilling the Goddess’s will, and Tiara must be purged before corruption spreads further.”

  “What do I care about church politics?” Valtiara barked back. “Do you have any idea what this will do to the trade in Tiara if these barbarians start a witch hunt?” He gestured sharply through the hall. “And where is the proof that anything is even happening in my city?” He then turned abruptly toward the throne. “George, say something!”

  All eyes present shifted toward the king. The King of Burm was still young, sitting on his throne with a posture that made him seem smaller than the seat itself. His hands rested tensely on the armrests, and he looked like a man who’d have preferred to vanish rather than stand at the center of attention.

  “If Duke Valtiara doesn’t want a foreign force marching through his lands,” the king said carefully, his voice carrying a hint of uncertainty, “then perhaps we should respect his wishes.”

  With these words, a ripple of whispers spread through the gathered nobles.

  “But my king,” the bishop said quickly, turning toward him as well. “You’re a devoted believer of the Church of Light. The Holy Saint herself arrived through the teleportation gates. You can’t deny someone of that importance.”

  Valtiara cut him off with a sharp laugh. “As long as Duke Byron and Duke Libetin are not present, I have the final word here.”

  “With all due respect, my lord,” the bishop replied tersely, “the final decision rests with the king.”

  “Nonsense!” Valtiara shouted back. “The king is my dear cousin, and he is far too young to handle matters like this on his own.”

  An uneasy silence settled over the great hall after that. Several nobles shifted where they stood, and even the guards near the walls seemed unsure where to look.

  Valtiara straightened his coat with an exaggerated motion and then waved a dismissive hand, as if the entire discussion had already bored him. “So,” he continued loudly, and clearly satisfied with himself now, “once the matter is settled, inform your Holy Saint that the Crusaders may use the gate again to leave our lands, and nothing more than that.” And a thin, smug smile slowly crept onto his face as he added, “She’s of course warmly invited to join us for some tea, since I’ve heard she’s quite beautiful.”

  “My lord, that is enough,” the bishop protested sharply, his voice tight with restrained anger as his face twisted in open disapproval.

  Valtiara opened his mouth to snap back, already drawing breath for another tirade, but before he could speak, the heavy doors of the hall swung open.

  The court herald entered and rapped his staff against the marble floor to draw attention. “A messenger for His Majesty the King, and Duke Valtiara” he announced.

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  The messenger stepped forward while the duke placed himself beside the throne, looming over him and looking down with open impatience.

  “Speak,” Valtiara said sharply.

  The messenger swallowed. “It concerns Tiara, my lords.”

  Valtiara’s face twisted in irritation. “Again? Why is everyone today speaking about my city?” He shot a brief glare toward the bishop, who merely shook his head and looked back with a sour expression.

  “Go on,” the duke snapped back to the messenger.

  The messenger hesitated for a moment, clearly reading the mood in the room, before forcing himself to continue. “Tiara is in open rebellion against the kingdom, my lords. We cannot yet say what exactly happened, as all communication channels have gone dark. Contact with the city’s authorities was lost the day before yesterday. When officials rode out yesterday to investigate, the city gates were already sealed, and new banners had been raised upon the walls.”

  At the same moment, Valtiara let out a sharp, incredulous sound that formed an angry “What?” Meanwhile, the bishop drew in a breath and exhaled it with unmistakable satisfaction in his voice. “Ha!”

  Then Valtiara erupted into a furious tirade, pacing across the hall as he cursed the situation, the city, and anyone who’d failed to keep him informed. He demanded that the army be mobilized immediately and that Tiara be brought back under control by force if necessary. But as the shouting went on, reality caught up with him, because he couldn’t legally call a full mobilization without the consent of the other two dukes, and neither of them was present.

  That left him with only his own forces. After several minutes of arguing back and forth, weighing options he didn’t like, and clearly grinding his teeth the entire time, Valtiara finally relented. With strained politeness and a tone that suggested he hated every word of it, he granted the Holy Saint and her retinue permission to proceed with their crusade. The condition was simple and very clearly self-serving: they were to assist in bringing Tiara back under his control.

  However, the bishop recognized the opportunity while the duke was still cornered, seized the advantage without hesitation, and negotiated the addition of three hundred soldiers from Valtiara’s personal army, troops currently stationed in Burm, to reinforce the Crusaders on their march to Tiara. In the end, Valtiara agreed, but only because he saw no faster or cheaper way to secure his authority over the city again, since the Crusaders of the Church were already present and could be used for that purpose.

  The moment the matter was settled, Valtiara turned on his heel and stormed out of the hall, already barking orders to his attendants as he went. He was moving to contact his main forces in Valtiara as quickly as possible, intent on making his own preparations before anyone else could act without him.

  The bishop watched him leave, then let out a slow breath of his own.

  A short while later, he was already on his way toward the Crusaders’ camp near the teleportation hub, his steps heavy and his expression tired despite the victory he’d just secured.

  “This kingdom won’t last many more generations like this,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “Not with this kind of power gathered in such incompetent hands.”

  ???

  Liora sat inside the makeshift command tent near the teleport hub, the canvas walls faintly glowing with embedded ward runes that kept the worst of the cold at bay. Since they were within the Kingdom of Burm and far to the north of Pangrea, the temperature had dropped noticeably. A simple wooden table stood between her, [High Inquisitor] Salan, and [Inquisitor] Marius, its surface covered with maps, notes, and reports gathered during the march.

  “I’m telling you, Hareth’s always had an undead problem,” Marius said, leaning forward. “But this time it felt different. They weren’t just wandering into us by chance. They were gathering along our route.”

  Salan nodded slowly. “That’s true, but organized undead activity on that scale would require a [Necromancer], and we didn’t encounter one.”

  “But couldn’t they just be hiding?” Marius pressed. “Waiting for us to pass before showing themselves?”

  Salan shook his head. “If that were the case, then why attack at all? Hiding would’ve served them better.”

  “Unless it was meant as a distraction,” Marius countered. “Slow us down. Force us to react.”

  “That’s possible,” Salan admitted, “but no cultist cell in Hareth would dare to openly harass a Holy Crusade. They’d know exactly what would follow. The Golden Fist doesn’t miss, and it doesn’t forgive.”

  Liora had remained silent until then, her silver eyes tracing the lines on the map. Slowly, she lifted her gaze and fixed it on Salan.

  “No,” she said calmly. “That wasn’t coincidence… We have a leak.”

  Salan’s expression hardened immediately. “If that’s the case, I’ll look into it personally, Your Holiness.”

  Before Liora could respond, Marius turned his head toward the tent entrance. “Looks like we’ve got company,” he said, nodding toward the approaching figure.

  The Archbishop of Burm stepped inside the tent and bowed deeply to everyone present. “Your Holiness. Honored Inquisitors.”

  “Come,” Liora said, gesturing toward the table. “Sit with us, Marcus.”

  The archbishop did so, though his expression was strained as he spoke. “Thank you, Your Holiness. I bring news. We have permission to move.”

  Marius exhaled. “Finally.”

  “But,” the archbishop added carefully, “there’s more to it than that.”

  Liora’s silver eyes fixed on the bishop as she inclined her head slightly. “Go on.”

  “Tiara has already fallen,” Marcus said. “At least in the sense that it’s no longer under Burm’s effective control. Communication broke down two days ago, and when officials tried to investigate, they found an open rebellion inside the city.”

  Marius swore under his breath, his jaw tightening. “So, it’s [Doomsday] already acting. The Saint was right…”

  The archbishop continued, explaining Valtiara’s reaction, the internal conflict at court, and the compromise that followed. “In the end, Duke Valtiara agreed to allow the Crusade passage, but only because he saw no faster or cheaper way to reclaim Tiara. He’s committed three hundred of his own soldiers, currently stationed in Burma, to march with us.”

  Liora listened without interrupting. When the archbishop fell finally silent, she rose from her seat without any hesitation.

  “Then we don’t wait another hour, we move immediately.”

  She looked from Salan to Marius. “I think this confirms our fears about the dormant account. As you already stated so accurately, Marius, we are now preparing to fight a remnant of the Old Empire. Gentlemen, we are raising the threat level of this mission to Ascended. All right, prepare the departure.”

  Both inquisitors nodded at once and rose from their seats, moving to leave the tent and carry out her orders without further discussion. Liora, meanwhile, walked toward a reinforced chest standing near the back wall of the tent. She opened it and pulled out a small glass vial, its surface etched with faint holy sigils. Then she turned her gaze toward the archbishop just as he was about to follow the others out.

  “And Marcus?”

  The bishop straightened. “Yes, Your Holiness?”

  “Prepare the sacred ritual of the Second Dawning in the Cathedral of Burma!”

  She drew a dagger and cut into her palm without hesitation. Dark, silvery blood welled immediately, and she let it drip steadily into the vial before sealing it with a practiced motion. Then she held it out and placed it into his hands.

  The archbishop took the vial carefully, his expression tightening. “You truly believe it’s necessary, my lady?” he asked after a brief pause.

  “Yes,” Liora replied without elaboration.

  Marcus bowed his head, closing his fingers around the vial. “As you wish, Holy Saint.” Then he turned and left the tent. Liora remained where she was for a moment, her silver eyes following his silhouette through the canvas walls as he headed toward the city of Burma. When he finally passed out of her sight, she let out a slow breath.

  “I didn’t want it to turn out like this,” she murmured quietly. “But it’s always an honor to give everything for the Goddess. She’ll understand.”

  With that, Liora turned and stepped out of the tent herself. Outside, she caught the attention of a nearby Crusader and gestured him closer.

  “Bring the girl to me,” she ordered. “Miza Veyth. She won’t be coming with us. She’ll remain here and join Archbishop Marcus later to assist him in the cathedral of Burm.”

  The Crusader bowed and moved to carry out the command, while Liora turned her gaze northward again, already focused on the road ahead.