BleedingTears
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Arcanist - Chapter 84
🕑 Added 2025-04-28 18:16:49 +0000 UTCThe next day Valens woke up and came across a peculiar, but not in the least undelightful, sight in the main hall. Placed atop the wooden table was a plate with two sausages steaming hot, a perfectly cooked egg tucked neatly between them. On the side were some beans and lettuce, with a singular glass of water waiting beside it.
“Morning, Mr. Kosthal!” Selin peeked out of the kitchen with a wide smile, likely since she heard the loud creak of Valens’s door. “I’ve prepared a simple breakfast for you. It is, after all, your first day of your new job, isn’t it?”
“Breakfast?” Valens said, and licked the taste of the word lingering on the roof of his mouth. Breakfast. Such an odd thing to become a stranger to, but here he was, staring almost teary-eyed at the plate.
“Thanks…” he muttered as he poured himself over the chair, taking in the rich smell of his breakfast. They did buy a few things along with the clothes the other day, but he didn’t expect to see them so soon before him. “I feel like crying right now…”
“Ah!” Selin flung the cloth out of the kitchen’s door, stumbling out into the hallway, came floundering in haste to the table, stood there horrified at Valens’s face. “Is it…” she paused to catch her breath. “Is it something I did?”
“Something you— Oh, no!” Valens smiled at her. “It’s just… It’s good to be reminded that I can still have a normal breakfast after all those things. Makes you appreciate the whole journey, no doubt.”
“I’m terribly sorry if it’s not up to your standards. I haven’t had the time to learn much about cooking other than the occasional peeks I’d get from Mrs. Pritchard’s work. She… is the best cook I’ve ever had the chance to meet. I’m obviously a far cry from her ways—“
“Selin.”
“— and I have only myself to blame for that. The work was hectic in the Countess’ house. Such a grand place, it was. It would take me sometimes an hour or two to find the boys whenever we played hide and seek, and the kitchen wasn’t somewhere I was welcomed as the hierarchy demanded a lowly Nursemaid like me—“
“Selin!” Valens leaned closer and held Selin’s hand, forcing her to blink down at him. When she did, Valens offered her a kind smile. “It’s glorious, this breakfast. Perhaps the best meal I’ll eat in these last few weeks. I was trying to compliment you, but it seems I used rather crude words to do it.”
“Oh!” Selin’s eyes glinted, then slowly her cheeks reddened as she lowered her chin. It was then that it dawned on Valens that he was still holding the woman’s hand.
“My apologies,” he said, removing his hand. He then cleared his throat. “I appreciate the work you did, but let me remind you once again that you’re not here as a maid. Circumstances will have us stay here for some time, but under no conditions should you see yourself as someone below me.”
“But—“
“No buts!” Valens smiled. “Now, where’s your breakfast?”
“I already ate while you were asleep.” Selin squirmed uncomfortably. “I’m used to eating alone.”
Valens stifled a sigh when he saw her face. She had two souls in her, as most people did. Two different sides, with one being the happy, beaming young woman who brought an effortless warmth and joy to those around her by simply existing, and the other being this dark, lonely soul whose past carried deep, mysterious traumas.
“We should pay a visit to that nursery sometime this week,” Valens said after a moment. He’d spent hours in Selin’s memories during their ride from Brackley to Belgrave. Painful hours at first, which slowly gave way to the bright memories of Selin’s teen years. There was, however, a blank period after she was recruited by Countess Margaratte’s mansion, which even Valens couldn’t manage to see.
The Countess owned the Brackley Company, and the murder of her husband remained unsolved to this day. Something tells me Selin’s attempt on the Countess’s boys is not a mere coincidence.
“It still feels strange,” Selin admitted while Valens took another stab at his breakfast. A storm was taking his taste buds refuge, and he had the mind to lose himself altogether in this blissful chaos. “I can remember those times, but it is as though I’m looking at them from behind a stained window. They feel like someone else’s memories.”
“That’s only normal,” Valens said through a stuffed mouth. He then chugged the water down in a big gulp and turned, in a more respectable state, to Selin. “Because I put those memories back for you. In time, you will regain that normalcy, but as I’ve said, seeing the exact places in person can speed up the healing process. This way, your primal brain can understand that the places in your memories are, in fact, quite real.”
“The primal brain…” Selin nodded sheepishly. Then, fingers clasped at her apron, she stared at Valens. “Mr. Kosthal, how… do you know these things? Primal brain, the sessions of mind mending… I’ve never heard of these things before.”
“A lifetime spent on academics,” Valens said, reminiscing just for a second about his young self suffering from elbows bruised over the hardwood table of Master Eldras’s study for the most extended hours. “And a Mentor who has been the most kind, but also the most strict teacher I’ve ever had the chance to study under.”
“A Mentor?” Selin asked. “Your parents—“
“I’d rather not be late to my first day on the job.” Valens rose from his chair, gave Selin a tight-lipped smile. “Perhaps we can talk about such things another time. For now, I have a group of Templars and a woman who I suspect has dark things lingering in her mind to meet up with.”
“I didn’t mean to—“
“It’s nothing, Selin.” Valens looked at his hands. He wasn’t the same man anymore. Things had changed. They were still changing. “Don’t worry yourself over such matters. Speaking about the past… Well, let’s say I have my regrets as well.”
……
The Golden Cathedral was a mighty beast, and if you stared just enough, it almost felt as though it was expanding ever so slowly in an effort to consume the grand square around it.
Valens liked it. It fit the grand image of a church, a gorgeous feat of architecture that not only spoke to the Church’s long past but also its golden glory. Already, people were flooding in for the morning prayer, carried by a great array of richly painted carriages whose coachmen lounged in groups after sending off their respective ladies.
The secured entrance—but not hidden, exactly—swallowed Valens and spat him into the underlying structure of the Cathedral where he was to meet with his team. He would give the Oath as the first thing in the morning, then they would, as a team, take to the company office in the city which worked as a cover for Golden Ward.
He was making his way to the Bishop’s study when a bald man, a little round by the sides, welcomed him by the dark walls. Held in his right armpit was a hat shining as though it was oiled just recently, his suit looking soft and smooth, his face perfectly shaved.
“Mr. Kosthal!” he called out the moment he saw Valens. He eyed him for a second, clicked his tongue at what he saw, then plastered a polite smile on his face. “I’m Percival. I’ll be escorting you to the Chamber of Oaths. Captain Edric and the rest of his team are waiting for your arrival.”
“I made them wait, eh?” Valens shook his head. That wasn’t a promising start. It seemed he would have to buy that pocket watch to keep track of time even if he wanted to save some money. “Lead the way, then, Percival. I think Garran has told me a few things about you. You work in the intelligence department of the Golden Ward, right?”
“Indeed I’m an intelligence officer of the Ward,” Percival nodded, and after Valens caught up to him, started walking down through the tunnel-like basement of the Cathedral. “I like the title of it, and, between us two, I have to say that if we let our Templars handle the excruciating work that is to arrange the files, I’m afraid we’ll see another inevitable dip to their already few numbers.”
“Paperwork… Never been much of a fan of it,” Valens agreed with the man. Fixing a patient demanded focus, and though rarely, it carried the possibility of coming across an interesting case. Writing the report of each treatment, however, was a pain. Valens had only done it because Master Eldras insisted the reports should be written by Healers and Healers only.
“Well,” Percival said, eyebrows arched, as he pulled a monocle from the pocket of his coat. “I do happen to like the work. Little signs and clues, Mr. Kosthal, not always do they show themselves to us in person. Often the case is you will have to dig deep to find them.”
“I thought that’s exactly what the Templars were all about,” Valens said. “Digging through dirt, and mud, and occasionally, darkness, to unearth those clues.”
“You can dig a ditch with a sword, but that doesn’t mean it’s created for that purpose. A weapon is best used in a place where it belongs. Stones and mud… Those tend to wear off even the most magical artifacts,” Percival said with a hint of haughty pride in his eyes. “So then, one might need a quill and a paper to understand those little signs. Connect the dots, we say here, to paint the whole picture. I doubt a sword is a better-suited tool for that demanding job.”
Valens eyed the man in a new light. Overly proud he might be, but any man who could enjoy the monotony of such work was either mad or a genius, both of which demanded a healthy degree of respect.
“It’s refreshing to see people like you in this place,” Valens said, and smiled genuinely this time. “I don’t know what I expected, but this… wasn’t it.”
“I’m flattered by your response, but I’m afraid I’m one of the rare specimens that belong to the normal side of the scale here. Supernatural and superstitious work isn’t the best field to expect normalcy, I’ve found. There’s always a complicated, and twisted matter to deal with.”
“That, I should know,” Valens sighed. “I presume it is this exact reason why the Bishop even accepted my presence.”
“He does that sometimes,” Percival smiled slightly. “But I would wait at least a week or two before I made myself comfortable in this job. You will see that consistency isn’t one of our virtues here. It’s not in the root of the work we deal in.”
“Twists and turns. My life’s been nothing but about them lately. So I think I will just manage, but still,” Valens tipped his hat at the man. “Thanks for the early warning. I will cherish it.”
Around the corners, down a staircase or two, they veered to the depths of the Cathedral until they finally came across a set of stone doors. Valens wasn’t sure who built this part of the cathedral, but the intervals, the multiple rooms, the sudden blanks across the walls made little sense to him.
There’s little to no consistency in the character of this space, indeed.
Percival gave him a look as if to ask if he was ready, and once Valens fixed the collar of his shirt and tucked his hat under his arm, the intelligence officer knocked his fist on the door.
“He’s here!” Garran’s voice came before the door opened. His grinning face was revealed beyond the entrance, and it took more than a second for Valens to digest the sight he witnessed.
That suit… The hat… He—
He looked like the prince depicted in every fairy tale with long dark hair spilling down from his shoulders. His nose was small, and his jaw had an edge that seemed sharp enough to cut stone.
Behind him stood Captain Edric with a much more formal suit, a top hat, and a leather coat that barely hugged his muscled figure. He cut his brown hair short, paired it with a cleanly shaved face and a pair of gentle eyes that hid a certain depth in them. A polite man, the captain was, but only to those who knew how to appreciate it.
“It’s a simple procedure,” Garran sprang forward, caught Valens’s right arm, yanked him close to the pedestal that stood in the middle of the room. There was nothing else here. Just the silent walls, and a barefoot Lenora that waited at the side. “You don’t even have to say anything. Just put your hand on the pedestal, and the divine chains will seep into your soul.”
“My soul?” Valens arched an eyebrow at him. “Divine chains? The oath—“
“It’s to make sure you won’t leak anything you’ll learn or hear here to the outside,” Captain Edric said, nodding as he moved toward the pedestal and placed a hand over it. “It won’t hurt. It won’t even sting a bit. You’ll hear the words of the Oath in your mind, as well. Listen. Take them in. If you don’t like it, you are free to walk away.”
Words in the mind. Good.
“The Gate of the Soul,” Lenora said in a voice that sent a shiver down Valens’s spine. She dragged her feet, nails painted in ink-like black, that locket of hers displayed clearly over her pale neck. “The chains will find their home in there. They don’t know, but you can see it, eh, Healer? So you can understand it’s not that big of a deal as anyone else might think.”
Chains over my inner world. No matter how I look at it, it doesn’t sound good. Still, better to give it a go. The captain said I can walk away if I wanted. There’s no need to get overly suspicious.
“I’ll do it.”
The group gave way when Valens neared the pedestal. It looked like an old slab of stone. Put it on a mountain, then no one could say there was something divine about this thing. The identify didn’t work, too, which made Valens a touch uncomfortable.
Deep breaths.
Under the eyes of everyone, he placed a hand over the pedestal, felt the cold stone under his palm. He waited. Seconds passed. Kept his eyes closed as he didn’t feel like staring at others in the process. That didn’t sound like a thing to do in a holy ceremony. There should be a right way to go about these—
Before the everlasting Grace of the Sun, and under the weight of sacred chains unseen, do you solemnly swear that never shall you breathe a word of the mysteries vouchsafed to you within these consecrated walls. Neither friend nor kin, nor stranger under heaven, shall wrest from your lips the secrets entrusted to the faithful. Should you break this covenant, let the bonds of your own soul tighten about you, and let the Light that once shielded you withdraw its favour for all my days.
The voice came from within his mind, echoing deep across his thoughts without a clear source in sight. It didn’t belong to a man, but it wasn’t entirely a woman’s voice either. It was mixed, something between, and loud as though it wanted to be heard.
His skin prickled as he felt a touch around his chest. No, not his chest, but from somewhere within. Close to his chest cavity, where the Gate of Surges awaited, lingered a certain coldness. The frequencies of it were almost silent across the Resonance, but Valens could still hear them.
The buds of the chains, eh? Then once I say ‘I do’ they will become real.
He wasn’t worried about the Oath, since it was essentially a safeguard to ensure the Church’s secrets remained sealed. It had nothing to do with Valens or the rest of his being, but that wasn’t the reason why he was unbothered.
Something tells me this won’t go the way you think it will.
Slowly, he opened his eyes and glanced around him. Saw the expectation in the captain’s face and the grin spread wide across Garran’s lips.
It was time.
“I do,” Valens said.
The Captain smiled.
Garran barked out a laugh.
The silent chains in his chest cavity materialized as from within the pedestal a sudden rush of frequencies poured into them. It wasn’t mana, but it wasn’t all too alien either. Valens felt this touch when the Bishop tried to impress his authority upon him. The halo he’d seen… seemed just like this to his eyes.
So this is divine power? Sacred light, perhaps, would be a better fitting name. I have to admit it feels rather nice.
He was being cuddled by invisible hands that were gentle in their touch as though they wanted nothing but to keep him warm and safe. Inside his chest cavity, however, those chains strictly pulled themselves tight across the Gate of Surges. Layers upon layers of them covered the door in a way that left not a single part of it out in the open.
[You have given a Divine Oath!]
A notification blinked before him.
“I guess that was it,” Valens said, and removed his hand.
“Welcome to the Golden Ward, Valens.” Captain Edric’s hand crushed onto his shoulder and squeezed his flesh tightly. Valens had never seen such a bright smile on his face. “You’re one of us, now.”
“Damn right he is!” Garran whistled.
“Fools,” Lenora shrugged. “He’s mine, not yours.”
Valens chuckled silently, and just as he was about to thank the captain, a sudden pain stabbed into his chest.
It didn’t steal the breath out of him. It didn’t make him double down in pain. It was just a little sting, coming from his chest cavity. The muscles there had tightened.
Oh, is that—
Then something splintered into pieces.
[The Divine Oath of the Sun’s Father has been broken.]
It was the chains.
[Divines have no authority upon an Ancient’s soul.]
A broad smile parted Valens’s lips.
"Shall we?" Captain Edric said just then, clapping him once more on the back.
Valens straightened his coat, tucked the faint pain away like a letter into an old drawer, and nodded. "Lead the way, Captain. The day awaits."
And so began his first day at his new job, and he felt lighter and freer than ever.
......
Comments
lenkite
Now he just needs to carefully remember this oath so he doesn't inadvertently break it in the presence of the Church.
Stephen Pearson
Thanks for the chapter! :-)
Sanetless
Ngl, no outside force having the ability to touch your soul is a pretty cool ability
