But as always, such words could not be uttered. Most likely, even a Great Clan would be fodder for the hate of the people. She could not allow such a fate to befall Valor. Not now, not when the animals were so close to feeding on their bones.
And more importantly, there was the supposed coming of that man: Actus, Comes of the North. A while now it's been since this information was revealed to her—about the fact that such a member of the Theocracy was to make an appearance in Cintry. There was little data to go on.
None of the Comes were known, or even what it was they did in their dioceses. But alas, one such was coming soon. In any case, using whatever data she could remember, most likely this act came as a result of the harm that had come to Valor. The Church wanted to play the role of the predator—to feed on what they believe is a dying clan.
She was unsure what exactly the motives were, or how the Comes hoped to achieve it... But, there was a sure need for readiness.
Ahead, the Gresendant Sisters echoed the final words of their hymn. "And he promised to return in the form of a man."
Of course, the promised sun was to be a man. Ivory knew the words those women spoke. In essence, it was a song version of the prophecy. The prophecy about the Sun that was promised, about the man that was to save Eastos from the darkness and the fallen.
A man.
How odd it was that many did not sense the control old men had on this world. With the might of their religions, they had prevented no means of change. What need was God, when humans alone could banish the fallen?
She sighed within. This, too, was one of those thoughts that were better kept to herself. Either that or the church no longer needs to break Valor; the people would do that themselves.
The caretakers ahead nodded as one. One among them slowly pulled out a square black box from his robes. Raised up, the man muttered a few silent words and bowed. Some continuation of the ritual? Next, like some cued act, the box erupted with a massive black misty fog. Outwards it went, spewing down the road, cleansing and replacing the already white mist on the sides.
Great, she mocked. How was smoke the thing that was needed now? She could not tell, and frankly, harbored little desire to attempt so. There was only the desire to end this all. To escape this nonsense in pursuit of something more useful. Her clan. Her people. Her seatGuards.
The line continued, venturing them through the dark fog and into the vast, cold interior of the pyramids. Here, the immensity was as expected from Valor. Long pillars, each dotted with spiral markings and tiny inscribed words. Mostly old tongue. Then, of course, were the near-endless rolls of bodies wrapped in black robes.
MISTS! She froze. Everywhere, she could see them. Like square mountains of sleek black cloth, the bodies were piled high. To her left, her right, the front. All of them drowned in the cold darkness of this space, one that was barely lit by the sole eiyas floating above their heads.
The center of the room was deeper than the rest, creating a need to walk down the steps. That place housed a floating dark board. A crude version of the Velis Disk, there, on the table, was a dark knife.
Ivory did not fancy the implications of those tools.
The deadEyes shifted to the side. The Excubitors, too, left, leaving her and the Sisters as the sole ones allowed to walk down towards the board. Silence was the thing prevalent, eyes now watching from behind her as her feet padded loudly in this silent space.
Strangely, being here brought a sense of terror. So many bodies were here—hundreds, maybe thousands. Which was odd, given there had barely been twenty Highnesses throughout the history of Valor. How then were there so many bodies?
Mentation spewed a dreadful answer.
Commodity. The guards were a tool to be used and buried when they had served their final use. In the end, this burial was merely a glorified discarding of useless things. She frowned within, sauntering on with both palms placed one above the other, over her stomach. Elegant, as was expected from her.
Soon, she arrived before the board. And now she could smell it. That metallic scent. Blood. It was blood. Although the board itself was clean and left only with inscriptions, drawings, and that ever-present granular texture of Valor architecture, she could tell.
Do they butcher the bodies? Ivory's eyes closed for a moment, a wave of tiredness flooding through her body. Way too sudden to be normal! She paused, realizing then that the Sisters had quickly rounded the desk, controlling the suspender rings to settle the first body over the desk.
What happens now?
There was quietude as an answer. A moment of it, before a Sister took hold of the knife and said, "God abhors the killing of selves!"
Hmm?
"And for that, these ones, aware of that sin, are forever condemned to Damnation!" She raised the blade, ready to pierce into the already dead corpse of the seatGuards.
"What?" The words echoed out into the room, calling up a confused startlement in the eyes of the watchers. Maybe too in the Gresendant Sisters, if she could see through those veils of theirs. But most importantly, Ivory realized the stupidity that had plagued this recent action.
The question—what? Why had she said that? Surely, it was not for the Guardsmen. They were, at best, mere tools... Right? Her eyes closed again, that sense of drowsy weakness present. "What is this?" she continued. A Highness never backs down.
The silence continued even after the question, the Sisters now sharing glances between themselves. One was quick to respond. "Is there an issue, Highness?"
Ivory said nothing for a moment, then, "Why do you curse them?"
"They killed," another Sister interjected—her voice the same as the others. Perhaps it was true that Sisters shared the same tones. Regardless, this action, the damning of others, made little sense within.
I do not do this for them! she assured herself. Even with the fact that past seatGuards had been buried with such taints in their lives, she would not allow this one. Be they useless or not, they were Valor. Her people. And the steel could not be damned.
What a stupid assurance! she muttered. "So you curse them for protecting their Highness?"
"HighRegent," one among the Sisters corrected. Nearly impossible it proved to know which one was truly speaking. Not that she cared for that.
Ivory took a glance at the watching men and women—all brightCrowns who stood ready to pounce on the back of a weakened Valor. Perhaps this moment would serve some other function. She sighed openly, watching the effect the act had on them.
They were stunned. Did the cold princess actually just do that? They would ponder such among themselves. This was a sign. Soon, the Church would come for Valor—that much was a surety. Why not lay the foundations of a counter?
Ivory said, "So, despite what these brave men and women had done—fighting against the Fermen, against the traitors of men... You damn them instead? Where is the justice of God in that?"
They gasped now.
Of course, Ivory as much as any theologist knew the Almighty was not some beacon of pure love. He could be wrathful, he could be dangerous, he could be without mercy or love. That, she sensed, was how the Church justified its acts.
Use it against them!
Before the Sisters could rebut, she added on, "Now, if what you say is true, that these men deserve damnation for killing, then what about you?"
"Heresy," one muttered.
"What about the Sisters who drown slaves in thunder just to convert them into lamps? Or even the black spirits you create for your emerlts and Eltium!" She cared little for the earlier outburst. "So tell me, should you too be cursed for damnation?"
They gritted now, murmurs flowing out from the company. Even the Excubitors moved, ready for something. Be it her order or some sign from the Sisters, she could not tell. But fortunately, she had not truly said anything wrong about the Church. She had merely asked a question.
"You cannot question God!" one Sister cried, slapping her palms on the table.
"Then perhaps 'God' should be clear on what he wants. Who is it we can kill without fear? Who are the ones allowed to do the killing? And how many times could it be done?"
This one, she knew, was true mockery towards their God.
What would they do now?
"You dare?" one gritted, hand tightening around the knife. Would she?
Ivory sighed again. "Why don't we debate this theology after my guards are laid to rest, without any more harm or curse placed on them?"
"You cannot ask the Sisters of such things. You have no power."
Ivory smiled—at least, she believed she did. "Actually... I ca—"
The world went dark.
And a voice... a sweet, dreamy tone whispered in the dark. "This one is Ivory of Valor!"
I AM?