As the Church's most recent strategic center, the Holm Kingdom had already gathered four Legendaries and seven or eight Golden Knights — far more powerful than a diocese like the Vorlite Principality, which traditionally stood against the northern Church. As a result, even when rotating guard duty in the meditation chambers, three Cardinals were stationed on site.
Hearing a Night Watchman knock at the door using the prescribed code, all three Cardinals looked up simultaneously — but one of them was already on his feet and striding toward the door before he'd even raised his head.
"Intelligence from inside the Arcane Council?" This Cardinal's face was devoid of any excess flesh, his blue eyes appearing pure yet fathomlessly deep.
The Night Watchman produced a letter and bowed respectfully. "Yes, Lord Andrade."
Taking the sealed letter, Andrade traced a cross over his chest. "May the Lord bless you."
"Truth alone endures!" the Night Watchman replied solemnly, then turned and left.
"Andrade, what level of intelligence is this? Should it be reported to His Eminence the Cardinal?" another Cardinal asked with concern.
At the words, Andrade turned the envelope over to look at its back, where intelligence keywords were written in coded notation — after the previous incidents, the Church had required its spies to write abbreviated intelligence keywords on the back of envelopes when transmitting reports. If the content touched on doctrines or theological theory that could shake the foundations, this was to be noted specifically, so that Cardinals and the senior Cardinal could brace themselves before reading, lest they suffer the same shock as last time when even the head ascetic monk, Valenshir, had been shaken to the point of injury.
"Holy Spirit level. New particle. Shaking. Atomic theory."
Four keywords materialized in Andrade's fathomless eyes.
The first indicated the intelligence's classification — third tier in importance, below Archangel level and Angel level, meaning it could not be viewed privately and had to be submitted to the senior Cardinal immediately.
Andrade's deep blue eyes narrowed slightly, and he answered without a ripple: "Devout Believer level. Routine intelligence from the Arcane Council."
"After you've read it, make a record and distribute it to the bishops later," the other Cardinal said. He had never once suspected that Andrade would lie about something like this.
If a Cardinal's faith had grown unsteady and he had defected to the Arcane Council, the only fate awaiting him was to be consumed by Holy Light — there was no other path.
Inside the meditation chamber, three desks were arranged in a triangle facing one another. So once Andrade settled into his seat, he did not need to worry about the other Cardinals peering over his shoulder. He opened the letter as though reading ordinary intelligence and, when he had finished, wrote in the reading log: "Inside the Arcane Council, due to contradictions between the periodic laws of the elements and atomic theory, many senior Archanists have begun reflecting on and debating atomic theory. No valuable results have emerged so far. Classification: requires follow-up tracking."
Over the following period, more intelligence trickled in from time to time. The three Cardinals each read portions, sorted them, filed them, and noted their approximate content.
Shortly before ten o'clock, a bishop specifically responsible for distributing intelligence knocked and entered. He collected the several stacks of duplicated reports sitting at the upper left of each Cardinal's desk; these would be disseminated by rank to the bishops, Night Watchmen, priests, and apprentice priests.
Hugging a thick stack of intelligence, the bishop made his way to the Divine Arts formation room where documents were duplicated and began copying according to each clearance level.
Since there was so much intelligence, he did not read through it carefully as usual, intending to look at his own copies after distribution.
At ten thirty, each piece of intelligence began making its way through different hands to different destinations.
Meanwhile, in the comparatively tranquil meditation chamber, the three Cardinals exchanged their "reading logs" to grasp the full picture of the intelligence, began compiling summaries, and prepared to submit them at eleven thirty to the senior Cardinal Filiber, the Tribunal magnate Baha'u'llah, and the rest.
"The Arcane Council is starting to doubt atomic theory? Will His Holiness the Pope need to rush revisions to the theology again?" one Cardinal remarked with a touch of sarcasm.
Andrade narrowed his eyes, his gaze unfathomable, and smiled without a word.
The *Sacred Scriptures* were doctrine — the truth spoken by God, the gospel by which the faithful were taught. Theology was the study and exposition of the *Sacred Scriptures*, encompassing improvements to Divine Arts, deeper interpretations of doctrine, and discussion of all manner of perplexing questions. It was the textbook used to train priests. The two were not the same: the former could be filled with metaphysical content with no regard for specifics, while the latter demanded detailed explanation and rigorous argument.
…………
Abidal was the bishop in charge of the monastery, and he held the theology that the Pope had refined in reverence bordering on worship — for he understood full well that without those improvements, with his own talent and grasp of doctrine, he could never have become a fifth-tier bishop by his thirties, presiding over the largest monastery in the entire diocese.
"This is the Lord's grace bestowed upon us faithful believers, truth articulated through His Holiness the Pope, the Lord's mouthpiece," Abidal prayed a prayer of thanksgiving like this every day. "Greed and weakness blind our hearts, causing us to forget gratitude for the Lord's gifts… Gratitude is humanity's finest virtue. May Your will be done on earth, as it is done in Your kingdom…"
At the close of his prayer, Abidal traced a cross over his chest and murmured, "Truth alone endures!"
Opening his eyes, Abidal saw that the priest attending him was already waiting at the door holding several intelligence reports. He nodded, signaling the man to enter.
"Any important intelligence today?" Abidal took the documents and asked casually.
The young priest answered respectfully, "Your Eminence, it's all routine intelligence."
"Mm." Abidal nodded lightly and began reading. This was how the world was supposed to be — how could important intelligence possibly turn up frequently?
Because it was routine, Abidal read quickly, and before long he had reached the fourth-to-last report.
He normally taught theology with diligence and a strict manner, often frightening the apprentice priests into anxious silence. They secretly called him "the Devil's Angel." But now, the face that could bring apprentice priests to instant, terrified quietude contorted into an expression of indescribable horror — as though he had tumbled into
"Roughly one in two thousand…" Abidal's voice emerged from deep in his chest, hoarse and low.