Book 1, Chapter 12

After the brief encounter with the Gold Leaf soldiers, the carriage sped almost like how fast Immanuel could move around while in his shadow form–a stark speed difference from when their journey started that morning.

“Coachman Kardon, no need to go this fast!” shouted Baroness Blackwell with a friendly tone for the fifth time since the carriage departed from the barricade of the Gold Leaf soldiers. In previous instances, the coachman said nothing in response to the baroness, only looking straight ahead. But this time, the coachman turned to her and responded, “Madame, judging from the sun’s position today, at this season of the year, we are approaching the third hour of the day.” The man did not address her as My Lady owing to them being outside of the manor premises.

“Goodness, then we are running late!” Baroness Blackwell had set the meeting with the Hierophant at the third hour of the day.

“I’m afraid we are.”

The baroness pulled her head back inside the carriage. She then reached for a leather box in front of her and opened it, revealing a gray metal bird in the shape of a pigeon. This was only the third time Immanuel had seen one–only a few men of the Kingdom were capable of making these magical constructs, and with their advantages over their sentient counterparts, they were also costly.

Baroness Blackwell unrolled a small piece of paper that was attached to the body of the metal bird by means of a series of metal pins. With a pencil, she wrote down a message on the paper, all in uppercase letters: GOLD LEAF SOLDIERS STOPPED US, AND WE WILL BE ARRIVING A BIT LATE. MY SINCEREST APOLOGIES.

Satisfied with the clarity of her message, she reattached the small piece of paper to the body of the metal pigeon and removed the construct from its box. Once it was freed of its constraints, the construct spread its wings as though it were a real bird stretching its wings to prepare to fly. It then flapped its wings a few times, before folding them back.

Baroness Blackwell held the metal bird out the window, and the construct spread its wings and flapped them once again. After some time, she let go of the metal bird, and it soared high up in the air.

“I hope our meeting with the Hierophant pushes through even if we do not arrive on time.”

–

Just as the carriage was about to stop at the gate of the Cathedral of Ancestral Dreams–one of three major houses of wonder and home to one of the three Hierophants residing in the Kingdom–ten guardsmen, about half of the force of twenty-one who were clad in armor ensembles of white and silver, spilled out of the gate and blocked it. The other half blocked the gate from the inside. Once they were in a tight formation at the gate, they drew their weapons and assumed combat stances.

“Madame, those guardsmen don’t look pleased to see us,” cried the coachman. Curious, the baroness peered out the window.

“These grunts…” Baroness Blackwell growled when she had pulled her head back into the carriage. The carriage then stopped.

The baroness opened the door and rushed out.

“What do you idiots suppose we are here for? War? Do we look like we are here for a fight?!” Baroness Blackwell screamed at the assembled soldiers. They maintained their combat stances, even with the knowledge that they faced a noblewoman.

“Madame!” came the booming call from within the formation. A soldier whose helmet was more ornate had stepped forward towards Baroness Blackwell, passing between soldiers along the way. Then he gave her a bow once he stood in front of her. As a sign of respect despite her anger, the baroness bowed at him in return.

“By order of the Matriarch, and in light of recent incidents concerning the Kingdom’s military, all visiting parties to all Cathedrals must be thoroughly inspected before they can enter. And by thorough inspection, this means all carriages, all weapons, and any magic items intended to be brought into the premises as part of one’s personal property shall also be inspected,” said this soldier with a more ornate helmet. He was not aided by a scroll that mentioned such orders. He also spoke with the conviction that what they were doing was the right thing to do.

Baroness Blackwell took one stomp forward. “That does not answer my question,” she began, her voice low, but stern. Then she raised her voice again. “I asked you idiots if we look like we are here for war!”

The authoritative-voiced soldier remained where he stood, his face fearless even in the presence of an enraged baroness. The scene reminded Immanuel of one of the first lessons of his training–religious soldiers only follow the orders of the clergy, who are the kingdom’s arbiters of morality and magic. Neither the royals nor the nobles can give them orders.

“Our orders are clear, Madame. If you have come to this place, they must be followed.”

“And greet us with weapons?” the baroness gestured to the assembled platoon. “Is that one of the orders given to you too? How dare you address me with an honorific and yet treat us like street urchins!”

“My sincerest apologies, Madame. But these weapons can also detect magic items. They have to be drawn before their secondary functions can be used.” The soldier paused.

“And considering the context behind the Matriarch’s order, we have decided to act on heightened alert at all times. Hence our arsenal at the moment.”

Baroness Blackwell took one worried glance at the carriage. How did I not know of this matter at all?

Then she turned to the soldier with the ornate helmet. “I’d like to ask, if I may: When did the Matriarch issue those orders?”

“At first light, Madame. The order came to the Cathedral by way of a metal bird.”

Baroness Blackwell’s jaw dropped in astonishment, having recalled how she had disrespected the men manning the barricade earlier. “I-I received no such word from the Grand Baron. Perhaps, in the rush to make it to our scheduled meet with the Hierophant, I have neglected to check with my secretary.”

The baroness then gestured towards the carriage. “Please, do what you must.”

With the baroness having given her consent, the soldier with the ornate helmet bowed to her. Then he moved to the formation and, with a booming voice, issued his next order, “The baroness has given her consent. Two front rows, inspect!”

“Yes sir!” shouted the ten soldiers guarding the gate from the outside. Then they stomped forward to the carriage, almost as if about to clash with an enemy army.

The group, with the exception of one soldier, surrounded the carriage. Each passed the blades of their swords over whatever parts of the carriage they could reach.

The only soldier who was not scanning the carriage had ordered the coachman to descend. This order was followed by another order to move away from the carriage. And once the coachman was at a far enough distance, the soldier who accompanied him then gave the order to stop and stand still.

Unlike with the carriage, the coachman was patted down with the soldier’s hands. Satisfied that he felt nothing odd while patting him down, the soldier then drew his sword and passed its blade over the man’s body, starting with his head, on which a round hat rests.

So far, the soldiers found nothing that was worth investigating.

“Nothing to check on the coachman, sir,” bellowed the soldier from far away.

“Nothing suspicious on the outside of the carriage, sir,” bellowed one of the investigating soldiers.

“Good. Check the inside,” came the next order.

–

While the soldiers busied themselves checking the carriage exterior, Immanuel’s cloak, the mask he had hidden beneath his cloak, and his ring crackled with sparks of blue energy. To Immanuel’s knowledge, this proved the truth of the soldier’s claims that their weapons could detect magic items.

Considering two of the three magic items he brought with him, how he used the cloak, and why he also brought the mask, he felt his chest in an attempt to activate the sigil. But like his magic items, his sigil merely crackled with tiny sparks of purple.

He had not enough mana to get it to work.

Worse, with the door handle going down, he had no time left to think of another way to escape their sights. Not that he could think of any off the top of his head at that exact moment.

The carriage door opened wide. Immanuel’s cloak crackled louder as more sparks appeared–it was as if the cloak were enveloped in sparks all throughout.

“We have one here wearing a magic item, sir!” shouted the soldier as soon as he let go of the carriage door handle and backed away, wide-eyed in terror.

The other inspecting soldiers positioned themselves near to him, in such a way that they too could see Immanuel from the outside. Then the soldier continued, “It’s a cloak. And it seems it changes this man’s appearance.” Like the soldier who first saw Immanuel in the carriage, the others backed away, terrified, the exact moment that they saw what was happening to Immanuel’s face.

Eh? What are these men so afraid of? Immanuel raised an eyebrow. What Immanuel did not realize–and what was also not explained–was that their swords not only detected magic items, they also detected active effects of such magic items.

Although Immanuel could see the terrified faces of the soldiers positioned by the open carriage door, he did not perceive the reason behind their terror. His head had become blurred owing to the use of magic detectors. Every now and then, a part of his face, and sometimes including his hair, briefly takes on another appearance, which disappears after a brief time and leaves his head blurred again.

“W-What’s going on? What are they so afraid of?!” screamed the baroness at the investigating soldiers.

“It is nothing to be afraid of, then.” Baroness Blackwell jumped as he heard another commanding voice, and the platoon leader turned his entire body to the source of the sound the moment they heard it.

The platoon leader turned to a man who stood behind the half of the platoon that was guarding the gate from the inside. He was clad in white robes, and he had short, light brown hair. Over his white robes were various holy symbols that indicated his religious office. Only some parts of his wide, square face had wrinkles, indicating that he had become a Hierophant at the earliest possible age. He stood a head taller than the soldiers, and even Baroness Blackwell, who smiled and bowed at him, following the actions of the platoon leader. He had wide shoulders, and if it were not for his garb, he would have looked like a foreman, owing to his build.

“Your Beatitude, Hierophant Arthur Hawking” addressed the baroness to the man in white garb.

The high-ranking cleric bowed back to the platoon leader and Baroness Blackwell. “My Lady,” he greeted the noble. “I would say the soldiers have done their part. If the man who needs to see me must assume the identity of another, owing to his situation, then we must not deprive him that right.”

Turning to the platoon leader, he said, “You and your men are dismissed.”

“Yes, Your Beatitude.” The platoon leader bowed. Then he turned to where the remaining platoon faced, stood straight, and yelled, “Return to positions! Inspection is finished!” Next, he spun to face the soldiers investigating the carriage and the coachman and yelled the same order.

The assembled platoon, the inspectors, and their leader scrambled back into the depths of the Cathedral complex like soldiers charging towards an enemy force. In no time, they had disappeared, leaving the baroness and the Hierophant at the gate, facing each other.

Immanuel Maier stepped out of the carriage, and from a distance, he bowed to the Hierophant.

“Ah, you must be Immanuel Maier!” The Hierophant smiled and waved. “Welcome!”

The Hierophant’s gaze shifted towards Baroness Blackwell. “And you too,” he continued.