Book 1, Chapter 13

Hierophant Arthur Hawking waved a hand in the air, and the opening of the gate started to widen. The wide gate opened inwards, and as the Hierophant was in the way of its movement, he walked towards the opening, almost clearing the gate itself, to meet Baroness Blackwell.

As they shook hands, the baroness let out a sigh of relief and said, “Thank goodness that you have been considerate to us, Your Beatitude.”

“Well, actually…” the Hierophant smiled. “It seems today is not a good day for appointments. I will only be within Cathedral grounds the entire day.”

Not long after the brief exchange, Immanuel arrived, standing next to Baroness Blackwell. He was still assuming the identity of the gentle-faced young man. At this point, the Hierophant returned the bow given to him from a distance. Then he turned to the Cathedral’s direction and started walking. “Come, follow me,” he said to the baroness and Immanuel.

The massive stone structure ahead of them looked not too different from the King’s castle. It rose high and had tall towers near the center of the structure. The massive high-rise front door looked to be made of the kind of wood most resistant to the elements, judging from how the burn and lightning marks appeared on its surface–not a splinter or grain of the wood split off from the main body of the door, merely blackened. Immanuel’s eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to remember the name of the wood they must have used for the door.

“Are you alright?”

Hearing the question, Immanuel jumped, jerked back to the present by the commanding tone of the Hierophant. It turned out that he had been walking far behind the cleric and the baroness, and they had paused and turned to him. While the cleric looked at Immanuel with concern, the baroness clenched her teeth and furrowed her eyebrows, annoyed that Immanuel was lagging behind.

“It is nothing. My sincere apologies.” Immanuel bowed.

From then on, Immanuel, still walking behind the baroness and the cleric, kept his eyes on both as they continued towards the massive Cathedral entrance. Owing to this choice to not anymore distract himself by looking at the surrounding area and appreciating its appearance, his worry about how the conversation with the Hierophant would go later surfaced once more.

What if he has no reason to believe me?

What if he decides I’m not worth helping?

The huge metal symbol shaped like a lily, which was positioned over the massive wooden door, was the enlarged version of one of the symbols the Hierophant wore on his garb. To Immanuel’s knowledge, judging by where this symbol was positioned on the high ranking cleric’s garb–over his heart–meant that this must represent the kind of person he was.

The symbol over the door thus not only pointed to his authority and his right to residence at the Cathedral, it also pointed out what Immanuel could expect from the man.

I hope he is compassionate to me despite the strangeness of my situation, Immanuel thought, remembering what the lily symbolized. He then shifted his gaze into the distance within the Cathedral, past the main door, and walked inside, following the Hierophant and the baroness.

The three walked along a stone tunnel, an essential part of a Cathedral known as The Path of God’s Descent. This tunnel was just a few steps in length, and it brought them to The Hall of Answered Prayers–a massive hall with an impressive fountain at the center of it all. Water from the fountain flowed down to long, narrow canals that snaked in different directions around the hall. These canals were indentations on the floor, which minimized the risks of accidents while walking around. Positioned by these canals were numerous individuals–lower ranked clerics–clad in white robes. They sat on desks, writing on scrolls with quills and ink that glowed.

The fountain is a source of the mana required to write a spell, Immanuel recalled.

Each cleric worked in silence, and only the echoing rush of water could be heard in the massive hall. Baroness Blackwell gestured for Immanuel to keep silent, and he bowed at her lightly in response.

As the three entered the great hall, the clerics put their quills into the ink bottles. Then they rose and bowed facing the direction of the end of the stone tunnel that they could see from where they were. The lower ranked clerics kept their heads down even as the Hierophant had already acknowledged them by bowing in return.

With the way the lower ranked clerics positioned themselves, in turn influenced by the way the canals snaked around the massive hall, the place had become a giant maze. Here, the baroness paced faster, keeping herself within arm’s reach of Hierophant Arthur Hawking, to avoid the risk of ending up somewhere else in the maze she did not want to be.

Judging from how the Hierophant was walking along the maze, Immanuel thought he was leading them to the set of ornate double doors just directly across from where they started. This trip could have been done in a few steps if not for the maze it had become.

“Not many folks who aren’t clerics get to see this part of the Cathedral,” Hierophant Arthur Hawking said, his eyes looking straight into Immanuel’s.

“And the hall with the massive fountain, too,” Immanuel continued for the cleric, recalling a temple rule everyone in the Kingdom followed, including the nobility and royalty.

“Yes, that too,” the cleric chuckled. Then, with one hand, he pushed one half of the ornate double doors open, and they made their way inside.

Once they had gone past the ornate double doors, Immanuel’s heart, already pounding hard since they were moving along the maze of clerics and canals, pounded even harder. His legs, at that point, also started shaking, and he would have fallen down to the floor if not for him noticing his nervousness right away and steadying one leg when the other felt too feeble to move–thus making it look like he was merely making a step forward.

Just ahead of him were the sources of his nervousness, which the baroness remarked as “amazing.”

The room was circular, and, like with the maze-like hall outside, a fountain stands in the middle. It is not a massive fountain, however, but one with measurements suitable for the room it was placed in.

Encircling the room, except for one part of the circle where a desk is positioned instead, were various potted plants. On the desk are a number of rolled scrolls, and a glowing quill sits next to a glowing ink bottle. So the Hierophant writes spells too?

A flight of stairs that ran in a semicircle led to a loft. The ceiling rose high; the room itself was a house within a house.

The Hierophant ascended the stairs first. Following him was the baroness, who Immanuel just realized must have been just in awe of the place as he was, judging from the way she looked around.

Immanuel hesitated to follow, as the fountain seemed to be urging him to come closer. While he felt the same urge earlier at The Hall of Answered Prayers, it was easier to suppress it as the entire place was a maze, not to mention that the number of clerics all over the place and the Hierophant walking them through made it awkward to act out such urges.

This time, Immanuel gave in. He took a step towards the fountain, looked towards the Hierophant and Baroness Blackwell, then took another step when he saw that they were not facing him. Then, without hesitation, he took two more steps, and he reached the fountain.

Touching the water alone should have been enough–Immanuel felt like he had a full night’s rest and had eaten the tastiest food he knew in one massive gulp. But the longer he touched the water, the stronger his urge to consume it had become.

I’ve always been told not to drink water from fountains like this, but never the reason why not to do that.

“IMMANUEL MAIER!” came the shriek from Baroness Blackwell, which sounded to Immanuel like an enraged mother who had just seen her child drop a ceramic cup to the floor by accident. He cupped a bit of fountain water anyway.

The Hierophant held back the baroness by the wrist. “Wait,” he said in a hushed tone.

For a moment, Immanuel hesitated to drink the water he had cupped. Is nobody coming to take me away from here?

Well, in that case…

Immanuel drank the water.

It had a hint of sweetness to it. He was able to spit some of it out as he backed away from the fountain. Poison?!

Fearing the possible consequences, Immanuel turned to the Hierophant and the baroness. While the latter had turned white in terror, the Hierophant seemed to Immanuel to be looking at him with understanding and curiosity. Maybe there aren’t any dire consequences to consuming the fountain’s water after all.

But just to make sure…

He brisked towards a potted plant and bent down, ready to unleash stomach contents, but what he expected did not happen. Instead, his chest heated up to unbearable degrees. Not only was he forced to remove his cloak–and thus shed the identity he had been assuming until then–and toss it aside, he had to undo the pins of his shirt as well.

His sigil glowed a blinding bright purple once again, forcing him to shield his eyes with one arm. And with the opposite hand, he fanned his chest as he took uncertain steps towards the fountain. There was a loud gasp, followed by a hissed word. “Impossible.”

“You…” came another hiss, this time from Baroness Blackwell, who had at last seen Immanuel’s true face.

But before she could react any further, Hierophant Arthur Hawking turned to Baroness Blackwell to question her in a hushed tone. “Didn’t he tell you that he had just been promoted to Lieutenant after the matter with Baron Ironhelm?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Then why does he have a sigil already? We never give them away to new Lieutenants.”

“I-I-I don’t know,” Baroness Blackwell, who was still white in terror, stammered. “He never told me about that, Your Beatitude.”

Immanuel reached the fountain and bent down to it. Then, with the water at arm’s reach, he splashed his chest with it…

Once.

With one splash, his chest cooled, and the glow on the sigil dimmed to a bearable degree.

“How are you feeling?” came the gentle question from the Hierophant. The Baroness sighed, relieved.

“Alive.” Immanuel nodded. “Like a second soul had awakened inside of me.”

“Mana. You have just gained mana. As for your sigil, how long have you had it?” asked the Hierophant.

“Several days now,” answered Immanuel. Then he raised a hand and revealed the ring. “I found this ring. I wore it for safekeeping, intending to pawn it later, but it turned out to be a magic item. It’s supposed to boost mana, but before today, it was my only source of mana.”

“Unbelievable,” hissed the Hierophant. “How were you still alive? You do understand that a sigil needs some of your mana as tribute, or it will take from your life force and kill you instantly?”

Confused, Immanuel could only shrug.