Book 1, Chapter 14

There were not only three of them in the Hierophant’s circular chamber, it turned out. The high-ranking cleric reached a hand up, fingers pointed to the top of the semicircular stairs, and in no time, another cleric, an undecorated one like those in The Hall of Answered Prayers, brisked down and handed his superior a towel, bowing immediately afterwards. With his task done, the subordinate cleric ascended the stairs once more, then phased through one of the bookshelves that composed the entirety of the loft, as though a ghost.

Hierophant Arthur Hawking tossed the towel to Immanuel, who, without hesitation, wiped himself with it. When he was done, the cleric then instructed Immanuel to toss the towel back to him. He caught it without any effort.

“Follow me,” said the Hierophant, coupled with a gesture.

—

There was more to the loft than just bookshelves, as it turned out. The Hierophant pulled a book, one that looked no different than most others in his collection, such that it sat between others at an angle. A mechanism cranked, and the shelf slid back, and to their left, creating an opening that was wide enough for three people to pass through side by side.

Beyond this passage was a room made massive by the complete absence of furniture like standard-sized work desks and seats. In lieu of desks, miniature tables, essentially trays with legs, were used to organize bottles of liquids that Immanuel did not find familiar. In place of chairs, small square and round cushions were piled up on a corner. Interestingly, a mattress lay rolled up and bound in rope next to the pile of small cushions.

The Hierophant waved his guests into the room. As soon as they had entered, two undecorated clerics phased into the room. One of them took two small cushions and the other took just one. When they had given the cushions to their superior and his two guests, they bowed to the Hierophant and phased out of the room once again.

Having noted the absence of emotions in either low-ranked cleric, Immanuel let out a comment in a hushed voice. “They give me the creeps.”

“Ah, well…” The Hierophant heard Immanuel. “There are secret doors in this Cathedral. Like the one you just passed through.”

Immanuel turned to the door that doubled as a bookshelf. It was back to its original position.

“When I took the office of Hierophant, the Kingdom was still fighting the rogue baron. Out of concern for everyone, I had secret doors built here, and encouraged other houses of worship under my care to do the same.” Hierophant Arthur Hawking was already in the middle of the room when he paused.

“What are you two still standing there for?” The high ranking cleric dropped the cushion to the floor. “Come, sit near me.”

When Immanuel and the baroness had sat down near the Hierophant, he continued. “When the secret doors and chambers were built, I then ordered my subordinate clerics to phase through walls whenever they needed to pass secret areas. This allowed me to preserve their secrecy.”

Immanuel put a hand up. “So, Your Beatitude, what allows them to phase through walls? Is it a spell or a magic item?”

The Hierophant responded, emotionless. “That’s a secret between my clerics and I.”

Interesting. Now if only I had a valid reason to stay here for some time.

"Pardon me, Your Beatitude..." Baroness Blackwell leaned forward towards the Hierophant. "But this place seems to be a secret place to you. What made you trust us to be here?"

"Trust," said the Hierophant with a raised index finger. "Immanuel Maier trusted me with his predicament, and, in turn, I offer this refuge for that secret." in turn."

Refuge. Now that's a hint.

"But that wouldn't be all I have to offer. Do you have somewhere else you need to be?"

"No I—"

Baroness Blackwell cut off Immanuel. "Unfortunately, I do."

Immanuel had to look away as he struggled with the urge to grin.

---

One of those emotionless clerics that could phase through walls accompanied Baroness Blackwell back out of the room. In time, Immanuel was left alone with the Hierophant.

When the secret door that doubled as a bookshelf sealed itself shut, Immanuel and the Hierophant sat back down the cushions. "That's too bad," the latter began. "She'll miss out on hot mint tea."

Immanuel looked around, expecting a cleric to phase through one of the walls of the room again. But, to his surprise, the Hierophant stood up, and so he followed suit.

The decorated cleric led him to the back end of the room. Windows let daylight in, and from there, Immanuel also saw that this room faced the opposite gate of the Cathedral, which was more ornate than the one he passed through earlier. Immanuel thought that it looked more "welcoming" than the other gate, which was befitting of its role in bringing people in and out of the premises.

How does this room stay a secret when people can certainly see this window from where the gate stands? Immanuel thought, and right away he noticed that nobody was looking at the window where he stood.

Other thoughts raced in Immanuel's mind, and just as he had organized them, he was interrupted by a click that originated from off to one side.

"The clerics will have a lot of spells to write, it looks like." The Hierophant said as he slid to one side a small painting of the night sky, revealing a hidden door that was built flush with the rest of the wall. This door moved back, and then slid left, just like the door that brought Immanuel to this room.

Beyond the hidden door was... another library. But this one, while it did not have a fountain that could provide mana, it looked grander than the one outside the room. At this point, Immanuel saw a pattern with the cleric—in the Cathedral in which he is administrator, there is a grander version of a room, housing, or worship essential.

Hierophant Hawking gestured for Immanuel to come inside. Both men stood on a balcony immediately past the door. It overlooked the entire expanse of this grand library, which looked to Immanuel more like an arena of books instead of people. Large shelves were placed on seven platforms that, as a whole, reminded Immanuel of seats for the audience. On the floor below—the arena—was a massive desk that rose high. This desk sat between two shorter desks which, despite being shorter, still rose considerably higher than the kind of work desk Immanuel was familiar with.

While glass windows provided the place with much-needed illumination, bright balls of light also floated high above the area to fix any possible gaps in the area's lighting.

"A bulk of the Kingdom's history, in one place," remarked Hierophant Hawking with a smile in admiration of the grandeur and vastness of the whole place.

"This is way more than the kind of help I expected from you," Immanuel commented on the whole place.

Turning to Immanuel, Hierophant Hawking smiled. "Honestly, I had second thoughts of even offering to bring you into this library."

"That's understandable, considering how much history, you said, is contained in this place." Then Immanuel furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "But why bring me here anyway, Your Beatitude?"

The Hierophant chuckled. "There's a story I am looking for. Similar to yours. It might take me time to find, so rather than have you wait back there with nothing to do, I might as well bring you here with something to do."

Similar, huh? Immanuel's eyes widened.

"While I go look for that story..." The cleric trailed, and then pointed to a far shelf of the library. "There are books there you will surely want to read. I won't tell you what they are about, but you will know what I'm talking about when you see them."

"Where exactly, Your Beatitude?"

"I'm not telling you, but they're somewhere over where I pointed." Then the Hierophant stepped away from the balcony and began to look for the story he needed to tell Immanuel, starting among the nearest shelves.

Immanuel went to where the high ranked cleric told him to go, passing only the topmost platform and the bookshelves positioned on them. Once he saw that the shelves which Hierophant Hawking pointed to were just below him, he descended the steps that led to the lowest platform. Immanuel had decided to start his search from the front.

And his intuition rewarded him handsomely—behind the bookshelf where he started searching, he saw a black tome. Written on its spine, in gold script, were the words On Sigils.

Immanuel's heart pounded. He and a lot of others knew very little about sigils. He knew they required mana and were activated by feeling them. He knew that clerics with the rank of Hierophant and—with the chief cleric being a woman—Matriarch apply them to those they have deemed worthy of them.

He now has mana! He now had a higher chance of getting one more! Which meant he will have one more way of sorting out the matter of his wife having been taken from him!

Hierophant Arthur Hawking had just directed Immanuel to forbidden treasure. Immanuel's legs shook as he stumbled towards the book, and he was one misstep away from a hard fall onto the wooden platform. When the tome was at last within reach, his hands had also shaken.

Is it the Hierophant’s plan to make me an even more worthy recipient? Surely there must be a favor I must give to the Hierophant in exchange!

He shifted his gaze towards the high-ranking cleric. By the way he perused the books on the shelf he was standing in front of, there was no hint that the cleric wanted something in exchange for the knowledge he led Immanuel to.

Enough doubting! Here goes!

With shaking hands, he grasped the thick spine of the tome On Sigils. Then he pulled the book off the shelf and ducked as though he was hiding from people out to kill him there.

Using his knee to support the book, he opened to one of the middle pages. The first thing he read almost caused him to drop the book to the floor in disbelief.

As soon as a sigil has been completely drawn, and the mana tribute accounted for, whoever has been given the sigil must then face the ancestral spirit, one whose great feat in life gave birth to a spell and inspired the design of the sigil given.

For hundreds of years, encounters with ancestral spirits have often ended in the death of the sigil recipient. Carefully consider your candidates.

Immanuel turned to the Hierophant once more. The cleric had moved to another shelf, still searching for the right book to show Immanuel. It seemed that the highly decorated cleric was not expecting any reaction from him.