Nick followed Elia through a side door into the Temple of Sashara, slipping past the main congregation area and into a private, vaulted chamber near the rear of the structure.
Prelate Marthas waited by an altar of polished white stone.
The Grand Exorcist remained an imposing figure even now. He stood eight feet tall, his dark skin marked with intricate crimson tattoos that seemed to writhe in the light. He wore a simple robe, yet the power suffusing him was anything but simple.
Before Nick reached Prestige, Marthas had simply felt overwhelmingly strong. Now, with the clarity of an Eidolon, he could see the truth of the man’s soul. Marthas was a blazing furnace, an unending pillar of fire wholly dedicated to his goddess. It was an alien, divine power, structured on logic entirely distinct from Nick's magic, yet worthy of respect nonetheless.
He’s keeping almost all of it contained, but even the shadow he casts in the ether is formidable. Even the Avatar of Sashara that Alexander summoned wasn’t this imposing.
"Welcome back to Floria, Lord Crowley," Marthas said in a deep rumble. He inclined his head, a gesture of respect between peers, not a bow to a noble, which told him the man was already aware of his rank-up. Somehow.
Don’t get distracted. Divine casters have strange ways of knowing things.
"It is good to return, Prelate," Nick replied, his gaze locked on the giant. He kept [Sovereign’s Parsimony] firmly engaged, ensuring his own vast presence did not challenge the priest within his domain.
Elia stepped between them, unwilling to waste time on pleasantries. He turned to face her, eager to finally learn the details of what had rattled her so.
"We have three weeks," she said, her voice tight. "The moon cycle is turning. The Shadow will be here before the next full moon. I saw it clearly. He will find Rose.”
Three weeks. It was a reprieve, but a narrow one. A King's Shadow possessed resources and stealth that bordered on the supernatural, even in this world. If the agent set foot in Floria, they would dissect the town’s secrets in days.
In truth, I’m more surprised it didn’t happen the last time they were here. But then again, they might have had more pressing matters to deal with, what with father’s ascension to Baron and his Quest.
"A royal bastard wielding golden mana is a dangerous secret to keep,” Marthas mused, crossing his arms, again revealing he knew more than he should. "The Crown does not tolerate loose threads in the lineage.”
"Arthur is a good man," Nick said evenly. "He did a great deal for this town, more than anyone else. His granddaughter is under our protection.”
"And she shall remain so," Marthas reassured. He stepped away from the altar, moving closer to Nick. The heat radiating from his skin was palpable. “If not for his own contributions, then because you walked into the frozen dark and returned with a crown of your own, Nicholas. Breaking the chain that bound the Maiden in Toneburg is worth aid on its own.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed slightly. He had never spoken aloud about his fight against Ephor, nor about the divine fragment of the Goddess he had saved from Alexander’s ritual.
Yet this was not as surprising. Ascended priests heard their gods' whispers much more clearly than anyone else.
Still, he was uncomfortable with the warm regard. He hadn’t done it out of loyalty to Sashara, even though she was technically the patron Goddess of Floria.
“Service must be rewarded," Marthas continued. He raised his right hand, pressing a fist to his heart, and the tattoos on his arm flared with muted light. "I swear to the Purifying Flame: whatever aid you require to blind this Shadow, you shall have it. The Faith of Sashara stands with you.”
It was a solemn oath, bound in magic and divine intent, that sent ripples through the ether, and even the World stirred at its pronouncement.
Nick was surprised, not having expected such open aid, but he recovered and acknowledged the pledge. "I thank you, Prelate. I fear I will soon need your aid.”
In the little time he’d known about the matter, he’d already come up with a possible plan. It had many moving parts and would need to wait until he met the girl and got her measure, but if everything went right, he might be able to fool even a Shadow.
Marthas grunted in affirmation. “I shall be ready for it when the time comes.”
Nick turned to Elia, resting a hand on her shoulder. She was trembling slightly, the burden of her vision pressing hard on her mind. "I will handle it, Elia. Go back to your people. Attend to your duties, and come to me if you see anything else, but do not worry overmuch. We have already accomplished more impressive feats.”
Elia took a deep breath, her frantic energy settling into a determined calm. She nodded curtly, then slipped out the side door, her orange tails flicking.
Nick left the temple shortly after, unwilling to speak more about his plan until he knew what he was dealing with. Soon, he was weaving through the bustling streets of Floria. The town was alive with merchants shouting their wares and wagons rumbling over the newly paved streets, but his mind was already turning over the pieces he’d been given.
He could not kill the Shadow, and though he expected to hide Rose for now, it wouldn’t last forever. He had to change the rules of the game in the long term.
As he approached the wrought-iron gates of Crowley Manor, the guards snapped to attention, their faces breaking into relieved smiles as they recognized him. He nodded briefly, then passed through the courtyard and through the open doors.
The wards greeted him warmly, settling around his shoulders like eager friends, and he sent a pulse back through them.
No more than a minute later, his call was answered.
“Nicholas.”
His mother stood at the top of the grand staircase. Elena Crowley wore a tailored dark blue silk gown, a ledger tucked under her arm. The moment she saw him, her smile widened and grew more earnest, though her eyes still held a piercing intensity as she tried to see the truth of something.
She hurried down the stairs, waving off a pair of approaching servants with a sharp flick of her wrist, and surprisingly, did not embrace him immediately.
She stopped two paces away, scanning his face and taking in the subtle, if undeniable, shift in his bearing.
"You are covered in road dust," Elena declared smoothly, her voice carrying clearly through the foyer for the benefit of the listening staff. "Come to your chambers. I will have a hot bath drawn for you.”
Nick followed her upstairs, noting the tight set of her shoulders. She led him into his private quarters and waited until the door clicked shut before finally letting the mask slip.
She turned to face him, the ledger falling unheeded onto a nearby chair. "What happened?”
"A great deal," Nick said, vanishing his cloak into his ring and setting the Shard of Human Ambition on his desk.
Elena stepped closer, reaching out to touch his arm. "Your presence... it is different. It almost feels like it did when Eugene returned from his Quest.”
Though she didn’t ask outright, it was clear she’d sensed something despite his tight control.
Then again, she is my mother. If anyone would notice, it’d be her. She was always the most observant in our family.
"I crossed the threshold," Nick admitted, seeing no need to hide the truth. He let a sliver of the truth bleed into the air, and she drew a sharp breath.
Elena’s hand dropped. She stared at him as the political implications crashed over her in a rapid, terrifying wave. A second son of a baron ascending to the apex of power without a lengthy apprenticeship or the Crown’s patronage was something out of a children’s story. It was a miracle and a political mess, all at once.
"How?" she asked, her voice barely audible.
He could see the deep worry in her presence. It just wasn’t normal for a child to reach so far, and she had even more reason to fret, given her own mother’s fate.
Nick moved to a small washbasin, pouring cold water from a pitcher and splashing his face. "We found the Circle of Pure Souls entrenched in Toneburg. I fought their leader, the Patriarch of House Ultimer. The resulting surge gave me enough to rank up. I met Father in the underworld shortly after.”
He dried his face with a linen towel, leaning against the wooden washstand. "He knows. He signed a royal pardon for the mercenaries who helped us, but he also warned me about the attention it would attract. I have been invited to the capital.”
Elena walked to the window, looking out over the sprawling town she had helped build. She crossed her arms to hide her white knuckles. “When?"
"Three months," Nick confirmed. "But they are not waiting. Elia intercepted me at the gates. She had a vision that a King's Shadow would arrive in Floria within three weeks.”
Elena closed her eyes. The color drained from her face. She was a shrewd administrator, a woman who played the regional trade game with ruthless efficiency, but the difference between a merchant's guild and a King's assassin was vast indeed.
"They will look for the source of the anomaly," Elena murmured, her mind racing. “Go through our whole lives in search of the truth." She opened her eyes and turned back to Nick. "They will find Rose.”
"Yes," Nick said simply. He wasn’t surprised she knew or that she put the pieces together so quickly. His mother was a very smart woman, and no one so shrewd would leave the secrets of their most important vassal hidden.
Elena let out a long, ragged sigh and sank into a velvet armchair by the hearth. "A bastard royal line will not be easy to explain." She rubbed her temples as a headache formed. "I should have stopped Arthur years ago and forced him to send the girl away.”
"You couldn’t have," Nick said. “Even if we had the power to do so, which we didn’t at the time, he’s done too much for us to turn him away.”
"I would give her to the Shadow myself if it meant saving our lives," Elena said, her voice hard, stripped of maternal softness.
Nick stiffened, his aura flaring slightly and dropping the temperature in the room. "We have no need to trade our people, Mother. Not that it would work.”
Elena met his gaze, unflinching. "If the Crown discovers we are harboring a claimant to the throne, they will send an army to raze us to the ground. Arthur will hang. Your father will be executed for treason. Devon will die. I am not speaking of trading a girl for coin, Nicholas. I am weighing one life against five thousand.”
Nick could not dispute the severity of the threat, but he refused to accept the conclusion.
"We are not giving her up," he stated firmly. "I have a plan, a spell to mask her lineage.”
Elena studied him for a long moment, reading the unyielding certainty in his posture. She let out a slow breath, the hard edges of her expression softening. “Even with your power, it is a dangerous gamble. Much could go wrong.”
"It is the only path we have left," Nick replied. "But I need to see her first to know if it’s even possible.”
Elena let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "You will not find her in the farmhouse. She has taken to slipping past the walls, thinking she is stealthy, but the guards report her movements to me every morning. She goes with Devon and Sonya into the Green Ocean.”
Nick blinked in surprise. “Devon? I would have thought he’d be more careful with his intended.”
For the first time, something in his mother relaxed. “Oh, that girl is all iron beneath the poise. Do not worry about Sonya.”
“Alright,” he muttered, still a bit off.
“I will have that bath drawn for you now. Rest tonight, Nicholas; you can pick up the mantle tomorrow.” The way she said it, with equal pride and sadness, told him she’d acquiesced to his request, even if she didn’t say so. And that was enough.
A.N. Eugene Interlude tomorrow, as requested. It's a pretty fat chapter, but I wanted to set things up properly.