Chapter 228: Schism

Reactions to the high priest’s entrance ranged from incredulous to disbelieving. Having heard enough cryptic nonsense from the man who supposedly spoke with clear intent, I found myself firmly in the camp of the former.

Supposedly, this man wasn’t responsible for my suffering. He’d warned Kartania out of Ardath before this latest attack, and I’d heard he’d fought for me against the will of the Church’s other high priests.

At the same time, he seemed to always show up around when trouble did, and I found his sincerity increasingly hard to believe. Old me, before the events of Lockmoth, Vivian in Gedon, and Lorelei’s tragic end, would have been at the very least hopeful for a sincere ally.

Now, I was just trying to figure out his angle. As always, aura sight picked up a soap-bubble-like aura with a prismatic sheen. Odd to be sure, but many auras were strange.

“Please introduce yourself for those who may not know your face,” King Carvalon said with a tone that screamed “forced, impatient politeness.”

Yevon bowed. “I am Yevon Styon, High Priest of the Church of Dhias.” He scooted an empty chair into the open space next to Duchess Arina without being asked and leaned his elbows on the table. “Now, where should I start?”

King Carvalon’s jaw tightened and I had to stifle a giggle. Yevon certainly had an alternate agenda, but anyone who could annoy the king with impunity and chose to do so certainly earned a few points in my favor.

When no one replied immediately, he shrugged. “That wasn’t rhetorical. Where should I start?” I know you know that she’s a demon.” He pointed to me. “And that we sent a force to kill her that got routed back to Ordia. But there’s so much more to this mess. So, any takers?”

King Carvalon didn’t give any sort of gesture before he began speaking, voice tense and curt. “You will start by telling us why the Church has sent you and what your goals are.”

Yevon’s eyes twinkled. “Of course, Your Majesty. The Church has sent me to… encourage you to end protection and cut ties to Marchioness Zarenna, though they did not use that name for her. And any other demons you may be harboring as well. Their primary goal is her destruction.”

“And if we do?”

“You will be spared.”

The king scoffed. “That is not your choice to make.”

Yevon rolled his eyes. “We think every choice is ours to make, Your Majesty.” More than a few pairs of eyebrows went up at that casual declaration—enough to take some of the wary eyes off me as he continued, “I’m just the messenger… but I’m not above giving a bit more information.”

“To what end?”

“To the end that doesn’t result in another civil war, nor the death of someone as stoic as she while others are bartering her life and rights like coins at the market.” He gestured at me and I sat up a little straighter.

King Carvalon’s brow furrowed. For the moment, he stayed silent, withdrawing into straight-backed contemplation.

Truth was that I was more “stewing my own anxiety” than “stoically taking being dehumanized.” But I’d be a fool not to roll with the narrative Yevon was spinning. Even if why he was spinning it ate at me.

“I’d like to know why the Church chose to try to kill Zarenna in the first place,” Duchess Arina said from next to him. “Never mind the treaty—there’s absolutely no chance you were not aware of her feats.”

Yevon nodded, glanced at the king who made no motion to interject, and spoke. “A good question, Duchess. We were aware, I was sent to monitor Zarenna, and I reported that she would only be a threat if provoked. Unfortunately, it was then decided, despite my vehement objections, that the correct course of action would be to provoke her.”

“Why?” She looked down at her own, blue, hand as she spoke.

Yevon’s eyes glinted in the room’s orange light. “To provide the necessary excuse to kill her, of course.”

“What of the treaty?” Duke Ludwig asked. He’d been quiet since Yevon entered, but his anger spoke volumes. “Surely it would be easier to cooperate with Edath to root out a demonic threat rather than risk the Empress’s ire, or perhaps even war.”

He side-eyed me at the mention of “demonic threat,” and I stuck out my tongue. Can’t hide that little surge of anger behind a controlled face, Duke!

Little bits of humanity like that tended to help me seem a little more “normal” and I’d take anything that’d cut down on the “I’m not staring at you I promise” stares that everyone kept nervously giving me. Me and the doors out. The bear is pacified, but you don’t know how or why or what it might do next.

Yevon leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his head as he took a little while to reply. “Oh, I think that’s a pretty easy one to figure out.”

“You’re trying to break the treaty,” I growled.

The high priest quickly sat up, chair skittering, as he clapped twice. “Correct! Well, slightly correct. Wrong in almost every technicality, actually, but you get a thumbs up from me for trying. See, I’m not part of that ‘your.’ I don’t want this—it’s foolhardy, wastes lives, burns our reputation, and is really a lot more effort than it’s worth just to try to maintain the narrative that all demons are mindlessly evil.

“Also, we’re not trying to break the Treaty of Gedon.” He chuckled darkly. “We’re trying to enact that one pesky clause about self-governance. See, a lot of us big name High Priest folks see the concessions to Edath and the ceding of power as a sign of weakening Church authority. Add in the fact that there’s no easy campaigns of conversion left open for them, and, well, they don’t want to stagnate.

“Hence—” He leaned forward and planted his palms on the table, smiling wide. “Hence the idea of regaining lost influence over Edath, appeasing the Empire of Ordia by helping to rein in an unruly subject, and doing it all while preserving the ‘burn it first’ status quo—”

“Silence!” King Carvalon’s hand slammed onto the table. “Sit down, High Priest.”

I expected a flash of anger from Yevon. Something, any little sign. Nothing. He sat with no argument, only a smirk that might have been a twitch of the lips.

“What motive can you possibly have for telling us this? A child could work out that you wanted to subvert the treaty, but it is unlike the Church to speak truth to children,” King Carvalon spat, looming over the room from the head of the table.

“I’m so glad you asked!” Yevon remained unphased at the king’s insult. “Simple! I don’t want her”—he pointed at me—“to die at the hands of the Church!”

“That cannot possibly be the only reason.”

Yevon shrugged in response. “It’s a big part of it. I’m also the tiny little voice of reason that keeps trying to shout ‘maybe the Church shouldn’t govern!’ even though I know it’ll get ignored.”

“The Church wants to govern?” Duchess Arina asked. “Dhias’s teachings clearly forbid that sort of interference in the lives of men.”

Yevon shrugged. “It’s more power. Can’t trust an independent Empress.”

Duchess Arina sank back into her seat. Blue as she was, I could see her face pale. It’s one thing to have a demon save your life, a demon without your god’s scorn, an exception to a rule. It’s another to have an important figure of your faith admit with a casual shrug that it isn’t about the teachings anymore.

King Carvalon leaned forward, planting both hands on the table as he stared at Yevon, keen blue eyes searching under a crown that glinted dully in the firelight. “What you’re saying amounts to Church treason against the Empire. Are you certain you wish to make this accusation?”

Yevon made a so-so gesture. “Not entirely. Best walk that one back—we’re not that far gone yet. But! Another envoy is currently entreating the Empress to back the Church.”

The king leaned back, crossing his arms with a sneer. “If you do not intend to stand by your comments and your actions, do not make them. Do you not teach as much?”

“We try,” was Yevon’s simple reply.

“Accusation or not, will there be an attempt to govern?” Duke Ludwig asked. “Will they succeed?”

Yevon shook his head, long hair waving across his shoulders. “I should hope not! Which brings me to why they sent me here.”

“They presumed you’d sabotage their efforts with the Empress if you’d stayed in Ordia, correct?” the king interjected.

“Absolutely correct, Your Majesty.” Yevon nodded.

Duke Anzo’s stand-in finally found his voice again. “Why send you at all then? Why not keep you confined or send you away on a different mission?”

“That’s a bit more complicated, but the short answer is unity. To appear united, it wouldn’t do to vote to seemingly punish or demote a well-respected high priest for no apparent reason. I may have also volunteered myself.”

“How did you manage that?”

He chuckled. “Well, I made sure they knew I was dead set on appealing to the Empress, of course.”

“I doubt they are so simple as to fall for a trick like that,” King Carvalon said icily. “Tell us the real reason.”

Yevon frowned. “Well… it’s because whatever I tell you won’t matter.”

The defeated tone in his voice shook me. And I wasn’t the only one. The already quiet room went silent.

“Why?” The king’s question was simple, and for the first time I’d ever heard, his voice shook.

“Because Berethiel will be here in a matter of hours. Unless you surrender Zarenna Miller unto him for summary judgment and execution, he will lay waste to the castle. Perhaps the city.”

Duchess Arina wrung her hands together. “Would an angel do that?”

Yevon paused for a moment, then answered slowly. “...Yes. In this case, yes.”

“Most of the city is innocent!” Duke Ludwig roared suddenly, standing up. “While I do not hold the same naivety the duchess does, I refuse to believe the Church would condone such horrific violence upon those who did not conspire with that demon!” He jabbed a finger at me.

“I do not condone it,” Yevon answered with surprising softness. “Nor would I ever. But I am one voice, and the chorus has grown cold.”

“What do you suggest we do?” Duchess Arina asked Yevon.

Yevon looked to the king. “This is not my decision to make.”

“Does Zarenna stand a chance of defeating Berethiel?” King Carvalon asked.

I was a little surprised his question drew so many gasps, but I guess the revelation that a demon is in the nobility isn’t quite enough to make the leap to “can she kill an angel so we can keep her part of our kingdom?” territory. In a sickening way, it warmed my heart that King Carvalon thought me enough of an asset to ask after.

So I pitched my voice up the table. “Do I, High Priest?”

I’ll admit I was nervous, despite my demonic biology really trying its best to refuse the emotion. My stomach still twisted a little as Yevon shook his head.

“No,” he said softly. “I do not believe so, despite how much stronger you are since we last met.”

“With Seyari?” I added. “She’s gotten stronger too—a lot stronger.”

He shook his head again. “Berethiel is ancient. He has slain Sovereigns before. A half dozen of you would still be outmatched, if only by experience. All he needs is one good strike at your neck or heart.”

Said heart was pounding hard in my chest. I barely noticed the count next to me scooting away as my body heated up. “I… could I flee?”

“He would punish Edath for letting you, Astrye particularly.”

My vision started to dim at the edges; I needed air. “I… see.” I choked out.

“I’m sorry, Zarenna,” Yevon said contritely.

Duke Ludwig pounded his fist on the table “Why are we even having this discussion? Let’s give her up! Like we should have already!”

“Duke Ludwig is right,” Orwin added. “Presuming this is the truth, we’ve no reason to risk the country over a single person, demon or no.”

“High Priest,” King Carvalon said carefully. “I will need proof of this. Can you provide something other than your word? A missive, or a location where I can send scouts to verify?

“You’ll forgive me, but I am hesitant to believe that the Church, whose blindness to their own corruption led to the Great Fire here a decade prior, would willingly include the devastation of this city as an option.

“To further this point, what Duke Anzo’s son has said is worth considering: what kind of just Church of Dhias would request the tribute of a citizen’s life in exchange for protection?”

“A just Church wouldn’t, not that they consider her a citizen,” Yevon said. “Hence my presence here to warn you. And I shall note, if you refuse, I guarantee I will be targeted as well. An ‘accident.’ But do not let that color your decision; if Zarenna is truly a citizen of Edath, then despite her arguable crimes of killing in provoked self-defense, the Church has no business to interfere.

Duke Ludwig sneered. “But you are anyway.”

Yevon nodded. “Exactly. I will tell you where to send a scout, Your Majesty, and I believe it is overdue you read the missive I was entrusted with. As you read it, I am certain you will understand why I prefaced its delivery.” He reached into his robe and handed over a weighty-looking letter, sealed with a wax Church symbol that practically vibrated magic.

Murmurs started as the king read. Duke Ludwig, of course, gave me a death glare. I did my best to remain composed even as I held my head in my upper hands, two elbows on the table. My other hands fiddled with the tip of my tail in my lap.

I might die. I’d come close plenty of times. Thrown myself into bad odds, blind odds, made terrible mistakes, and been an altruist with a hero complex for far too long. But now that I’d gotten more of a handle on that, now is when I get caught in a lethal trap for the crime of daring to openly exist?

I didn’t have to read Yevon’s letter to know he wasn’t lying. Even if Seyari couldn’t read him, I had this awful gut feeling. How hadn’t I noticed the bags under his eyes when he’d walked in? The way he seemed to sag with fatigue in his chair? The uneven creases in his robes?

Dhias above, I was commiserating with Yevon Styon.

Speaking of Dhias above… Hey, why are you allowing this? Why on Varra have you apparently decided that I’m worthy of being in your consecrated spaces and at the same time let the people who’ve sent two, three now, high priests to die keep consecrating them?

Predictably, there was no answer. Maybe I’d have gotten one in a church, or at least some sort of feeling, like that night in the abandoned shrine a year ago.

I felt Countess Veronika’s hand on my elbow. I smiled at her—no teeth, just warmth—and felt myself cool down a little.

“Thank you,” I mouthed.

She nodded in response.

King Carvalon called for silence as he finished reading and re-folded the missive. I knew what was coming—it wasn’t hard to hear that the vast majority of those in the room had taken Duke Ludwig’s side.

Honestly, I didn’t blame them. One life to save a city. Sure, that’s good against something like a natural disaster or an unstoppable, mindless evil. But this was a manufactured choice, made to ferret me out and squash me, to undo all of my work legitimizing my existence just to push the narrative that all demons were evil.

Twisted, vile, abominable. That’s what this situation was.

Who were the real demons here, huh?

I failed to stop myself imagining how Sey would feel, with her uncaring father killing her wife. My stomach turned even more, and I felt like I had enough wrath bubbling up inside me, enough righteous fury, that I’d probably blow the castle’s top if I couldn’t keep my thoughts in line.

The king cleared his throat. “It appears we have no choice.”

I struggled to keep my shoulders straight and my head high.

“Marchioness Miller will be surrendered unto the angel Berethiel.”

My heart sank. Sure, I knew it was coming, but there was a tiny little spark of hope in me that King Carvalon would somehow see me as more than a piece on a chess board. Of course he wouldn’t.

“You called her Marchioness still,” Yevon noted.

“Indeed. For it is a noble thing to sacrifice oneself for her nation.” I fought back a growl, rage turning to confusion as King Carvalon continued, “A demon of Church dogma would not willingly do such a thing. Would not leave themself bereft of countermeasures, of a way to back out and renege.”

Fury surged back into me, sloshing back and forth like water in a lifted basin. My hands were shaking. I should probably leave before I hurt someone who might not deserve it.

Regrettably, for as much as I detested the king right now, killing him would only make things much, much worse. Heir or no.

But I won’t be going along with this. I wanted to say as much, but announcing those sorts of intentions seemed to have the great effect of not letting them happen. I’d already agreed not to be a puppet of Carvalon, and flying to my death was squarely a part of that. Astrye was close, I had allies, and I had a demesne in which to fight that none of them knew about.

Yevon stood.

“High Priest, a minute more, if you will.” The king made a gesture, and I saw guards tense, but not move.

“Yes?” Yevon quirked a brow.

“My throat is terribly dry. I believe it would be best for someone of your oratory prowess to read this letter to our fair city.”

What?

King Carvalon smirked.

Yevon blinked rapidly, hiding what must have been a torrent of emotions under widening eyes and thin-drawn lips.

“Unless you agree with the Church’s posturing, of course.” Now it was the king’s turn to play the part of the cool-headed schemer. If it wasn’t for the sheen of sweat on his forehead shining brighter than his crown, and the fury coiled tightly around his chest, I’d have bought it. “If you’re truthful about your claims, this would be an opportunity, no? And we’ve a few hours before Berethiel is set to arrive. More than enough time to set a field for the battle?”

The guards looked ready to pounce. Yevon gave them the side eye and nodded. “Very well. I think you’ll find I’m quite the talent at giving… unconventional sermons.”

He’s really doing this? The Church will no doubt denounce him for this. More than kick him out! Whatever he was scheming, we’d fallen right into it—Yevon was positively beaming.

“We’ll have the words printed and distributed throughout the crowd,” King Carvalon continued, all smiles despite a faint twitching of his brow. “So they may read along to your speech.”

“Of course.” Yevon nodded eagerly.

The king stood. “We have a waiting room you may sit in until this is off the press. Apologies for the lack of accommodations, but we’re under quite the time limit.”

“I understand, Your Majesty.” Yevon actually bowed. “May I share a few words of parting with the marchioness before she leaves?”

King Carvalon smirked. “No.”

“A pity.”

“Do I have enough time to fly home and get my wife?” I asked them both, more than tired of two career schemers gloating at each other in front of a room of confused, terrified nobles. Their answer didn’t matter, but I’d take a “yes” instead of a headache and more blood spilled.

“How long would that take?” Yevon asked quickly.

“An hour. Two, tops,” I replied quickly and honestly.

“You probably have enough time,” the probably-ex high priest answered, rubbing his chin.

“We’re giving the demon to the Church, not letting it flee!” Duke Ludwig shouted. “No, absolutely not! You will remain here!”

“The duke’s ill mannered assertion is unfortunately correct,” King Carvalon said. “I’m sorry, Zarenna. You will stay under guard until a location has been determined.”

I smiled back, all teeth. “No, King Carvalon, I won’t.”