Tales of the Vangen: The Black Ministry's Betrayal (Book 1)

Chapter 20: A Moment of Laxity

As Regis and his men entered the Santus Sophis, they were greeted by an old priest in thick, brown robes. He nodded grimly at Regis, his eyes darting between the soldiers entering and the outside world.

"Come in. Quickly now. Quickly now." The old priest fidgeted with the ratty cord around his waist, his knobby hands calloused from years of toil. When the final soldier entered, the door shut, and the large, wooden bar was set back into place. Candles flickered from small shrines nearby, bathing the meeting room in a rosy light.

The familiar scent of incense that Regis had smelled on his way in was even more intense now that he was inside. Smoke trickled down from above. The heady aroma of cloves and frankincense nipped at his nose. Already, he was starting to get sick of it.

"Please, one of my men was injured during our retreat. He needs medical attention." Regis motioned to the still barely conscious Magus tethered to his back. The old priest called out beyond. Two attendants appeared shortly. They helped untie Magus, gently cradling his body onto a stretcher brought with them. The two attendants lifted him gently and carted him off into the cathedral. Regis watched on, fighting off the urge to worry.

"Come this way." The priest ordered, ushering everyone in anxiously. Regis took point with Ruber close behind, walking in step with the priest.

"I noticed," Regis said, eyeing the priest. "That you failed to give your name during our exchange at the door?"

"A common precaution." The priest said. "A man's name becomes his bartering chip in times such as these. Regardless, apologies. I am Flamendos, the Princep of the Sanctus Sophis."

"Strange to see someone of your station acting as coy as a court royal." Regis goaded.

This time it was the priest to give him the eye. "I've lived long enough to know that no man is untouched by the whims of those in power. Twenty years ago, I watched half my congregation burn because they refused to acknowledge the Empress's ascension. I vowed never to make the same mistake twice."

Regis merely responded with a nod. He was not there to witness the Empress's fabled day of ascension. He had only heard rumors on how she'd set the torch to every man and woman who'd rebuked her, only to turn around and make it into a holiday. To think that she would commit such atrocities to even the clergy. For the Northmen of Danica, such acts would be blasphemy. Unfortunately, Regis was no longer in Danic. The rules were quite different here in the south.

They marched past the meeting hall into the nave, where the main body of worship happened. The ceiling opened up considerably, stretching up to the seven stories seen outside, with a vaulting fresco. Painted cherubs floated overhead, watched over by angels in black feathered wings and flaming swords.

Painted glass windows bathed the room in a kaleidoscope of light, the colors shifting continuously as the final remnants of sunlight disappeared over the horizon. Two massive sets of columns ran down either side of the nave, their gilding etched in Byzun script. At the end was a pedestal where the bishop usually gave his eulogy.

Further back stood the Empress's statue at nearly four stories tall, her masked face angled down to stare at the congregation. Indeed, the cathedral was as awe-inspiring within as it was outside.

And it was packed with people. The rows of prayer seats that regularly lined the nave were gone in exchange for bedrolls, displaced families, and squealing children. Priests of various faiths passed by, handing out food, water, and words of encouragement to those in need. Even with the marching feet of Regis and his men, their din could not compare to the crowd of civilians that had come to the Sanctus Sophis for shelter.

A few civilians looked up at the Vangen before quickly turning away. A fearful murmur began to ripple through the crowd. No doubt, the people were wary of any soldier marching through, whether they be friend or foe. The chaos that the rebellion had thrust upon the city had left the people doubting just who to trust.