20. Chapter Twenty #2
“You sought out the help of a knight I deemed unworthy of working for the castle. One who would take bribes from outsiders, one who could be bought? She was of no merit to this kingdom. But as she’d taken a bribe from a Cardinal of the church, can you imagine what that looked like to our queen?
I was forced to banish her to a terrible post instead of simply stripping her of rank.
All because of your foolish pride. And now, in her complicity to your crimes, had you actually been fortuitous, she would have been hung.
You would have gotten a woman killed for your pride, among other lives you’ve already destroyed.
Do you deny this?” Leonardo pressed again as the souls of all those Janus wronged, disappeared in the hiss of the candles.
His Holiness held the candle aloft, the smoking wick dancing in moonlight that emerged behind him.
“My Lady…please,” Janus’ eyes were as wide as The All-Mother’s moon, his hands clasped before him.
“I had my suspicions, Janus. But I thought I was disillusioned by my grief, that I was seeking out to make those close to me into villains. Then I arrived at the temple to find this. Our ceremonial candle snuffed out…something the cleric would have carved and lit the night of the ritual, had he been the one to carve this. But this was done by someone with no magical talents. Someone who was abandoned by his goddess. And that young cleric, whom you had murdered, was not. You, my old friend, have lost your touch. Something that can only happen if one has walked away from her enveloping darkness. Turned away from our oath!”
The candle roared with a massive, pearlescent flame.
It burned over his head, swirling up into an endless sky.
Janus shrieked as whatever magic he’d clung to in those last few years was ripped from his body.
It looked like the candle sucked out a hazy plume of smoke from Janus, as if he were a candle being engulfed.
As the flame climbed up into the sky, Janus’ cries of pain were muffled by the screaming of her flame.
All his magic, all his smoke, swirled in the air before finally disappearing into the burning moonlight.
Then, with a hiss, the candle went out and we were all deposited in the office again.
Silence echoed within the room. I gulped down mouthfuls of air to try and reflate my lungs.
My muscles suddenly ached as the intense magic that Leonardo cast settled over me.
He stripped Janus of his magic. The horrorifying reality of what the Hierophant Rex did prickled my skin.
How is that possible? It proved the point beyond a shadow of a doubt that Leonardo St. Augustine was Hierophant for a reason.
Avaris, you’ve chosen well. I studied Janus’ haggard profile as he shivered in his seat.
Janus, pale, hollowed-faced, and empty-eyed, stared up at Leonardo. “What will you do with me?”
Leonardo gazed at his friend for a long time with a deep frown. In the years I worked for him, Leonardo was never without his wide smile. Jovial, he was always upbeat. I saw the heartbreak all over his face. That pain didn’t stop him.
“Janus, you are hereby stripped of your post as Cardinal,” the Hierophant sighed.
Leonardo snapped his fingers, his door bursting open on command.
My gaze darted to catch up to the sudden movement.
Two paladins charged inside. They scooped up Janus from his chair, the feeble old man flopping about in their hands.
Leonardo spoke with ice cold conviction.
“You are excommunicated from this church and banished to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. All who house you will be fined and reprimanded. Any who aid you? May Our Lady have mercy upon them. I wish you nothing but what you deserve. You walk this world alone, old friend. Banished from her loving embrace and forbidden from the blessing of her children, you will enter the deadlands alone.”
I stumbled back, the back of my calves knocking into Melrose’s knees as the paladins removed Janus.
The jangle of metal mixed with the whimpers of an old man beaten at his game.
Silence returned to the room like a disease.
It was a thick tar, coating every surface and weighing it down.
The door eventually swung closed, the click jarring me out of my melancholy.
It took me a long time to readjust to the pressure on my lungs.
When I finally forced air out of my torso, I leveled my gaze at Leonardo.
He sunk into his seat, hands folded over the desk, staring at the candle.
“Sir?” I murmured.
“I apologize for all the dramatics, Keida. I was unsure of the lengths Janus would go, but also Our Lady, as you now know, is not always the most verbose. Her visions are unclear and take time to decipher.” Leonardo raked his fingers through his hair, around his rams horns to the nape of his neck.
“Especially when those who receive the visions are so…belligerent in their belief that their best friend would never betray us in this way.”
“Sir, I am so—” He raised a finger, cutting me off sharply.
Melrose slithered out from behind me and rushed to his side. He twisted in time to receive her in a hug. Leonardo enveloped his daughter, his robes a heavy curtain that draped over her. He held her tight to his chest to the point his arms shook.
“My sweet Rosebud, I am so sorry. I never should have treated you that way. This is all my fault.”
“I know,” she murmured, burying her head in his neck. “You don’t have to lie to me, Papa. I just want to know what happened.”
“I…also…” I grimaced, flinching as both of them peeked up at me.
Leonardo’s big green eyes glowed with tears welling in his eyes.
My voice faltered. I flushed, stepping awkwardly up to the front of the desk.
We are practicing bravery now, Keida of the frost. “Would like to know what’s happened. How did you know?”
Leonardo hummed thoughtfully, flicking his wrist. A chair pulled up beside him, one I expected Melrose to take until she motioned at it.
I sat on the edge of the cushion, unstable like a house of cards.
My wings fluttered nervously behind me. Leonardo hugged his daughter like he feared she’d perish if he let go for even a moment.
I knew the pain in his chest, the fear that Melrose was gone or hurt.
I could only imagine how much deeper that pain went knowing he lost his wife…
and Melrose was all he had left. I folded my hands in my lap.
How truly awful would it have been? Had I not figured it out?
Had Our Lady not spoken to me? I tried not to drown in the possibilities.
They took away from the reality, from the truth, that I’d protected my beloved from the horrors of the world.