Capítulo 47: Pontiffs of Stars and Dawn
Late in the afternoon, as the clouds were slowly stifling the golden sunlight atop Priene.
A young man in his mid-twenties ascended the highest spire of the Luminous House.
Pale of skin and blond of hair, his features were distinctively associated with the Hierapetran elite, though no one would mistake him for a mere aristocrat.
Swirling stigmata were present around his droopy, rainbow colored eyes, marking him as a magus. His robe, sewn of expensive purple and golden fabric, was styled with white wraps and ornamented with silvery pins that depicted the Temple of Stars' holy symbol.
It fluttered elegantly as he opened the door to the roof, where the shy strands of daylight were starting to recede.
A single, hulking figure stood at the edge of the large balcony, arms spread toward the dimming sun. Albeit wearing the same elaborate garb as the man, the figure was burly and lacking in grace, displaying the physique of a rugged warrior rather than that of a person of the cloth.
"What are you doing here at this hour, you vacuous hag?" The man asked in an annoyed tone.
The figure glanced back, revealing the wrinkled face of an old woman whose skin had long since been darkened by the sun's touch. Her gray hair was braided in a simple bun and kept in place with a golden wreath, shining with the same yellowish luster as her stern eyes.
"What do you think I'm doing, brat?" She spat back, "A storm is coming. I'm enjoying the sun's precious rays while I still can."
She regained her posture, embracing the fleeting warmth with the hold of a newborn cradling its mother.
The man sighed, "This is why I can't deal with you zealots. We have thousands of injured people, the Pale Malady is still spreading, the Profaners are loose in the Divine Capital, and what do you do? Bask in the light of your damned sun. Imagine how many would lose faith if they learned of the Pontiff of Dawn's nonchalance."
"That tongue grows ever sharper, Cephissos," she said with a smile. "I remember when I used to smack you around like the silly little imp you are. In those days, you were fortunate to have Elatreus to hide behind."
A grimace swept Cephissos' expression as he remembered that dreadful time. "My predecessor, Elatreus, was a kind and wise man. Rumors say that he wasted half that wisdom in your chambers, Ifigenia."
These two individuals were, by no small measure, the highest religious authorities within the Kingdom of Stars and Astrologers.
Cephissos of Nylla, the Pontiff of Stars, was an unmatched genius who had reached the class of Heavenly Prophet while still in his teens—a bonafide Divine Apostle.
As for Ifigenia Laska, she was the Pontiff of Dawn, known as the unbeaten Beast of Fervour—a Golden Blood recognized as the strongest human magus in the entirety of Hierapetra.
Ifigenia sat down at the edge of the spire, cradling her muscular legs. She gazed wistfully upon Priene. "Don't remind me of those beautiful days. I wept more than enough at dear Elatreus' final rites."
"You don't even have the decency to deny those rumors." Cephissos shook his head, exasperated.
"What is there to deny? It is a known fact that no other man had the girth or the endurance to satisfy—"
"No details!" He cut her off. "Keep those stories to traumatize some other poor soul. For now, I need you to uphold your responsibilities as Pontiff. We have to answer last night's catastrophe."
"You have my leave to answer as you wish. Your mind is keenest among us, and I understand little of those petty games you call politics," she groaned, seemingly tired at even their mention. "Hierapetra is a Kingdom, yet the irksome task of ruling it is thrown upon us, Pontiffs. Why can't we appoint a King and be done with this bother? We could enjoy life, and its duties, as the gods intended—faith for the soul, art for the mind, and battle for the body."
"A simpleton's yearning," Cephissos scoffed, sitting beside his elder. "The moment we attempt it, the nation will break into civil war. That's if Her Divine Majesty doesn't smite us beforehand. You're already aware of her dislike of anything related to the Heroic Epoch, and the crowning of a King in Hierapetra will all but mirror it."
He marked a pause, admiring the view of the sun's retreat and its aureate hue reflected on the city below. "The Five Graces wish for a complete purge of the Divine Capital. They want us to uproot the Profaners before the Sacrificial Ceremony by any means necessary. That's not an order a newly appointed Pontiff can easily give... I need your official support for this, Ifigenia."
"Those vile women be damned," Ifigenia hissed. "I can't wait to reach my deathbed, so I can freely cuss them in their faces. Maybe even spit on that gilded whore, Anthea."
He chuckled, making the long strands of his blond hair flutter in the wind. "A fine aspiration indeed, but why wait to be on your deathbed?"
"Even the Beast of Fervour knows not to glisten too close to a real star, lest a brighter radiance stifles it."
"True words of wisdom uttered by Ifigenia Laska?" Cephissos' tone oozed surprise. "The gods truly work in mysterious ways."
"Enough teasing, brat. How fares the research on the Pale Malady? Are your magi close to finding a counterspell?"
Cephissos' expression turned somber as he held his head, slumping forward. "Nothing. Even slowing its advance is a hurdle we have yet to pass. In truth, I expected this outcome when your blood failed to cure it. It's no regular plague."
"Do we have the name of the Mystery behind it? Perhaps it's a ploy from the Unhallowed Emissaries to weaken us," Ifigenia theorized.
"We received information that it's the Henosis Seekers. Although its source is unreliable, it fits with tales we have received of their activities in the Central Continent." Cephissos let out a deeper sigh. "I'm sending word to Lichtenhimmel. It will cost us a lot, but if a cure for the Pale Malady exists, they surely possess it."
Ifigenia furrowed her eyebrows, her wrinkles converging to the center of her chiseled face. "Are those platinum-haired bastards truly going to help us?"
"They're going to take advantage of our situation, at the very least. I expect they'll demand the unrestricted use of our colonies in the Central Continent's Profane Lands as trade routes since Sethia completely cut them off from the Flickering Sea. Furthermore, they're sure to publicize the help they're sending us."
"How is that last part bad for us? Apart from the shame of needing help from the Lichteni bastards, of course."
"They're struggling to contain the Sethian Empire's invasion. Announcing their support during our crisis will display a false image of solidarity between us. This can lead to two things; either Sethia slows its advance in the Central Continent to consider Hierapetra's possible intervention, or they see us as an immediate threat and declare war on us. Anyway, it's beneficial for Lichtenhimmel."
"But at this stage, we have no other choice," Cephissos added, "If the Pale Malady continues its spread, we might experience an unprecedented disaster. Its mortality rate for magi is abnormally high, and with no cure in sight, it could wipe out a good chunk of the Temple of Stars in a matter of months, if not weeks."
"Its arrival coincides with the Sacrificial Ceremony, too. People could perceive it as a sign of disfavor from the Gods Beyond, and with the increasingly aggressive Profaners at our doorsteps, a drop in morale is the last thing we want."
Ifigenia stroked her hair in a nervous twitch, accidentally sending her wreath flying. "Thank the gods you're the one replacing Elatreus. Who knew that ruling in times of peace was such a hassle? War was far more straightforward. The winner reaps everything, while the loser crumbles."
"Don't sell yourself short, yet," Cephissos's rainbow-colored eyes turned a shade darker as his gaze unfocused. "I have a feeling... a nagging presentiment that your talents will be of use in the near future."
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