Worship of False Idols

John could pierce through illusions thanks to his paragon ability; he even peered through Juniluny's illusion, and could read every sordid detail of bounties on Lord Brighton. So how did a Cabal spy appear so... normal? John's brow furrowed. I've got less than an hour to figure this out...

“There is your alleged spy, mage,” Krieg taunted as he, too, caught sight of Iowa. “Shall I interrupt his moment of rest to prove his good name?”

“Yes... but not here,” John urged, “not while the other spy might notice or hear.” Krieg shook his head in disbelief before breaking off to approach his man. Once he was out of earshot, John leaned in towards the girls. “He doesn’t have anything on his information that suggests he’s a spy... does he... I don't know, seem evil to either of you?"

“His... information?” Galley asked with a raised eyebrow.

Moira shook her head. “It is... bizarre, but John can see people’s names, relative strength, and other details... albeit filtered through a kind of video game interpretation. Evidently, I'm a paladin.”

“Ah... yeah, that actually makes perfect sense,” Galley agreed... until a worry flashed across her face. “But what if someone is using a false name...?”

“It tells me that,” John admitted, “such as your name being-”

Galley cleared her throat loud enough to turn heads. “I-I get it. Anyways, I'm not smelling anything like that in here, John."

Moira's grim demeanor returned. "I don't see anything but the Lady's grace from that knight."

Said knight now approached, sweat glistening on his chiseled features as he sized up the teenager in their midsts. On arriving to their half-circle, he offered his bow to his future leader. “You honor us, Warden,” he declared in a boisterous Southern voice before turning to John. “As for you... well, a bit scrawny for the Order now, ain’t you?” he laughed.

“We must speak in private, Sir Iowa,” the Warden interrupted, “... upstairs, if you would.”

Chastised, Iowa followed their lot back up to his room.

The female knight they had interrupted earlier now passed them (sparing a glare at the Gamer as they walked) in the stairwell, saying nothing as she watched Iowa being escorted back up. A minute later, they were alone with the alleged Cabal sympathizer in his bedroom.

Juniluny, you’ve been quiet this whole time... how is this man the spy?!

<W-Well, I told you my Master put him in; I don’t know how, but it’s his names on the reports! They’re based on his day-to-day activities, too; there’s no way he isn’t the spy... unless... hmm...>

Krieg closed the bedroom door. “Alright, mage, shall I tell him, or do you have the spine to accuse the man himself?”

Unless what? Out with it!

“What is this, Cap'n?” Iowa asked. The sweaty beast of a man narrowed his eyes at John as the latter remained silent.

<... well, either he’s tricking your little “eye” trick... and if the Cloak of Merlin didn’t, then I doubt this dumb Dudley did... or I’m getting lied to, but that doesn’t make any bloody-damn sense...>

Juniluny was on a tangent, and John didn’t have the time to listen to it. “I’m going to ask you questions... uh, Sir Iowa, and I want you to answer them while Moira and Galley gauge your answers-”

Iowa raised an eyebrow. “Well isn’t he just familiar with our Warden, aye? This ain’t no knight-candidate, now is he?”

“Surely that was obvious,” Krieg grumbled.

“Hah, yeah, I’m just teasin’... but I’m also getting impatient, kid, so say your piece so I can go back to relaxin’... uh, with yer leave, Warden, ‘course.”

Moira watched her young knight with growing suspicion, but nothing of his aura suggested evil; the Lady’s light outlined him as it did all the true knights of the Order. Galley also smelled nothing of the man beyond that dull, "holy" odor that followed the Order's men everywhere... but her nose twitched all the same. She had to disregard the presence of magic in the Brighton Estate; it permeated the whole mansion with the varied stinks of different contract mages that had no doubt come to enchant the domain in one way or another. But here, in the basement levels, it was nearly barren, as devoid of magery as the reputation of knights would support... save here, with the faintest whiffs coming from somewhere in Sir Iowa's shared quarters. Slowly, imperceptibly, Galley worked to place the queer odor.

John met Sir Iowa's eye as he asked, “Do you issue reports of your activities for the Order, or things you witness in the Order, to someone outside?” The question was vague enough to avoid technicality-

“What? No,” the suspect scoffed, “I would never- the Hell is this, Krieg?”

“An interview Lord Brighton himself has ordered,” Krieg sternly replied, "now answer as a proper Knight of the Rose."

Iowa’s eyes grew to saucers before he sat more upright. "Before the Lady's grace, by the waters of the Order, and by the Sword, the Spear, and the Shield by which all may find salvation, and by which all are spared damnation: I have not, do not, and will not ever betray the secrets of the Order so entrusted to me."

“Well? Do any of you suspect a lie, here?”

John certainly couldn't tell... and the silence from the girls was an answer of the same. Newman cleared his throat before asking, “This is the only John Iowa here, right?”

“Yes,” both knights replied.

“Sorry, sir,” Iowa apologized.

“Yes,” Krieg repeated, “and the only Sir Iowa to serve, as far as I know.”

"Well, what does he do here?"

Krieg sniffed the air loudly. "He carries arms in the Lady's name... a duty heavy enough for any man worth his word."

"I'm... going to be need you to be a bit more specific-"

"Lord Brighton did not order as such, so you shall not have as such," Krieg quickly spat.

Juniluny’s rant continued in John’s mind as he worked to buy time. <The spies tell us their identities so we know not to kill them if we find them, so how the Hell does giving a loyal knight’s name help the real spy?! Sodding old bastard, with his soggy old brain- brain... Always a wretched-sounding little spy, whispering through the ether... so how is it this muscle-brain? Gods be damned, what if he’s got a ulubaletex? A brain parasite, reporting through the ether to deliver those reports? >

That's... that sounds horrible, and I'd like to think that'd be a status or quality that I'd detect- wait, John interrupted as Krieg lectured John, the reports you get: are they not in this guy’s voice? In his experience, at least, everyone bore their accents out in their private thoughts. His accent is pretty weird for Springfield.

<It’s... well, yes, it does come out in that voice, but... neutral, quiet, not rambunctious and idiotic like this one.>

Neutral? Quiet?

<You know, I never questioned it... you humans all the sound the same to me, but... I guess he sounded sodding miserable every time. Guilty even, if you'd believe that, hah!>

“You still have more than half an hour, unfortunately,” Krieg muttered, “but if you’re ready to quit this foolishness early, I’ve no doubt we would all appreciate it.”

Galley risked a loud, audible intake of air... and let her eyes fall on the storage box at the foot of Iowa's bed. “Hey,” Galley interrupted, surprising the lot of them, “what magical items do you keep in here?”

“Magical items?" Krieg repeated in disbelief. "None here, Hound, of course; only under direct orders would a knight sully his hands-”

Without invitation, Galley followed her nose to where the scent was growing: the chest at the foot of Iowa’s bed. “Then whatever I would find would be suspicious, yeah?” Galley sniffed again. The container was not as pungent with the steady presence of magic as she had thought... but closer to the other beds as she now was, she realized why: the same exact odor rose from every chest. Wait... not quite the same...

“Cap’n,” Iowa protested as the robed girl fiddled with his storage unit, “yer not gonna let this go on, are ya? I got nothing to hide, but a man deserves some privacy-”

Krieg said nothing, and the Hound opened the chest. John leaned in to peer at the belongings therein: the chest was divided into two coveys, one of which clearly belonged to a woman unless Iowa preferred his tampons extra thin. The other was plain enough in content: a Bible flanked by books with the Golden Rose emblazoned on their spines, a number of hair products and skin care lotions... and a small, faux-gold statuette of the Lady of the Lake, matching her depiction in the shrines below: her waterlogged robes tight against her body and a golden shield in her left grip.

The Lady Prayer Figurine (modified): minor enchanted item. Reinforces the Lady’s blessing in one who already possesses it, strengthening the bearer’s resolve. Upon receiving a prayer, it slowly suppresses the blessing of the praying one until it receives confessions spoken or thought, after which it restores the blessing in full. Those confessions are transmitted to an attuned recording device every Sunday morning.

It clicked into place for both witnesses behind John’s eyes.

… You’ve got to be kidding me.

<That sly old bastard...! No wonder the talling spy always sounded so torn up or loathsome to the loathsome goings-ons in here: this enchantment interrupts their mind control, but only just long enough to get the good stuff out!>

Galley scooped the magical item up... and narrowed her eyes as she confirmed it to be the source. “This is enchanted.”

“That is blessed,” Krieg corrected with almost a hiss.

“Yeah...” Galley reached into the Lady’s side, moving tampons until she unburied an equivalent figurine. She weighed the two in her hands as if that might help her gauge their differences. “... but I get the feeling it’s a little more blessed than this one. How many soldiers have these things?”

Iowa remained silent, but his hate for Galley as she handled his Lady was nakedly worn.

“Every single one,” Krieg admitted, “but what are you talking about?”

Moira silently eyed the statue. She detected no evil from it and was left wondering at the mage's train of thought.

Silently, John confirmed Galley's suspicions on the second statue.

The Lady Prayer Figurine: minor enchanted item. Reinforces the Lady’s blessing in one who already possesses it, strengthening the bearer’s resolve.

The other one doesn’t have that whole other half of the effect... so it really is the statue.

<A spy hiding in plain sight, praying to just another magical tool of control, and he probably doesn’t even know he’s helping the Cabal when he does so! Damn that clever fiend, that old fool and his odd sharp trick!>

John cleared his throat before trying to sound commanding, "Those two... they're different, and it seems we've caught our first spy."

Galley raised an eyebrow. "We have?"

Krieg peered suspiciously between the conspiring mages. “Won't you enlighten us, then, with what you've uncovered? Surely Sir Iowa would be curious to know."

John met Sir Iowa's gaze and nearly opened his mouth to ask... but a glance at Krieg made him reconsider. Wait... that means I can't trust my Eye of the King to reveal anything about the spies... which means I can't really trust any of them until we've gotten a good look at every single figurine these knights have. If the Cabal found out the jig was up... I mean, what if it isn't just two of them?

<Now you're thinking like a proper mage,> the Cabalist whispered coyly.

Like a proper schemer, sure. “I just need a bit more time, and access to every chest on this floor," John carefully replied, "and then we can make our presentation to Lord Brighton.”

"Presentation of what, ma- Lady preserve us!" Krieg finally exclaimed in a huff. "Warden, please, order these wretched hedge wizards to reveal their alleged findings!"

John shook his head at Moira, doing his best to urge her with his eyes. She felt his intent... and, steeling her voice, replied, "He works by the will of my father and your Lord, Sir Krieg. Pray, show him the patience of the Lady... and let this investigation conclude."

Krieg and Iowa both looked upon their Warden with saucer eyes... but she did not budge, and her radiant presence shamed them both. Defeated, Krieg sighed his words.

“As the Lady wills it."

---

Just under 30 minutes later...

The return to Brighton's Court was without ceremony, but John nearly recoiled at the audience they had gained.

Where the long walls of the chamber had had only the fire elementals lining them, now twelve men and women, ranging in age from a teenage girl that couldn't have been out of high school to a old, bearded man, stood in white robes and silence. Each of them bore one of two classes in their data: "Hospitaler," notably bearing a gold weave in their sleeves, and "Confessors," marked instead by a silver loop just outside their collars and, perhaps more importantly, by numbering only three in total. Their descriptions nearly mirrored those of the knights: men and women that almost universally hail from a family of the same profession, each bearing the Lady's Blessing, and each with a sore, almost angry gaze cast upon John the moment he walked through the massive double doors of Brighton's Court.

John noted one more enchantment they all shared, one that now possessed Cornelius and Brighton himself. John guessed that it arrived with its "host," the stand-out addition to this meeting:

Lorelei Varnik
<Order of the Golden Rose>
Level 12 Seer of the Lady
HP: 145/145
MP: 60/230
Stats: Str 12 Agi 13 End 10 Int 39 Wis 38 Cha 22 Lib 10
Status Effects: Despair (2 black hearts), Mindlink (host; 29 members)
Qualities: The Lady's Sight
R/S: -85
The Seer of the Brighton Court, a learned scholar of the Abyss, and a 25-year-old virgin. From cloistered orphan, to cloistered child-nun, to cloistered apprentice mage raised within the Order, Lorelei did not grow up devout; she has lived devout. Lorelei willingly surrendered her natural eyesight to the Lady and in exchange was blessed with Her Sight, the gift to sense the sea of souls and the tapestry of reality, the pull of fate, and the contents of the heart... all as they are recognized by the Lady. She is otherwise a modest mage with no particular specialization.

John had never before seen this woman who stood enshrouded in a flowing blue robe; that she looked at their procession through an azure blindfold of silk backed up the crazy description in her data. But this was no time to look into her tale; more alarming, now, was the "Mindlink" status everyone seemed to have.

Mindlink: a shared network of instant, mental, and magical communication that requires active focus on the part of the bearers, who may choose their audiences within a multi-party link. The inclusion of thoughts of others also make thought-scrying more difficult to those outside of the link and far easier for those within. (Host): this is the host of the mindlink, who must remain alive and conscious to maintain it.

Where the Hell did these people come from, anyways? John remained uneasy; Lord Brighton could be advised or cajoled against John's word without John knowing it. A glance at Moira, Krieg, and Galley confirmed that none of them had been included in the link; even the knights by the door had been excluded.

Lord Brighton nodded as the doors closed. "Welcome back, Mr. Newman... your timing is impeccable. You stand now before a host of the ordained: men and women who have sworn to serve the Order in good faith, as you hope to do. Do not hesitate to speak before them; they may be your colleagues, if your dedication proves true." John sensed nothing but a threat, there; Moira, on the other hand, let hope bud in her heart. "But by my reckoning, you had ten more minutes. Are you certain you wish to conclude your investigation here and now?"

The crowd remained silent... and John realized that, whatever the purpose of the meeting, it was probably being discussed via the mindlink. He wants an audience? Fine. But he's going to regret it... "Just about ready... Lord Brighton." Without further fanfare, John and Galley walked to the table and, setting aside the chairs in their way, began to put down the three tiny statues of the Lady they had cradled here.

Lord Brighton remained where he stood by the throne, never standing close enough to sit, and perhaps, John realized, never sitting upon the icon in the first place. The aged and powerful lord eyed the statues with his own statuesque expression of calm. Cornelius, on the other hand, let his brow furrow and stroked his beard with a full grip of his right hand as he grumbled. Lorelei, after a brief moment of confusion, suddenly fell to ease and remained stoic as the two mages arranged the statues. The throng of Confessors and Hospitalers, less confused by the display than John expected, merely watched in silence.

Behind the statues, then, aligned the three knights that owned them, as Moira and John had instructed them: Daniel Krieg, the same that had Lord Brighton's trust above most, John Iowa, the man accused by name, and Josef Cassaro, the third and only identified by John after the search was complete. Josef, a blond, Spanish man in his thirties, appeared as upset over the accusations they faced as his fellows did, though neither John nor Galley had admitted their exact findings. Each remained unquestionably loyal to the Order, and each had a description and data reflecting that whenever John's Eye scanned them; but John needed all three to properly reveal the "spies" of the Cabal.

Galley eyed the statues silently; she knew two of the three to be what John was looking for... but the differences were too innocuous, perhaps pure, to outright claim some evil intent or purpose. In other words, you're on your own, kid... and it seems like you mean well, even if you're kind of a dolt about it, so... geez, why am I cheering for him? My next orders might be to bring him in...

"I found the spies, as promised," John declared, his voice filling the hall and earning the shifting noises of the knights present, "but in doing so, I figured out why no one else did." Cornelius opened his mouth with a sputtering breath, but some unseen command choked his words into silence. John continued, "These statues... are designed to help maintain the enchantments on your knights, right?"

"Enchantments?!" Cornelius sputtered, finally too taken aback to be silent.

"I know not of what you speak," Lord Brighton replied, "but perhaps it is a matter of perspective. Could you mean... the divine blessing of the Lady, imperceptible yet tangible to all who loyally serve?"

The knights remained silent; the divine presence of their goddess was a matter of faith, and so to each that blessing was as their Lord described. To hear a mage call it an "enchantment," as if it were some mere willworker's trick, was a heresy worthy of ****... at least, anywhere outside of the Lord's hall.

"Eh... maybe. It just... registers as magic, at least to me." John looked to Galley as if for help.

Galley's eyes went wide as she realized what he asked with his pleading look and very gracelessly looked away. C'mon kid, don't drag me into this! The Order gets really prickly when I start sniffing where they don't want me. I've always just chalked it up to some other kind of magic, maybe some kind of evidence of the divine... but I stopped questioning it years ago. Some months of near-****-threats from the unit of knights in her hometown did well enough to show her how appreciated her talents were when pointed inward.

"Should you become ordained, Mr. Newman," Lord Brighton slowly replied, "you will learn that we of the Order do not tolerate having our Lady's blessings besmirched as mere sorcery. Consider this your fair warning."

Noted. "Understood... well, these, uh, 'blessings,' and these statues, are how all three of these men have been serving you loyally." The room grew visibly confused as John allowed the dramatic pause. "... But it's also how two of them have served as spies for the Cabal: two of these statues, when their owners confess into them, transmit everything confessed to the Cabal mages, revealing how things operate here and in the Order."

The stoic audience immediately fell into whispers or gasps, but yet another unseen order silenced them as one. Lord Brighton remained unmoved... and now, perhaps by some silent release, Cornelius finally spoke out. "You would have us believe that Cabal sorcery was put upon these visages of the Lady... twice... and we've been none the wiser?!"

"Well, I don't know if it's Cabal sorcery..."

"It surely isn't." All turned to the Warden who had suddenly spoken out. "I faced the Cabal today... and I know now, all too well, how vile and corrupt their influence and power is. These statues have no such influence... but..." Lord Brighton narrowed his eyes at his daughter. Her gaze fell to the statues as she avoided him. "... t-that is..."

John spotted the power dynamic easily enough... but despite his many powers, fixing this was far and beyond him. All he could do was try and interrupt. "It was probably done by the same kind of power that made the statues."

"Heresy!" Cornelius spat. The throng began to join in a choir of shocked and angry voices-

"Silence," Lord Brighton whispered. Somewhere outside, birds stopped chirping. But far within the heart of the Brighton Manor, the quiet was far more palpable as the angry shouts died. "Newman, hear me: these statues were crafted by the Order's forges, and none ever leave this place. What you are suggesting... is a conspiracy that stretches beyond these walls and goes to the heart of the Order. What you are suggesting... requires proof, beyond your word."

John nodded. Here goes nothing. "John Iowa... witnessed what happened to the criminal mage that I captured for the Order: Rurik Talon, an Artificer." No one dared murmur in response, but curious, alarmed glances were shared by some of the white-robed figures. "He described it in detail when he confessed into this statue... and by its magic, that message was received by the criminal mage I've captured and interrogated. There is a second spy, yes, but one who reported to another Cabal mage, one of greater rank that I may yet manage to catch... but even without finding the man, I found the same ench... eh, 'difference' on that second statue." The room full of eyes fell upon the three statues before them. Cornelius' enchanted glasses flashed blue as he considered them. John Iowa remained silent, even as his face grew red with rage; Josef kept a reserved, deadly grimace as he awaited the mage's accusation. Krieg watched the room, struck by disbelief that any would even consider the Gamer's word-

"The second statue," John explained, "was found in Daniel Krieg's chest."

Lord Brighton's order could no longer be obeyed; the Knight-Captain almost bit his tongue to stay silent, and managed better than the sputtered mutterings of anger and insult. Moira, too, was struck dumb by the development; only Galley, aware from the start, expected as much. She let John take Krieg's statue along with that of his neighbor, Josef, in his effort to mislead the senior knight; despite the fumbling lie, the veteran had been too self-assured to think he could ever stand accused of any involvement in this bizarre conspiracy. His face now joined Iowa in changing to deep, crimson shades.

"I brought Josef both to illustrate that all three men appear, at least to me, to be loyal to the Order... and to show the difference between their statues of the Lady-"

"Is this true?" Lord Brighton stepped towards the table, his eyes on his two trusted knights. "Does it rely... upon confessions from them?"

John blinked at the Lord before glancing at the statue; "confession" was, in fact, the word the enchantment used. "Well... yes, actually. But like I said, they had no idea-"

"Did you two confess to the Lady?" John looked between the knights and their master... and looked again as the knights paled. "What sins did you have to confess?"

"None, my Lord!" Krieg spat.

"Absolutely none, mah Lord!" Iowa followed. "I haven't sinned since I was a kid! The mage lies!"

John raised an eyebrow at that, but Krieg quickly followed. "I bore arms for the Lady without hesitation, without doubt, without sin, since even before the day her blessing was laid upon me, my Lord!"

Galley's nose wrinkled as the men spoke.

John continued to struggle to follow. What... the Hell are they talking about? Are they expected to never confess sins... no, to just never sin, at all? What are they-

Lord Brighton gauged his men... and spoke without looking to those he addressed. "Warden." Moira had already tensed into a perfect pose but nearly leapt to her toes to stand straighter. "Who is lying?"

"I... I cannot be sure, my Lord," Moira nervously answered.

"Lorelei."

The blindfolded sage shook her head. "The knights speak the truth... but then, so does the boy."

Galley raised an eyebrow at the Seer... and the blatant lie she told.

Lord Brighton then turned to Gallows with such anger that the robed woman nearly flinched. "You, Hound of Titus: you can detect lies, yes?" Galley's blood turned cold as she nodded cautiously. "What does that cursed nose of yours say?"

Shit. "Well, it doesn't make much sense, but... John... ah, Newman that is... is definitely speaking the truth. The knights are as well... but they're also lying."

An increasing choir of angry murmuring; the mage from without had, of course, sided with the only other present. Lord Brighton was not so easily dissuaded, however. "You speak in riddles: do they speak truth, or do they speak lies?"

"They..." Galley sniffed the air again, trying to capture the odd oxymoron she had detected earlier. "They think they're speaking the truth, sure... but they're more wrong than lying, but it's like... some part of them knows they're wrong."

John looked to the knights. They're... wait. John eyed their "blessings" and the modified statues again. Fortifies their minds... and the statue suppresses the same. It also collects their confessions. I thought it was just a way to get them to talk to a stupid gold-plated statue, but... no, maybe it runs deeper than that. If these knights "never" confess sins, because they think they never commit them, then removing the blessing must change their minds enough to... wait, c'mon. Wouldn't that just mean they're basically under some kind of mind control...?

<I've been telling you as much, talling!>

Consider the source, John dryly replied. But had Juniluny's insults been actual hypotheses? John doubted it before... but now...

"I will not take the riddles of mages against the words of my knights," Lord Brighton declared, "and this... procession disturbs me. But, Mr. Newman, our deal was the production of spies, or the production of the heretic mage who shall have her trial... and even if this odd game ended in your favor, you'd have produced not spies, but alleged devices by the Cabal. Should our sages find this to be true, I will show gratitude... but our deal will remain unfulfilled all the same."

"B-But if they're the ones reporting-"

"Produce the mage, Newman, and I believe that we who labor for the truth shall see her lies for what they are."

<Ho-ho-hoooo fuck right off! They'll kill me dead before I've even a chance! What am I supposed to say, anyways?! These tall toddlers are totally->

"W-Well, she's..." John let a pregnant pause pass as he eyed the knights. They... don't know that they confessed, either because of mind control or mind-wiping or whatever, and the statue weakening the blessing is the key, somehow. But if that's the case, then doing it here might get them to spill the beans! John just hoped he could convince Lord Brighton of the same. "That is, she can't make these knights to do what they need to do: to pray into the statues. The enchantment activates when they do: it weakens their connection to the Lady, changes their minds somehow by doing so, and that leads them to confess to the Cabal." Lord Brighton's calm demeanor began to crumble in twitches. "If we just make them do it now, you'll see-"

"You would have them pray to the Lady under the duress of your accusation." Lord Brighton's question wasn't one; anger dripped from it like acid, and a growing disdain moved the small crowd. "You would have them do it because you suggest that a statue of Our Holy Lady was not only cursed by the Cabal, but was so cursed as to corrupt the minds of knights, or so powerful as to remove them from the Lady's light, without anyone taking note." Lord Brighton took slow, measured steps towards his end of the table, his eyes fixated on John. "I have perhaps... been too lenient in hearing you, Mr. Newman, so now you shall hear me: I will not order my men to blaspheme the Lady's prayer to satisfy such an absurd hypothesis, certainly not when I might press the villain responsible for this mad hunt. Bring the heretic before me... and I shall judge if she is truly unable to be of use in putting an end to these charades."