Thrice Blessed, Thrice Cursed

"The Cabal attacked our school directly," Moira replied, her voice steady, "and kidnapped one of our contracted mages along with spreading hellfire spores in a heavily populated area. The barrier then moved, and I could not wait for support."

Cornelius opened his mouth as if to contradict the tale, but thought better of it when Lord Brighton softly inhaled to speak. "So you had to choose: to save this... probationary mage of the Order... or protect the **** and unknowing masses of the Academy."

"I could not let our enemy escape-"

"You could," Lord Brighton corrected, "where it is balanced against innocent life put needlessly in danger. Without anyone else of the Order both available and not on my instructions to protect your life," he added with a gesture towards the cloaked Galley Gallows, "there was no one to prevent an innocent from walking into that room and being exposed to the corruption it bore."

"The exposure was minimal-"

"'A fenced-in flock alone justifies not the shepherd's hunt for wolves,'" Cornelius suddenly recited. Neither Brighton paid his platitude much mind.

"We were near enough to cover any dangerous exposure," Lord Brighton sighed, "so here, at least, I can see the wisdom in you tipping that balance... but I will caution you to consider it more carefully in the years to come."

"Yes, Father." Moira didn't relax, however; the hardest part had not yet been discussed, and by way of his eyes briefly wandering over their company, Lord Brighton gave his daughter leave to do so. "As you see, we defeated the Cabalist... and saved not only John... Newman, our contracted mage, but also the daughter and heiress of the Northern Wind, Kim Moon."

Saved. Kim's frown deepened as she considered the dire, mustached man across the table from them. Has she no idea of our history? Without my ancestors, without my strength, here... what am I to do? How can I escape? Damn them... damn everyone... Her thoughts blackened and withered. The medallion was long-forgotten; only a bitter self-loathing remained to chew at the Slayer's mind. Damn my foolishness...

"Defeated," Lord Brighton repeated, "but where are the villain's remains?"

"She was defeated... by being captured by Newman. She was an Abyssal creature and a mage in one, and now serves this summoner as a familiar-"

"P-H-W-What?!" sputtered the ancient sage. "SERVES?! You mean to tell me this boy PRESERVED a Cabalist?!"

Lord Brighton's expression remained unchanged... but his silence was felt.

"He has full control over her, can make her divulge whatever secrets she has, and-"

"Can this summoner not surrender her to us, then, as he is sworn to do?" The old sage puffed his chest as if to challenge John. His flowing robe, pinched to his body by a belt of what appeared to be a mixture of an herbalist's and jeweler's tools, made the gesture almost... majestic.

"Cornelius raises an important point: can you, Mister Newman?"

Moira closed her mouth. John stepped forward, doing his best to look confident while flanked on all sides by the threat of the Order. "It can be done, but I would ask the Order to exchange her to me, as a neutralized threat, as a continuing prisoner of the Order under my watch, and as a permanent prisoner never to be called to Earth again."

Lord Brighton remained unimpressed. "You speak of an exchange... an exchange of a corruption you do not seem to appreciate... or perhaps you do, because the Warden was too late to protect you." As if in response, Cornelius adjusted a minute dial on the right lens of his coke-bottle glasses; the lens flared blue for a moment.

"He is not corrupted-" Moira began.

"We shall see," Cornelius coughed.

The Order's Lord-Protector didn't bother to wait for the sage's input. "What would you exchange... Mr. Newman?"

"My services... and my future service, as an ordained member of the Order."

A quiet fell over the room. Neither Galley nor Moira dared meet Lord Brighton's gaze. The old man's expression darkened... and John felt a sudden need to defend himself.

"Pffaahahaha! Can you believe the gall of this child!" Cornelius scoffed, laughing gaily as he pointed at John. "Such parody, such hilarity-" He turned to see Lord Brighton joining him in mirth... and, on seeing his Lord's actual expression, very quickly smothered his laughs with conservative coughs and throat-clearing. "T-That is, of course, uh- mere ignorance will not earn forgiveness in so bold a request, Mr. Newman."

"I saved the Warden... twice, now," John began, and Moira blushed furiously as she struggled to not correct him for her pride's sake, "first in our combat against the Zenith Smugglers, but in particular back there from the Cabalist." Three times if you include the Complex, but uh... the less said about that, the better. "I've fought evil and remained good."

<Pfffft.>

Quiet.

"I've fought by Moira's side, I've seen her struggle... and I would see her become even greater."

"This had better not be a request for her hand," Lord Brighton almost whispered.

Moira nearly choked. Galley suppressed a smile.

"No, my Lord," John carefully replied, "this is a request to become ordained and to serve her and the Order further than I already do... and as my third act in proving my dedication, I will use the Cabalist's secrets to uncover how the Cabal has been keeping tabs on you, your family, and the Order."

Lord Brighton did not lighten his gaze, and Cornelius did not dare interrupt. "Explain yourself, Mr. Newman."

John looked to the four guards present, checking their names as he went; none had the name John Iowa, nor any status effect that indicated the Cabal's power-

Wait, what's that...?

Status Effects: Lady's Blessing

Lady's Blessing: a blessing that fortifies the nerves and spirit of a knight of the Order by shielding their mind, increasing their combat ability, protecting them from basic ailments, and fortifying their soul and heart against the corruption of the Lady's enemies and any hesitation in their duties. The Lady's Blessing is a long-term, mind-affecting enchantment bestowed upon being knighted by a Warden or Lord-Protector of the Order.

Each of the dutiful knights, dressed in cloth uniforms of blue and gold and armed with swords, had the same blessing; it seemed unlikely, then, that such was a Cabalist effect. I guess if you had to fight dragons and demons, you'd need some magic beyond swinging swords around like glorified Ren Fair extras...

<Brainwashed slaves of the Order... pitiful. I should've figured as much, but I could hardly parse the magic that binds their bodyguards.>

Juniluny's take on them almost wormed its way into John's opinion... until he remembered who he was talking to. What should I look for, then, to find what binds them to the Cabal?

<As I told you: they are spies who file reports, but they were spies planted by my Master. I've no more idea of how he managed it than you do.>

Just as Lord Brighton drew very near to becoming impatient, John replied, "What I say must not be allowed to travel beyond this room... as it may give warning to your enemies."

"The doors are closed, and these are among my most trusted knights. Speak with the Lady's leave."

"Do you have a knight... named John Iowa?"

Cornelius raised an eyebrow. Moira herself knew of no such knight-

"I know the name of every knight under my command," Lord Brighton replied, "and the date they were knighted, and their greatest virtues, and their strongest talents; that is the least a Lord or Warden must do for those who would die in his or her name." Moira almost wilted in shame. "I know John Iowa, of his piety, and of his fortitude, and of his station right here in my home. I have seen him walk my halls; I have seen him guard our valuables, and I watched the former Warden knight him myself... so choose your next words carefully, Mr. Newman."

Intimidated as John was, he had at least some truth to wield: somehow, the Cabal was spying on them. "The Cabalist identified him as being one of two spies in your home... and I would prove it to cleanse your home of the Cabal's eyes and ears."

Lord Brighton seemed nonplussed. "Who is the other spy?"

"She did not know; I must still seek them out."

"You have a single hour, the escort of the Warden, the escort of the Hound of Titus," Lord Brighton declared, "and the escort of Daniel Krieg." Krieg, one of the knights by the door, stepped forward without a word. "You will prove to all three that you have found this to be true... and should any be unmoved by your convictions, you will return here, manifest the Cabalist, and have her answer for her crimes. Then... and only then... will your transgressions be forgiven."

John's brow furrowed. "Transgressions?!"

"The coveting of corrupt power," Lord Brighton began, "the cloistering of an enemy of the Order, and an attempt to bribe a Lord-Protector of the Order to ignore both crimes; these stand as questions of your character, Mr. Newman, but only truly undermining the Cabal will prove that it was your inexperience, not greed or a lust for power, that drove you to commit them."

The Gamer was stunned by the old man's declaration; Moira, too, paled in how strictly her father had interpreted the situation. "Father, I would vouch that he did not mean to covet or cloister for any undue purpose-!"

"Then he has one of the three who must so vouch. What says the Hound," Lord Brighton almost whimsically asked, "given her talents?"

Galley shrugged. "He means well... and he doesn't smell like the Cabal. Maybe he's an idiot... but he's not corrupt." Moira slowly turned and stared blankly at the Hound. Cornelius' jaw dropped at her casual tone.

Lord Brighton, on the other hand, simply nodded. "As earnest as ever, Ms. Gallows." For a moment John expected the man to reverse course- "Then he need only convince my knight... and as the extension of my arm, it is he that shall judge your accusation of his fellow knights, Mr. Newman."

John looked back through the space between Kim and Galley and found the young knight's blue eyes upon him. A short crop of black hair, unblemished skin, and muscles that pressed taut against his clothes: it was all that the knight seemed to be, as his description gave little else to judge.

Daniel Krieg
Level 13 Knight
<Order of the Golden Rose>
HP: 310/310
MP: 90/90
Stats: Str 20 Agi 14 End 20 Int 12 Wis 14 Cha 14 Lib 10
Relationship: -49
Status Effects: Lady's Blessing
Qualities: None
A man-at-arms for the Order, raised by a knight to become a knight like his father. Daniel passed near the top of his class and has a physique that translates well into slaying the enemies of the Order. He has survived seventeen sorties in real combat and has served for the 22 years of his adulthood.

The man looked to be in his early twenties despite being forty... and though John was sure he had never met Krieg before, the man already had a clear distaste for John.

"As for the Slayer of the Northern Wind," Lord Brighton declared, "she shall be our guest until we've determined that she is not similarly affected."

"Then I am your hostage," Kim muttered.

Heads turned in surprise to Kim's first words in some time, but Lord Brighton merely shook his head. "I would not seek to upset the Northern Wind clan... but I would less risk releasing one so stained by corrupt magic into the world without further guidance." Kim's eyes widened, but Lord Brighton continued, "You are barely here, Slayer... you can barely be said to exist at all, and what tattered remains of you that are here, listening to my words... must be mended, if not healed. Your very being is a wound... and I will not wantonly expose it to the world and all of its infections."

What kind of metaphysical bullshit is this?!

<Heh... what a scary old talling,> Juniluny chuckled.

What did you do to her?! What the Hell is he talking about?!

<I drained her near to ****, Master... but that hardly means your patch-up job means she's fine, now does it? A soul absorbs what comes near, and a soul starved... well, only so much more so.>

"Your minutes escape you, Mr. Newman... please, take your company and perform this hunt for the Cabal's spies... and return here; however, you must return."

"I might need more than an hour-"

"You will not have it." A soft rumble escaped Lord Brighton's tightly-wound control. "You have entered my home, accused my loyal knights of treachery, and harbor an enemy of the Order by your own sorcery. Your soul is in debt, Mr. Newman... and yet you ask to be anointed. If it is truly naivety that guided an resourceful mind to such a state, then perhaps being ordained, and properly educated, is what you truly require... but if you’re naught but a greedy mage with lies upon your tongue, then you cannot be tolerated within the Order... nor will you be allowed to walk freely without so long as you harbor that heretic." The fire elementals grew smaller and smaller as they hid in their sconces. Moira looked ready to be moved to tears. Kim, as two of the remaining three knights flanked her, looked further defeated. Galley, her expression ever neutral, kept her eyes on John. "You will produce these alleged spies... or you will produce the mage who threatens my home and city."

"Alright then," John finally declared, an irritated fury dancing in his eyes.