Once upon a deception

Infiltrating the church 2

Malachi threaded the blanketed mass of trees that seemed to block even the faintest reflection of the moonlight. All the Grand Duke had with him was his dogged determination, a crimson-covered cloth, and a rusty dagger. His legs lurched faster the crooked path that led to the stream for he could not carry a carriage.

Despite the creaks his bones made from exhaustion, Malachi did not give up. Not until he could hear the rushing of the stream and see the flickering orange flame that indicated life indeed was there. A smile crept up his lips as he approached the flickering flame.

"My King, Is that you?" The figure holding the lit torch questioned.

"I am sorry to disappoint you Grandmaster but it is only humble me." The Grand Duke replied, stepping into the light.

Gareth let out a muffled gasp causing the torch in his hands to fall into the river. The hot light sizzled as it came in contact with the cold water and died, relinquishing the power of light back to the moon. The change in scenarios further strengthened Malachi.

"What are you doing here Malachi?" The grandmaster demanded, reaching into the side of a tunic-like he attempted to draw a weapon.

Malachi could kill him here if he wanted and get away with it. After all, the bastard had betrayed the church for one insignificant chess piece. But Malachi needed this priest alive for the time being. Nothing could stand in the way of him and that throne. Not when he was so close.

"I should be asking the same thing," Malachi retorted, using the stained dagger in his hands to wave off an annoying itch that popped up at such a dire time. "I was going on my nightly walks when I noticed you right in the middle of nowhere then I told myself, surely the grandmaster knows better than to be alone at this time outside the safety of What but it seems you were waiting for someone. The king I assume?"

Gareth seemed to find the knife hidden within his tunic. He withdrew it and flashed it dangerously in Malachi's face. "You followed me, Didn't you? You might have managed to buy the loyalty of my servant to spy on me but it doesn't matter anymore Malachi. I have the advantage."

"And what might that be, Priest?"

"The king is closing in as we speak. If you kill me, there will not be enough time to cover your tracks. Even if you don't care about covering your tracks, the king will ask questions. He will learn the church has turned against him then you will lose Malachi so I suggest you know your place and run as fast as you can. The king might be a figurehead fulfilling the whims of the church but he still has undiluted power. You are not invincible!"

He was a smart one, Malachi would give him that. He had always been a sly rat who could wriggle himself out of any situation. Malachi hated him for it but he had left out one equation. His daughter. Malachi was guessing it was his fading memories considering his advanced years or perhaps it was hope. Either way, nothing was going to save Gareth if he refused to be moved like the pawn that he was.

"You would betray the church? The brotherhood that you caused me to join after all the sacrifices that I have made? Tell me this Grandmaster, when did you become such a pushover? The grandmaster I remembered bowed to no one. Especially not a puppet King he helped make." Waiting for no reply, Malachi continued. "But you are right, I am not invincible. However, that doesn't guarantee that you have won Gareth. Have you ever wondered why the church never allowed the grandmasters before you to have children?"

The old man's eyes widened in horror when he realized what Duke Barre was alluding at.

"You wouldn't dare!" Gareth snarled.

It hit him like a hammer. Malachi had him exactly where he wanted him. It was the perfect time to reveal his ace. The Duke slowly withdrew a bloody crumpled up handkerchief from the depth of his pockets and unfolded it to reveal the content within. A bloody finger peeked out and Malachi almost gave a mad laugh when the grandmaster's face turned white. The blade in the man's hands dropped to the muddy earth and tears began to slowly form in his eyes.

"My daughter..." He muttered.

Ignoring his broken state, Malachi proceeded to give a befitting reply to the question he had asked Gareth. "The grandmasters were never allowed to have children because their position in the church was a very rigid one. They needed to be cold-hearted and without weakness. A pact you have broken Gareth and it is going to cost you everything if you defy me."

"Is she dead?"

Malachi bent over and picked up the fallen dagger. He looked up to Gareth who was broken without repair and spoke; "No. Not yet. Whether your daughter remains alive is entirely up to you. You can help me with my cause with this your so-called meeting and your daughter remains safe and her existence remains a secret. You could also choose to rat me out to the King exposing yourself to the church as an oath breaker and a Judas. Of course, I would be caught in the crossfire but the church will make sure your house is wiped out from the face of the earth." Malachi then paused, listening to the unmissable sound of hooves beating the earth in a mad frenzy, the king was close. He needed to make it quick. “Beat around the bush, tell him the church might be plotting his assassination and they are keeping you in the dark about it, and Gareth, you do not want to betray me.”

With that, Gareth stepped into the darkness, disappearing just as he had come.

***

Clarisse noticed Lord Vincent remained quiet for most of the journey. He refused to talk about his outburst from earlier and shunned every of her attempt to make small talk. Clarisse had begrudgingly let it slide but once they arrived in the bustling street of Wohar, Clarisse felt the need for a conversation dire. The road was now tarred. The mucky air she remembered was replaced with a cold crisp air that felt pretty much like air from the forest. There were more shops and staring into the distance, Clarisse noticed the platform her mother had died on was gone. Like the barbaric thing was never history of the cold city.

“Are you alright?” Lord Vincent asked, putting a comforting hand on Clarisse. Clarisse had not noticed but tears had begun to make their way to the corner of her eyes. The moment it occurred to her that she had let her emotions get the better of her, she wiped them off.

“Nothing,” She sniffled. “Something must have gotten into my eye.” Clarisse lied, tightening the rein of her horse. The lord did not buy it. Clarisse knew he would continue to press her about it so she decided to shift back attention to him. “Now that you are willing to have a conversation with me, Lord Vincent, Tell me, what did you mean by me being your sacrifice? You make it sound like it was not my choice to do this.”

Lord Vincent paused, giving a frustrated sigh as their path became desolate once more. The road lacked the stench of people and their vile nature. It was almost serenity. Lord Vincent shot his gaze to a house that seemed to be the only structure standing in this part of the country. It was old. The black roofs and almost archaic design made it clear it was a church. The church of Corbeau.

“For you, it was a choice. For Lina, it was the same thing. You both chose to give yourself as tributes to the order in hopes of achieving your goals. If you two were not in our camp, I would still have to take someone. If I did not, there would be consequences.”

He meant it. There were many things Lord Vincent wanted to keep hidden about the people he worked for. Cruel and selfish as it may sound, the lord wished Clarisse had never put herself in this shoes. He had been there and he had to make peace with the path he had chosen. He was not so certain Clarisse would be able to handle the truth. The guilt of keeping the truth of it all wretched through his heart. Clarisse believed the church was a guild bent on ending the tyranny of the King and his corrupt officials. When the truth was they were the masterminds behind it all. As they galloped closer to the church, Vincent knew he had to tell her something or forever hold his peace.

“Clarisse,” He began. “I know you have a lot of respect for the Order but you have to put this at the back of your mind, No one is to be trusted. Climb up the ranks, remember that you can be disposed of, think faster, and act like the naive spitfire they want you to be. Never for once question them and only play your cards when you know you-”

“Ahem.” A lady coughed, cutting Lord Vincent’s conversation short.

Clarisse threw a quick look at whoever interrupted them. A woman smiled back. She looked like she was in her early fifties. She had gray eyes, soft wrinkles around her eyes and lips. She was dressed in a plain black gown that covered the entirety of her hands and legs that not even her footwear peeked out. Her gray hair was pulled back into a perfect bun, completing her stereotypical elder look. The only striking thing about her was the bejeweled eye hanging around her neck.

“Hello, Vincent.”