The train hissed into the Durleigh Central Station under a curtain of morning mist. It had been traveling overnight from Green Hills in the Dunhavens. White steam billowed across the platform, veiling the crowd in shifting shapes. Dorrin led the way, his cloak trailing behind him like a banner. Joseph followed beside Rose, silent and watchful. The others moved in clusters. Mercedes and Bryce were flanking Joe. Garland shuffled along with a pack slung over one shoulder behind Mac with the elves, his eyes sharp. The Varrow sisters trailed behind them, far enough back to not be considered part of the group, but close enough to make a difference if trouble found them.

A pair of Church functionaries greeted them at the platform with little fanfare, leading them into a waiting carriage marked with the sigil of the Curia. No words were wasted. In the city, silence was a kind of shield.

The carriage took them through the inner tiers of Durleigh, where cobbled lanes gave way to rising white stone and copper rooftops. The Church complex loomed ahead: a walled compound of chapels, dormitories, and spires wrapped in pale ivy. As they crossed beneath the outer archway, bells tolled somewhere high above.

Inside the courtyard, the travelers finally paused.

Varrow came up to Joseph. “General, with your permission, we’ll return to our barracks. You’re as safe here as anywhere in the city. We need to report that you’ve arrived safely.”

Jospeh nodded. “Lieutenant, you and your people are a credit to the unit. My family and I appreciate your diligence. Please give Commander Dree my compliments and let him know I would appreciate an update once he’s returned and settled the unit.”

She smiled broadly at that, and saluted. “Thank you, sir. Please be careful. One Unit.”

He returned the salute crisply. “Lieutenant. One Family.”

Dorrin turned to face the remaining group.

“Bryce, show Garland where to get his new permit, and then hurry back.” He faced the reclamation specialist. “If you encounter any trouble with the clerks, send for Inez. She’ll straighten them out.”

He then turned to the rest of the group, “Until the indulgence is issued,” he said, “none of you are safe beyond these walls. We’ll arrange rooms in the dormitory wing. Stay close. Don’t draw attention.”

“Typical,” Marigold muttered, folding her arms. “If I’d known you were this desperate to get me on holy ground, Prelate, I might’ve worn something less damnable.”

Bryce snorted. Inez grinned. Dorrin looked unimpressed.

Rose gave Dorrin a sideways look. “Don’t look at us like that, Dorrin. We’ll be careful. But make it quick. The longer we sit still, the louder the whispers will get. We’re still in Granblue.”

“Don’t worry,” Inez said. “You’re on Church grounds. The King of Granblue himself can’t go further than the sanctuary on Sundays without permission from the Cardinal. The chances of that happening are…well, Hell would probably experience a cold front first.”

Joseph said nothing. His eyes were already scanning the gates, the towers, the guards.

They moved toward the dormitories in silence, the consequences of possible judgment pressing heavier than any wound.

---

Dorrin stood at attention inside the high, vaulted chamber known as the Dais of Inquiry. Sunlight slanted through the stained-glass windows, catching dust motes in golden threads. He and Inez had been summoned barely an hour after arrival and now stood across from three seated figures. Each a power in his own right.

Cardinal Strahn sat at the center, regal in crimson and bone-white robes, his face shadowed beneath a severe brow. To his left, Inquisitor Vire, lean and hawkish, fingers steepled. And to his right, Preceptor Arveston, commander of the Order, his own superior, his presence quiet but uncompromising.

Strahn’s voice was heavy with weariness. “I am grateful you were there, Prelate. You’ve done what no one else could. You led them into the fire and out again. But things have… changed.”

Dorrin didn’t flinch. “Eminence. Changed how?”

Inquisitor Vire leaned forward. “You told me months ago that truth has no faction. You were right. Your investigations have been instrumental in uncovering what appears to be a different group from the idiots who called themselves the Purity faction.

Strahn frowned. “Where the Purity faction takes issue with our application of existing doctrine regarding clades, this new faction wants to throw the baby out with the bathwater. They want to completely dismantle our primary dictates regarding the limitation of technology.

Arveston shook his head. “That is the entire reason paladins even exist. A core tenet of our faith, as you know. The Angels themselves limited what man is capable of handling. Exceeding that is the greatest of sins. You remember Revelation 33:10?”

“‘Woe to those who would defy the Light’” Inez quoted. “‘For He will send His Angels to protect us from those who would dare to defy His will.’”

“Very good, my child,” the cardinal said. “I cannot give you all the details I would like to. What we are skirting about is a church Mystery that only a very few know in full. But I can say this: if we cannot find these… Technologists, and put an end to them quickly, it is possible that the world as we know it will end.”

“Eminence, forgive me,” Dorrin said. “The world ending? That seems… overly dramatic.”

“I assure you, Prelate, if anything, I am understating just how serious this is. I have asked His Holiness for dispensation to initiate you into the Mystery of Walshing. I ask that you pray he grant this quickly so that you will have the knowledge I feel you need to track down this threat to the church and to the people we serve.”

“Eminence, give the command and we will serve,” Dorrin declared. “As the preceptor said, this is the reason we as paladins exist.”

Strahn’s frown grew deeper, and he exhaled loudly through his nose. “My son, one of the things I like about you is your devotion to God and the Church. The Book says, ‘Consider it a gift when you are tested.’ Unfortunately, Dorrin, God is about to test you and Paladin-Lieutenant Martinez. Severely.”

“Paladin-Lieutenant?” Inez’s face furrowed. “Beg pardon, your eminence, but I’m only a Paladin-Sergeant.”

“You were, Paladin-Lieutenant. We’ve let you remain a sergeant for too long. I should have overridden the Curia when the Atlantis incident occurred. God has need of your talents, Inez. We can’t ask Prelate Ybarra to direct all His swords in this battle. And perhaps, just perhaps, this will help keep you from breaking the head of every Greyback you meet.”

Inez visibly stood even stiffer at attention.

Dorrin watched Inez square her shoulders. Once, he’d thought she was all impulse and heat. Now he saw the command in her bones. God help the enemy that ever underestimated her.

“Thank you for recognizing her talent, eminence,” he said. “What did you mean about testing?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Vire grimaced. “Despite Dunhaven historically deferring to the church in all things, that blasted Seliek somehow managed to get word out to his superiors, over the telegraph before your arrival. The GSS has formally requested custody of Elias Ward, Rose Tharnen, and Marigold Rowan. The Reaper, the Bloody Rose, and the Golden Thorn.”

The silence that followed could have cracked stone.

Strahn exhaled. “The Court has backed the request in the strongest possible terms. And I have… reluctantly agreed.”

Dorrin’s jaw dropped. “You’re giving them up?”

“I’m giving the Church a chance, Prelate.” Strahn replied, voice flat. “We desperately need Granblue’s support. If we don’t consolidate our authority with every national government now, the factions tearing at our flank, both the Purity and these Technologists, will tear down everything we have worked to save over the last three thousand years. This isn’t just about three people. It’s about survival.”

Vire cut in. “We had to offer something. Prelate. Remember, we’re talking the Reaper. There is no bigger political issue in Granblue. He was popular with the people thirty years ago. Now, the legends have made him nearly a messiah. The court wants him dealt with, I’m sure, before he can be used as a pawn by any anti-royalists. As for the Bloody Rose and the Golden Thorn, they are both guilty of desertion, which is a capital offense. They’ll face trial. I just pray we can prevent an execution.”

Dorrin’s jaw clenched. “They are on church grounds, eminence. Are you going to force them out?”

“Steps are already being taken to facilitate their transfer, Prelate. I have also reached out and called in several favors to assist us in the matter. I need you and Paladin-Lieutenant Martinez to begin working on the problem of the Technologists immediately.”

“But, your eminence…”

Strahn stood. “I won’t ask you to like it, Prelate. But I expect you to obey. We’ve done what we can. The Light will win the battle, after all. God needs you to show your faith in Him.”

He swept from the room, robes whispering behind him. Arveston gave Dorrin a long, unreadable look before nodding once and following.

That left only Vire, who lingered.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said. “But this is a longer game than you see. You want justice. I want survival. I can’t explain more now. We both have to make sacrifices. And we both need to trust God in this. And pray, Dorrin.”

For the first time in days, Dorrin felt the edge of uncertainty creep past his armor. They had survived Triangle Garden. They had unmasked a traitor, saved a family, stopped horrors that might have damned them all. And it still wasn’t enough. He’d trusted in duty, in faith. But how many more times would he be asked to trade honor for obedience? And would he know when the line had finally been crossed?

Dorrin turned, his voice like steel drawn. “Then pray we survive long enough to argue about it.”

---

By early afternoon, the Church compound had settled into a deceptive calm.

The elves were first to leave. Kitamar wore her traveling cloak again, dark and severe, and carried her satchel with coded glyphwork stitched along the edge. She clasped arms with Joseph at the gate.

“We’ll check with our contacts. If there’s a better path to overwrite the records for good, my sister will find it,” she said.

Uscoshi smiled faintly, though her eyes stayed on Mac. She reached up and adjusted the collar of his shirt: half-practical, half-reassurance. “Don’t do anything reckless until I’m back. I still have plans for us.”

“No promises,” he said, then softened. “Be safe.”

They slipped through the outer arch without fanfare, melting into Durleigh’s midday bustle.

Shortly after, Mercedes slung her satchel over one shoulder and clasped Joe’s hand as she faced her parents.

“We won’t go far. Just sightseeing. Mac needs to stretch his legs and get some new clothes, before Joe turns them all into rags.”

Joe groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Nope.”

Joe grinned and gave his mother a light kiss on the cheek. “I’ve been here a few times on trade runs,” he said. “There’s a spot near the guild hall with fried chicken steak and biscuits as fluffy as clouds. Plus, Mac does need some different clothes. So we’ll get something that can hide his frame better if he’s going to be changing shape every time he gets in a fight.”

Joseph looked like he wanted to protest, but said nothing. He only nodded, offering a rare, tired smile. As the children left, he touched Rose’s hand just for a breath. No words. Just warmth.

With the younger Tharnens gone and the elves vanished into the city, the dormitory fell quiet. Rose found a book in her pack. Marigold played with a knife, flipping it through her fingers. Bryce stood at the windows, scanning the narrow lane beyond. Joseph sat at the table, nursing a cup of tea.

Something’s in the air, Joseph thought. Like the last second before a storm breaks.

---

They were halfway through a cozy supper of flatbread and lentil stew, when the gate outside their quarters shuddered against a sudden impact.

Bryce was on his feet in a heartbeat, hand on his hilt. “What the—?”

A second bang. Then the high, metallic screech of hinges under strain.

Rose dropped her bowl and crossed to the window. “That’s the front gate.”

Joseph rose slowly, eyes narrowing. “No bells. No warning.”

Marigold stood, already palming her blade. “This is Church ground. Not even the royal guard crosses that line without permission.”

The door burst open.

Three masked soldiers in dark leathers and grey-mottled coats stormed inside: GSS Greybacks, unmistakable in their uniforms.

Bryce lunged forward. “I don’t know who you think you —”

One flung a canister across the tile.

Hiss—splatter.

A slick sheen spread across the floor. Grease. A countermeasure against Valkyrie speed. Bryce slipped and fell on his side. Two Greybacks began to beat and kick the paladin.

Joseph stepped toward Rose but froze as half a dozen more masked Greybacks poured in, crossbows trained on them.

“Hands where we can see them!” one barked. “On your knees. Now!”

Rose’s cleaver was already halfway out. Her eyes burned. “On whose authority?”

“The Crown of Granblue. Signed by High Justice Tellen himself. Now—on your knees!”

Joseph scanned the room. He counted twelve hostiles. Bryce down. Hopefully alive. Marigold bristling, ready to kill. Rose had her cleaver. His sword was upstairs. The factors were weighed, and only one outcome led to survival.

His voice cut through the chaos. “Stand down.”

Rose turned sharply. “Joseph—”

“They’ll kill you,” he said. Quiet. Cold. “And that, I will not allow. I will come for you, Rose.”

He dropped to his knees. Slowly. Deliberately.

Marigold cursed but followed suit. Rose trembled but obeyed.

The lead Greyback motioned for restraints.

“Separate them,” he ordered. “We only need the man conscious.”

Joseph didn’t resist as the cuffs clicked shut. He tried not to cry as he saw both Rose and Marigold sapped unconscious.

---

They took Joseph to a nondescript holding facility. It was sterile and deliberately anonymous. There were no markings. No hum of ventilation. No sound at all. Just still, oppressive silence and walls that gave nothing back.

Just two chairs, a white floor, three bright candles in a floor stand, and time—too much of it. He was tied down to the chair facing the door with blacksteel fiber. There was no give in the cords.

They were testing him. That, too, he recognized. Isolation wasn’t a cage. It was a mirror.

He flexed his fingers once. Not to escape. Just to feel them still move.

He waited.

Finally, footsteps broke the silence. Measured. Precise.

The door clicked. A new security detail entered. They were silent and disciplined. Their coats were stitched with the Granblue royal seal. One scanned the room, while another checked his restraints, then nodded.

“Chamber clear. Confirmed secure.”

They stepped aside.

Caedmon I walked in.

The King of Granblue. Son of the man who had wielded Elias like a blade. They had practically lived together for five years after the Academy, before King Vexin had decided to go to war. Once a boy who’d been his closest friend, now a monarch with ice in his bearing and steel in his voice. His coat was deep blue, crisp and immaculate. A silver crown pin glinted at the collar. The boots he wore didn’t scuff. They rang.

He entered alone and motioned the guards to untie the restraints. One started to protest but stopped when he saw the look on the king’s face. The guards complied, and then, at a jerk of Caedmon’s head, walked back out, and closed the door.

He said nothing for a long time. Just stared.

Then, voice low and taut with something older than anger:

“I have no words. You deserted your post. You abandoned your nation. You broke my father’s heart. You left me to carry the weight of your sins.”

“And now—after thirty years—you land at my feet like a gift from God. Tell me, Elias…Why shouldn’t I have you executed right here and now?

---