Libel and Slander

(A/N: This chapter has been done for a decent while, but I refrained from releasing this Sunday because it's boring on its own. So, double release.)

"That was incredible!" Wilhelmine exclaimed, reaching up and excitedly patting my left shoulder as soon as I had walked over to them. "Were you a priest before? I'd have become as devout as I am now way sooner if my local pastor had been that inspiring. All those soldiers are practically men of the cloth already!" she gestured to the encampment with a gloved hand.

"I agree with your assessment of my abilities," I began, putting my hands on her shoulders and turning her to face me, "but you must remember that these men are depraved and simply seeking a thrill, which I momentarily provided. Never possess such optimistic hopes for these plebeians. Were it not for the involvement of those Devils in Germany, both armies would be equally infested with evil! This is but one step in an arduous process," I turned away, facing the crowd, "and further rapport with God must be built via their own efforts. As of this moment, they are unruly barbarians, fickle as the wind."

"I see…?" Wilhelmine said, placing her hands behind her back and facing the same direction as me. "They don't seem that bad… I'll take your word for it metaphorically, though. Also, was the way you interweaved both the supernatural and ordinary details of this war spur-of-the-moment? You did it so well that, with a few changes made to the beginning, the entire speech could be made in the Vatican." She motioned to scratch her head, stopping after a touch - realizing the existence of her hat. "It was like you informed them of the hidden world without revealing anything. Is it the power of seemingly figurative language and imagery?"

"Indeed it is. My interweavement was calculated - after all, we must bring the light of faith to their blinded perception, illuminating the world in their wayward eyes. The Germans were metaphorically referred to as Devils, the Russian army were metaphorically referred to as the army of God, so on and so forth. To them, that is all it is - to us, it was an amusing charade, belying the truth of how the Reich is being supported by and fighting with Devils, as with us and the Union."

"I felt it was quite obvious," Arthur said from behind us, "but I suppose not everyone is a savant in literary speak. Regardless, though it was not our reason for being here, encountering your speech was a fortuitous coincidence. We waited to hear what you had to say, and through metaphor, I see you've come to the same conclusion as we did.

"After an autopsy and inspection, we've determined that those two poor mens' deaths were supernatural in nature. The nature of their injuries is clearly parahuman - we suspect devilry at play - and we were on our way to report as such to the General. Would you like to assist us, or do you have something to report? If it is a denial to both, just wait at the barracks. There's something we have to do there."

My eyes flitted to the side, hiding their gleam.

I didn't mean for my sermon to end up as a sort of indirect admission of innocence, but it works out in my favor. Truly, the Lord is with me. All that is required is an alibi to seal things up.

Although, there was never any reason for me to be suspected in the first place.

"I'd rather not engage in such things, but I do have a bit to report," I informed him. "I was on an early morning walk and saw a few strange happenings. Upon news of their deaths, I realized they all must have been related."

"Could you tell us on the way so we're not late for the meeting?" Wilhelmine asked, beginning to walk down the path.

"If you insist," I said. "While out, I noticed a distinct shape in the sky, lit by the starlight, but when I doubled back to look again, it was gone. Additionally, I hearkened to a sort of shimmering noise during my waltz, but it disappeared quickly. Foolishly, rather than assume it to be anything or investigate, I shoved the incidents out of my mind. It is my fault that those poor men are gone and unavenged…" I muttered in ostensible grief.

Disregarding the last statement, I am lying, of course. None of that ever happened - after casting them from my thoughts and from this mortal plane, I simply continued on walking, scouted out the area, and noticed nothing amiss - but a few harmless white lies are necessary every once in a while.

My image will not be sullied by those two cretins. Mistakes made in the heat of passion are irrelevant, deserving of being swept under the rug.

My decision wasn't much of a mistake, though, in my opinion.

"That is simply outlandish. It's not your fault." Arthur raised a brow. "But I've seen many times the mental plight of righteous men in situations like these, so I'll simply advise you to not to be too self-deprecating. One thing leads to another, and next thing you know, you'll think this whole war is your fault."

"Mm-hm," Wilhelmine chimed in. "It's war, you know? Us Exorcists are better off mentally and condition-wise, fighting in God's name against literal demons rather than murdering our fellow men, but some are still affected by the pressure and conflict - not to mention the loss of comrades. Even if the assurance of battling evil doesn't stave off any potential guilt, in my opinion, there's no need to be worried. Penance exists."

"Wise words," I nodded. "No matter the alleged falsehood committed, in the name of the Lord, all sins of the faithful shall be absolved with only a meager effort on their part, in thanks to the benevolent Father."

"I think that's a bit much," Arthur commented, "but I get the gist of what you mean."

"No. You blaspheme. The Book of Matthew, chapter twenty-one, verse thirty-one: 'So I tell you, every sin and blasphemy can be forgiven—except blasphemy against the Holy Spirit, which will never be forgiven.' You must revise your knowledge of scripture, Arthur."

"Well, yes, the verse is correct," Arthur argued, "but there is absolutely no reason for any true believer to arrive at extreme, conventional points of no return. Murder and other immoralities indeed can be forgiven, but should such depravity ever occur to begin with? That is why I say the rhetoric of 'all sins' extends too far, sometimes."

"You know not of unfortunate circumstances and duties," I responded, minutely raising my voice. "Such broad judgement is unforgivable and narrow-minded. Certain things may be necessary, certain temptations may be crushing, and certain duties may be ordained by God. All shall be forgiven."

"We'll continue this debate at a later time," Arthur stated. "We are here."

An array of concrete buildings and tents to house both people and equipment were laid out before us. A particularly long tent served as the commander's main place of business, and a man in front of it beckoned our group over upon seeing us.

"Then from here, I say goodbye," I said, beginning to walk away. "Be sure to inform the General of my part played in repairing morale and spreading the Word."

"Will do," Wilhelmine gave a thumbs up and began to walk away, Arthur, the blasphemer, at her side.

What a cretin. He thinks himself a paragon of morality, does he?

Christ suffered on the cross. The martyrs anguished in spreading the Word and adhering to God's law. I follow in their footsteps, doing what no one else will to obey scripture and fulfill my heavenly duties.

I haven't any particular turmoil in my mien, though.

Perhaps it is a sign of my superiority.

…

I arrived at the barracks after a few minutes, finding Marcelo stacking cards, humming a tune I didn't recognize, and Dubravka watching him construct the towering stack from her perch on a couch.

"We got bored of card games and searching for Lotfi," was the former's answer to what they were doing. "Speaking of which, you know where he went? Everyone woke up and found you two missing."

"I haven't a clue," I affirmed, "but I do know that he was awake when I woke up in the early morning."

"Well, could you keep on the lookout?" he asked, carefully placing down the fifth layer's last card. He let out a relieved sigh at the success of his maneuver and continued stacking.

"Please do so," Dubravka nodded. "We woke up mildly worried after finding the two of you gone and not returning. We saw you patrolling the camp's perimeter after a bit, though, meanwhile Lotfi is still gone. I wonder what possessed him to stay hidden."

"Well, it might not be that he has chosen to remain hidden. A Devil is suspected to have arrived at this encampment like a thief in the knight, killing those two soldiers. Poor Lotfi might be… indisposed, and is that not the reason for your worry?" I questioned.

"Perhaps a Devil is involved," she conceded. "But I feel we would have taken notice of a Devil in our stronghold, no? None of us are such heavy sleepers."

"Yeah," Marcelo added, still stacking the cards, "I woke up when you left, Ioann, but I went back to sleep. It was a part of my training - I would've noticed anything wrong."

"I was not trying to remain hidden, and anything is possible. Regardless, I'll preoccupy myself until our de facto 'leader' gets back," I scoffed in derision, "so notify me when he and his partner do."

"Sure." "If that is what you would like."

…

Arthur and Wilhelmine arrived ten minutes later, the former deciding to hold a 'team meeting'.

I nearly gagged at his phrasing, but regardless, I sat with the rest at the dinner table. Luckily for Marcelo, that was where he had been stacking the cards, and he continued. Wilhelmine stared in wonder at the seven-layered monstrosity.

"So," Arthur began from the head of the table, "we all know each others' abilities from yesterday. Wilhelmine can summon barbed wire to be used as she pleases, Dubravka is abnormally strengthened, Marcelo has less enhanced but still impressive strength and can teleport within the range of a few meters, Ioann can wield Holy Energy, Lotfi has a convoluted scouting ability that lets him gaze through objects for kilometers, and I am capable of automatic computations. However, we do not know how to fit these abilities together." He pushed up his glasses. "We have no doctrine, we have no planning, we have no withstanding cooperation, and all of those are necessary to effectively leverage our meager numbers and power before Cabals and Devils."

He's at least not wrong on that. We are horribly outnumbered.

Each respective Magician organization involved in this war has their own Cabals, formed out of the Magicians in their ranks willing to go to war. As there are many longstanding grudges, a lack of person-to-person cooperation, and a disinterest in taking the time to foster cooperation between organizations, there is no unified Magician army - only mobile strike teams that take orders from a collective command. The reports say each Cabal numbers, on average, perhaps around twenty Magicians. The Devil combatants outside of the Southern Theater follow a similar doctrine, though with less plentiful numbers per group.

"We need more people," Wilhelmine mumbled. "Six Exorcists against enemies ten times that. It's a flattering measure of our abilities, but in this case, I don't appreciate it."

"Well, there are only so many Exorcists that don't swing around swords or possess some outlandish Sacred Gear ability," Dubravka remarked. "There are hundreds of places to cover - this one is indeed important, being a major part of the war effort in northern Poland, but think of what must be required everywhere else."

"Teleporting, crushing concrete with your bare hands and using barbed wire as melee weapons isn't very inconspicuous," Marcelo countered. "They may as well go all in. We might be able to drive some weaker Cabals off if we break our backs, but still, six people for a central command post? We need that supernatural Soviet squadron."

Arthur waved him off. "We must make do. Our abilities can be vaguely dismissed as products of advanced science to the common soldier, and Dubravka is correct - there are many stations to defend when a Devil attack could wipe out a major garrison or similarly relevant command post. And remember, preserving the secret of the supernatural is paramount over all."

"Even over protecting Christendom?" Marcelo challenged.

"That is not for us to question, though you should remember that we die in the dark so the majority may live in the light. Have we espoused any complaints?"

No one objected.

"Then we will continue, albeit bereft of Lotfi's presence. The most important thing is establishing plans to enact for whatever circumstances arise. Plans for how to cooperate and cover each others' backs in the midst of combat will naturally proceed from there -"

The door to our barrack flew open, the wind toppling Marcelo's house of cards, and there stood Lotfi in the entrance, a hard look in his normally ambivalent eyes.

"Ah, Lotfi," Arthur began, "what happ-"

"Stop," he interrupted. "I've been deliberating, but my conscience demands that I speak the truth."

Wilhelmine tilted her head. "Huh?"

"Ioann killed those two men."

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Honestly, Lotfi witnessing the crime wasn't even in the original plan, but I had given him a scouting ability beforehand and it all fit together. After MC killed them, a day or two later, it came to me: considering the nature of his ability and the interaction before the murders, wouldn't it make sense for Lotfi to witness the killings?

This little military encampment arc isn't going to last as long as I thought (maybe a couple more chapters), but in exchange for ending this boring thing, I get to naturally segway into a few ideas I had that wouldn't have been able to come to fruition without the setup this arc gives.

So, bear with it - even I'm kinda falling asleep with these chapters.

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