Chapter 7: The Prima donna

Adrien couldn't take his eyes off the looming cross stapled upon the grand cathedral. It was supposed to be a symbol of mercy and sacrifice, the sign of all believers who carry it daily and wrestle against their own hell fire's burning within. Standing in its shadow, as almost the whole city of Helsing filed in to fill the pews, it only made him feel more subconscious about entering the Grande Cathedral. But alas, this was the only place he could go to get some progress out of his stay. Above all else, he wanted to procure the gems as fast as he could, so he could return to his normal life. How odd, for a charlatan like himself to dare trod in God's temple, simply to use one of the most highs members.

At least that's how it would appear.

The ground he stood on was no holy ground, no presence, no divinity. Nothing burned, no roaring flames of righteousness. Absolutely nothing, but a temple decked in gold, filled to the brim with the scourges of all Alegria.

An usher led him and Benita by the hand to the galleries. There, he was sat between Gogo Faywall and Missy Anderson. Two young heiresses, the many among their kind seated on their elevated seats.

No face was unfamiliar, the gallery stocked with CEO's, lords, ladies, and the young and old masters who lived in Helsing. Goblets of wine were served at their side by the training Christian monks. It came to his turn to receive one too, but he promptly declined, having his eyes solely placed on the young woman who led the songs of praise and worship on the pulpit.

Her voice, a delicate soprano bellowed throughout the cathedral. Her eyes lifted to the ceiling, where on it was a mosaic of the virgin Mary, cradling the Christ in her arms. The young soprano's eyes watered as she sang, the fractured lights of blues and red gracefully falling on her face.

It seemed that she had grown more pious since devoting herself to this life. But, as she sang on, as the priests behind her marvelled at the angel in her voice, Adrien cracked a smile. He was proud. In all this time, she had not forgotten. She was still his best, number eight.

She finished her song, and a priest came to the pulpit. He offered a prayer, on behalf of the church, then went on to preach God's word.

"I am deeply burdened," the Priest began. He touched the cuffs of his robe and looked up. "For there is a looming darkness in the church. A dark abomination spreading like the wildfires of hell."

He turned and one of the elders handed him a scabbard. He slowly unsheathed a glittering silver sword, holding it up, looking at its shined and sharp blade.

"Mercy!" he cried. "And redemption is fleeting as our sisters are being swept and overtaken by the spirit of rebellion. Mortal, corruptible souls howling out to the most high, yet clinging on to feasts the devil has prepared.

"There is no mercy to godless witches and blood suckers who have penetrated our ranks."

Creeping down the alter, he strut out to the pews, standing before the mass with a piercing glare. Deep, and curdled with blood lust.

As he inspected the crowd, he pointed the sword at one young woman. Her already pale skin paled more as she looked at the priest with sorrow filled eyes.

"Pearl blood suckers of old Illyria have returned. This time more brazen and filled with the filly power to bewitch and lure us away from the lord."

He swung the sword and cut her open. Blood spurt onto the ones seated closest to her, their breaths hitched, and eyes widened as he stood there and gazed her body. The blood crept to his feet.

"I implore you, brothers, and sisters. Be on the look out and do not hesitate to smite them with a holy blow. Do not sully yourself in the process, but do not pretend as if you are so refined and so holy that this is beyond you. Judge them with a true spirit and eradicate them, for they are nothing more than the purge of dogs and the daughters and sons of Babylon."

The already still air thickened at the words of this man.

He spoke with a solidarity in his voice, and an air of wisdom. His eyes, brown but flecked with gold, like the star readers and oracles who could prophecy the will and words of heaven. Silver hair marked his head, a sure-fire sign of his reliability. But Adrien already knew who this man was, even though the rest of the city knew him as a drifter.

And it was clear, with the way pure affliction struck their eyes that they'd be prepared for whatever he would order them to do.

"The is no sanctuary for the wicked. If you side with them, then you might as well sleep in a coffin as they do and drink more blood since that is what you like! There is no redemption for the unholy. Forsake it now, and you shall never see heaven."

Adrien scoffed at the mention of it.

"For if you accept their hands and become bonded in arms. Then you will be bonded by chains and thrown into the fire."

Coming from a man who had lived longer than his own grandfather, Adrien couldn't help but find his words rather interesting. To spit such words without batting an eye lash, how brazen and bold as a bull.

But Adrien wasn't one to judge. He sat quietly and listened. It was quite a long sermon, him droning on about how he received a vision the other day about Alegria's coming doom. He spoke up the apparitions and creatures to come, the peril that would await to those who did not sow their money before it was too late. The people flocked to the alter and placed wads of money at his feet. He went on a spoke about the prosperity coming from those who planted their seed.

Adrien momentarily glanced over at Benita, her face long as she slunk into her seat with watered eyes.

He leaned in and asked, "What's wrong?"

She huffed out, "Are there apparitions in Alegria?"

He pinned his lips shut and turned away.

"Answer me, please."

"Not apparitions, but devils. Or perhaps their advocates."

Her eyes widened a little, and she reeled herself towards him. "Devils have advocates?"

"No," he sighed, pinching his brows together. "Just know, they go outside the usual apparitions. They're filled with the venom of vipers, thirst for human blood and vitality. It's not simple, so it's best we don't get into it."

Benita whispered, "If we get in on the hunt do you think we can catch them? I mean, we can ask Alora for tips. And with, faith, we can do it, right?"

"It'd be best if you don't listen to his instruction. He's not the silver-tongued man you think he is."

"Then what is he?" she asked, turning the page of the bible she held, to the verse the Priest mentioned. "He's got the fancy hat and gold necklace. He's speaking what's written."

"Is he?" Adrien glowered down at the priest. "Even the devil has quoted scripture. What makes him any different?"

"He believes in God."

"Even the demons believe that there is God."

She rolled her eyes, "Ugh, never mind."

He chuckled at the sight, her hazy eyes as she fought to stay focused. The other people seated around her couldn't help but sneer and snicker at her. But it's not like she could hear them anyway.

"There's no hope if you think of getting in on it," he whispered into her ear.

"I'm not listening to you. Shut up."

He stifled a laugh as he pulled the bible out of her hands, "Half the people here are infected. Do you still have hope on hearing something graceful?"

Benita glared at him, "Pleading sanctuary before it's late helps, so I'm buying into this stuff because I need it."

"No, you don't," he laughed. "You're as safe here as you are in the frontlines."

"Be positive for once, please. Your doom, gloom and scary backside things may work elsewhere, but at least try to act like a saint."

"I'm not a fan of lying."

"That's the worst lie you've ever told," she sneered. "Either way, listen, and maybe you'll get a clean slate."

"There's no maybe. I can't be redeemed."

"Stop being shady, Adrien. Everyone can."

"No. Really. I can't"

She huffed out, and just stared down below like the rest of the upper gallery.

Two hours passed, and finally the service ended with people leaving and chatting with each other.

Now that he was free from the grip of religious hazing, he went about the real reason he came to the cathedral.

Pushing his way forward through the crowd, he shot straight to the seats up on the alter where apprentices sat. His eyes narrowed down on to the young soprano. She was still casually chatting with the priest.

As long as she didn't wander into the backrooms with him, he would have enough time with her to get in a quick conversation.

Her face was as youthful as ever, with bundles of curly brown hair falling to her sides. The headpiece of nacre combs paired well with her deep blue eyes, but the draping of her long black dress that covered every inch of her body left more of a lasting impression.

As Adrien went up onto the alter and strolled to her side. Carefully squeezing himself in before the other apprentices snagged him away, he kindly said, "Greetings Maurice."

The man turned with a pleasantly surprised smile, "Young Master Adrien! It's been a while since I've seen you around here. Last I saw you, you were volunteering for your Academies Goodwill society, right?"

"Yes! That was two years ago. And I'm glad to say I've graduated from secondary school."

"Good," Maurice chuckled, "I thought you'd never make it."

All he could do was laugh back, as his eyes quickly left him and went straight for the soprano. She bashfully kept her eyes to the side, avoiding his gaze, but Adrien wasn't going to pass the opportunity to talk to her.

"Excuse me Maurice, but may I have a moment with Ms Nadia?"

Maurice's chuckled slowly dimmed, "Really? It would be best if you two have an open conversating in my presence. I assume there's nothing to hide, is there?"

"Of course not. But the matter I wish to discuss with her is confidential. By extension, I cannot allow you to be a party to this conversation." He dug into his pocket, and pulled out the signed oath of confidentiality he was sent by Queen Christine of Coventry.

Maurice took it, and with a heavy drawn-out sigh, said, "Fine. But you may only speak for five minutes. Nadia has duties to attend to so please don't waste her time."

"I won't."

And with that, Maurice and the other apprentices disappeared into the backrooms of the cathedral.

Nadia, keeping her eyes to the floor said, "You've put me in a tough place."

"What, no hello? I didn't think you could be so cold to me."

"I'm not being cold. I just want to get to business before somebody sees me," she said, pulling her veil to cover her face.

"Fine," Adrien said. "I wanted to ask if you got my letters out to the gem holders. Did they accept my invitation?"

"Yes. They had a few conditions, but I managed to iron out a few things over."

"And the excelsior auction?"

"I got you a ticket. It should get to the Orson Manor by Tuesday afternoon."

A smile quickly spread across his cheeks. It erased his qualms of how he'd get all gem holders to the ball. But as Nadia's face washed over with deep concern, his own smile quickly faded.

"What is it?"

"There is something that they wanted. I wasn't sure how you'd feel about it since it's been a while since you've received this sort of request."

"Just tell me what it is."

She sighed, "It's time to get a new savior. For the Azurian campaign. They asked that you get one pronto or else they won't hand over the gems."

The vein in his neck twitched, "I see." He cleared his through and looked around, "Well. It's not like this is new to me. I'll get it done as soon as I can."

"There is a punishment this time," she said. "If you don't get it done..."

"I get it," he sharply said. "Don't worry. I can handle this."