Perne in a Gyre

Longinus knew from a young age that his grandfather had, once, been an emperor. It was a fleeting point in the past, and he had never seriously considered that it might ever affect his life in a meaningful way. Certainly, he had never envisioned himself at the head of a column of troops.

On account of the governor’s men marching behind him, today was already unusual among all the times he had strode up to the gates of Dionysia, Lyria’s provincial capital. It was strange, too, that all the other travelers on the road did not stand aside and gawk, as they pulled along a cart bearing the massive heads of two Leupin, the semi-substantial corpses of three Shadowmen, and a host of other Shadow-spawned horrors: Death-Hawks, Nightmare-Weavers shorn of their eight legs, and the tail of the Arakaderses whose name in the Rhatian and Aponephilic tongues was a byword for a flight of fancy, something conceptually too absurd or over-the-top to exist in reality.

Instead, they were made to wait at the gatehouse, as an enclosed carriage rolled through slowly and its armed escorts spoke with the city watchmen standing guard. These escorts were armored in some fashion halfway between that of the Empire and of western barbarians: mailed head to toe, and wearing tabards bearing heraldry mainly consisting of two crossed keys, one gold and the other silver. These men reminded Longinus of his mother’s new toy, with their clean-shaven faces and speech in the Rhatian tongue, without a Lyrian accent.

Ereleuva leaned over. “Do you know whose device that is, on their chests?”

Longinus did know. That Ere didn’t was a reminder that she had grown up outside the civilized world. But he had to blink a few times before he fully believed his eyes. “The Keys of the Kingdom. These are the Supreme Patriarch of Urba Rhatia’s personal guard.”

Hoy squinted at the carriage. “Could it be a… delegate of his? A vicar?”

“In a carriage that ornate, with this big an escort? I think the Patriarch himself is in there. The question is, why? Is he going to Aureliopolis on some ecumenical mission to the Eastern Church? But winter has mostly passed; he could probably have sailed most of the way. Why pass through Lyria at all, where he would have to pick his way over or around the Temonian Mountains?”

They were stuck behind the carriage for its entire slow trip to the governor’s residence. That it shared their destination told them nothing of whether the Patriarch was traveling further; the man who stood beside the emperor as the most important in the known world was likely to pay the provincial governor a courtesy visit, whether he was coming to stay or merely passing through.

As the carriage and the column of soldiers both came to a halt in front of the tall white-plastered house with its red-tile roof, Longinus prepared to order the soldiers stand at ease and settle in for a long wait. To his surprise, the governor’s steward was out on the street almost immediately, waving for both the Patriarch and the monster-hunters to come in.

Longinus, Ere, and Hoy waited for the Holy Father of the Church to alight from his carriage and enter before they approached the door. Clean-shaven like his guards, white-haired and hunched, he was by all appearances a man of no significant Nephilic blood in his seventies or early eighties. He was vested in a red cassock with a short, richly-embroidered capelet of gold thread, and a small matching cap.

When the old man saw them, he smiled, and beckoned for them not to hang back. Embarrassment was not a sensation that came to Longinus easily, but he felt it intensely now, and approached the high cleric slowly. The exact reputation of monster-hunters varied region to region, but they were generally known for many vices, and the man on his right and woman on his left could both speak to his unbridled lust.

The Supreme Patriarch glanced at their cart full of trophies. “You are doing impressive work, monster-hunters.”

“Th-thank you, Holy Father.”

“Your trade is to Nature as those of the exorcist and the physician are to Man. Though it may take countless eons, I do sometimes think the uniting of Heaven and Earth will be preceded by the efforts of generations of good men, in any little way they can, making our world a little more heavenly, until it can be blended into Paradise without bringing any of the matter of sin and death with it.”

“I… I’m stained with far too much sin for that to happen any time soon, Holy Father.”

The Patriarch considered Longinus. “A man needs to be fully in the world, without allowing himself to become of the world, but I think it is better to risk the temptation to do bad in the pursuit of doing good, and gradually sift out the bad from your habits, then to do nothing and languish. The King on High is not idle in the world, when His hand is truly needed, but the rest of the time He steps back and lets Man act his part.”

The house doors swung open, and the Patriarch, the monster-hunters, and a handful of the Rhatian guards entered in a single group. They stepped into a foyer covered in mosaics floor and ceiling, depicting the bears and eagles of Lyria’s mountains and the fish and dolphins of its seacoast. The walls were bedecked with glass windows and gold-leafed icons of the Sixtus House’s patron saints. Standing with a small throng of his guards, servants and bureaucrats was Titus Sixtus Junius, twice Praetor and once Consul of the Aureliopolitan Senate, Strategos of Lyria. He looked a great deal like his younger brother, but had a warmer, more charismatic smile than Hadrian, offset somewhat by his less fortunate hairline.

“Oh. You’ve both come at the same time. Good. Though I hate burden you with grim news after so wearying a journey, Holy Father, I did wish for you to hear the report of these monster-hunters. What they have to say may prove pertinent to the coming ecumenical council.”

The Supreme Patriarch smiled, just as brightly as the governor and with more evident sincerity. “This young man is refreshing, not wearing, to listen to, strategos. Although I think he was too abashed to introduce himself…”

“Longinus, Holy Father. Longinus… Lyrios, I suppose. That dynastic name is my mother’s, but my father did not have one.”

“It is a good name, Longinus. You are named for a strong, courageous saint. Now, tell us what the governor so urgently wishes to hear.”

“My lords, our hunt has been fruitful, worryingly so. All manner of creatures of the Shadow stalk the countryside, and we have rooted out Shadowmen in towns across the north of the province, wearing the faces of officers of garrisons and respected members of the local communities. I am no general, have only some rudimentary education in the art of war, but the pattern of it suggests to me an invasion by the Shadow’s human servants, the Bolthoi horde, is imminent.”

The governor’s expression changed, his mouth dropping. “Longinus, daughter’s-son of the rightful Emperor of the Rhatians, I only presume to put this burden on you because of how well my brother speaks of you, and your capabilities as a monster-hunter. An Ecumenical Council is being convened in this city. It will begin as soon as the Patriarch of Aureliopolis arrives, which should be in two, maybe three weeks’ time. The main agent arranging this council has been a relation of yours, High Prefect Petrus, and I did warn him of the danger the Bolthoi posed to this province. He has ignored my concerns, or else those particular birds I sent failed to reach Aureliopolis in time. I will need your help keeping this city clear of Shadowman infiltrators, and your general expertise on monsters may prove vital to ensuring this city does not fall to those savages from the steppe. I would want your help in this matter under any circumstances, but with so many key clerics already within these walls, or slated to arrive shortly, it is essential to the stability of the Church, and perhaps the whole civilized world, that Dionysia does not fall to the Shadow.”