“Please, come in,” said the Oracle, extending an arm into the room.
Despite the masks and their stillness, the Bishops cast a palpable gaze upon Nuriel that made her feel uneasy; terrified even. Behind her, Nuriel could hear the raspy breaths of the Sin Eaters. She breathed deep and steeled herself. Then she entered into the chamber, lit only by a few low-burning gaslamps upon the wall.
“Please, take a seat, Saint Nuriel.” said the Oracle.
There was but one chair open, and it was directly opposite the six seated Bishops. Their heads all nodded ever so subtly. Nuriel bit her lip and looked at the chair. She went over to it and sat down. From across the table she could smell a strange incense that seemed to perfume the Bishops. She could feel the flock of Sin Eaters gathering behind her. The Oracle stood to her left. Nuriel felt a shiver run down her spine.
“Thank you for joining us, Nuriel.” said the Oracle as the Bishops sat silent and motionless, their masks all looking blankly out into nothingness. Somehow, Nuriel knew eyes were upon her. She heard the door shut behind her and it had a terrible finality about it, like when the door to the Chamber of the Unwitnessed had closed on her.
“Please, make yourself comfortable.” said the Oracle.
Nuriel wasn’t sure how that would be possible. She cleared her throat and asked, “W-Why am I here?” And she really had no idea. The Oracles back in Gatimaria had promised her an audience with Holy Father, but that wasn’t until tomorrow. She even had the document guaranteeing her the audience in her hip-sack.
“Upon arriving in Gatopolis you mentioned to the Oracle there that you had encountered a strange Saint named Celacia.” said the Oracle. “Tell us more.”
Nuriel looked up at the six tall Bishops seated before her. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought they were nothing but statues. She licked her lips. She felt her stomach burn with anxiety. “I…I have an audience with Holy Father to discuss that tomorrow.” said Nuriel. She fumbled in the leather purse at her waist and pulled out a rolled parchment. She unfurled it and handed it to the Oracle. There was writing scrawled upon it, but Nuriel couldn’t read any of it. It bore the signature of the Oracle in Gatimaria, and Nuriel had signed it with her own stellaglyph.
“I see,” said the Oracle, taking the paper from her. He rolled it up and slipped it into his robes. “Now please, continue with your encounter of Celacia.”
Nuriel’s eyes glanced over the seated Bishops and then back up at the Oracle at her side. “But…I… I thought I was to speak with Holy Father directly about this?”
“I know,” said the Oracle. “But you must understand, Nuriel, that Holy Father is very busy. As you know, we must all sometimes put aside our wants and needs for the greater good. The information you have cannot wait.” The Oracle placed a red, gloved hand on Nuriel’s shoulder and she felt herself shudder. His touch held no warmth, no comfort. “Lives depend on what you know, Nuriel. Perhaps even the lives of those you hold dear.”
Nuriel felt a crushing despair beginning to consume her. They weren’t going to let her speak with Holy Father. The chance to see him again was the one thing that had kept her going; the one thing that had made all the troubles and turmoils she had endured in Jerusa and Duroton bearable. She needed to see him again. She had to see him again. She had to know if his love was real, or if it had been a figment born of the excitement of that day, nearly a year ago. If his love was real, then everything she had endured was worthwhile; everything more she would endure would be worthwhile. But if his love was not, she didn’t know what that meant, but she knew it meant she couldn’t be a part of Sanctuary any longer.
“But…I was promised an audience with Holy Father,” said Nuriel.
“I am sorry, Nuriel.” said the Oracle. “But I do not think you understand the gravity of the situation you have become involved in. The Oracles in Gatimaria expressed to us some doubts about your story. With such impurities lingering upon you, we cannot grant you an audience with Holy Father.”
Nuriel shook her head. “No…you don’t understand. I need to speak with him…I have to speak with him. Please. If I could just see him for a moment…”
“I am sorry, Nuriel.” said the Oracle. “Now, let us go back to the day in question. Tell us how you came to meet this Saint you called Celacia.”
Nuriel held her head in her hands. She felt a tear run down her cheek. Her thoughts felt cloudy and muddled by the despair building within her. She felt cheated. She had been promised an audience with Admael, and now that was being taken away from her. She felt crushed, confused.
“Confess your sins, Nuriel.” said the Oracle. “Recount your story and your actions completely, and all will be forgiven and you shall be allowed your audience with Holy Father.”
Nuriel sat there for a moment, her head in her hands. She could feel the probing eyes of the Bishops. She could feel the cold, calculating presence of the Oracle at her side. Behind her the Sin Eaters rasped and whispered amongst themselves. This room and its inhabitants were cold. There was no love here, and despite the Oracle’s promise, there was no forgiveness. She knew that, and she could accept that. But if they would not keep their word and grant her that audience, then they’d get nothing from her.
Nuriel wiped a tear from her eye and looked up, staring as blankly into the room as the Bishops. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Sinner! Sinner!” she could hear the Sin Eaters hissing behind her.
“Please, Nuriel,” said the Oracle. “It is imperative that you tell us everything you know. Lives are at stake.”
Nuriel just stared down at the table. “I…I already told the Oracles in Gatimaria everything I know.”
“Yes, we are aware of that.” said the Oracle. “But the Bishops would like to hear it directly from you.”
Nuriel wiped her hands down her face. They were never going to let any of this go. She felt trapped, angry.
“The life of a Saint out in the field can be very tough.” said the Oracle. “Your friend Karinael is now part of the Order of the Saints Templar. What if she were to become one of the Saints Caliber and be assigned to Jerusa like you? You know the dangers out there, Nuriel. You know the things that can shake a Saint’s resolve. What you know is very important to us. What you tell us could help save the life of a Saint like Karinael one day.”
Nuriel looked up at the Oracle. It was staring at her through that silver mirror, she knew it. She also felt something besides its eyes. There was a growing anger in it, a growing threat.
Nuriel steeled herself. She would simply recount the same story as she had told the Oracles in Gatimaria. She closed her eyes and breathed deep. Then she looked at the Oracle and said, “Me and Isley were in the wilderness. We thought we had seen an Unbound and were tracking it. That’s when we met up with Saints Umbrial, Gamalael, Arric and Tia. They had seen it too and were also tracking it. It wasn’t long before we found it. It’s name was Yig.” Nuriel could hear the Sin Eaters hissing the word “Sinner!” but she tried to block it out.
“Go on,” said the Oracle.
“We fought…” said Nuriel, stumbling over her words. The Sin Eaters and their rasping accusations were making it harder and harder for her to focus. “Umbrial and Isley struck down Yig, but that’s… That’s when Saint Celacia showed up. She… I…we thought she was working with Yig. She attacked us. I… We tried to fight, but she had this power. Anything she touched just died. All the others were killed by her. I…I fought her… I…I remember striking her… But then she shined her Caliber and all I remember is falling down. And then I woke up a few days later.”
Nuriel could see the unflinching, unmoving forms of the Bishops. Like that strange incense, a terrible dread seemed to encompass them. Behind her she heard the Sin Eaters rasping in hushed voices, “Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!”
“I see,” said the Oracle. “And after waking up, that’s when you came upon Gatopolis?”
“Yes,” said Nuriel. “I met the Oracle there and t
old him what happened. Then he had me meet with Saints Hadraniel, Adonael and Ovid.”
“Yes,” said the Oracle. “And you went with them to Caer Gatima and ran into the two Infernals.”
“Yes.” said Nuriel. “After taking care of the uprising, Behemoth Kraken and Saint Rathaniel showed up. Adonael and Ovid had both been injured, and he sent them back to Gatimaria to report to King Gatima. He sent Saint Rathaniel away to go after some escapees.”
“I see.” said the Oracle. “And that’s when the Infernals showed up?”
“Yes.” said Nuriel. The Sin Eaters began whispering their accusations again. “He… It… There were the two of them, just like I told the Oracles back in Gatimaria. He… Behemoth Kraken died in the battle, and me and Hadraniel narrowly escaped.”
“Yes,” said the Oracle. “This is the same story you told back in Gatimaria before King Gatima. The Oracle questioned Hadraniel in private as well and his story matches yours. Despite Gatima’s anger over losing his Exalted Behemoth Kraken to an Infernal, there is little troubling us about this encounter. In fact, we’re inclined to believe you. However, let’s go back to Yig and Celacia, shall we?”
“But…there’s nothing else to tell.” protested Nuriel, feeling quite tired of it all. She just wanted to leave. The Sin Eaters became more animated and agitated behind her.
“So Isley and all the others are dead?” asked the Oracle.
“Y-Yes.” said Nuriel.
“Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!” hissed the Sin Eaters from behind her chair.
“And you never left Jerusa?” pressed the Oracle.
“N-No.”
“Sinner! Sinner! Sinner!”
The Oracle sighed and looked at the Bishops. Nuriel saw them all nod in unison, ever so slightly.
“The world grows more dangerous by the day, Nuriel.” said the Oracle. It placed a hand on her shoulder, and despite her star-metal pauldron, she swore she could feel its cold hand on her flesh. It seemed to radiate some type of terrible anger, thinly shrouded by its calm, calculating voice. “Unbounds and Infernals have become increasingly bold. Strange, unknown Saints like this Celacia of yours run about. Each day we lose more and more Saints in the field. You alone have witnessed the deaths of five of our Brothers and Sisters. Increasingly, we must turn to the lower rungs of the Templars to find Saints to put out in the field.” It took its hand off her shoulder and walked around to her other side and placed a hand on her other shoulder. She shuddered at the touch.
“You’re a powerful Saint, Nuriel.” it continued. “It’s a blessing from the Goddess that you have survived where so many of your peers have fallen. Imagine how dangerous it will be out there for Saints like Karinael. Jerusa seems in desperate need of cleaning up, and in desperate need of more Saints.” The Oracle paused.
Nuriel bit her lip. She could feel the cold, black eyes of the Bishops on her. She felt as if the Sin Eaters were converging on her from behind.
“Then again,” continued the Oracle. “If there are revisions to your story, perhaps we can find that Jerusa is not in quite so bad of shape that we need to justify an emergency Call to Guard for new Saints.”
A sense of dread washed over Nuriel. “W-What are you saying?”
“Tell me, Nuriel,” said the Oracle. “Would Sister Karinael make it in the Order of the Saints Caliber?”
Nuriel licked her lips. “I… I don’t know…”
There was some hushed rasping and hissing from the Sin Eaters behind her.
“Are you certain you remember nothing else?” pressed the Oracle. “We’ve scoured the area you said you encountered Yig and Celacia, but strangely, we cannot seem to locate the fallen armor of Isley or any of the others. We would really like to recover the armor. Without the Goddess around, Star-Armor is in short supply, after all. Perhaps you should take a moment to recollect your memories? We can sympathize with you on how dangerous the field can be. And sometimes, the job of the Saints Caliber can be so demanding that we find it hard to face certain things.”
The Oracle placed something on the table in front of Nuriel and then walked around to her back. Nuriel looked down. It was a small vial of Ev and an injector. She licked her lips.
“Please, feel free.” said the Oracle. “Sometimes our memories slip us and we need a moment to recollect our thoughts.”
Nuriel’s hand went for it, but stopped just short. She looked up at the Bishops. They just sat there, featureless masks staring at nothing, yet Nuriel felt as if they were seeing everything. Behind her, she could hear the Sin Eaters whispering amongst themselves. She looked back down at the Ev. She bit her lip. “No… No, thanks.”
From behind her, the Oracle placed both hands on her shoulders. Though it still spoke in the same calm voice, there was something terrible within it. “I will ask you one last time, Saint Nuriel: are there any other details about Celacia, or perhaps Isley, that you would like us to know?”
Nuriel mentally calculated how quickly she might be able to jump from her chair and draw her sword. She looked at the rigid Bishops and said,“I’ll speak with Holy Father about it tomorrow as I was promised.”
Though the Bishops did not move, and though their black masks betrayed no emotion, Nuriel knew she felt rage flash in those hollow, black eyes of theirs.
“I see,” said the Oracle. It looked at the Bishops and nodded. The six tall Bishops stood up in unison, staring at her. For the first time, Nuriel noticed that each had a long, red scabbard at their side, the black handle of a sword sticking out. Nuriel swallowed hard. Like silent phantoms, the six Bishops floated out of the room, making Nuriel wonder if they even had legs beneath those flowing gowns. That strange odor of incense trailed after them.
After the Bishops were gone the door closed again.
The Oracle pulled a parchment from its pocket and set it in front of Nuriel. There were words in black ink scrawled down the length of it, confusing patterns of loops and flourishes that meant nothing to her.
“Previously you answered me ‘yes’ when I asked you if you thought Karinael would make a fine Templar.” said the Oracle. “I trust you said that because you feel her Caliber is powerful enough?”
“I…I don’t understand.” said Nuriel.
“She’s your friend.” said the Oracle. “You know her better than anyone. As you are so powerful, we had her promoted to the Templars Novitiate hoping that perhaps she had learned a few tricks from you. Do you recommend her for the Saints Caliber? Or would you recommend she be sent back to the Ecclesiastics? Demotions are quite rare here in Sanctuary. I imagine your recommendation to demote her would be crushing.”
Nuriel looked up at the Oracle. “But… I…I don’t know…”
“Saint Nuriel,” said the Oracle. “We are living in difficult times. Your very story indicates to us that Jerusa is simply overrun with the minions of Apollyon. And whoever this rogue Saint named Celacia is, clearly she must be dealt with swiftly. Gatima is now short on Saints, and we are already spread thin.”
Nuriel looked down at the paper. The Oracle laid a quill pen and a jar of black ink before her. “As Holy Father Admael thinks so highly of you, your signature here will help expedite Karinael’s dream of becoming one of the Saints Caliber.”
“But…” Nuriel shook her head. “Holy Father thinks highly of me?”
“Indeed,” said the Oracle. “Against our advice, he had you given your Call to Guard. You see, Saints with your psychological profile often fall. It is the job of the Holy Few to select only the most worthy candidates. But Holy Father is quite fond of playing with fire, it seems. The power of your Caliber was always something of interest to him. And of course, he saw something special in you. It was by his own hand that you were given your Call to Guard. Seems you are quite lucky, Nuriel.”
Nuriel sat there quietly, her mind flooded by thoughts both proud and humbled, looking down at the paper before her.
“Please, sign your stellaglyph to this.” urged the Oracle.
Nuriel loo
ked up at the Oracle. “But… What is this for?”
“It’s for Karinael.” said the Oracle. “You would like to see her fulfill her dream of becoming one of the Saints Caliber, wouldn’t you?”
“But…” Nuriel knew there was no way Karinael would last out in the field. In fact, Nuriel was certain that Karinael’s Caliber wasn’t even strong enough to don the Star-Armor. It was a rare event, but it had happened before during Call to Guard Ceremonies that a Saint was consumed and killed upon donning the armor.
“Of course, you could sign the other paper here, stating that you believe she should be demoted permanently back to the Ecclesiastics.” said the Oracle. “I assume that would be a crushing blow to your friend.”
Nuriel bit her lip. “But… You… She won’t be initiated into the Saints Caliber until she is ready, right?”
“Not until she herself feels ready,” assured the Oracle.
Nuriel looked into the thing’s mirror mask. She looked back at the table.
“Go on,” said the Oracle. “How many nights did you and Karinael sit up dreaming of making the Saints Caliber? How crushed was she that day you moved on and she was left behind? Do you remember your guilt, Nuriel? Do you remember going to knock on her door that night, but hearing her sobs, you turned and left? Do you remember those nights afterward, how you wondered if there had been more you could have done to help her? More you could have done to help her strengthen her Caliber so that she too could have moved on? This is your chance to make all that right. Let’s just say that signing this will help you atone for your sins.”
Nuriel looked at the paper. She bit her lip. Hesitantly, she drew out her stellaglyph at the bottom of the paper.
“Very good,” said the Oracle, taking the paper. Then it handed Nuriel back the one she had given it earlier. “You’re all set to meet with Holy Father tomorrow morning.”
The Record of the Saints Caliber Page 62