Chapter 9: The Expendable Vessel
POV: Third Person / Archbishop Varos
The high council chamber of the Grand Cathedral was suffocatingly cold, insulated by feet of solid white granite and shrouded in the dense, suffocating aroma of burning frankincense. Stained-glass windows depicting Solaria towering over kneeling mortals cast long, blood-red and gold shadows across a massive obsidian strategy table.
In the center of the hall, Lucas knelt on one knee. His hands trembled violently against the hilt of his sacred sword, Solarias. His divine armor was scorched, his golden aura sputtered weakly like a flickering candle, and his face was twisted in a sickening mix of humiliation and lingering terror.
Seated around the high arc of the council table were three high-ranking figures of the Grand Church: Archbishop Varos, Bishop Malachi of the Inquisition, and Bishop Seraphina of the Treasury. Standing behind them, draped in fine northern furs, was Duke Frostguard, Lyra’s father his face cold, stern, and utterly devoid of parental concern.
"You lost them," Varos said. His voice wasn’t raised in anger; it was smooth, measured, and dripping with profound disappointment. "You allowed a disgraced, core-damaged Vance child to strip the Ice Princess from your side and turn our shadow assassin against you."
"Your Grace... please!" Lucas stammered, looking up with wide, frantic eyes. "He used dark heretical curses! He ambushed me in the Sunken Temple! Lyra... she wasn’t herself, her mind was twisted by his obsidian mana"
"Enough," Duke Frostguard interrupted, his voice like grinding ice. "I traded my daughter to the Church to secure my seat on the High Council and tax exemptions for the Northern trade routes. I did not do it so a sniveling boy could let a fallen house ruin my investment."
"He... he broke her memory seal!" Lucas blurted out, terror making his voice crack. "She knows about the Imperial Villa! She knows what we did to her veins!"
Silence fell over the council chamber.
Bishop Malachi, a gaunt man with scarred hands and dark, hollow eyes, leaned forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "A Rank-S divine seal... shattered by a twenty-year-old outcast. That is troubling."
"It changes nothing regarding the girl," Bishop Seraphina countered smoothly, swirling a chalice of consecrated wine. "The public does not know her seal is broken. As far as the Imperial Court is concerned, Lady Lyra and the shadow guard have been subjected to a vile, dark mind-control curse by a desperate heretic. The narrative remains under our control."
Lucas looked between the bishops, trying to regain his footing. "Then grant me an execution squad! Let me march into the Academy and slaughter Victor Vance where he stands! I will drag Lyra back in chains!"
SLAP!
A shockwave of compressed holy mana exploded from Varos’s hand, striking Lucas across the face and sending him skidding across the marble floor.
"Incompetent fool!" Varos snarled, his polite facade cracking for a brief second. "Do you think the Empire is governed solely by our priests? House Vance may be fallen and disgraced, but they are still one of the Founding Great Houses! The neutral noble factions and the Imperial Royal Guard are already watching our rapid expansion with heavy suspicion!"
Bishop Malachi nodded coldly, eyeing Lucas like a piece of spoiled meat. "If we execute Victor Vance openly on sacred grounds without a trial or ironclad proof of treason, the neutral lords will panic. The Emperor will be forced to intervene to protect nobility laws. We cannot afford an open war with the noble coalition before the Sanctum-Ignis Rite is complete."
"Besides," Seraphina added with a cruel, soft chuckle, "Victor Vance is weak. His core is damaged. He is foolishly absorbing volatile frost and demon mana into his own body, energy that will eventually tear his channels apart from the inside out. He is saving us the trouble of executing him."
Lucas pushed himself up to his hands and knees, blood dripping from his lip onto the white marble. "Then... what am I supposed to do?!"
Varos stepped down from the raised dais, his heavy white-and-gold robes sweeping against the floor until he stood directly over the kneeling Hero.
"You will return to the Imperial Royal Academy," Varos commanded softly, though his voice carried the weight of absolute authority. "You will shut your mouth, stay low, and play the part of the grieving, noble Hero whose innocent fiancée was stolen by a dark sorcerer. You will do nothing until you receive our direct orders."
Varos leaned down, grabbing Lucas by his golden hair and forcing his head back so their eyes met.
"Do you know why you were chosen to bear Sol-Vaelis, Lucas?" Varos whispered, his breath smelling of bitter ash.
"B-Because I am the Chosen One..." Lucas gasped.
"You were chosen because you were an obedient, talentless orphan with a compatible core structure," Varos purred softly. "You are a vessel, Lucas. Nothing more. The holy crest in your chest is a Church relic. If your arrogance continues to jeopardize our plans, we will cut it out of your ribcage and slap it into the next orphan waiting in our crypts."
Lucas went deathly pale. His entire body went limp in Varos’s grip as a cold sweat broke out across his spine. The realization hit him like a physical blow: to the Grand Church, he wasn’t a legend. He was completely expendable.
Varos shoved Lucas’s head down, letting him drop back to the floor. "Go to your quarters, clean your armor, and await instructions. Step out of line again, and we will find your replacement before nightfall."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace..." Lucas choked out, scrambling backward on his hands and knees before rushing out of the heavy double doors like a beaten dog.
The True Council Begins
Once the heavy doors slammed shut, the atmosphere in the chamber shifted from theatrical dominance to cold, calculated statecraft.
"He’s unraveling, Varos," Duke Frostguard said, adjusting his fur mantle as he poured himself a drink from the side table. "If Lucas loses his composure at the Academy, my daughter will publicly drag my family name through the mud."
"Let her speak," Bishop Seraphina said dismissively. "Who will believe a girl claiming her mind was altered by the Church? The noble students will view her as a tragic victim of Vance’s dark brainwashing. The more she defends Victor, the more guilty he looks."
"And Vance’s death?" Bishop Malachi asked, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the stone table. "If we cannot strike him openly, how do we dispose of the Warden’s bloodline?"
Archbishop Varos returned to his central throne, resting his hands on his golden staff.
"The Academy is a violent place," Varos murmured, a dark smile playing on his lips. "It has ancient dungeons, dangerous wilderness trials, and frequent... unfortunate accidents. We do not need to send paladins. We simply manipulate the upcoming Midterm Class Assessment Duels."
"A rogue monster outbreak," Duke Frostguard suggested, his eyes cold and narrow. "Or a poisoned mana-replenishment potion during the trials. Simple. Clean."
"Precisely," Varos agreed. "We will let Victor Vance believe he has won a political victory by keeping my ’Hero’ at bay. We will let him get comfortable inside the Academy walls. And when the Midterm Assessments begin..."
Varos turned his gaze toward the stained-glass window, watching the sun dip below the horizon.
"...we will bury the last child of House Vance under the rubble of a tragic ’training disaster,’ and return your daughter to her cage."
[ SYSTEM NOTIFICATION ]
[ High Council Scheme Unlocked: The Midterm Assessment Trap ]
[ Faction Threat: Grand Church & House Frostguard Coalition ]