Futility - The Hagiography of Ecclesia's Master, as Recounted by Lucila Fortner
Chapter Four: The Lamb
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“When you make a vow to God, do not delay in fulfilling it, because He takes no pleasure in fools. Fulfill your vow.”
In this chapter is where mere retelling ends and personal experience begins. Barlowe specifically requested I incorporate my own experiences within the text, in order to paint a more accurate picture of Ecclesia's daily life. I hope I shall adequately portray how wonderful it was then.
Indeed! I, Lucila, was one of those orphans that our master had so kindly adopted, though this story is not about me. I will not speak at too much length about my experiences if they are irrelevant to the text, as Barlowe taught me to act with the utmost humility. Indeed, I am the most humble and virtuous of his many disciples. No wonder he trusted me to write his hagiography above all others!
By now Ecclesia had made more settlements around Europe, to continue in other locations; for the most part only his closest associates and his cherished students dwelled within the main cathedral. Some children were provided by their parents within the Order; some were found. The master did not simply pluck any random children from the local orphanage, as his priority was those who were magically gifted. Furthermore, as he is a kind and sympathetic man, he would only go through with the adoption should the children agree to what was expected of them within their new home- though he made certain to mention all the care and acceptance that would await them within their new family, and omitted certain details of the task ahead as was necessary. I do not remember my initial meeting with the master, as my old memories before my joining are only a burden that he encouraged me to leave behind. He tells me, though, with a paternal look in his eyes, that I seemed particularly miserable in that girls' orphanage, and took to his kind and gentle demeanour immediately. Indeed, family awaited me there, and I have never regretted my decision. I do perhaps wonder if his kindness towards us unfortunate children was in part motivated by his own tragic childhood. How gracious of him, to offer us that same kindness!
By the end of his recruitment efforts, he had brought under his wing twelve unfortunate and battered orphans, so like his younger self, and the twelfth of them is of particular importance to this tale. I remember when she first arrived, at the crack of dawn, and she was the most dishevelled, wretched little thing I had ever seen. She was around twelve and scarcely younger than I was, only by two years, but she looked so small and scrawny that I thought she was younger. Perhaps she had been starved, but the diet Ecclesia would provide so graciously would make her into a tall, well-muscled valkyrie over the years. Her hair was a black tangled rat's nest, so unlike my coiffed ginger ringlets, and her pale blue eyes were wide with amazement at the sight of the cathedral.
Myself and another child had snuck into the entrance hall, excitedly hiding behind the marble statues to watch the new arrival. At my side stood Albus, a tall, older boy with a slender, wiry frame that never quite left him, and he seemed especially curious about her. Our beloved Father frequently wrote letters when he was away, you see, so that we of the Order would not become anxious in his absence. He told the most wonderful of stories about his time away, and he had written in glowing terms about this strange girl: that she had the magical energies of a potential sorceress.
"I'm going to live here, sir?" The girl tugged on Barlowe's sleeve excitedly.
“Of course, and you shall learn everything I know. We’ll prepare for your Naming Ceremony posthaste, but for the time being, do not be afraid to make friends with your fellow students. Look, they’re just dying to meet you!” He pointed out where we were standing, and she immediately jumped in surprise to realize she had been watched.
“Wait! Wait, sir!” She called after Barlowe as he left to attend to his own affairs. “I still don’t know what the Naming Ceremony is...” But he was already gone.
Albus put a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped again- evidently, he had snuck up on her. Was she really so unattentive? “It’s nothing to be afraid of. Everyone here gets a new name.”
“But why?”
“It means something. He says these names are sacred,” Albus shrugged. “Lucila, there, her name means ‘light’.” He pointed at me, and I waved politely. “And my name means bright, or brilliant. The master says it’s for my intellect.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad, then... What is your name? You haven’t said.”
“Ah, I apologize. Name's Albus. I guess we're brother and sister now, since the master told me we’ll be lodging together and all.” He grinned, and that seemed to reassure her. We disciples all slept in rooms of two, with a sort of unspoken buddy-system. My own roommate was a bit of a bore, a snotty young child named Gris. I never became as close to him as Albus did to Shanoa, and certainly never thought of him as a brother.
“My brother, huh... Albus.” She smiled back, a little awkwardly, but it seemed as though she was beginning to like the future that lay ahead of her. “I’ve never had a brother before! Or... Or a family, really.”
“Me neither!”
“If you’re quite finished with introductions, I have been told to show you around the cathedral,” I said, with my most authoritative tone, offering my white-gloved hand.
“Yes, Lucila... Your name is Lucila, right? Mine’s-”
“No. Your name is not important. You will receive a new one,” I corrected her.
“But for now-”
“No! You’re not allowed to tell me. We could get in trouble.
Big
trouble.” I shook my head and grasped her hand. “Come on. Breakfast is starting, and you look like you need it.”
“Oh, don’t scare her, Luci,” Albus protested. “She just needs time to get used to what it’s like here. It’s not so awful as she makes it sound,” he rubbed her shoulder again.
“What’s breakfast today?” she asked, following me and Albus down the halls to the dining hall.
“Porridge, like every day,” Albus griped.
“Oh, don’t complain. The cooks work hard to make sure we eat well,” I reminded him.
“Ah, you’re right. It can be all too easy to forget how fortunate we are,” he dipped his head in apology. “Not like when I was out on the streets, I’ll tell you that much.”
“I’d be glad to eat anything,” the girl said quietly, staring down at her hands. “There wasn’t a lot at the orphanage.” This seemed to hit a note of pathos in the boy, and he protectively clutched the hand that I was not holding. Like an interlocked daisy chain, we all gladly went to breakfast, and the new arrival ate eagerly. I continued onwards for the rest of the day, showing her the library, the kitchens, the archives, the laboratory, the house of worship, and so on.
“Where does that staircase go, Albus?” She asked him, pointing upward.
“That’s the forbidden room. We aren’t to enter. It’s dangerous. Master says so,” I interjected.
“What’s in there?” She pried further.
“The Vessel of Dracula’s soul. Didn’t he tell you? We’re going to learn how to use a magic spell to break it, so humanity can look to dawn-” Albus began, and I finished: “Without fearing the darkness.”
“Of course I remember,” she assured me.
“If all goes well in training, we might get to see it,” Albus continued. “We’re supposed to- how did he put it? To become Vessels for Dominus. A Vessel against a Vessel. Fire on fire.”
“I see...” she replied thoughtfully. “Where to next, Luci?”
“Lucila will do,” I said, hastily. We were comrades and colleagues, bound by loyalty to the Order, but she was still a stranger to me, and it felt odd for her to be acting as though we were close. I am aware she likely had no friends before me or Albus, but it still put me off. But I provided her answer: we would be going to the sleeping quarters, and Albus would show her their shared room; they would wait there until the Naming Ceremony would begin that evening, and all of Ecclesia would be in attendance. This worried me slightly; despite how easily she took to Albus and I, she seemed remarkably jumpy around adults, or at least any who weren’t Barlowe. I wonder sometimes if that had been a lasting effect of what she may have endured at the orphanage, but I find no value in speculating further.
Albus excitedly led her to their quarters, and as my contributions to her introduction were over, I stopped by the library again. By the time Barlowe had taken us in, he had hidden the books of dark knowledge, perhaps somewhere in his personal office, where not even the most high ranking of his followers dared to intrude. He was a kind, gentle man, but should you incur his wrath, you would be duly punished. I, however, was not pursuing any knowledge, but rather some indulgent frivolity. As a reward for my good behaviour as of late, Barlowe had added a lovely book about a girl and her pony to the Order's repertoire, clearly meant for children. The message was always clear- if we were obedient, all would benefit, as anyone could check the book out when they wished. Still, in my mind it was my special gift that Barlowe had purchased with me in mind, and I cherish the memory to this day.
Eventually, the bells rang with the hazy light of evening, calling all who heard them to the house of worship. The Ceremony was to begin!
We all gathered in the grand house of worship, sitting in the pews. Albus had selected a seat in the front row before any of the Order’s older members could claim it; the girl was anticipatively holding his gaze. I can only assume they had become fast friends in their time spent within the sleeping quarters. The girl was shivering though, looking like she wanted to shrink away while she stood before the whole of Ecclesia.
One of the priests reprimanded Albus for slouching, and then the process began, with Master Barlowe reading from the bible in a warm, resonant tone. Then after he had finished he announced: “It is the most joyous of days when another innocent soul has offered themselves to our noble cause. Yes, to-night we shall welcome her into our ranks with her new name and purpose, as an empty tome to fill with knowledge, and that new name shall represent-”
“But... I don’t see why I should have to do this. Isn’t my name nice enough already? My name is Agathe!” The young girl protested, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “I do not need a new one.”
“You cannot reject your name! It is forbidden!” one of the nuns hissed, sharply in her ear, and the girl flinched.
“You will forget your name, to represent forgetting your old life and embracing your new and nobler existence. You shall be named Shanoa, which in arcane scripts means ‘nothingness’. Do you want to know why, Shanoa?” His voice was warm, with a veneer of compassion that would surely get her to comply faster than the usual reprimanding. Barlowe told me that he knew from the start that she might be troublesome, and this had only confirmed it. Thus, he took a calmer approach with her to ensure her trust, while the others would be as stern as ever. If she could come to him when frightened or upset, she would learn to think of her leader highly- and thus, Ecclesia as a whole. He really was a genius, was he not? It almost worked perfectly. She followed his word dutifully, nearly to the end.
“I-I’m not nothing, am I, sir?” The first hints of fear- and thus, respect- had finally appeared. This, he told me, was a good sign.
“On the contrary, you are a blank slate, a vessel to be filled with knowledge and purpose. Do you understand? This is why I have given you this code name... It represents how far you will come.” He gave her a kind look, and extended a large hand out to her. “It’s my favourite holy name of ours, actually, so it’s an honor to receive it. Doesn’t it sound pretty?”
“Well, I... I suppose so, sir." Shanoa's mouth curled upwards in a smile, and that was when Barlowe knew he had got his hooks in. Even the most reluctant of followers could become loyal, with flattery or other means. He had learned this well during his time providing services in the church; how he had slowly made them all followers of Dracula.
“Shanoa! What a beautiful name,” Albus greeted her, once the whole ceremony had ended, and she immediately hugged him. I came to join them, eager to show her that this was a cause for celebration.
“There’s always a grand feast for dinner when a new arrival comes. Do you like roast hog?” I asked.
“I’ve never tried it,” Shanoa replied.
“Oh, we have all sorts of food on feast days! The master brings in all sorts of chiffon cakes and fresh vegetables from Oblivion Ridge and-” I began.
“I’m hungry already,” Albus said, decidedly. “Come along, follow me.” As one of the oldest of the disciples, he could sometimes act awfully authoritative about it. Shanoa was happy to, though, and I could tell then that they had been made inseparable within only the better part of the day. And perhaps I was even a little jealous of how her attention had been so enrapt with him, though I put the thought out of my mind. Envy was unbecoming and sinful.
We each gathered food and took them to our table, the one all the disciples shared; Shanoa’s plate was piled high with too much food for any one adult to eat, let alone a young girl. Barlowe had joined us at our table soon after Shanoa took her seat, and that was unprecedented. He gestured for us to make room for him, which we did, and he sat at the far end with a warm smile. “I trust you are enjoying your time here thus far?”
“Of course, sir!” She said excitedly, her mouth still full of food. Evidently, she did like roast hog.
“Close your mouth while you chew,” he reminded her gently, and she nodded and swallowed.
“In the orphanage, you told me there would be training. What sort of- I mean, when will that start?” She asked, swirling her fork through her mashed potatoes.
“Tomorrow morning. We scholars cannot waste a single day in sloth. We will start with basic spellcasting, and I shall lend you a spellbook with amateur-level Glyphs, as we do for all of our students. The goal is to eventually cast without the aid of the book. Do you understand?”
She nodded, dutifully.
“Casting spells isn’t very simple. It will probably take you months to be able to,” I said, in order to curb her enthusiasm. It would not do if she was disappointed by those all too common initial failures to conjure. “It took me forever to cast Luminatio without it flickering out.” Albus nodded seriously.
“Well, we shall see. Practice is the key to all skills, and Glyphs are no different,” he replied. How wise he was! “With due time, we shall enlighten the world from this age of darkness.”
Oddly, we never had another grand feast that wasn’t on a holy day. That was the last one. Barlowe was quick to explain to me, as he looked over my manuscript, that it was because there were no more disciples welcomed in after that, which I found satisfactory.
We hurried back to our dorms as the night fell, silver moonlight shining through the stained glass windows and giving each marble statue a heavenly glow. Shanoa was complaining of an upset stomach- no doubt the retribution for her gluttony- and everyone was quite full; as a result we all fell asleep as soon as we went to bed.
We rose early, like every morning, though Shanoa was still feeling the ill effects of the previous evening, and made the trip across the cathedral grounds and into the Training Hall. No one among us liked the Training Hall even on the best of days, and Albus was concerned greatly that Shanoa’s first day would be spent there: she was clearly under the weather, and would get hurt in that labyrinth of agility, nor had she even mastered Magnes yet, the Glyph necessary to avoid the swinging axes and pillars of flame.
Barlowe hurriedly explained: “I do not intend to have her clear the Hall today, nor any time soon. I merely wished for her to see the accomplishments that lay before her... What she will be capable of.”
She was fixed on the first row of swinging pendulum blades, eyes as wide as dinner-plates. “I’ll really be able to get through that?”
“A demonstration, if you please, Gaia,” the master clapped his hands, eager to show Shanoa how far her training had taken her. Gaia was the oldest of our ranks, on the precipice of adolescence, and she was a particularly strong warrior. With pride, Gaia strode forward to climb up the incredible tower that made up the Hall, and her agility served her well: she weaved through the pendulums and propelled herself from magnetic point to magnetic point; she leaped elegantly through columns of spouting flame, and finished with a careful dive through revolving spike traps. When she returned, she was completely untouched, though she was sweating with effort and exhaustion. To clear the Training Hall was hard work, and the first test of beginner’s studies. Even I had never cleared it at that point.
“This,” Barlowe said. “Is the pinnacle of performance. To be in perfect communion with your body is to be in communion with your soul. It may not seem as though it is linked to your magical abilities, but they are tied fast together, twins in every way. Only then will you be able to absorb Dominus and know its power; only then will you be able to grant mankind its greatest desire.”
Shanoa’s eyes were as wide as they were before, but with wonder rather than fear, and this, Barlowe tells me, is when he knew her training would be of great importance. He is sensitive to these sorts of things in a way most sorcerers are not; he noticed a sudden shift in the magical energy of the room as though some part of her had instinctively tried to shape it; he explained that this was the telltale sign of a great conjurer. He had noticed it in the orphanage, but it was even stronger in that moment. He patted her on the back gently, a subtle sign of encouragement.
“You don’t need to be strong. I can clear it too,” Albus said, a bit haughtily. “I can teleport. It’s easy.”
“You can do what?! Can I teleport too, master?” She tugged on Barlowe’s sleeve excitedly. “Teach me how to teleport. I demand it.”
“Now, now, Shanoa, not everyone can,” Barlowe chuckled. “Don’t be disappointed if you cannot master it, your skills may lie elsewhere. All of those skills are valuable, no matter what they may be.”
“Yes, sir,” she nodded, suddenly serious. “If it’s to save humanity, I’d do anything.”
“Good girl,” he ruffled her hair.
The first week or so continued like that, with us training as usual while Shanoa observed and, at Barlowe’s command, took extensive notes. I had suffered a nasty cut on my arm from my own attempt to clear the Hall that first morning, and the pain was particularly distracting; I was doing worse that Friday at conjuring Vol Luminatio (a more powerful version of my favourite light Glyph) than I was typically- not that I had yet mastered it at that point. I swore as it fizzled into tiny dim sparks in my fingers and nothing more, not the bright orb I so wished to create. It was a gorgeous morning out on the courtyard, so Barlowe had brought us out to train in the dew-strewn grass.
“Let me try,” Shanoa said, getting up from the stool the master had provided and haphazardly abandoning her dog-eared notebook.
“You wouldn’t be able to,” I warned her, but still I handed her my spellbook and pointed at the cross-like sigil that denoted Vol Luminatio. “It’s advanced, and you’ve never cast before, so it-”
She solemnly took the book and focused on the sigil, determination in her eyes. She held another hand in front of her, palm curled as if to hold something, and her fingers began to twitch. “Something’s happening, I think. A buildup.”
“That’s incredible!” Albus dropped his own training spellbook and ran to where we were standing in the courtyard. “I’ve never- I mean, it took me so long to even feel any mana from the tomes.”
“It’s still... building up,” Shanoa’s brow furrowed. “I should release it, right? How?”
By now, all eleven of us had gathered in a circle around her, and Barlowe cut through the crowd hurriedly. I didn’t know how to explain the act of casting- you just knew, instinctually, and you had to enter the trance state to truly give shape to that energy, but Shanoa did not have that instinct.
“Cast it! Cast it, Shanoa!” Gris called with encouragement.
“I don’t know how!” Her hand was flickering with that white-hot energy, and she looked around in a panic. I knew, myself, that letting the mana converge for too long could be a painful thing, but once it was in this state it must be cast.
As the searing pain reached an apex, her hand curled into a fist, and then the Glyph was cast; more than just Vol Luminatio, she had somehow called upon Luminare, the light Union Glyph. It was like a series of miniature explosions, orbs of light manifesting throughout the shadowed clearing. The energy was bursting, like blinding flame everywhere around me, and I collapsed as it all burned around me. When the radiance had concluded and I had come to, we all were laying there in pain, and Shanoa stood at the centre, shivering in horror at the destructive outburst of which she had been the source.
In retrospect, it should have been clear to us all that it was always going to be her that would bear Dominus. Her magic was that undiluted power that Barlowe had so craved, the power that could destroy anything in its wake. Hot, molten metal, and he would forge and carve her into the most unslakable and unyielding of blades. She could set the Dark Lord free once more upon His world.
Barlowe tells me he knew, and always did. We were always a backup plan.
Somehow I’m a bit disappointed, though we all found ways to contribute to our dear Order. That was more important than any glory.
“Get away! I’ll hurt you!” She flinched as Albus struggled up to his feet from where he was knelt. With shaking hands she placed the spellbook in front of me and backed as far as she could from it, before nearly tripping into Barlowe, who now stood behind her. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! It was an accident!” she apologized on instinct, looking at the circle around her for somewhere to run. “I could have killed someone,” She looked down at her hands. “I can’t do this, sir. I wasn’t able to-”
“It was really remarkable, actually,” Albus mused, while Barlowe looked on thoughtfully, not saying anything- the silence was somehow more frightening than a lecture or shout. Albus stood near enough to Shanoa, but didn’t get particularly close, though whether that was out of respect for her wishes or out of fear I could not say. “That was a Union Glyph, the most powerful kind. Your first Glyph?! I mean, it’s incredible!”
“You'd better learn how to control your mana," I said, snippily. I was not jealous of her latent power in any way, but the pain still ringing through my bones made it hard to be gracious. She sat out of the rest of the training, eyes as wide as the moon, still watching me as I practised (still not being able to cast Vol Luminatio, mind you), and as we headed towards lunch that day, I can still recall vividly the image of her clenching and unclenching her fist with a solemn stare, flinching when anyone got near her. As I could tell it was eating at her, I made sure to offer her some of my shortbread cookies that came with our meal, and Albus had the same idea. She barely touched her food, though.
For all Shanoa was left conflicted by the day’s events, Barlowe was quite proud of how things had transpired, and elated by the tremendous show of skill. He would meet with her posthaste, he decided, and he recounted the meeting that night with careful detail:
He crept up the stairs to the sleeping quarters as quietly as he could, and found them laying in bed: Shanoa was sound asleep, snug in her blankets as if carefully tucked in, and her face was pressed close to Albus’s chest. He was still wide awake, though, reading a book by a dim oil lamp. His constant insomnia was a bad habit, one Barlowe tells me he never overcame.
“I apologize for intruding,” Barlowe said.
“Of course, master,” Albus dipped his head respectfully, as if to bow. His voice was barely a whisper. “What brings you here?”
“I need to take Shanoa with me. I have to discuss something with her.”
“Is she in trouble? Can’t this wait until morning? She’s exhausted.” Albus’s arms protectively clutched his sleeping sister.
“Do not question me. An order is an order, Albus. Remember that,” Barlowe reprimanded him. “This is important. She’s coming with me.”
During the brief altercation, Shanoa’s pale blue eyes had opened, though she was still groggy with sleep. She yawned a bit, then turned to Albus, clearly shaken by something. “Albus, you’re alright...?”
“Of course I am. Why?”
She snuggled closer to his chest. “I think I was dreaming. My hands were around your throat, and you were choking, but every time I tried to pull them away you grasped them tighter and wouldn’t let me. You were... you were choking... And I could feel the mana again, in my hands... I tried to stop...” she muttered sleepily, and Albus took the opportunity to glare at the master. Barlowe felt compassion for her, as she was clearly distressed, and he knew that offering up her emotions to Dominus would be a kindness. No more fear or sadness, or confusion. Only purpose.
“It was only a nightmare, dear. Everyone gets those,” Albus comforted her as best he could.
“You’ll come to my office,” Barlowe said authoritatively and snatched her hand, lifting her out of bed despite Albus’s protests. “Follow.”
“It was an accident.” Shanoa stated again, after they had arrived at the top room of that spire in silence. “Please, sir.”
“I am aware it was an accident, and quite an interesting one. What Albus said was correct- casting a Union Glyph at this stage is unprecedented. You have the most raw magical ability within you by far, compared to my other students. Did you know that, Shanoa?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head.
“Well, aren’t you happy about it?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t control it. It just... I mean, I-”
“That’s what the training will help with. Have I told you about trance states?”
“No, sir.” She shook her head again.
“Well, there’s your problem. I’m not being a very good teacher, am I?”
She stared. If she answered negatively, that could get her reprimanded for her disrespect, but she was too nervous to risk disagreeing with him. Finally, she replied: “That’s a trick question, sir.”
“Good girl,” he commented. “Well, it’s simple, really. You must discipline yourself into being able to enter complete focus at will, and suppress everything: the outside world; your fears and woes and joys; even your memory. In that state, it will come naturally to shape and release the Glyph. Do you understand?”
“Not really, sir.”
“Well, you will in time. Lucila was the same way at first, though not nearly as dramatically. Her issue was that she could not build up enough mana. Maybe talk to her about it?” Barlowe kept his tone friendly, amicable, and that seemed to put her at ease.
“Yes, sir.” She stood there, awkwardly, unsure if she should leave.
“You may go now. Good-night, Shanoa.”
“Good-night, Master Barlowe.”
She turned to leave, and then he hurriedly interrupted: “If you have anything on your mind or cannot sleep, don’t hesitate to come visit me here. We can brew up some tea and discuss it. My office is always welcome to my most promising disciples. Not everyone gets that privilege, so don’t make them jealous.” In reality he had only ever offered this to Shanoa, though I understand why. She was almost guaranteed to be the bearer, and solidifying her loyalty and love of the Order was vital, so that she may embrace her training wholeheartedly and with new vigor- to further impress him at first, yes, but to shape a stronger bond with Ecclesia as a group. This small kindness was merely one piece of this process, he explains. Every action of his has a greater purpose, and oh, how I respect his genius!
“You think I’m... promising?” She could barely contain her giddy excitement. She had affection withheld from her for so long, it must have been so wonderful to receive it.
“Of course. You’re going to do great things, I’m certain of it,” he smiled, warmly, then sent her off to bed.
Things continued in that manner for a few months, with our training making slow but sure progress. Shanoa's magical abilities were already showing great improvement in her careful control; Albus had not been so lucky as he had an accident with his teleportation in the Training Hall, an arm lacerated by spikes leaving him so injured he had to be taken to the infirmary for a long while, which wasn't typical at all; for that entire week I stayed up worrying, and Shanoa even skipped meals to visit with him and stole books away from the library so he could read in bed (regrettably I never told an authority about this). Other than that, those months were quiet and unremarkable; however, a shakeup would come soon after Albus’s recovery: we were to get ready for three guests, and our lessons were briefly halted so that we could dust the whole cathedral. Indeed, Morris Baldwin intended to visit, and Barlowe gave us the news that we could expect to meet his son Hugh- and, additionally, his trusted apprentice Nathan. Excited chatter rippled through the dining hall as we all gossipped about the visit that morning. Barlowe had spoken in glowing terms of Baldwin, a colleague of his as you will recall from those earlier chapters. Albus in particular was ecstatic at the news, having poured over their research into DSS quite frequently.
“Think about it,” he said, excitedly. “If they’ve already created such portable conduits, I’m sure our researchers could put some effort into making something even greater. Think, the power of a spellbook but the size of one of their cards.”
“I don’t think I get it,” Shanoa said absentmindedly.
“Easier casting,” I explained before he could, eager to impress. “You don’t have to carry a heavy old book around all the time. It’s convenient.”
“Honestly, I’ve always sort of wanted... A magic gun. With Glyph bullets,” Albus said. “We could make that. Ah, I’m just so excited. I’ve been drawing up my own drafts for things that draw on DSS, I wonder if I could ask Mr. Baldwin about it!”
The three hunters arrived in their carriage that mid-morning, rather punctually, with Hugh Baldwin griping about the remote location. His father told him not to be rude, and he scowled; Nathan Graves, however, was immediately set upon by a small legion of excited children begging answers to their questions- myself included. This visit would not end happily, however.
While Albus scrawled in his personal journal at Nathan’s advice, Morris sat down with Barlowe for a discussion over a late brunch, which I overheard with my keen hearing:
“So, the children...?”
“What about them? They’re to become potential vessels for Dominus. We’ve been over this.”
“Mmhmm,” Morris took a loud sip from his coffee. “You’re training them, you’ve mentioned in letters. What sort of training?”
“The magical sort. Physical, too. They’re in top condition, you’ll find.”
“You said you’d show me their training regimen, yes?”
“Of course.”
I found this all very boring, but it was in retrospect a crucial detail. Something was going to shift that day, and Barlowe tells me he too found this a pivotal moment when we had nearly lost a great deal.
The disciples were all crowding around Nathan and Hugh, and I had gotten the chance to personally ask Hugh some questions and tell him about life in Ecclesia, but then something seemed to go quite wrong as Barlowe escorted Morris to the Training Hall to show him our regimen. Hugh whispered in his ear, and Morris’s eyes narrowed suddenly, but he did not immediately speak.
In the Training Hall, Gaia was to give a runthrough of her expert performance, as she cleared it at least once a day to keep up her athletic figure. Morris had not said a word since his son had whispered to him, frowning contemplatively.
Still, everything was well, until it wasn’t.
The usual climb up the tower began typically, weaving between the pendulums, avoiding the pits of spikes; her use of Magnes was as graceful as ever. However, in one of the last sections, when she had to jump from platform to platform while avoiding the flamethrowers, she unfortunately made a grave error. Even the most skilled of our warriors found the Hall a tremendous challenge, and Gaia was no different. Perhaps she just wasn’t as alert as she usually was, or made nervous by the onlookers, but that was simply her own failure: she tumbled from a platform, a leg burnt viciously by one of the flame-spouts enough to set her off balance and tumbling down the Hall’s great tower.
I shudder now to recall that scene of horror. I had long repressed my memories of that day till they were a vague blur, but my Father had prompted them to come into clarity once more.
She screamed as she fell, trying and failing to activate Magnes in time to suspend herself on one of the metal points, and there were audible snapping noises as she bounced off a few other platforms on the way down and eventually suspended herself with the Glyph, shaking in terror; Shanoa tried to somehow get up to where she had landed despite her own lack of experience, in a fruitless and poorly-conceived attempt to rescue her. Thankfully, she didn’t push further once it became a struggle. But the conclusion was clear: Gaia had failed, more catastrophically than any previous failed attempts, and whatever wounds she had suffered would put her in the infirmary longer than even Albus had been.
Not that it was any fault but her own poor performance, of course. This was an unfortunate accident with the worst possible timing.
“Ah. That is not good,” Barlowe muttered, while the rest of us looked on in numb horror. “Well. She knows what she volunteered to do. Typically she is able to-”
“I’ve seen enough!” Morris snapped. “I had my suspicions about your training, but this only confirms them. Come on, Graves. We’re leaving.” He stormed out of the Training Hall and onto the grounds, where Nathan and Hugh were waiting outside and discussing something with Albus, who had opted not to come watch- due to his previous experience with the Hall I can only be sympathetic to that choice.
“Do we really have to leave already, Master?” Nathan asked, confused, as Morris stormed into the courtyard. "We only just arrived, and the trip was so long."
“Father’s in one of his moods, I expect,” Hugh said, dryly.
“No, no, enough of that. We’re leaving. Come on, Hugh. I’ve seen enough of this, this... This machine! I cannot believe I ever- Well, my lord! We’re leaving!” he ranted, shaking with rage. “Child soldiers! I’ve seen what this upbringing can do and it’s nothing good. These children are in danger.”
“Ah,” Hugh muttered, with an odd expression. “Ah, I see.”
“Will you tell the church anything?” Nathan asked, his eyes flickering over to stare at Hugh with a sympathetic gaze. Perhaps this had touched a nerve.
“They’d never act on it,” Morris grimaced. "But I'll try. And I’m taking my research, too!"
“You cannot do that,” Barlowe said, his voice flat but reflective of calm rage.
“It was a kindness I afforded to you, and a kindness I can revoke, Augustus,” Morris glared back. “This whole business with the... The training of children! I don’t like it. Look how many of them are hurt, right now?”
“I’m alright, sir,” Albus contested, noticing the eyes on his bandaged arm. “Our master never hurt us intentionally. It’s merely the consequences of our own failures. Don’t worry for her. Our nurses are very talented.”
“What the hell...” Morris muttered, to no one but himself. Hugh stood closer to his father, and he turned to Nathan. “You heard the old man. Go get his books.”
“Right,” Nathan nodded.
“And what do you hope to accomplish with this? Humanity doomed to suffer yet again? There is a greater good here, no matter how much you unjustly believe I’m leading these lambs to the slaughter. Dominus... will not kill them,” he lied, carefully. This was not a malicious lie, oh, of course it could not be. There was so much at stake, and he needed to regain what was being lost. “The Vessel must be broken. Physical training aids the magical ability needed for the ritual. The ends justify the means, Baldwin,” Barlowe glowered. “Or would you forsake all of us just for that?”
“This discussion is over, Augustus.”
Upon Baldwin’s departure, Barlowe’s quiet composure snapped and he flew into a fury, demanding to know why we had ruined everything that was to come from the visit and cost us our valuable resources. Apparently someone among us had complained of poor treatment, which had been what set Baldwin off. No one admitted to it, but Albus received the brunt of it, to make an example of him for the rest of us. The message was clear. Regardless of his likely innocence, he faced the lecture without complaint, lest he face more. He had been trying to tell Barlowe something before he had been hurried to his punishment in front of the other disciples, but went silent during its duration, out of fear of more retribution.
“I wrote about their research in my journals! I took notes!” Albus finally sputtered his message after Barlowe’s lecturing had concluded and he was certain it was over. “Almost everything, too. You didn’t lose anything. Or much, at least.”
Barlowe went very quiet, realizing his mistake, then apologized and demanded the journals immediately, to be sent to the scribes to make copies (something I readily volunteered my contribution to). Albus complied, rushing to his room where he had carefully kept them, and then all was right again, though we were all still quite shaken by the clear view we had gotten of Gaia’s twisted, broken body above us in the Hall; that feeling would pass eventually as the master encouraged us to forget and move forward, and the memory became a hazy dream.
No, it seemed the most lasting effects of this event were on Barlowe himself: he was always a little different afterwards; a bit more controlling and less lenient on us. I understood why, of course. There was so much we could have lost. Baldwin had been a vital ally to us and the source of much of what had made up our library’s greatest knowledge. The Training Hall was henceforth off-limits for “reworking”, though we never knew what that reworking may have been, as we never went again- whatever had happened, he clearly cared enough to not wish a repeat incident, as no one had failed as horribly as Gaia had. No, now it was off-limits, apart from only the most advanced of students, deeply restricted.
Additionally, none of us saw Gaia again after she had been hurried to the nurses, and Barlowe forbade us to speak of her. It seemed he was getting more and more on edge following that visit. And so, we quickly forgot.
He told me, later, that he was frightened, that at any point they could have lost their possession of the Vessel and could have lost everything they had worked for; Morris’s outburst had been a wakeup call of sorts. So he needed to strengthen the group, so none of us would dare selfishly make such false claims about our upbringing ever again. It would be terrible of us to lie and say we were abused- we were not, at all! Lying is a sin. This effort was set in motion as soon as Barlowe announced we would have another Meeting of Loyalty, which had once been an infrequent get-together every follower in Ecclesia would participate in but would soon become an almost monthly ritual. Shanoa had never participated before.
“What is this meeting, exactly?” Shanoa asked me, once Barlowe had given us the news during breakfast.
“Ah, so it’s already been a short while since you arrived here, hasn’t it? It’s simply our way of declaring our loyalty and noble purpose.” I smiled at her reassuringly. She had nothing to fear, after all. “It makes me feel closer to God, and to my family here, when we are all praying together and vowing our undying allegiance.”
“I’m not as enthused about them as you are,” Albus groused. “They’re sooo boring. I could be spending that time on something more productive. I’m still trying to work on my idea, Glyph bullets, you know? For a man so dedicated to research, he spends a lot of that time on meaningless fluff.”
“It's not meaningless!” I protested, and rightfully so. “It’s important. We need the Lord to guide us, especially after what happened.” We were not to speak about Baldwin in much detail unless Barlowe spoke of him first. "He just wants us to feel better after that man betrayed us."
"Not that I don't respect his wishes, of course," Albus clarified hastily. "All geniuses are a bit eccentric."
“Well, I think it sounds alright,” the young girl leaned against his shoulder. “I’m a bit nervous, though. Can we sit together?” She looked at the both of us imploringly. Albus eagerly assured her that she could, and tightly grasped her hand.
We lined up together in the house of worship, and sat very closely together in one of the back rows, Shanoa in the centre between the two of us.
“We have gathered here today because a former ally has left us. He has turned away from what the Lord had ordained. But if the Lord told me to bark like a dog and run through those woods, I'd do it! Do you know why? Because He knows all things. His will is absolute!" Barlowe's fist shook with resolution. "And He speaks through me! Would you obey, if I told you what He has commanded?"
"Without hesitation, Master. Amen," his followers nodded, their voices shivering with that same conviction.
“Would you die for mankind? Would you ingest deadly nightshade and perish in slow agony? Would you be felled to the flaming sword of an angel, all to ensure the completion of humanity’s wish?” Barlowe roared, the energy within the tiny room nearly electric with excitement and resplendence. “Would you die for the Lord?!”
“Without hesitation, Master. Amen,” the disciples murmured in unison, hands folded together as though praying. Shanoa’s eyes darted around in terror, and she clutched my forearm and whispered: “I’m not going to die, am I, Lucila?” Clearly, the incident with Gaia had shaken her. But this questioning was concerning, wasn’t it? She should have been able to agree with whatever her leader wished of her.
“It’s only hypothetical,” I explained. “But if it’s necessary, you may need to. It is quite noble, so do not fear it.”
“What does hyper... hyperthetical mean?” She hissed in my ear, before Albus shushed her. “Be quiet. You don’t want to get in trouble with the master. He’ll punish you.”
"And if those church officials come by asking about what Baldwin said, what will you tell them?!"
Shanoa, surprisingly, was the first to pipe up from the crowd: "That Ecclesia does not mistreat us. The Order has given us everything we have."
"That's right, Shanoa," Barlowe nodded, and she sat down again. Secretly, she was beaming at his attention, already growing into quite the goody-two-shoes, much like myself, really.
As the ritual concluded that night, Shanoa had thankfully not made any more protests or comments, and we all headed to bed. I myself felt like my mind had been quite cleared of the accident I had witnessed, thanks to Barlowe’s careful guidance and kindness. Really, it did not matter who lived or died. We could heal our wounds with time, and every one of those wounds made us stronger. We would get stronger. We would break the Vessel. We would achieve our purpose. No matter the consequences.
This made me feel quite complete.
I hope this has left you, my dear reader, with as accurate a picture of our lovely childhoods. Barlowe was like a father to us, and though not all of us considered ourselves siblings like Albus and Shanoa had, we were still as close as could be.
I could not have asked for a better youth, really.
Annotations
-This is the longest chapter, and by far the most focused on the disciples themselves. This is where Lucila most “speaks for herself” rather than being a mouthpiece for Barlowe, about her own personal experience and so on... Obviously everything she tells you is blurred by that lens, but I do consider this fic as much her story as it is Barlowe’s. She’s definitely a fun character to write and develop.
-The inspiration for the disciples being assigned names comes from how IGA has always called “Shanoa” a codename, and how some cults will assign new names to members to more closely tie their identity to the cult. For a long while, people I’ve discussed this topic with always remarked on how Shanoa sounds like an actual name (if a bit esoteric), not a codename, so why make the distinction? Our running theory was that it was derived from “shunya”, a Bhuddist concept meaning nothingness/void, since it sounded similar enough and can easily be connected to Shanoa’s character (and that’s the explanation I alluded to in the fic)... only for, right after I had finished writing the full text, a Castlevania Dungeon topic was posted on their forums that explained it was extremely likely her codename was actually intended to be Chat Noir and then mistranslated. Uhh... whoops. The name Agathe was chosen here for Shanoa's original name as it's the name of Albus's gun in the original Japanese (renamed Agartha in localization). I thought it would be a cute nod, though I also considered calling her Alice. I thought it sounded too similar phonetically to Albus though... A whole lot of thought put into a very inconsequential plot point.
-Albus’s dialogue in that flashback scene where it seems like the sibling relationship was immediate is pretty interesting to me. I’ve seen some write it as though they were specifically told to be siblings to each other, or assigned to be, but I always found it sweeter if it’s a bond they forged themselves. I love the idea of him excitedly showing Shanoa around and going full “AND NOW WE WILL BE BEST FRIENDS FOREVER!!! :D” mode. When you’re a kid you make friends a lot more easily. Spend 30 minutes at the playground with someone you’ll never see again? BFFs. That’s just how kids are. They’re a little older than that here, but their upbringings were hardly normal.
-The Training Hall is a bitch. It’s also got a similar aesthetic to Ecclesia itself, and the name implies its use- I’ve always thought of it as a training method Barlowe might have used. It goes predictably wrong, of course, and I think serves as an important moment. His utter control is shaken by the disastrous meeting with Baldwin, and thus he tightens his grip on everything out of fear. Baldwin chewing him out didn’t scare him onto the right path, but rather the opposite. I think Barlowe craves control, and interestingly I’ve always thought Albus does too, but more a result of any agency in his life being stolen from him while he was in Ecclesia. That’s why Shanoa says he always wants to solve everything on his own, why he tries to come up with a harebrained scheme to absorb Dominus himself rather than just tell her directly, and so on. He wanted to be the one in control for once in his life. I think finding out that Barlowe had been lying to and manipulating him really shook him. It’s traumatizing, and a lot of his more unwise and impulsive decisions during OOE can be traced back to that reasoning. That’s just my read on him, though. OOE is about agency in a lot of ways.
-Shanoa’s nightmare about killing Albus is obviously foreshadowing his eventual death, but it also is directly related to her insecurities after her failure to control her powerful magic- the way a weapon draws blood unflinchingly, you know. Unfortunately, Barlowe only sees this as a way to rationalize his later actions rather than offer any true solace. Barlowe’s veneer of warmth and paternal attitude is probably the creepiest thing to write, moreso than scenes where he’s directly hurting his followers, imo.
-I mentioned before I think Hugh goes through a similar character arc as he does in COTM- that informs Morris’s rage a bit. I think he would reconcile with his son, and realize that being trained for a great destiny can be something that wounds. He’s seeing a repeat of it here.
-The “meeting of loyalty” was inspired by some cult practices I read about in my research, and Ecclesia’s status as a religious cult in addition to being an organization- it makes sense for them to have rousing religious meetings. It’s also a way for Barlowe to drill in that his leadership and authority is absolute. By getting the children to promise a hypothetical death, the idea of that death becomes more and more normalized.
-Lucila calling her childhood so wonderful is intentionally dissonant.
