Futility - The Hagiography of Ecclesia's Master, as Recounted by Lucila Fortner
Chapter Five: The Secret
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"All things are wearisome, more than one can describe; the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear content with hearing."
Three years had passed in careful studies. After having passed our Intermediate Examinations, we were all given the opportunity to choose our role within Ecclesia. Albus chose the path of a Researcher, one who would create new Glyphs and study their properties. Most vitally, he would be allowed to study Dominus itself, which excited him greatly; it was a suitable role considering how much of a bookworm he could be. Shanoa had chosen to become one of our Warriors, much like Gaia before her, and I became a Scribe, tending to the archives and writing extensively about the progress we had made. Alas, our carefree childhood days spent together during our training were over, as our duties had been split, but the three of us were still inseparable, and the best of friends. We spent every meal sitting close together and discussing all manner of things, though lately, the master had been pulling Shanoa from the dining hall and into his office for their one-on-one Special Trainings.
The Special Trainings were a frequent series of meetings that had begun soon after she had turned fifteen and her likelihood of becoming the bearer had become undeniable to him, though he kept this judgment hidden from the others. I asked her about them once, and she said she could not speak of them for fear of reprimandation, as Barlowe insisted they be kept secret, but that she considered them quite a special privilege that he had afforded to her (I knew now that this was likely due to not wanting envy of her role among the other disciples, and he explained further that he wanted us to not believe we had a lesser chance of becoming the bearer, to still dedicate ourselves to our lessons, in case things with Shanoa fell through); Albus said they lasted the duration of the meal and Shanoa would often be waiting in their sleeping quarters by the time he returned from dinner (though sometimes she was away all night); I asked Barlowe and he was glad to elaborate: they spent this time helping Shanoa more readily enter the trance state and concentrate long enough for when she may be needed for Dominus, though what methods he used, I never knew. I am content not to, as I did not earn the same privilege- as you'll recall, my master knew soon after Shanoa's training began that she and Albus were most likely to be able to handle the Lord's power, after all; we other disciples turned to providing to Ecclesia's mission in other ways. It does pain me to admit that I envied her, though, as the only one ever selected for the Special Trainings. Oh, how I always wished I could have taken part! But the elevating experiences of the Meetings of Loyalty were far enough for me.
Albus, however, seemed to be growing quite envious.
“It’s just suspicious,” Albus’s eyes narrowed, as the two of us were eating lunch. By now, us disciples were not all sharing a table, but rather we had been given the tremendous gift of selecting our own seats in the dining hall. How kind Barlowe had been to give us such a privilege!
“What’s suspicious? He is only helping me to be at my best,” Shanoa replied.
“If anything, you need less training, not more. You’re exhausted all the time, and he’s having you skip dinner too frequently. It’s weird. What does he even have you do in there?”
“It’s related to Dominus... I can’t say any more than that. It’s important,” she said, evasively.
“What makes you need this training any more than the rest of us, then?” I asked. “Or has he chosen you as the bearer?”
“No, no, he just thought I needed some extra help. You know I’m poor at controlling my Glyphs, Lucila,” Shanoa shrugged.
“Too powerful. What a great problem to have,” I said, dryly, then realized I may have upset her: “You’ll only need a bit more practice, I think. You’re getting better at it. It must be nice to have our leader helping you personally...”
“He’s... a good teacher,” Shanoa said, stiffly, as though rehearsed.
Albus began to respond, but was suddenly (and rudely, according to him) interrupted by one of the other researchers.
“Come quickly. Research business, you know.”
“Yes, sir,” Albus nodded.
He would later reveal this secret business to us as we convened in the library to discuss the matter amongst ourselves: the Chief Researcher was dead. He was an older man named Claudius who had once been a part of Barlowe’s church and was a right-hand man in the earliest days of Ecclesia. In the days heading up to this, everyone knew his time was to come; he passed in his sleep. However, the more interesting part of this is that Ecclesia was to decide on a new Chief Researcher in his stead. Barlowe would, of course, make that decision, as he was the greatest authority in these matters. There were, quite frankly, many to choose from. Albus was perhaps the youngest and least experienced, but the master tells me that he was catching up to his compatriots at a rapid speed. He had the makings of a brilliant and strange mind, his peculiarities ushering him closer to the answers than any other. This would end up prematurely making the master’s decision for him, though many would be doubtful that a nineteen-year-old could hold the position adequately.
It was a calm mid-morning, sometime in the fall, and Shanoa had left sometime around dawn for her first trip outside the Order since she had first arrived here. Indeed, she was to be sent on a mission, something she had been quite enthused about. To keep up the appearance of an “anti-Dracula establishment” (and make sure our funding was secure), Barlowe frequently sent his followers out to take care of monster attacks. This was only delaying the inevitable destruction that was to come, after all, so he found no sorrow in it. The girl’s absence was making Albus quite touchy, though, or so Barlowe told me. He didn’t really talk to anyone while his sister was away, absorbing himself entirely in his studies. I asked if perhaps he had been consumed by worry in those times, and Barlowe told me not to speculate further, that it only could be jealousy of her vital role; I had asked this soon after Albus had left our ranks, so I understand the wish to not speak of him.
Regardless, on this morning, Albus had intruded on the master’s private office, and I do mean intrude, as he did not even care to knock. He was, apparently, visibly sleep deprived and frustrated, and Barlowe knew then that he had a difficult conversation ahead of him.
“Last night,” Albus said, his voice gravelly. “Last night, I was working with Dominus.”
Barlowe raised an eyebrow.
“You gave your permission! I did nothing unwise. I was observing its properties. I... It had the tell-tale signs of dark-attribute Glyphs.”
“Indeed. Go on.”
“Not only that, but I referenced from some of the textbooks about this sort of thing, and... The numbers were adding up. The reactions to- to stimuli, magical stimuli. They were exactly the same as the remains of Dracula Himself. Down to the last decimal point,” Albus gesticulated as he explained. “I don’t understand. If this is the power to destroy Dracula, then why is it His power alone? There’s nothing else it could be. Or did you not know...?”
“Are you suggesting I have decided poorly in my construction of Dominus?”
“Sir! I am not questioning you, and heaven forbid I ever do. I merely wish to know why I had not been trusted with this information prior. It would be most vital to know these properties before we begin our experiments, not after!” the boy demanded. “Surely you’ve heard of that swordsman whose mind was split in two when he tried to collect those remains. It could have been dangerous. We need the facts. All of the facts! What are you hiding...?”
“The rest of our Glyphs did nothing to the Vessel. Dracula’s remains, however, reacted in its presence, and I attempted to distil that power. Fire versus fire, you see,” Barlowe explained, finally. “You’ll recall from legends that the remains also have curative properties, to lift deep-seated curses.”
“Of course, sir. But why hide this?” Albus asked.
“I have only hidden it from my disciples, and no one else. Even the church knows. You see, it would be far too easy for a secret to slip- especially with Shanoa travelling abroad for missions now, and all- and those small-minded people in those villages outside of our dear Order or the church, well, if they heard about us using His remains in arcane rituals...! You can imagine they’d get the torches and pitchforks if they knew. Our research would go up in smoke... So I had to restrict this knowledge.”
“I... I see. Well, you should have at least told me when I became part of the research team! Good lord,” he hissed under his breath. “I just want to know why-”
“Calm, calm. You’re stressed. You’re not thinking clearly.” Barlowe grabbed his forearm. “I had my reasons, and this explosive reaction is only illustrative of why I made this decision.”
“I’m only being reasonable, sir!” Albus exclaimed. “It’s necessary knowledge for what we aim to do. You have no reason to hide. I trust you more than anyone.”
He knew then that if he did not end this conversation amicably, Albus would most certainly sow dissent within Ecclesia. The idea of dangerous secrets, of the dark powers of Dracula, could easily be misunderstood, and if he told Shanoa, Barlowe risked losing his brightest pupil’s steadfast trust. No, he needed leveraging power, to keep that secret and shut Albus up for a little bit; to regain that respect. He risked the end of the Order otherwise.
Thankfully, he had a very easy way to do so.
The captain chose his words to the mutinous carefully: “Do not think I am disappointed in you. Your intelligence is second to none; I’ve never had a researcher discover this before I told them. No one else had thought to test its properties in that way. I see... bright things ahead for you, Albus. You’ve been invaluable to progressing our Glyphs, especially with the creation of Agartha, perhaps our most efficient Glyph conduit. We’ve been closer to the end of our mission than ever, and why is that?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“Because of you,” Barlowe said, and Albus’s tense posture visibly softened at the sound of that praise. “I was considering this already, but your... ‘independent discovery’, shall we say, has confirmed my decision. You shall be the new Chief Researcher.”
Albus immediately accepted this role graciously, and as a deep honor, but on the condition that he was not to reveal any of his findings beyond what Barlowe had allowed, lest he lose what he had been given. In believing he had gained more freedom and control over his work, he was actually on a much tighter leash. This was by design; the master’s intent was to keep him from figuring out the whole truth while also feeling like he was receiving special treatment and high standing. He showered him with frankly overwhelming praise, then sent him out on frequent busywork.
Some did complain that such a young boy had been chosen for such a role, but Barlowe was quick to shut that down. The Chief Researcher, at this point, was merely a puppet’s role at best- not that Albus ever knew that (though he would still be involved in vital research later on, as will be elaborated upon in the next chapter). His only complaint was that he had less time to spend with his sister, now that they had their own split responsibilities. What a good puppet he was...
My role was much more understated, tending to the archives, making copies, stocking the library, and so on; I did not ever complain of my toils, though, as each contribution was what made Ecclesia so strong. I was glad to simply and humbly be a part of it, and my work paid off when I was soon regarded as the disciple Barlowe would most readily trust with secret, forbidden knowledge. So, really, I had more authority than my colleagues in that respect.
We were getting closer and closer to the answer, to Dracula’s resurrection, which Barlowe took note of as monster sightings became more and more frequent in the woods surrounding us. The isolated location of Ecclesia was, by pure coincidence, adjacent to the large cliffside that Castlevania was sure to appear on; he could tell, now, while the werewolves and skeletons gathered each night expectantly on that distant cliffside for their nighttime revelry, a telltale sign of the next Coming.
The message was clear, and it was as though spoken by the Lord Himself: Steady your course. Fate shall lead you to the outcome you seek.
Annotations
-I wanted to toy with the idea of Albus questioning authority and considering leaving being a constant throughline. He trusts Barlowe, of course, but not necessarily his views on the “greater good”. It starts here, and culminates at the beginning of OOE when Barlowe’s most dangerous lies finally become too much to bear, and Albus finally has the strength to leave.
-Another key thing here is that Barlowe has already chosen his bearer. I always got that vibe from OOE, with him promising Albus the role while having already settled on Shanoa... So I decided to make that something consistent throughout. HE KNOWS. It’s just another of his deceptions. He’s already looking at Shanoa as someone he wants dead. The special trainings are a part of this. Behind the scenes, his plans are already being set in motion, though the disciples had no clue. Barlowe restricting the knowledge of the researchers (Albus especially) is part of this.
-Shanoa’s mission is a small detail but should raise SEVERAL red flags- it’s the first time she’s been allowed to even leave the cathedral in years. I’ve always thought of life in the Order as a suffocating, isolating upbringing. We never see her discuss her missions, but I think having the opportunity to talk to people outside of her cult is a welcome reprieve, even if she doesn’t know the true weight of it. I think the villagers also occupy a similar role in her narrative. Literally, their influence is what allows her to open her mind to Albus’s truth, but on a more abstract level I think interacting heavily with people “outside the bubble” did help her question what she had been taught.
