#pheros

“I simply wished to commend you on another excellent sermon,” said Pheros with a faint smile. “You have an admirable way with words.”

“So you have told me.” Tiki adjusted the set of her clerical collar. “I must admit, I had not expected an officer of the Valmese army to be one of my most appreciative congregants.”

“Expected us all to be heathen invaders, did you?” The major’s mouth twitched into a rueful smirk. “Well, I suppose that would be a fair assessment of some of us. Why, just the other day, some fool was frothing over one of your recent services, saying you preached sedition!”

“Oh, my,” said Tiki, her voice still mild. “I am surprised that I did not hear of such accusations earlier.”

“I set the fool straight,” said Pheros, waving a hand dismissively. “It was his own fault for not recognizing words straight out of the testaments.”

“I take it that you have some familiarity with the scriptures?”

“I do, yes.” The Valmese woman looked almost wistful. “I was supposed to have entered seminary two years ago, but… well.” She gestured to the rank bars pinned to her lapel.

“You could have chosen not to fight,” said Tiki. “The testaments teach the value of peace, not of war. Perhaps that is why your brother in arms found them to seem seditious.”

Pheros let out a short, mirthless laugh. “Careful, Your Excellency. Less discerning ears might think you were urging me to abandon my duties--and that would be sedition.”

“Not at all.” Tiki’s expression betrayed nothing. “I simply wish to understand you better, as any good priestess would. You must, of course, follow your conscience.”

The clack of boots on the stone floor drew their attention, as one of the other Valmese soldiers stepped forward. “Major, we should be on our way. Our patrol begins soon.”

“Of course, lieutenant. There is no telling what manner of havoc the resistance might cause if left unchecked.” Pheros tucked her cap securely onto her head and gave Tiki a shallow bow, a small smirk still lingering on her lips. “Be safe, Your Excellency.”

“Goddess be with you, my child,” said Tiki, extending a hand in benediction.

As the last of the congregation left, and the doors of the cathedral shut behind them, Tiki looked pensively after them. It was an interesting conversation, but I wonder… were either of us sincere in our goodbyes?

The crypts beneath the cathedral, where generations of Valentian royalty had been interred, were usually shrouded in impenetrable stillness. Footsteps fell dead, swallowed up by the porous stone and thick dust, and the labyrinthine corridors made the mere act of walking around disorienting.

Tiki navigated them with practiced care, never making a wrong turn as she wove her way downward, a covered basket in one hand and a pewter candle tray in the other. The flame guttered at occasional drafts, but she paid it no mind.

At last, she reached her goal: a nondescript wooden door with a heavy iron lock. The room on the other side was almost completely bare, with only iron sconces on the walls and an old statue of the Earth Mother breaking the monotony of its walls. Tiki looked down the hallway in both directions, ensuring that nobody was around, before going inside and locking the door behind her.

Once there, she set her candle and basket on the floor and approached the statue. She knelt down to pray, hands brushing against the cold stones of the floor. Grant me wisdom, Goddess, that I might carry out thy will here on earth.

Her palm fell upon a stone that protruded slightly more than the ones around it. She grasped it tightly and gave it a firm twist. The floor shook slightly, and the deep rumble of stone and metal grating against one another filled the room as the statue slid ponderously to one side, revealing a narrow staircase leading down. Tiki picked up her candle again and followed it.

The existence of this passage was a closely guarded secret in the church--Tiki could count on one hand the others who knew of its existence. The passage led to the old catacombs beneath the city, a maze of mass graves from the time of the plague. It was a holdout from an earlier era, when the church had granted sanctuary to those who opposed tyranny.

In that respect, nothing much has changed.

She reached the end of the passageway and knocked on the door. After a moment’s pause, a voice answered.

“You may come in. Not that you need my permission.”

“Perhaps not, but it is polite to knock.” Tiki eased open the door and smiled at the woman sitting on the cot inside. Say’ri’s appearance had changed somewhat over the past two years: her skin was paler than usual from lack of sunlight, and her expression much more careworn.

The room itself was sparse: the cot along one wall, covered in threadbare blankets; a desk and chair opposite, with a rifle and cleaning supplies laid out on the surface and a dingy clock hanging on the wall above; and a curtained-off corner for toilet and shower. It seemed more like a prison cell than a refuge. Perhaps that is what it feels like to her, too.

“Are you well?” said Tiki in an attempt at normal conversation. Her guest shrugged.

“As well as can be expected. To what do I owe the visit?”

Tiki held out the basket. “Here. It may not be warm, but it should be filling enough.”

Say’ri pulled back the cloth covering the basket and smiled at the food inside. “It would be the height of rudeness to complain of such things, given the risks you already take in sheltering me here.”

“I do not consider it as such,” said Tiki. “We are called by the Goddess to care for those who are in need. This is a duty, and one that I take seriously.”

Say’ri looked as if she was considering a response, but after a moment she simply nodded her thanks. “What news of the war?”

“A continued stalemate.” Tiki pulled out the chair from the desk and sat. “The Feroxi forces are dug in and fortified, and even the Imperial artillery will have trouble dislodging them. As for the Ylissean front… well, more of the same.”

“People fight, people die, and the lines don’t budge.” Say’ri gritted her teeth. “I feel so helpless, just hiding in the shadows...”

“Yet you can hardly appear in public. Your brother--”

“That damned collaborator is not my brother!” Say’ri snapped. “My brother would not have given in so easily when the empire came!”

Tiki sighed. “Marshal Yen’fay, then. In his eyes, and those of the empire, you are a wanted criminal.”

Yen’fay had been in command of the Chon’sin army at the time of the Valmese invasion, but in the face of their overwhelming might, he had quickly negotiated a surrender. In return, he had been allowed to retain some administrative authority over the country.

Say’ri had disagreed vehemently. She and the officers loyal to her had sworn to fight on, refusing to abide to an agreement they saw as invalid. Thus had begun the Chon’sin Resistance, a constant thorn in Valm’s side.

The silence was finally broken, as the clock chimed softly. Say’ri stood, grabbing her long coat from where it lay on the floor and sliding it on. “I must be going.”

“The Valmese patrols will be out tonight,” Tiki warned.

“They always are.” Say’ri picked up her rifle from the desk and affixed a shoulder strap to it. “But my soldiers are counting on me to lead them.”

“You cannot continue like this forever.” There was an almost pleading note in Tiki’s voice, mixed with resignation. She already knew anything she said to dissuade Say’ri would be in vain.

“I cannot. But there is no need for that. I will simply continue until the war is finished, or until I am… whichever comes first.” Her eyes were hard and determined. “As long as I draw breath, I will fight on.”

Say’ri made a few final adjustments to her equipment, checking that her spare ammunition was secure, before nodding to herself in satisfaction. “All set.” She inclined her head to Tiki, smiling faintly. “I’ll be off, then. Stay safe.”

“Goddess be with you,” said Tiki.

She stood in the empty room for a long while as the sound of Say’ri’s footsteps faded into the distance.