The Ghost of Vermil-Chapter 41: Diana IV

It was in the Coliseum that the Academy Director gathered all scholars under Divine Ordination for an urgent announcement.

"Must be about the incident from yesterday," said Eleanor, taking the seat beside Diana.

Cursed beasts were released right inside the Academy grounds, the Atelier's dome missing its half after the Castel's Inkarmoran burst out of its confinement. Luckily, the Director and one professor had contained the threat before it could cause any further casualties. Meanwhile, scholars and professors who rushed to the scene made swift work of the smaller creatures that spilled out of the marble building.

"I killed a small rabbit; how many did you take down?" asked Carlos as though the breakout yesterday was some game.

"Somebody almost died, Carlos," Diana snapped at him. "Two. I killed a boar and a falcon." She could have felled more if the fourth years had not swarmed the battlefield.

Although the accident had been shocking, they were all blessed children and it naturally fell upon their able hands to subdue the cursed beasts. Yet in the aftermath, they took to boasting, tallying kills and comparing sizes. The bison especially proved hardest to subdue for their bulk. But those that could fly were of the utmost concern, for they could easily cross Demach's walls and wreak havoc in the streets of Gallenport.

Standing at the pulvinar — a platform that overlooked the seats and the arena — the director was flanked by a taller professor who must be James Hilbury, the same instructor who had overseen the Henge Field Test. Dark circles under his eyes made it apparent that he had not slept throughout the night. Diana doubted she would either, had such an incident happened under her watch.

"My dear students," Director Garren's voice carried over the entire Coliseum, rendering it silent. "I hope you had an enlightening month so far, bar yesterday's misfortune. To shed light on it, I would like for Professor Hilbury to speak first."

"Thank you, Director. I am James Hilbury for those unfamiliar," the professor started in a solemn tone. "Yesterday afternoon just before the end of classes, I was transferring the cages of cursed beasts in readiness for the senior's assessment that was supposed to be done today. However, on that same time, a powerful cursed beast called Castel's Inkarmoran had been showing signs of agitation, as well as another specimen named the Weeper, a demonic monster."

Gasps and mutterings rippled through the stands. "We were keeping a demonic monster in the Academy?" Carlos said in surprise, "To what end?"

All the students knew that Demach stored cursed creatures. But the Weeper was news to every one.

Director Garren raised a fist to still them.

The professor continued, "As we were reinforcing the runes on the Weeper's chamber, it gave out a loud wail and awakened a few cursed beasts from their cages. It seemed that we underestimated the power of the Weeper's cry. And as we were subduing the creatures that had broken free, the Inkarmoran was able to break out from its prison. We suspect that the runes on its chamber had failed. In its rampage, the Weeper was also released."

He nodded over to the Director who stepped forward and spoke, "The lives of five guards and three students were put at risk but they fought bravely despite knowing they might lose their own lives. They showed a steely resolve like any soldier of the Holy Army, in the face of a swarm of a hundred cursed beasts, the Inkarmoran and the Weeper. Fortunately, all of them survived, although one remains critical. It is only just and imperative that we hold them in recognition, beginning with the brave Third-Year Aleph Wilcan Libbery."

When the director clapped, the entire Coliseum followed suit. "Sadly, he has not woken up after suffering severe blood loss. If you could visit him in the infirmary, your words of support will surely make his recovery much quicker. And also deserving of praise, another courageous student from the same class, Theresa of Cotton Lake."

A girl of rusty brown hair stepped out from the curtains and joined Director Garren, to the applause and hollers of her classmates.

"Theresa was previously Sixth in the Academy rankings but after being awarded merits due for her talent and contribution, she has taken the fourth place now," the director announced. Another round of cheers erupted from the stands.

"She's the only commoner in the top ten. How strong is she?" commented Eleanor.

"And last but not the least, the scholar who ultimately subdued the Weeper. If not for him, the demonic monster could have caused deaths. He put himself in the line of danger twice. And in the end defeated the Weeper. He's a freshman, you might be surprised..."

Diana looked to Carlos and Eleanor who were equally clueless. Whoever he was, he was not in Aleph class.

The Director coughed and mouthed, "First Year Zayin, Lucas of Vermil!"

Diana watched with wrinkled brows and an open jaw as a lad wearing a beret appeared from the shadow, his complexion so pale it almost looked like milk. The whole Coliseum remained quiet.

"Because of the display of his ability to exterminate cursed beasts and demonic monsters, I believe Lucas had the right to earn the eleventh spot in the Academy. Please show him your appreciation." He started to clap but only a few followed.

They were astounded, like Diana. Her ears rang with a whirring sound. Eleventh? He doesn't deserve that spot. He ought to be out of Demach by now. I've always suspected him to be pretending to be weak but not to this extent where he is capable of battling a demonic creature. It made Diana feel smaller.

"Is the director making a mistake? Eleventh? You heard it too, right?" Carlos remarked. The mutterings around them made it clear that others were as confused.

Despite the poor reception, the director went on. "Dark times indeed breed heroes. Amid the accident, we witness the emergence of three young ones. But of course, we have to put measures in place so that such unnecessary incidents would not happen again..."

His talk lasted an hour longer, but Diana had stopped listening. All she could think about was how defeated she felt.

* * * * *

In the day of worship of the Seraphim, Diana made the long stroll to the Altare Angelorum carrying a bouquet of white blossoms she had asked Ser Kallan to prepare.

Rain had poured heavily last night and the night before, leaving the streets of Gallenport damp and riddled with pools. Stray dogs and cats and rats darted in corners. The children did the same. A group of them were running towards them, splashing the pools and splattering Diana and her company with grimy water.

A gruesome memory from the House of Rules came back to her, making her flinch with disgust. That experience was not one so easily forgotten. "Hey!" She shouted after them but they scampered away quickly on their short legs.

Eleanor shook her head in exasperation, wiping droplets off her face. "Peasants."

"What's going to happen now," Carlos asked, as they made their way down the busy streets. "The Ghost had been proclaimed a hero."

"It makes no matter. Justice will come for him, regardless," Diana proclaimed. He remains a murderer and he shall pay for his sins.

"But more eyes will be on him, and the public's opinion of you would sour if you try to touch a hero."

"Well, let him revel in that moment in the sun. People will soon know who he truly is. A hero, heh," she chuckled. She wanted to keep things obscure but the Ghost's ascent to glory would not allow her. Thus, she ought to change the rules of the game.

The only hindrance to her plans was Marco Vermilon. After seeing his capability firsthand in his fight with a Corlissen, Diana's hope for vengeance was nearly smothered. Vermilon could have ended that duel instantly but he played along for a while. Was it sympathy for his opponent or vanity?

She needed a way to keep Marco Vermilon away from his brother.

Beside her, Carlos said, "There is a good pub right down this alley. My guards have been talking about it."

"We're on our way to the church and you talk about drinking," Diana reprimanded him.

"We'll toast to the highest order of angels. I'm quite sure they love to be praised."

"And I'm quite sure you love the taste of cheap ale," said Eleanor in derision.

"The seniors frequent there; I have you know. Who knows, we might bump into the top students of Demach and be acquainted with them."

"Make haste." Diana looked back at the two of them bickering. "The Altare would be bustling."

And she was not wrong. The three spires of the Michaelic church loomed into view. As they got closer, they found a mob of devotees. The steps of the Altare were filled with people awaiting their turns to leave their bouquet offerings. A soldier was busy directing the crowd, shoving them with his unsheathed sword.

"Perhaps we should come back in a while," suggested Eleanor. "Let's eat some cake. I know a place."

"You stay here, then." Diana jostled her way into the crowd and came up to the guard. "I am Diana of House Rupert. I just need to lay these flowers at the foot of the Seraphim." She showed him the red salmon sigil of her House.

The guard inhaled, tired. He did not seem to like his work. "This way, my lady."

He parted the crowd for her. Up the steps into the plaza in front the Altare, she glimpsed the stone image of the Seraphim. The highest order of angels bore three pairs of wings — one pair that veiled their eyes, another that covered their legs and feet and a third that stretched ten times as they were tall. Behind the statue was a wheel of flaming candles that stirred with the breeze, wax dripping off them.

Suddenly she felt a hand brush past her pocket. She would have ignored it had she not remembered that she had put her pouch there. She touched her side. It's gone!

She whirled, scanning the crowd, craning over the tops of their heads, finding nothing but devotees cradling white flowers, jostling each other for space.

The pouch had her new Die of Fate, she recalled. She released a thin shroud of holy energy, surprising the people around her. She chanted, DIE OF FATE! All the energy from her drained as though being sucked by some ravenous beast.

Found you!

The thief wearing a pillbox hat flinched as a stream of holy power went into his coat. The DIE squirmed inside, transforming into a weapon whose form was decided by pure luck, of which Diana had abundant. She gave chase, dashing past her company who stood confused, a trail of white petals dropping in her wake.

He burst into a run, toppling an old man and stepping over him. He dropped the pouch along with the glowing weapon which turned out to be a cleaver. He must have realized that he stole from the wrong person. Without looking back, he disappeared into an alley.

"What had happened?" Eleanor caught up to her.

"Scum thought he could rob me," Diana laughed. Luckily, she carried the Die of Fate.

"We'd better go. I told you the pub was the right place to show our praise to the Seraphim. They sing songs there."

She noticed a few of the stalks in her hand had snapped, some petals amiss. It would be disrespect to offer it to the angels now.

"Diana..." Eleanor tapped her shoulder.

A shadow slowly emerged from the alley where the scum had fled to. The same thief had gone back, but not out of his own volition. Behind him trudged a figure dressed in a dark billowing robe, face covered by a veil that hang around the brim of a tall hat, an enormous sack behind its back adorned with strings of shells and rocks and patches of dark stains.

A Gabrielic Exorcist!

It was only the second time that she laid eyes upon one. She remembered seeing one during her childhood, when she was ignorant of what they were and what they did. Until now, she had no inkling as to why they had appeared in Gallagher then.

The exorcist held the thief by the neck, shoving him along towards Diana's direction. Every step of the exorcist was accompanied with the sound of shells and stones clinking, an eerie rhythm amidst the hullabaloo of the church close by.

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"I believe this young man has committed the grave sin of coveting your possession." It was a woman's voice that came from underneath the veil, a stern tune yet unthreatening.

"Indeed," Diana answered, picking up the cleaver by its golden handle. "He tried."

"Please forgive me, my lady. I have three children," the thief cried, face contorting in fear.

"Perhaps you should have thought of them before you ran off with my pouch."

"A punishment is due where sin is erred," the exorcist declared. "The hand that covets must be severed."

"No, my lady, I beg of you!"

"There is no need to," Diana said. "A fair whipping is enough. After all, he did not succeed. Swear on the Lord's name that you shall commit no thievery again."

"I swear, I do. I swear on the Lord's name. I swear on my own life and the lives of my children."

"Oh, daughter of luck," the other said beneath her veil, "The heavens send you a sign yet you ignore it. What is a cleaver for if not for the flesh? A Die of Fate must be brandished at least once before it can revert back to its dormant shape. It begs to be used, my lady."

She was not wrong. Before the Die of Fate could turn back to its die form, Diana needed to use it. She called me the daughter of luck. Does she know about my latent blessing?

Some people had started to look on. The situation had become precarious.

The Gabrielic exorcist spoke, "Then with your permission, I shall carry out the punishment he deserves." She extended her palm towards her.

Diana sighed, handing her the cleaver. "Suit yourself."

Her movements where swift yet rough. She pulled back the hand that held the thief by the neck and grabbed hold of his arm instead, yanking it to the side, before he could even protest. SLINGGG. With one swing of the cleaver, she sliced through flesh and bone.

The thief burst into a wail, clutching the stump that bled in rivulets. Some of it splattered onto Diana's white bouquet, smearing it red. His hand met the ground with a soft thud.

The exorcist turned to the crowd gathering at the steps to the Altare Angelorum. "You have flowers in your hand with no chance to lay it at the foot of the Seraphim. Would you like to offer it at our own altar instead? Not many frequent the Gabrielic church in Araya."

Diana stood there without answering, wary.

"You may go. Err not for you don't have many limbs to give." The exorcist told the thief who stumbled away, sobbing. She wiped the blood off the cleaver with her bare palm before handing it back to Diana. "Perhaps, you might find something there, the thing that you prayed for every night. "

Diana's instincts told her not to trust the exorcist. "And what do you think do I pray for?"

"Peace in your heart," she answered, turning on her feet, shells clinking in her every move. "It is fortuitous fate that we met. If you believe in your luck, then I must advise not to let your chances slip from your hands. The Gabrielic order is not too far from here."

"Are we actually going to follow her?" Eleanor asked worriedly. She tugged at Diana's sleeve.

"Well, I have not been inside the Gabrielic Church. Perhaps, it's time to visit one," Diana said, much to her friends' dismay. "You don't have to follow me."

Clutching the blood-smeared flowers, she walked after her dark figure. Eleanor and Carlos soon followed, not happily. Past the damp streets of Gallenport, they arrived in a towering wall with a small arched gate that bore the intricate image of a pigeon in flight. Similar to the Gabrielic exorcists, their church looked menacing and mysterious.

Looking over at Eleanor and Carlos who were equally skeptical, Diana began to think twice about continuing, but before she could put that trepidation into words, their guide whirled with the sound of clinking stones. "We are here. Do not let doubt and fear govern over you."

Since when could exorcists read minds? Her words just made Diana all the more reluctant to step through that small gate. For David, she thought. For David, I must grasp whatever fate had thrown upon my feet. 

Breathing deeply, she walked past the high wall and into a yard of unexpected wonders. They must have been teleported out of the city for the scenery before her did not feel like Gallenport at all, nor a church for that matter. Small hedges of white roses grew from both sides of them. Further down, the sound of water rippling played like music together with the hoots from a hundred white pigeons that basked in sunlight and dipped and drank in a fountain carved in the likeness of an angel.

"Gabriel..." she uttered.

His face belonged to a realm beyond men. No one she had ever met could compare. She felt as though she desecrated him by not prostrating on the ground in veneration. But even if she did so, she feared it would not suffice as a display of faith. She ought to have brought apples, peaches and a fresh bouquet — not the ugly wilted blossoms in her hand.

Archangel Gabriel was impeccable even in stone. There was power in those chiselled jaws, kindness in those grey eyes and sacredness in those wordless lips. His hair cascaded in grace around and behind his shoulders, flowing in curls like a sea in turmoil. His enormous wings opened wide and sharply, pigeons perched on its entire length, cooing and hooting at one another.

With all the birds around, the fountain should have been covered in birdshit but it looked as pristine as the day it was made.

"We are but a small group of believers," said the exorcist, pointing to a group dressed like her — a long dark robe, veils over their face and a sack behind them. "We come from every continent, from all walks of life, from every corner of the earth, united only in the sacred experience when the messenger Archangel Gabriel had revealed himself before us. He called onto us despite our imperfections, despite our worldly desires, despite our sins undeserving of forgiveness."

She turned to Diana, "We carry our sins now as burdens behind our backs, forever repenting. You have your own burden, a ponderous one that would not leave your heart at peace, a burden which you so willingly accepted. There is a way, Diana of House Rupert, to free yourself. But you are afraid because you doubt. You doubt that by using it, your claim could either be affirmed true or exposed as a mere speculation altogether. Black and white. Truth and lie. So, you resigned yourself to the convenience of seeking closure without incontestable evidence, knowing the uncertainty shall forever hunt you. Unwise, if I might say so."

"What are you talking about?" Diana clutched the Die of Fate. The exorcist's voice bore the edge of aggression, of reproof. What doubt?

"You believe your brother was killed, you say it but in your heart you still doubt. You cannot be blamed for you have not seen it yourself." The weight of her every word disturbed the pigeons around them that hooted and hopped, flapping in agitation, water splattering as they did.

Diana's ears burned. Her heart began to race. Whoever these Gabrielic exorcists were, they had been digging around for skeletons and ghosts. But they were wrong. She had no doubts in her heart.

"I told you we should not have come," said Eleanor.

"We leave now," suggested Carlos.

Diana nodded. "It was a pleasure to be here." The white flowers meant to be offered to the Seraphim remained in her hand. It seemed the Gabrielic church did not have an open altar like the Angelorum, albeit they had a small worship building that loomed over the hedges.

Ignoring her intention to leave, the female exorcist spoke again, "You must borrow it, Diana of House Rupert. It shall prove to you and everyone the truthfulness of the justice that you claim. The Cage of the Tribunal shall give you your heart's desire. Peace, at last."