Part Sixty-Seven — A Meeting in Laodicea

What follows isn't something I witnessed. This is pieced together later, from what little we eventually learned of how the Church actually operates behind its own walls. I include it here because I think the reader deserves to see the shape of what was already moving against us, even while we knew nothing about it yet.

　The chamber was as austere as the institution's public reputation for humble service demanded — plain stone, no gold, no ostentation, exactly the image the Holy Church of Laodicea cultivated for the common folk who'd never see past this particular room's carefully maintained modesty.

　High Priestess Selwyn sat at the head of a long table, six senior clergy arranged along its length, a single ledger open before her listing names that would never again answer any summons.

　"Two full units," she said, quiet, precise. "Both lost in the same region, years apart. The first, sent to retrieve a confirmed anomaly. The second, an independent patrol investigating unrelated matters entirely — a hunting party pursuing a magical beast."

　"Coincidence?" one of the clergy asked, though his tone suggested he already suspected otherwise.

　"I do not believe in coincidences of this particular shape," Selwyn said. "Two units, years apart, vanishing in the same general region, with no survivors and no meaningful account of what killed them. That is not coincidence. That is a pattern, and patterns of this nature deserve proper investigation, not further passive loss."

She's sharper than the rumors gave her credit for. Good to know, for whenever this eventually matters directly.

　"The region in question," another clergy member offered, consulting a map spread across the table's far end, "borders territory that has, in recent records, shown unusual concentrations of both monster activity and — more troublingly — reports of a previously unmapped mountain range that several scouts have described as impossible to properly survey. Instruments and memory alike seem to fail travelers who attempt it."

They're talking about Horizoncrest. About Absolute Sanctuary, without knowing what it actually is yet.

　Selwyn's expression sharpened at that detail.

　"Unmappable terrain. Combined with two lost units. That is precisely the shape of thing this institution exists to investigate properly."

　"Shall we send another full unit, then? Larger this time, better prepared?"

　"No," Selwyn said, decisive. "A larger unit invites a larger response, if whatever's out there is genuinely dangerous. I want this handled with precision, not brute numbers. Four Holy Knights. No more."

Holy Knights. The ones who only show themselves during emergencies, according to what Eris learned in Roshan.

　The four names entered into the ledger that evening were ones that would come to matter a great deal, though none of us had any way of knowing that yet.

Seraphiel, eldest of the four, a woman whose reputation within the Church's inner circles suggested decades of quiet, effective service rather than dramatic heroism.

Aldric, broad-shouldered and direct, known among his peers for a bluntness that occasionally bordered on insubordination, tolerated only because his results consistently justified it.

Cassian, younger than the other three, sharp-eyed and analytical, the kind of mind the Church valued for exactly the sort of careful investigation this mission required.

Valerius, the quietest of the four by all accounts, whose combat record spoke considerably louder than his personality ever seemed inclined to.

　"Investigate the region," Selwyn instructed them, once the four had been assembled and briefed. "Determine what happened to both units. Do NOT engage directly with whatever you find, if it proves genuinely dangerous — I want information first, action second, and only once we properly understand what we're actually facing. Is that understood?"

　"Understood, High Priestess," the four answered, near in unison.

　"One more matter," Selwyn added, as the meeting began to disperse. "The anomaly reports from the past year — the increase in frequency, the unusual patterns we've observed. I want this region specifically cross-referenced against those reports before our knights depart. If there is any connection between whatever killed our people and the anomaly activity we've been tracking, I want it identified before, not after, our knights arrive on-site."

She's already suspicious. Already connecting threads that, if she pulls them far enough, lead directly back to me.

　The clergy member tasked with the cross-reference bowed and departed to begin the work, leaving Selwyn alone at the table a moment longer, studying the ledger of lost names with an expression that held more genuine weight than her public reputation for cold efficiency usually suggested.

　"Whatever this is," she said, quiet, mostly to herself, "I intend to understand it properly, before it costs this institution anything further."

　She had no way of knowing, closing the ledger that evening, just how much further that cost was eventually going to reach.