Chương 47: “ Noah (1) | Bark to Class (5)

The sanctuary was small and windowless, hidden underneath a building whose street-facing exterior gave no indication of what lay inside. Stone walls, a low ceiling, and two rows of wooden pews arranged along a narrow aisle leading to a modest raised altar at the far end. Candles lined the edges of the room in iron brackets. Twelve women, apostles, knelt, six on each side, heads bowed and hands clasped before them. They wore identical simple and unadorned habits of pale grey linen.

None of them spoke, and the only sound was the faint, collective rhythm of their breathing and the occasional soft rustle of fabric as someone moved their body. Noah walked down the center aisle; he passed each row without acknowledging the women on either side, his gaze fixed ahead on the altar. When he reached the front, he stopped and turned to face the room. He stood with his hands at his sides and said nothing. The women continued to pray. Their lips moved without sound, eyes closed.

The candlelight cast long shadows across the stone floor as the only sound that remained this time were the flickering of the flames. After a few minutes passed, one by one, the women raised their heads. Twelve pairs of eyes stared at Noah, and the expressions on their faces were nearly identical, unguarded as they were fixed on him with an intensity that did not waver at all. Some of them had tears already forming at the edges of their eyes. Others simply stared, their lips slightly parted.

However, none of them still spoke unless the man before them willed it. Noah basked in this adoration for a moment longer before addressing the woman nearest to his right.

"How are the flock in the capital cities doing?" The woman straightened in her seat. She was young, perhaps early twenties, with dark hair pulled back tightly beneath her habit.

"We've gathered several hundred, Reverend," she said. Her voice was quiet, as if speaking too loudly in this room would be inappropriate.

"They are making preparations to travel. Most should arrive here in Summit within the next few weeks. Once here, they will enter the Tower as instructed."

"Good." Noah extended his right hand toward her, palm open and facing upward, a gesture of acknowledgment.

"That is excellent progress. You've done well." The woman's breath caught. Her eyes glistened and she lowered her head, clearly in revel of the acknowledgment she had just received. However, the nun sitting across the aisle had seen something else. Her gaze had followed Noah's outstretched hand, and her expression changed.

"Reverend," she said, her voice breaking the quiet.

"Your hand—" The others looked. Between Noah's thumb and forefinger, the skin was torn in a ragged crescent. The wound had scabbed over but it was still clear that it was new, and it was in the unmistakable shape of a bite mark.

"Who did this?" A woman in the second row stood from her spot, her face flushed red with anger.

"Who dared lay a hand on—""This is unforgivable," another said, rising beside her. Her hands were shaking.

"Reverend, give us the name. We will find them and make them answer for this." A third pressed her clasped hands to her chest.

"To wound you... to wound you... there is no punishment severe enough."

"They must be made to kneel before you and beg for mercy they do not deserve," a fourth said, her voice tight. The fifth was already crying.

"How could anyone... how could they not see what you are?" The room erupted with voices of discontent. Overlapping voices, clenched fists, and reddened faces. Several of the women had risen from their seats.

"Quiet, please." Noah's voice was barely above a whisper. Every woman fell silent at once. Those who had stood lowered themselves back to their seats. The crying nun pressed her lips together and held her breath to stop the sound. The room returned to its original quiet. Noah looked across them. His expression was gentle, almost warm.

"Your devotion moves me," he said.

"Your faith in me has never wavered, and I see that every time I stand before you. It is more than I could ever ask for." He paused, his voice changing into a tone admonishing them.

"But you do not have the purview to look into matters that I do not ask of you. When I require your action, I will tell you. Until then, your concern, however well-intentioned, is not yours to voice." The women looked down. Twelve heads bowed in unison, chins dropping toward their chests. The woman who had first noticed the wound clasped her hands so tightly in front of her chest that it nearly bled. Then Noah spoke again.

"My faithful lambs." His voice was soft again.

"I forgive you." All of their heads rose at once. Noah stood before them with the candlelight behind him, his face looked to be carved from the God of Light himself. He looked at each of them, as the women couldn't bear to tear their eyes away from his. Two of the women in the front row began to weep openly. One covered her mouth with both hands, her shoulders trembling. The other shook her head slowly, tears falling freely.

"We are not worthy," the first managed to speak again.

"Such grace... we are not worthy of your forgiveness, Reverend." Noah watched them cry. His eyes moved from face to face with an expression of pity. Then he asked the day's final question.

"Who will die for me today?" His voice was the same as before; gentle, forgiving, and bewitching. Every woman in the room stood up again.

"I will."

"I will, Reverend."

"Please, let it be me."

"I will." Their voices overlapped, urgent and fervent, each one trying to be heard above the others. Hands reached toward him. And they all looked up at him with wide, shining eyes, waiting to be chosen. Noah looked down at them and smiled. * The icicle hit the ground in front of Professor Fae with enough force to crack the floor. Shards of ice scattered across the platform, and a fog of frost erupted outward, coating the nearest row of spectator seats in a thin white film. Enjoying this book?

Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. Fae stumbled backward, and for some reason, Wendy was already dissolving, vanishing back into the contract mark on her wrist. The classroom was utterly silent, filled with confusion as they had little to no understanding as to what was happening. Twenty-odd students stared at their professor from the spectator seats.

"This has never happened before," Fae said. She muttered, having a hard time believing what had just happened.

"Wendy has never refused a command…" She tugged the sleeve of her coat down over the mark, then tugged it back up, then down again.

"I'm sure she's just in a bad mood. These things happen sometimes." It was actually a normal occurrence for other summoners, but in her case? It had never happened even once in her life. She was a once in a millenia genius; uncontracted wild spirits approached her willingly, they responded to her summons before she even did anything. And even the stubborn ones, would eventually form a bond or contract with her Fae pressed her fingers against the contract mark and pushed mana into it.

However, Wendy did not come out. She tried again, feeding more mana through the bond, and the same thing happened. Fae lowered her hand slowly, her left eye twitching.

"Fine," she said to her own wrist.

"If Wendy needs to rest, then that's perfectly acceptable. Mhm. Yeah, perfectly fine." She adjusted her mana and directed it at a different spirit within the mark. However, for some reason, nothing appeared. She tried once with another spirit, and yet, the same thing.

"Come on," she muttered. She pressed her palm flat against the mark and haphazardly pushed more mana into it, nearly scarring her skin due to the rough external application. Then Fae reached into her satchel. She rummaged through it for a few seconds before producing a small glass vial filled with a viscous, silver-tinged liquid. She uncorked it and poured a thin line of the substance directly over the contract mark on her wrist. The liquid sank into the tattoo on contact.

This was a medium, a reagent specific to contracted spirits who preferred not to bond, and simply was fine with a contract; some spirits, particularly rare ones, negotiated conditions into their contracts that demanded a material component as part of the summoning process. While expensive, difficult to procure, and extremely rare, it was still worth it, according to Fae. A shape materialized on the platform. It was small, vaguely serpentine, with iridescent scales that shifted between silver and violet.

Two slit-eyes surveyed the platform. Fae let out a breath.

"Thank—" The serpent's eyes found Sir Ozy, to which the latter was also now eyeing the serpent back, its body rising and falling with each wheezing breath, tongue half-extended out of its mouth.. The serpent stared at the pug, seemingly surprised to find him here. Then, the iridescent scales lost their vibrancy as the serpent's form dissolved, and the mana that had sustained the contract dispersed into the air. The serpent had willingly paid the price to sever the contract.

For a moment, Professor Fae stood very still. Then she turned to the class. Her eyes were wide and her hands had balled into fists at her sides.

"That," she said, her voice climbing, "was a Prism Serpent." A student in the back row leaned toward his neighbor and whispered, "Is she okay?"

"Four months!" Fae announced to the room at large, holding up four fingers.

"For four months I spent tracking patterns across three mountain ranges! Do you know what lives in those mountains? I slept in a cave for two weeks because that serpent's nesting ground was at an altitude where tents froze solid overnight!" She began pacing across the platform.

"And then…! And then I spent two more weeks to negotiate with it!" A boy in the third row raised his hand.

"Not now!" Fae snapped without looking at him. The hand went down. Fae stared at the spot where the serpent had been, then at the pug, then at the ceiling. She pressed both palms against her face and dragged them down slowly.

"Class is dismissed," she said through her hands. She lowered them and attempted a professional expression. It did not quite work; her left eye was still twitching.

"I apologize. I will make up for today's session. I'll post a revised schedule by next week." She turned to Celestia, who had been sitting in her seat throughout with her fan open.

"Celestia. Please take your elemental spirit with you."

"Understood."

"I need to—" Fae paused. Even now, the questions were popping out. Why had Wendy reacted that way? Why had every bonded spirit refused to come out? Why had the Prism Serpent severed its own contract the moment it saw the creature? She wanted answers. She wanted to write pages and pages of notes and cross-reference them with every documented case of spirit refusal in the past century. But every time she reached for the mark, none of her spirits responded.

"I can't think properly right now," Fae finished.

"Please go." Celestia stood, closed her fan, and walked towards the exit. Anna hurriedly picked up Sir Ozy, who grumbled about being picked up so inelegantly, and tucked him into the carrier. Anna glanced at Professor Fae, who had sat down on the edge of the cracked platform with her legs hanging off the side, staring at the mark on her wrist.

"Is she going to be alright?" Anna whispered when she caught up with Celestia, who was now at the exit.

"Who knows?" Celestia said. The other students also left, with the last one glancing back and seeing Professor Fae lying flat on the platform, one hand raised above her face, staring at the mark on her wrist. They were halfway across the courtyard when the carrier started shaking. Awoo-wooo-wooooaooo-woo-woo! That those lowly spirits of middling rank did dare manifest themselves in my presence!

Hath the natural order crumbled so thoroughly in mine absence that common elementals now see fit to bare their fangs at one who hath touched Godhood?! Anna adjusted her grip on the carrier.

"H-he's really going at it today, isn't he?"

"Ignore him," Celestia said. Awoooo-woo-waooo-woo-woooooo! I am diminished, ay! Reduced to this corporeal prison by forces beyond mortal reckoning! But diminished is not destroyed, and thee who hath pawed on Godhood, who hath merely stooped, doth not become equal to the worms beneath his feet! The pug's tail was vibrating with indignation. A student walking in the opposite direction glanced at the carrier, heard the muffled howling, and quickened his pace. Awoo-woo-woo-wooaooo!

That ice-feathered wretch did look upon my sovereign form and thought to strike? Foolish beyond measure! Doth the candle threaten the sun? Doth the puddle rise against the sea? Just as fire is weak to water, all elemental spirits of lesser rank than I do risk their very existence upon standing in my presence!

'Tis not hostility that drove them hence, 'tis self-preservation! The serpent, at least, possessed the wisdom to sever its own covenant! Sir Ozy paused to catch his breath, which took several wheezing seconds. Then he resumed. Awoooo-waooo-woo! Summoner! I have endured indignity upon indignity this day! This woman poked and prodded at me with bitter water!

And now I hath been forced to witness lesser spirits flinch and flee at the mere sight of my glory, which, whilst vindicating, hath left a bitter distaste upon my palate! Another pause as the pug's tongue lolled out. Awooo-woo! I demandth peach-flavored ice! To cleanse this foulness from my mouth and restore thy constitution to its proper state! Celestia was thinking.

She had spent weeks trying to figure out what practical use Sir Ozy could serve beyond eating her food, demanding increasingly specific meals and desserts, and providing unsolicited commentary on everything around him. His combat potential was, as far as she could tell, nonexistent. He refused to do anything that required more physical effort than walking from his bed to his food bowl. But what had just happened in Professor Fae's classroom changed things.

The pug had said it himself: lesser spirits risked their existence by standing in his presence. Whether that was the full truth or his usual theatrical exaggeration, the results earlier had been real. If his mere presence caused elemental spirits to act like that, then he was a deterrent.

'A shield,' Celestia thought.

'I finally have a use for you.' She glanced down at the carrier. Sir Ozy had given up complaining and was now sitting with his eyes half-closed, wheezing contentedly.

"Anna," Celestia said.

"When we get back, have Martha arrange for peach-flavored ice." Anna blinked.

"O-okay." Inside the carrier, Sir Ozy's curled tail started wagging.