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Chapter 26 - ༺ Eyes On The Church (1) ༻

As soon as we stepped through the tall chapel doors, Father Gideon Kelmor froze for a moment.

His black robes fell softly around him.

Then he turned toward us, gaze steady.

"How many of you are there again?"

He asked.

"We do have to make sure our quarters can accommodate each one without need to share rooms."

He added, scanning our team as though counting invisible souls.

Eight figures stood behind me.

Myself and seven members of the Knight Order and ISD agents.

"Aaah..."

Gideon breathed in relief.

"It seems there is room after all… only eight of you.

No worries.

Even if you were more, this chapel, thanks to the third Holy Emperor Augustus, is big enough for all."

He gently cleared his throat, coughing into his fist.

"Ehem… this way."

He led us deeper into the chapel.

A hush of polished stone echoed beneath our boots.

Pale moonlight spilled through high stained-glass windows, painting colored pools on the floor.

Candles lined the wooden pews, flickering against the dark.

Father Gideon spoke softly as we followed him through the nave.

"This chapel was built nearly four centuries ago, blessed by the Holy Church of Lumina.

For hundreds of years, the divine light healed diseases, welcomed the sick…

Even the blessed only needed to step inside the grounds to feel restored."

We passed tall columns, carved with vine patterns and small statuettes of angels.

An old crimson carpet led the way to the altar.

"Now..."

He whispered with sorrow.

"...that divine power has all but vanished.

I pray every night.

The power has fled.

The light has withdrawn."

He paused, lifting his hands in a silent ritual.

Simultaneously, he spoke a verse in a low, rhythmic chant.

"If the holy way is practiced bright, the divine will keep us in its sight.

But once the pure path is gone and lost, light and grace will pay that cost."

He looked at each of us as he spoke.

"It means… if holiness is neglected, then the light itself will turn away.

We have lost the pure path.

Even the children—innocent souls—who lived here by their faith have suffered.

And so have the staff."

Just then, a pair of clergy and caretakers passed close by.

Again and again, soft voices called out.

"May Lumina guide you."

They pressed their hands together and bowed to Father Gideon, who bowed back in return.

He clasped his hands and began a short prayer, his arms tracing a pattern like a cross and star in the air, as though weaving a shield of holy energy around the building.

He whispered.

"May the goddess protect these halls once more.

May she drive out that evil spirit."

Father Gideon led us down a silent corridor, the chandelier light flickering on stone walls.

He paused in front of several wooden doors.

"Each of you will receive a room here."

He said.

"They were built for the children when this was an orphanage.

Still, they are more than adequate.

The Holy Family provided them with guidance from the goddess."

His voice echoed gently.

He pointed down the hallway.

"That is where the children stay.

You'll be able to interact with them, keep them safe, and continue your investigation.

All with the goddess's blessing."

Phoebe Saint Pierremont, stepped forward.

"I'm Phoebe Saint Pierremont."

She said clearly.

Father Gideon's face brightened.

He bowed in respect.

"A pleasure, Lady Saint Pierremont.

The honor is ours."

Phoebe looked around with concern.

"Father, where are the guards or security?

The Holy Grail or Divine Church should have holy knights here.

I've seen no one in uniform or armor."

Father Gideon's expression changed from pride to sorrow.

"Since the incidents began, many knights have left.

Some resigned outright.

Others promised to report to the Divine Church, but none have returned.

It's been nearly three weeks now.

I don't know whether they died, were lost… even when I contacted the Church, there was no record."

He looked genuinely sad, voice low.

"I don't know what to do anymore."

He then straightened and added.

"If it weren't for a few members from the Imperial Justice Department, this place would have remained forgotten.

They visited Gresha and brought the issue forward to the ISD."

He closed his eyes, offering a quiet prayer.

"May Lumina bless them for their sincerity."

Phoebe nodded firmly.

"So, no one else wanted to stay as security?

Everyone left out of fear?"

"That is true," Gideon replied.

A member of Division IV spoke up.

"What about the workers we passed? Those caring for the children?"

Father Gideon shook his head sadly.

"They remained.

It is indeed a miracle that they stayed."

"But why did they stay?"

Father Gideon paused, voice wavering.

"Perhaps because, to them, this place means more than personal safety."

In my mind I could hear the questions forming.

Why would they stay?

Why would anyone stay here, in a place so obviously cursed?

It reminded me of my own world, how people ignore horrors they don't want to face.

But the Divine Church of Lumina? I had expected better.

Then my thoughts snapped to Natalie, my sister.

Chief Overseer Natalie Saint Grenn of the Imperial Justice Department.

If it weren't for her visit, this might still be hushed up.

Someone clearly didn't want this exposed.

Missing knights didn't just leave.

Why didn't these workers run away?

Unless they felt duty-bound.

Or they felt gratitude, something the Holy Family gave them that they refused to lose.

But was that enough?

Had the church done something good for them.

Did they believe they'd find something divine here after all?

It felt dangerous to assume.

'I'll have to look into each staff member.'

***

After we all settled into our assigned rooms, the bell rang for dinner.

The corridor echoed with quiet footsteps and the faint creak of old wood.

The atmosphere had shifted since our arrival.

Less formal, more human.

The cloying weight of silence that had hung over the church like a fog had lightened slightly, as if our presence brought a sliver of warmth to the cold stone.

We made our way to the dining hall.

Candles flickered along the wall sconces, their warm glow softening the otherwise grey and hollow atmosphere.

Blending together with the chandelier lighting.

The long wooden tables were lined with bowls of soup, bread, and roasted vegetables.

Modest, but enough to feed everyone.

The children filed in, cautious and quiet at first, eyes wide and steps hesitant.

Some clung to their caregivers, peeking at us like we were strangers from another world.

But as time passed, and our group (Division IV) settled in and began speaking, joking softly, and offering help with the food, the tension began to loosen.

I watched it happen gradually.

One child giggled at a joke, then another joined, and soon the air buzzed with shy laughter and small voices.

It was subtle, but powerful.

How presence alone could make people feel safe.

I could see it in their faces.

'They must feel safe seeing us here,' I thought.

'Safe because we serve the Imperial Holy Family.

They must have felt abandoned before... helpless.'

And now?

Now that people were finally here to protect them?

The emotional weight must've been overwhelming.

But even so... it sickened me.

'Children. Innocent, bright, and vulnerable.'

Going missing in the middle of the night.

'Whatever is behind this, whoever is doing this... they're not human.

They're something else entirely.'

Across the table, I noticed a curly-haired boy with a mess of dark ruffled hair grinning from ear to ear.

He sat beside Cassel, our blue-haired teammate.

An ex-Holy Grail Knight who'd joined the ISD after leaving the Order.

Cassel was the kind of man who laughed with his whole body, his energy warm and infectious.

His light-blue bangs hung over one eye as he leaned toward the child, completely invested in whatever story the boy was telling.

"…and then I'll pass the Clergy Exams!"

The boy declared proudly, raising a spoon like a sword.

"After that, I'll be a knight!

A real one!"

Cassel's eyes gleamed.

"Is that so? Then I'll be waiting for you.

In fact, I'll be the one overseeing your entrance exam personally...

...how's that sound, little knight?"

The boy's face lit up.

"Really?!"

Cassel gave him a playful salute.

"Absolutely.

I'll even wear my old Holy Grail cloak so you know I'm serious."

I couldn't help but smile slightly.

Cassel always had a way of making people feel seen, even the smallest among us.

Shifting my gaze, I caught something else, something softer.

At the edge of the hall, near the half-curtained windows where the moonlight streamed through, sat Phoebe.

Her red hair shimmered slightly in the candlelight.

Her posture, always poised and proud, was relaxed now as she ate slowly, watching the children around her with calm focus.

A little girl with a faded teddy bear held to her chest approached her cautiously.

Her feet dragged a little, and she stopped a few feet away, hesitating.

Her cheeks were smudged with dust, and her hands trembled slightly.

"H-Hello, miss lady…"

Phoebe turned to her, surprised, then softened.

She smiled gently and patted the seat beside her.

"Hello there. Come, sit with me."

The girl hesitated a moment longer, then scrambled up into the seat beside her, clutching the teddy close.

"Are you… are you a knight?"

She asked, eyes wide.

Phoebe nodded slightly.

"I used to be.

But now I'm more of a soldier. I work with the Imperial Security Department."

The little girl's eyes widened even more, shimmering like tiny stars as the moonlight caught the sheen in them.

"A soldier?"

She whispered, awestruck.

"Mhm. A very serious one."

Phoebe said with a playful wink.

The girl leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I want to be a soldier too.

A strong one.

Like you."

Phoebe reached out, placing a gentle hand over the girl's.

"Then promise me something.

When you turn thirteen, come find me.

Ask for Phoebe Saint Pierremont at the ISD headquarters.

I'll train you myself."

The little girl froze for a moment, then grinned, eyes sparkling.

She threw both arms into the air and shouted.

"I promise!!"

Phoebe chuckled and gently ruffled her hair.

The girl leaned into her side like a child hugging their older sister.

It was a moment I could only describe as pure.

I sat back and looked over the dining hall.

Children laughing. Smiling. Dreaming again.

Division IV scattered among them, sharing food, stories, dreams.

It was peaceful.

***

Soon after we were told there was something the church and the children has prepared in advance for us.

I settled onto one of the benches in the side room, ISD's Division IV around me and children giddy with excitement.

The low chatter faded as Father Gideon tapped the wooden panel beside him.

He caught my eye and smiled softly.

"These gatherings help them forget."

He whispered to me, voice warm.

"The laughter… it heals."

I nodded, leaning forward.

"It does.

Thank you for organizing this, Father."

He gave a gentle nod, and I offered him a reassuring smile before turning my attention back to the small makeshift stage.

Soft candlelight illuminated three tiny chairs.

Three children—two girls and a boy—stepped forward, clutching hand-carved wooden dolls.

The same girl who had dreamed of becoming a soldier, the curly-haired boy whose ambition was to be a knight, and another girl, shy but eager.

The room hushed.

The play began with the children's voices:

"We are Aelwen, Seris, and Bran..."

"Using these dolls we will be telling a made-up story as a token of entertainment for our estemeed guests.

Said the soldier-girl, Aelwen, bravely.

They then began with the dolls movements.

"We wandered through golden fields and found…the shining chapel."

Bran, grinning, held his wooden knight aloft.

"Yes! We came here every season. We brought flowers to the doors…"

Seris, cheeks flushed, echoed.

"It felt like home! The walls whispered hope.

The doors welcomed us, warm and bright…"

Their story spun like a warm breeze.

Each time they returned to the chapel, the world outside grew a little kinder.

They portrayed it as a sanctuary of light, a place of endless comfort.

The dolls moved in their tiny hands, and the wood seemed almost to glow under the stage lights.

I could feel tears prickling behind my eyes.

The tale was heartwarming.

Suddenly, Aelwen's voice broke mid-line.

She stiffened, wooden doll slipping to the floor even as she clutched her teddy bear close.

Blood drained from her nose.

Before anyone could react, she crumpled.

A cold silence drowned out the soft music.

I leapt forward, instincts surging.

Bran and Seris knelt beside her.

"Aelwen! Aelwen, wake up!"

Seris cried, voice distant as if under a veil.

Bran reached for her hand.

"Stay with us!"

I stepped onto the stage, heart pounding.

The other ISD members rushed forward, Father Gideon trailing with wobbly knees.

A nanny knelt and began to pray in a trembling whisper.

Another wiped tears from her cheeks.

I sank to the floor beside Aelwen and gathered her in my arms.

What I saw made my eyes widen and sweat burrow.

My heart froze.

Without thinking, I drew my revolver and aimed.

Every second stretched as I steeled myself.

"..."

Bang!

The shot echoed through the hall.

Children cried out in fear.

Adults recoiled.

Silence hit like a physical blow.

The nannies stared, some wailing Prayer of Purity, others covering their eyes.

Father Gideon trembled, cross in hand.

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