First attack

"...Did I walk in on something?" Adam asked, hesitating at the doorway of Leah's throne room. The atmosphere was anything but normal. Instead of the usual scene of Leah lounging on her throne with Boyd or Ligh hovering nearby, the room was filled with nobles, generals, and strategists. Among them, the only familiar face Adam recognized was Nilguard, who seemed unusually serious.

"Not at all. Come in, Adam—you'll need to be involved in this as well," Leah said, waving him inside. She wasn't sitting on her throne but at the head of a large table covered in maps, notes, and what looked suspiciously like hastily-sketched plans. Adam blinked. Apparently, they'd turned this room into a makeshift war room, even though Leah already had an actual war room. But who was he to question royal eccentricities?

As Adam stepped inside, the gathered nobles and soldiers bowed in unison, a gesture that immediately made him uncomfortable. "Uh... okay," he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets as he approached the table.

Leah wasted no time. "Alright, back to the issue at hand: how do we infiltrate the Church of Fera? The entire complex is surrounded by a magical dome, reinforced by several high-class mages. Suggestions?"

Her gaze landed squarely on Nilguard, who sighed, rubbing his temples.

Adam, meanwhile, was stuck on one glaring detail. "Wait... hold on. You're attacking the Church? What happened while I was gone?"

Leah closed her eyes, exhaling slowly, as though the explanation itself was a burden. "Shortly after you left, we received a 'gift' from a church spokesperson. Inside was the severed head of a beastfolk."

Adam recoiled. "What?!"

Leah continued, her voice calm but icy. "It was a direct attack. As you know, I've been a staunch advocate for the protection of beastfolk in the empire. This was their way of sending a message."

"Oh... and now you're going to war over this?" Adam asked, his curiosity tinged with apprehension.

"Not yet. 'Civil war' would be the more accurate term," Leah replied with a sigh. "Right now, we're preparing our forces in case they escalate the situation further."

"Ah, I see," Adam said, before tilting his head. "So why do you need to get into the church?"

"To gather intelligence," Leah explained. "We need to map out the layout, but the church is likely aware of our plans. Anyone we send will be identified and stopped—they've had access to the royal archives for years. They know too much about us."

Adam frowned, then offered hesitantly, "Well... what if I go? I mean, I could disguise myself, change my look, act normal. Maybe even map the place out."

Leah and Nilguard both turned to him, blinking in unison.

"That's risky," Nilguard said, breaking the silence. "They likely know about you already. Sending you in could be dangerous."

"No, they won't recognize me," Adam insisted. "I looked completely different at the banquet—different hair, different clothes, completely different demeanor. If I go in looking like this"—he gestured at his disheveled self—"there's no way they'd connect the dots."

Nilguard hesitated before glancing at Leah. "Queen Leah, it's your call. He's your guest."

Leah folded her hands under her chin, studying Adam. "Are you certain?" she asked finally.

"Yep," Adam said, nodding confidently. Then, after a pause, added, "Wait... uh, how am I supposed to map it out? I don't have a great memory or anything."

At this, Nilguard pulled out a small, intricate device. "With this. It's a magical tool I designed specifically for this purpose. Once inside, channel some magic into it, and it will use water magic to create a one-to-one replica of the church's layout here, in the queen's war room."

Adam nodded, impressed. "Ah, got it. So... when do I leave?"

Leah snapped her fingers, and in an instant, Ligh appeared beside Adam in a swirl of color and chaos, wearing her usual unnervingly cheerful grin.

"Ligh," Leah commanded, "escort Adam to the church and be prepared to extract him if anything goes wrong."

Before Adam could so much as protest, Ligh grabbed him by the collar, hefting him effortlessly. 

In a flash, they disappeared, leaving Nilguard to sigh deeply. "My queen... was this truly a good idea?"

Leah smiled faintly. "Nilguard, believe me—Adam is not only capable but likely the best choice for this mission. His track record speaks for itself."

______________

(Man... this just keeps getting worse, huh?) Adam thought as he stood before the largest building he'd ever laid eyes on. Calling it a building felt wrong—it looked more like a mountain carved into the shape of an impossibly grand castle. The spires disappeared into the clouds, and no matter how far back Adam craned his neck, he couldn't see the top.

"Why is everything in this damn place so big?" he muttered to himself, rubbing his temples before forcing his legs to move. Each step toward the entrance felt heavier than the last, a growing sense of unease settling over him.

The church's architecture reminded him of those over-the-top fantasy castles he'd seen in TV shows—ornate, towering, and way too impractical. This one, though, took the cake, the bakery, and the entire dessert industry for sheer absurdity.

(This is going to take a while. Maybe I shouldn't have volunteered...) He sighed, pausing at the massive double doors. (No, I have to help Leah in hopes she helps me. Plus, it's just a church, right? Priests aren't exactly known for being the sharpest tools in the shed. I think.)

With a resigned breath, Adam pushed open one of the giant doors and stepped inside, his mouth falling open almost immediately.

The interior was even more breathtaking than the outside. Towering stained glass windows lined the walls, each pane telling a story Adam couldn't recognize. The vibrant hues of reds, blues, and golds danced across the polished marble floors, illuminating scenes of what was probably this "Fera" doing goddess things—spreading love, blessing couples, or just being smugly divine.

(Focus, Adam. You're here on a mission, not a sightseeing tour.)

He slipped a hand into his pocket and fumbled with the magical device Nilguard had given him. With a quick surge of magic, he activated it—or at least, he hoped he did. It wasn't exactly user-friendly. (I have no idea if this thing is working... probably should've asked for a manual.)

Adam made his way deeper into the cathedral, keeping his pace slow and deliberate. He did his best to look like a wide-eyed tourist who was genuinely excited to be there. His plan seemed to work because, after a few moments, a robed priest approached him with a serene smile that could only come from someone who had way too much faith in the world.

"Young man," the priest began, his voice gentle but dripping with enthusiasm, "you seem rather mesmerized by those murals. If you're interested, I could tell you about them."

Adam plastered on his best 'I'm totally not here to spy on you' smile. (Perfect.)

"Yeah, thanks!" he said, trying to sound like a mix of excited and awkward. "I'm actually new around here and, uh, when I saw this place, I just had to check it out! I've been really interested in the goddess of love—uh, Fera, right?—for a while now. If you don't mind, could you tell me all about her? From one zealot to another?"

The priest's expression lit up like a kid in a candy store. Apparently, Adam's wooden delivery didn't bother him in the slightest. "Of course, my young brother! Please, follow me—I'll show you around!"

(Oh great, a walking tour. Just what I needed.) Adam thought as he fell in step behind the priest, who was already launching into an enthusiastic explanation about the murals.

"Now, this first window depicts Fera blessing the first union of mortals with her divine light," the priest said, gesturing dramatically at a particularly gaudy stained glass panel. "Notice how the light streams down like—"

(...Like she's showering them in glitter confetti. This is going to be a long day.) Adam sighed inwardly, keeping his polite tourist act intact as the priest's monologue droned on.

_________________

The room buzzed with quiet tension as the last noble concluded their pledge of loyalty—or excuses for limitations. Leah listened intently, her sharp gaze sweeping over those assembled. Her generals, stalwart in their resolve, remained silent, leaving the nobles to fumble through their justifications.

"How Farin is ready to lend aid but not men," one noble concluded apologetically. "My queen, we simply cannot afford to weaken our defenses."

Leah let the words linger for a moment before she leaned forward, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "That's enough. I do not expect more than what you can give, nor will I beg for what you cannot. Let us turn our attention to the matter at hand."

Her gaze shifted to General Ghiest, a grizzled veteran clad in a uniform that spoke of an era long past—a relic of the wars of her father's reign. Despite his aged appearance, his voice carried a weight of command that silenced all side discussions.

"My queen, our soldiers are prepared, and we've already begun mobilizing reserve forces," Ghiest said, his gravelly voice firm. "However, the plan of attack hinges on the success of the lad's mapping mission in the Cathedral of Fera. Assuming we receive the intelligence we need, we can eliminate the church's strongholds from our war map. The real challenge lies in the districts. They will likely fracture along lines of faith and loyalty. Bloodshed among the common folk is inevitable unless we act preemptively. I propose we block access to the cathedral and cordon off the faithful. It's cruel, but it could save lives in the long term."

Before Leah could respond, Nilguard, Duke and royal strategist, interjected. "No need to blockade. The common folk won't pose as great a threat as the cathedral itself. Even with a map, we face the obstacle of its magical defenses. The church has developed what they are calling 'miracles,' a new form of magic we don't yet understand. The most concerning is the protective dome encasing the cathedral—a barrier that resists conventional spells and attacks. However, no magic is truly impenetrable. The Royal Mage Corps is preparing a concentrated barrage of high-tier spells, but it will take time to break through. Our problem is ensuring we can do so without devastating collateral damage."

One of the younger nobles, his ornate doublet pristine and untouched by war, raised a tentative hand. "Forgive me, Duke, but why are we so concentrated on the cathedral? Surely our resources would be better spent fortifying our position elsewhere or securing supply lines?"

Nilguard sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before answering. "The cathedral is the key. Its defenses make it a strategic linchpin. The church has a monopoly on healing arts and restorative magic, which means any advance we make on the battlefield will be undone if the cathedral stands. Worse still, the faithful will rally to it as a symbol, prolonging the conflict. A war of attrition would favor the church, not the crown."

General Ghiest nodded in agreement. "If the cathedral falls, their morale crumbles. Without their miracles and healers, their forces lose cohesion. The longer the dome stands, the stronger their position becomes, draining our resources while they replenish their own."

Leah folded her hands under her chin, her face unreadable as she processed their words. "What of the dome?" she asked finally. "Even with our mages, how long can we expect it to hold?"

Nilguard hesitated before responding. "If our information is correct, the dome draws energy from a core within the cathedral. Destroying that core would bring it down instantly. Without knowing its location, however, we can only batter it from the outside. My estimate? Days, perhaps a week of constant bombardment. Enough time for the church to call reinforcements or—worse—execute a counter-strike."

The room fell silent, the weight of the task ahead pressing on everyone present. Finally, Leah spoke.

"Our priority is clear," she said, her tone decisive. "The lad's mission must succeed. If Adam can map the interior of the cathedral and locate the core, we stand a chance. If not..." She trailed off, her expression darkening. "Then we prepare for a siege. Ensure that all resources are in place, and warn the troops of what is to come."

The generals and nobles exchanged uneasy glances but nodded their assent. The plan was fraught with risks, but it was the best option they had. As the room began to clear, Leah leaned back in her chair, her eyes fixed on the map spread before her.

(Fera's faith may be strong, but the empire cannot falter. If blood must be spilled to ensure peace, then so be it.)

________________

"and here is the first ever deccent of our goddess! it happend 1400 years ago she spoke to the people of the land and brought peace and love witch united the folk and made us what we are today..ahh i must apolagies but i havent had the opritunaty like this in years to hear that your so intrested in our history makse my heart flutter, dear brother wont you stay for mass?" the priest eho adam now know as birst was....kind....almost made adam feel bad for tricking him"not at all! brother if it means i get to stay in out goddess hom longer then how is this even a choice?" adam spoke(man...this is pretty esay...) as he wnet around making sure to ask about litraly everything there is and making sure to stay as long as posbile adam had managed to map out around les the half a qurater of the palce.....this is going to take a while

________________________

Later that evening, the war room was quiet, save for the flicker of candlelight casting long shadows over the maps and documents strewn across the heavy oak table. The nobles had departed hours ago, leaving only General Ghiest, Duke Nilguard, and Queen Leah in the dimly lit chamber.

Ghiest stood stiffly at attention, his old but formidable frame a testament to decades of service. His white hair and deeply lined face betrayed his age, but the powerful build beneath his uniform reminded all who saw him that he was not a man to be underestimated. Clearing his throat, he broke the silence.

"My lady... it has been the highest honor of my life to serve you," he said, his gravelly voice steady but tinged with solemnity.

Leah, seated at the head of the table, looked up from her papers, her piercing gaze softening slightly. "Where is this coming from, General?"

He hesitated, then squared his shoulders. "Your Majesty, I have served this royal family for over fifty years. My time is growing short, and after this campaign, I wish to step down from my duties. But before I do, I must speak my mind. If it is fated that I fall in this endeavor, I ask only one thing: remember my name and honor my service. And..." His voice grew quieter. "Please consider my son. He has shown great promise and would make a fine military advisor in my stead."

Leah studied him, her expression unreadable for a moment before she spoke. "General Ghiest, you are one of my most trusted and capable advisors. Your name will be remembered not just for years, but for centuries. As for your son, I will see to it that his potential is given every opportunity to flourish. But I expect to see you lead our forces to victory in this campaign. Do not speak of your end so lightly."

Ghiest nodded, his stern demeanor softening with gratitude. "Thank you, my Queen. You honor me."

Before Leah could respond, Nilguard, who had been pacing near the map table, spoke up. "Leah... about Adam."

She turned her attention to the Duke, her expression growing sharper. "What of him?"

Nilguard crossed his arms, his tone careful but firm. "While I know you trust him—and I admit he is capable—don't you think this mission is far too dangerous? Sending him into the lion's den without full knowledge of the church's capabilities borders on reckless."

Leah raised an eyebrow, but before she could respond, the door to the chamber creaked open. All three turned to see Adam strolling in, his usual air of casual confidence intact.

"Hey, guys. Where's everyone else?" he asked, glancing around the nearly empty room. "Anyway, I've got the place pretty much mapped out. Duke Nilguard, you wanna check?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then Nilguard's eyes widened, and he strode toward the desk where the mapping receiver had been placed earlier. With a practiced motion, he poured a steady stream of magic into the device.

The room was bathed in a soft blue glow as a detailed, three-dimensional map of the Cathedral of Fera appeared in midair. Every hallway, chamber, and staircase was rendered with remarkable clarity. Nilguard stared at the image, his skepticism melting into something resembling astonishment.

"My Queen," he said, turning back to Leah with a rare smile. "I take back every word I said."

Leah rose from her chair, her expression shifting to one of satisfaction. "Well done, Adam. Truly impressive work."

Adam grinned, brushing off the praise with a mock bow. "What can I say? I've got a knack for sneaking into places I shouldn't."

Nilguard chuckled, shaking his head. "Let's hope that knack continues. This map is invaluable. With it, we can begin planning a proper strategy."

Leah stepped closer to the projection, her fingers tracing the air as she studied the cathedral's layout. "Indeed. Adam, you've done more than expected. Your efforts will not be forgotten."

Adam smirked. "I'll hold you to that when this is all over. Maybe throw in a feast or something."

Ghiest let out a low laugh, the sound rare but genuine. "The lad's got spirit, I'll give him that."

Leah turned back to her advisors, her voice taking on a commanding tone once more. "We now have the advantage we need. Prepare the troops, refine the plans. This war will not be fought in vain."

As the others moved to carry out her orders, Adam lingered near the map, his eyes flickering between the glowing image and the faces of those around him. For all his bravado, he couldn't shake the feeling that the hardest part was still to come.

___________________________

The flickering light of a dozen candles cast long shadows across the opulent chamber of the Pope. The room was silent save for the quiet shuffling of a fox beastfolk child, who sat at the feet of Pope Ferdinand, looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes. The ornate vestments of the Pope gleamed in the low light, but his serene exterior belied the tension in the room. Across from him stood Norman, pacing with nervous energy, his every movement betraying his unease.

"Your Holiness... I swear on the goddess herself, I won't breathe a word of this," Norman stammered, his voice a mixture of fear and urgency.

Ferdinand, seated calmly, tilted his head and offered a gentle smile, stroking the child's hair with deliberate care. "Norman, my son," he said, his voice smooth and fatherly, "what exactly is it you believe you have seen?"

Norman stopped pacing and turned, pointing an accusatory finger toward the fox beastfolk. "That thing!" he spat. "It's of demon's blood! The goddess herself proclaimed it! If this gets out..." He swallowed hard. "No, Pope Ferdinand, we must act swiftly. The beastfolk are a plague, and this child—this abomination—is proof of their unholy nature."

Ferdinand chuckled softly, a sound that sent a chill down Norman's spine. Rising from his seat, the Pope looked down at the beastfolk child and spoke gently, as if addressing a cherished lamb. Then, without warning, he turned his sharp gaze toward Norman, his smile unwavering.

"Oh, Norman," Ferdinand said, his voice carrying a faint hint of amusement. "You misunderstand. That proclamation... that decree of demonic blood? It was a fabrication."

Norman froze, staring at the Pope in stunned silence. "What? Your Holiness, surely you jest. The goddess's words—"

"—Were my own," Ferdinand interrupted, his tone calm but with a dangerous edge. "I made it up."

Norman stumbled back, his face pale. "Why? Why would you do such a thing?"

The Pope laughed then, a low and mirthless sound that echoed through the room. "It is a long story, my son, but let me educate you on the realities of power. For years—decades—the church has been losing its grip on the hearts of the people. Faith alone no longer moved them. They grew complacent, distracted by their petty lives. Attendance dwindled. Donations slowed. Influence waned. Something had to be done."

Norman shook his head, still trying to comprehend. "But... but why the beastfolk? They've done nothing to us!"

"Precisely," Ferdinand said, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous light. "And that is why they were the perfect target. You see, people are content to live alongside those who are different—so long as those differences don't challenge their sense of safety. But if you introduce fear? If you give them an enemy, a threat they can't ignore? Suddenly, they cling to faith like a drowning man clings to a lifeboat."

He began to pace now, his hands clasped behind his back as he spoke with fervor. "I created that enemy. I made the beastfolk the embodiment of fear and danger. They became the demons in the shadows, the monsters at the gates. Mothers feared for their children, brothers feared for their sisters. And fear, Norman, is a powerful tool. It molds minds and binds hearts. Over the years, as our narrative spread, the people became more devout, more obedient. They begged for protection, and we gave it—at a price. They prayed harder, donated more, and most importantly, they trusted us implicitly."

Norman's face twisted in horror. "But the suffering! The beastfolk have been hunted, exiled, massacred! Entire families wiped out! All for what? To fill the pews?"

Ferdinand waved a dismissive hand. "Collateral damage. Necessary sacrifices for a greater cause. And you underestimate what has been gained. The faith of the people has grown so powerful, so unified, that it has begun to manifest. Miracles, Norman. True miracles. This magic, born of collective faith, will soon surpass anything the mages or alchemists of this world could ever conjure."

The Pope turned back to Norman, his eyes cold and calculating. "With this power, we will spread the goddess's rule across the globe. No kingdom, no empire, will stand against us. The beastfolk were but the beginning—a means to an end. Once their usefulness is exhausted, we will turn our gaze elsewhere. Heretics, nonbelievers, dissenters—they will all bow before the goddess, or they will burn in her name."

Norman's voice was barely above a whisper. "This... this is madness."

Ferdinand smiled again, the warmth in it chilling. "No, my son. This is vision. This is destiny. And you, Norman, will play your part in it. Now, kneel."

As Norman hesitated, Ferdinand's smile faded, replaced by a steely glare. The beastfolk child at his feet looked on, silent and uncomprehending. Slowly, reluctantly, Norman sank to his knees.

"Good," Ferdinand said, placing a hand on Norman's head. "Fear not, my son. Together, we shall remake this world."

__________________

The four sat at a grand dining table in the Queen's private hall, the warm glow of chandeliers casting a cozy light over their meal. Despite the royal setting, the atmosphere was surprisingly casual. Leah, ever insistent on camaraderie among her closest advisors, had personally demanded this dinner. Adam, as usual, was demolishing his plate with an enthusiasm that defied courtly decorum, having already consumed more food than the rest of the table combined. 

As Adam reached for yet another serving of roast lamb, Duke Nilguard broke the lull in conversation. "Say, Adam," he began, his tone curious, "what are your thoughts on the church?" 

Adam paused mid-bite, his fork loaded with enough food to qualify as a meal in itself. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and then replied, "Don't like 'em. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Churches? They're probably doing some seriously messed-up stuff behind closed doors while living off the people's donations. So, yeah, I'm all for taking them down." He punctuated his statement by shoving another forkful into his mouth, completely unbothered by the gravity of his words. 

Leah chuckled softly, amused by Adam's straightforwardness. "Surprisingly perceptive, Adam," she said, resting her chin on her hand. "You're not wrong. The church has managed to shield itself from scrutiny for centuries. Their influence runs so deep that they seem untouchable. Yet, we know they've done things that would make even hardened soldiers balk." 

General Ghiest, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward, his expression grave. "It's true. I've witnessed their hypocrisy firsthand during wartime," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of memory. "They refused to heal soldiers who didn't meet their 'standards'—whether they were too poor to afford their 'blessings' or simply didn't align with their doctrines. I've seen men die on battlefields while priests walked past them without a second glance. It's cruel." 

Adam looked up from his plate, his brows furrowed in thought. "That's disgusting," he said bluntly. "They preach about love and compassion, but when it comes down to it, they only help the people who fill their coffers. Sounds about right for an organization like that." 

Leah smiled at Adam, her expression both warm and contemplative. "Exactly. And that's why we must tread carefully. Their power isn't just in magic or influence—it's in the faith of the people. If we're going to dismantle their corruption, we need to be mindful of what they represent to the common folk. We can't tear down their beliefs without giving them something better to believe in." 

Ghiest nodded solemnly, raising his glass in a quiet toast. "To justice and a better future," he said. 

Adam raised his own glass, though his was filled with juice rather than wine. "To kicking hypocrites off their high horses," he quipped, earning a laugh from Leah and a smirk from Nilguard. 

For a moment, the table fell silent as the four shared a rare moment of unity. The Queen and her trusted allies, each carrying their burdens, found solace in the simple act of breaking bread together. It was a fleeting reprieve, but one they cherished nonetheless. 

Nilguard leaned slightly toward Leah, lowering his voice as he motioned subtly to Adam, who was in the middle of piling yet another mountain of roasted vegetables onto his plate. "My Queen," he began, with a mix of amusement and mild disbelief, "is it… normal for him to eat this much? I'm genuinely concerned we'll need to ration the palace stores if this keeps up."

Leah, trying to suppress a laugh, leaned back in her chair with a playful smirk. "He's a growing boy," she said with faux solemnity. "Or at least, that's what I'd say if I understood anything about him. Honestly, I have no idea where all that food goes. My working theory is that he's from some undiscovered realm—perhaps his people have second or even third stomachs. Or maybe they're just walking voids that absorb anything edible."

Nilguard raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Second stomachs? That sounds absurd even by our standards."

Leah shrugged, gesturing vaguely with her goblet. "Oh, please, Nilguard. We've seen weirder. Remember the insect people? The ones with the telepathic hive mind? Every time you tried to negotiate, they'd finish each other's sentences like some bizarre dinner theater troupe."

Nilguard winced at the memory. "I'm still not convinced they weren't just mocking me."

Leah chuckled, leaning closer. "Well, at least they didn't eat us out of house and home. Adam, on the other hand…" She trailed off, watching Adam lift a drumstick the size of his forearm and take a heroic bite.

As if sensing their attention, Adam looked up mid-chew. "What?" he said, muffled by food. "This is really good. Props to your chef."

Nilguard leaned back, defeated. "At this rate, we'll need a dedicated banquet budget just for him."

Leah grinned mischievously. "Or perhaps we could put him to work at royal feasts. Imagine it: 'Witness the great bottomless appetite of Adam, the Devourer!' It'd be the highlight of the evening."

Adam, unfazed, gave a thumbs-up while finishing his drumstick. "I'm game, as long as I get to eat during the show."