Chapter 3 : Deus ex Machina

In Ilantris, apart from occasionally grabbing people to quiz them on scripture recitation, Georgeia Yang''s daily life and meals followed those of the cardinal-priest.

Watching cakes made from flour, milk, and even herbs, she couldn''t help but marvel: "The ability of the Moon-Laurel Children is truly wondrous. To be able to reassemble the Creator''s grace into such marvelous things. Truly the race closest to God."

"Of course. Mentor, you always said that order should be practiced through action, and we, too, experience the vastness of divine grace through practice."

"How wonderful." With that, Georgeia Yang stuffed another piece of mint chocolate cake into her mouth.

She loved the color of mint chocolate cake, and she loved its taste.

Besides that, she also enjoyed eating unprocessed blueberries, drinking lavender milk with cinnamon powder in the morning, caramel coffee at noon, and lemon-rose tea before bed.

But more than honey, she preferred adding maple syrup to all her teas.

This was an intensely personal preference. Compared to honey''s pure sweetness, maple syrup intensified the tea''s bitterness. By culinary standards, they didn''t pair well—but she loved it. She even poured excessive maple syrup on her pancakes.

She could forgo everything else, but her daily beverages were non-negotiable. The high priestess teased her for developing a mild addiction to the gentlest of psychoactive substances—no one who traveled the mortal world could resist tea and coffee.

Beyond that, she loved sitting in the square watching the astronomical clock.

If someone approached her while she was sitting there and voluntarily recited scripture, even if they made mistakes, she would correct them gently—and they would be spared during the next lottery draw.

A person with fixed habits and principles was always easy to predict. Before long, everyone had mastered this new survival rule. Unfortunately, before most of them could put it into practice, a new mission arrived.

The Special Affairs Investigator was called "Special Affairs" for a reason: she could use both sword and magic, possessed formidable strength, knew the terrain like the back of her hand, and—aside from being bad with people—had no other flaws. She could handle most preliminary investigations with minimal personnel, preventing large-scale casualties.

In the past, the Hexagram Temple''s investigations had always been difficult. They were prone to tipping off their targets, or else they vanished without leaving any message, their cases closed as mere disappearances.

The reserve of light mages had struggled to keep up. For years, it was thanks to Georgeia Yang''s tireless travels that the number of light mages had finally begun to increase.

Now that the number of mages had grown, she finally felt comfortable bringing one sociable priest and one Silver Star Knight on each mission.

This time, they were heading to Gascony to investigate.

According to reports from disciples, an anomaly had appeared in the hills of Gascony. During thunderstorms, lightning would repeatedly gather toward a single valley.

Due to heavy rains, most of the area had flooded, forming a lake. Investigators had visited on clear days and seen nothing—just a clear lake with nothing on it. But traveling there during a thunderstorm brought mudslides and impassable terrain.

Whether natural or man-made, since it had been discovered by disciples, an explanation was required.

She rendezvoused with the scribe and the two Silver Star Knights the scribe had brought at a sanctuary outside the Agnez Mountains. They also requisitioned an astrologer-priest from the nearest holy city, Mahani-Dan.

In the wilderness, human traces were hard to pin down—especially after thunderstorms, when any tracks would be washed away.

Fortunately, with the astrologer-priest''s assistance and his careful observations, they found a path marked by human activity. After determining that there was only this one route up and down the mountain, they began a long rotation of stakeouts. Finally, on the seventh day, they spotted a group of people heading up the mountain, their boots crunching through dead leaves and branches.

Georgeia signaled for everyone to hold their positions. They waited another day, and at noon the next day, they saw the group return down the same path.

Thirteen people. Five mules. The mules'' loads had been removed. She made a gesture, and everyone moved out immediately.

The couriers had clearly faced this situation multiple times before. They drew their blades immediately. Three people at the rear began running in the opposite direction.

The knights charged forward to engage. The scribe and the astrologer-priest, under cover, wove a cage from the light filtering through the dense foliage, while simultaneously using impact magic to disarm their opponents.

The three who tried to flee were pursued by Georgeia''s ice spikes. She condensed water droplets from the air into ice, pinning them to trees and the ground.

The battle didn''t last long. Clearly, they weren''t even mercenaries—bandits at best.

They locked the bandits in the dungeon. By the time the interrogations ended, the astrologer-priest had also calculated the weather for the coming days.

They gathered around a wooden table. On it lay the interrogation records and reports from local assistant priests about missing children.

According to the bandits, the goods they delivered were simple: mostly rye bread for sustenance, along with some liquor, meat, and sausages.

They simply brought the supplies up the mountain. A butler-like figure would count out their payment on the spot. When they offered to help carry things further, the butler dismissed them.

Out of curiosity, they had tried to follow where the goods went. But they only saw several large men appear behind the butler—and then the goods, which had been placed on a slope, vanished.

After everyone disappeared, they went to check. They found nothing.

Of course, the priests knew this meant there was a secret passage.

"Just as we guessed. That structure is extremely dependent on weather patterns. Yesterday we observed a lunar halo, and today they went up to deliver supplies," the astrologer-priest said. "Look—the clouds on the horizon are beginning to press down. The stifling heat that''s been tormenting us will soon be washed away. We need to reach the peak by two in the afternoon the day after tomorrow. Otherwise, we won''t be able to move for the next ten days."

"Judging by the supplies, there shouldn''t be much armed force inside. If we can confirm that everything is ultimately being sent in here… could it be a Black Mass?"

Only merchants and nobles who traded morality for money were interested in Black Masses. They speculated that the lightning-attracting device in the valley was a venue for Black Masses.

"Do you think those merchants and nobles would eat rye bread?" The scribe curled her lip.

Georgeia added, "Black Masses usually use older children."

"Even if supplies are scarce, charging in recklessly isn''t realistic," a knight said. "What if their armed forces are self-sufficient?"

"The bandits said there''s nothing but meadows up there. How could they be self-sufficient?"

"Hunting—whether animals or fish, they wouldn''t be lacking in a remote valley. Besides, don''t you think the lightning is strange? I suspect mages might be involved."

Georgeia stood with one arm across her chest, the other hand propping up her chin, leaning sideways against the table. "I''m leaning toward some kind of lightning-attraction device. Gascons have never liked mages. It''s hard to imagine them cooperating with one."

The scribe felt a headache coming on. "That''s even more troublesome. We''ll have to ensure no one wears any metal during the operation."

"Ah." The astrologer-priest clapped his hands. "Then at least we can be sure there are no heavy cavalry inside."

"Maybe we should just charge in." Georgeia''s suggestion was immediately vetoed by the scribe.

"Won''t the next ten days be nonstop storms? No breaks at all?" The scribe wanted to struggle a little longer.

The astrologer-priest shook his head. "The climate at the foot of the mountain and at the peak is different. The Agnez Mountains have always been rainy and thunder-prone. The terrain changes easily."

"But the day after tomorrow is too rushed. Reinforcements from any of the three holy cities can''t get here in time. Even if the priests from Mahani-Dan rushed day and night, they wouldn''t be at their best."

"We have two priests, two Silver Star Knights, and me. It''s not impossible." Georgeia persisted.

The scribe thought she was dreaming. "The five of us? Knowing nothing, risking extreme weather, infiltrating a sophisticated structure?"

"Lightning produces light. We won''t lack light-element support during the operation. Water produces ice. As long as you cover me, I can freeze the entire lake surface. That''s the most effective approach."

"You still love area-of-effect attacks. Spell preparation takes too long. Have you considered our knights? They have to analyze the terrain while protecting the three of us."

"Find cover, use light magic to blind the defenders, then eliminate them."

"No, no—we don''t know anything about the interior. And we can''t even find the structure''s entrance!"

"The knights think we should try," one of the knights said. "Bring supplies, observe for a few more days during the storms, then act. Ten days of thunderstorms is enough."

"Sigh. Too aggressive."

The astrologer-priest caught on. "Before the storm hits, we should report to the three holy cities. Once the rain comes, the sanctuary won''t be spared either. If we don''t send the holy doves now, we won''t be able to later."

"True," the scribe remembered. "Which holy city is fasting right now?"

"Ilantris just finished. It''s Pokin''s turn now."

"As long as Mahani-Dan can still send people, that''s fine. I''ll write to Mahani-Dan requesting a small team to come up as reinforcements after the rain. I''ll leave markers for them on the way up. That way, we don''t have to worry about tipping anyone off when the team crosses the perimeter. In the storm, we''ll hold the line—no one escapes."

They brought the bandit leader up the mountain. The sky had already turned overcast. Chaotic clouds pressed down on the meadows. There was no wind—just a suffocating stillness.

Following the path the bandit leader pointed out, nothing seemed suspicious. Everyone split up and circled the lake for a long time, finding nothing. The only discomfort came from the sweat sticking to their skin.

"It''s about to rain," the astrologer-priest announced.

No sooner had he spoken than raindrops began to fall from the sky. Fortunately, they had already found a cave in the riverbed to shelter from the rain.

"When will the thunderstorm hit?" Everyone had developed faith in the astrologer-priest''s reliability and immediately asked.

The astrologer-priest shook his head. "Not yet. Probably not until early tomorrow morning, around three or four… Don''t look at me like that. I just read the sanctuary''s weather logs while you were making plans. The lightning is usually densest around three in the morning."

The temperature began to drop. But to avoid exposing their position, no one suggested making a fire. The scribe blessed the knights'' swords with lightning protection. The bandit leader kept complaining, so the two knights gave him their cloaks—but they weren''t warm either.

The scribe couldn''t take it anymore. She pulled a light-element magic stone from her pocket and tucked it under his clothes.

These stones were made by infusing elements in advance, meant for use when the elements were scarce during spellcasting. As such, they carried the gentle, healing aura of light magic.

She had two left. She gave one to the astrologer-priest.

"I''ve found it!"

At the height of the thunderstorm, the entire lake surface was set ablaze with lightning. The roaring thunder, rain, and water clashed incessantly. The astrologer-priest, who had been silently staring at the lake, suddenly exclaimed with excitement: "This device normally hides underwater, using natural hydroelectric power to rise. Look!"

"So that''s it. No wonder it was so noisy under the lake—machinery in motion."

Georgeia made an untimely observation: "How wondrous are the creations of man. To be able to use God''s grace to this extent."

The enormous castle was forged entirely of steel. Giant screws held iron plates together. It rose from the water like a colossal sea monster, carrying a tortoise shell and armor on its back.

On that shell stood thirty-three lightning rods. They were what continuously attracted the lightning.

"Well, now we can be sure there''s no lightning-path mage inside." The scribe breathed a sigh of relief.

"Then let''s surround it directly? In this weather, if we don''t move, your bodies won''t hold up."

"We''re fine," the knights said.

"The five of us…?" The astrologer-priest''s excitement faded. He looked at them with doubtful assessment. "The lightning is that structure''s most natural barrier… And didn''t the scribe say we should survey first?"

His excitement at discovering something new had now transferred to the scribe.

She had left her mask at the sanctuary—no metal could be carried. Now, battle lust surged across her bare face. Her cheeks flushed with excitement. She smiled and said, "Time to improvise!"

"Then what was the point of making all those plans?!" The astrologer-priest followed them in despair.

Georgeia pulled out her long staff. It symbolized both power and authority.

A magic circle spread beneath her feet. As she moved, the circle shifted and reshaped. Within its boundaries, every raindrop turned to ice crystals and fell behind her.

This was a delayed-effect spell. A pure ice-path mage or a pure time-path mage could never have pulled it off. She walked both paths simultaneously.

Everyone followed her footsteps onto the lake''s surface. Her staff pointed directly at the fortress ahead. Wherever she walked, thick ice formed beneath her feet.

A grand spectacle. Truly too grand.

The astrologer-priest was dumbfounded. But the scribe understood—this was the result of long-term fasting on Waters of Pure Light. Her body was so permeable, so sensitive, so unobstructed that thousands of elements could pass through her at once.

When she got back this time, she would definitely make her soak in the hot springs for days. But that was a matter for later. For now, their focus was on breaching the fortress.

"Those inside, listen up! You''re surrounded."

As predicted, on the tenth day, the storm outside finally subsided. The fortress sank back to the lake bottom when the thunderstorm ceased.

For safety''s sake, they had destroyed nothing. They simply controlled all the occupants and gathered them together.

Once they started moving, the scribe—who had been so hesitant before—threw caution to the wind, unleashing several dazzling light-element spells.

Because when the fortress rose, there was neither an exit nor an entrance. No one escaped—clearly, its designers hadn''t anticipated someone freezing the lake to reach it.

The knights found the secret passage and rendezvoused with the arriving team.

Over the following days, the knights and priests guarded the suspects together and freed the eighteen imprisoned children.

But with insufficient manpower, they hadn''t had time for a thorough investigation.

Georgeia''s hair and limbs were covered in frost. She had no choice but to lie down and rest. Ice formed thickly wherever she lay.

Using magic came at a price—especially miracles of this magnitude.

Now her body was fragile and broken. Fortunately, she didn''t need anyone''s care. She could recover slowly through meditation. So, these past days, she hadn''t appeared before anyone. No one understood how two light mages and two knights had managed to freeze the water and cross.

"Well, our advance team''s mission is over," the scribe said to Georgeia. She sat quietly. The frost was nearly gone, only her fingertips remaining ice-blue.

"Good… thank you for your hard work." Georgeia''s breath came out as cold vapor. "Let''s go take a look. What exactly was this fortress for?"

"We''ve collected samples. They''ll be sent to the Sundonia Congress for study." The Sundonia Congress was the organization of secular mages. The scribe added, "All of it is filth—can''t be brought into the holy cities or the Holy Land. Oh, and—we only found twenty children in the end, but the assistant priests'' list had over a hundred."

Georgeia shook her head.

The children had been set aside for now. They would have to wait until the guilty adults were bound before arranging their rescue.

They huddled together like kittens—malnourished, terrified. The sight made the scribe''s heart ache.

The only option was to send them to a sanctuary.

They were all children who hadn''t yet reached the age of baptism.

Georgeia had previously ruled out a Black Mass because Black Masses typically targeted baptized children.

She glanced over them casually. Among them, one child stood out.

His hair was golden—like the sun. His eyes were somewhere between red and orange.

He huddled alone on the side, staring at them the whole time. Now, her gaze met his.

As if seeing hope, he weakly stood up, walked toward her, and knelt before her piously. But he said nothing.

Georgeia was stunned. She stepped back and looked at the scribe.

"Don''t you think he has potential? He might become a Silver Star Knight someday. There''s no shortage of children like this among the knights—noble children who lost their families in political struggles."

"You can tell he''s a noble just by looking at him?" Georgeia sounded incredulous.

"Yes. I''ve handled many such cases. It''s become an unspoken rule."

"How do you usually handle them?"

"He kneels to someone. That person raises him, gives him their surname, and makes him renounce all worldly desires for power. Honestly, noble children who have the will to seek help from the Temple usually turn out well. If he doesn''t become a Silver Star Knight, we can place him elsewhere. You know—everywhere in the holy cities, the Holy Land, and the holy nations, there are shortages. We''re just the consumables of order."

"You want me to raise him personally?"

"Yes. You have plenty of time. There''s no harm in training yourself a suitable shield. Don''t argue with me. I won''t say who was completely incapacitated for ten days."

Georgeia fell silent. She looked at the boy. "Raise your head. Are you sure you want me to teach you? Not the person next to me?"

He nodded earnestly.

The scribe asked, "Where are you from originally?"

He answered truthfully, "The Plantan family of northern Gascony."

"What''s your name?" Georgeia asked.

"To me, I no longer have a name. If you agree to teach me, I will follow your will in everything. However you wish to call me."

"Now that''s promising." The scribe laughed softly. "With him, you won''t need to bring a silver-tongued priest anymore."

"Sigh… he''s so young. Nothing''s certain yet. We''ll discuss this later."

She couldn''t just take a child of unknown origin into the holy cities and the Holy Land. So she placed him at the sanctuary in the Agnez Mountains for the time being, telling him: "I''m going back to the Holy Land for three months. Study with the priests here. I''ll test your progress when I return."

She left without a trace of reluctance—so decisively that the boy felt he had already been abandoned.