03-11-2020, 04:25 PM
Armande had the measure of the man, now. Reacting was no longer an issue. It wasn't like he hadn't expected the question. A hand dipped into his black cassock robes and a paper was produced. Of course, he would want to know who might be compromised. The name of every Atharim who served as priest. Patricus was arrogant. But so was Armande. Still, they both acted for the good of their organizations. He knew the man he chose wouldn't hamstring them. Hoped, at least. Contingencies were in place. A repeat of Urban VI could never be allowed to happen again. And a new Pope dying prematurely was not unheard of. Armande hedged his bets. Faith was a crutch for the weak.
His attempted insult produced a grin on Armande's face. "Few who hold the title of Regus ever die peacefully in their beds, Holy Father. I am sure I will not. My killer is already alive, somewhere. The office demands more than you can know." He waved a had airily, as if it was of no consequence. "Until then, I will keep my watch. There are those few exceptions who do, though. Still...ten thousand years of activity has not left us without influence, power or wealth. Those who do are cared for at no expense to Mother Church. There was a reason Sylvester sought to ally us together. Only a fool would think our reach or power or influence would have diminished in the centuries since then." The Church had swallowed them whole, not truly aware of what that meant.
He hoped Patricus could see the truth in this. The Atharim alliance was not one to be cast aside so lightly. The very union with the Church only serve to reinvigorate them and allow them to forge new connections across the world. They were supplicants no longer. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Atharim influence in corporations and governments were too entrenched to be uprooted so easily. He hoped Patricus was not so fanatical as to be suicidal.
Still, the question was valid. And one he had wondered himself. A thumb touched his chin thoughtfully. "I am not a slave of tradition." He hid the smirk that wanted to form. Patricus would not have liked the tradition of selection, the ritual murder, he was sure of it. The man was not weak. But the drumming of feet as men gave up the ghost was not for those who spent their lived behind a desk. "I have myself wondered whether this partnership should continue."
His gaze dropped to the book that Patricus had occupied himself with. He felt the fire gathering within. All he had was suspicion. There was no proof yet. But the gods were returning. That he knew. And Brandon's ascent was...disturbing, to say the least. Not solely for the fact that he was an American who had ruled the Ascendant Soviet Union. Or that his government had morphed into a dictatorship where he styled himself the Ascendancy. That any man would do so in this day and age baffled him. Did no one read history?
No. It went further. Brandon was his age, almost to the day. And yet he looked not a day over 30. True, pictures could be altered. And men could age so well that one did not notice the lines and sagging over the course of years. Small changes were imperceptible until they were compared. Armande had aged well. But no one looking at a picture of him at 30 verses now, at 58, would not see the huge difference. Brandon, at 58 was exactly the same. It wasn't proof of anything. But...it nagged at him.
And there was more. Some of the prophecy fit. The bloodless conqueror, who will conquer not with armies and machines of war, but with gold and guile. He was no fundamentalist, determined to see fulfillment in his lifetime no matter how much torture of facts was necessary. People had been expecting the end since Jesus walked the earth. And every catastrophe, every calculated date, whipped up fervor and mindless acceptance and panic.
The creatures the Atharim fought were not fairy tales. That gave their tradition a sounder footing. And the gods were returning. The reports and even videos- verified as being unedited- made it clear. Flee before the return of the dead gods.
The blue fire blazed in his eyes as he leaned forward, forearms on the table, hands lightly clasped, seizing him in his gaze. "The gods have returned. Few and weak, at the moment. I hope." He had his suspicions about Brandon. But what did it mean, The Great Serpent shall be torn from his flesh? "But they are returning." He nodded to the book. "It says so in your scripture. Please read Revelation 9:1-11. It has been prophesied."
His attempted insult produced a grin on Armande's face. "Few who hold the title of Regus ever die peacefully in their beds, Holy Father. I am sure I will not. My killer is already alive, somewhere. The office demands more than you can know." He waved a had airily, as if it was of no consequence. "Until then, I will keep my watch. There are those few exceptions who do, though. Still...ten thousand years of activity has not left us without influence, power or wealth. Those who do are cared for at no expense to Mother Church. There was a reason Sylvester sought to ally us together. Only a fool would think our reach or power or influence would have diminished in the centuries since then." The Church had swallowed them whole, not truly aware of what that meant.
He hoped Patricus could see the truth in this. The Atharim alliance was not one to be cast aside so lightly. The very union with the Church only serve to reinvigorate them and allow them to forge new connections across the world. They were supplicants no longer. Not by any stretch of the imagination. Atharim influence in corporations and governments were too entrenched to be uprooted so easily. He hoped Patricus was not so fanatical as to be suicidal.
Still, the question was valid. And one he had wondered himself. A thumb touched his chin thoughtfully. "I am not a slave of tradition." He hid the smirk that wanted to form. Patricus would not have liked the tradition of selection, the ritual murder, he was sure of it. The man was not weak. But the drumming of feet as men gave up the ghost was not for those who spent their lived behind a desk. "I have myself wondered whether this partnership should continue."
His gaze dropped to the book that Patricus had occupied himself with. He felt the fire gathering within. All he had was suspicion. There was no proof yet. But the gods were returning. That he knew. And Brandon's ascent was...disturbing, to say the least. Not solely for the fact that he was an American who had ruled the Ascendant Soviet Union. Or that his government had morphed into a dictatorship where he styled himself the Ascendancy. That any man would do so in this day and age baffled him. Did no one read history?
No. It went further. Brandon was his age, almost to the day. And yet he looked not a day over 30. True, pictures could be altered. And men could age so well that one did not notice the lines and sagging over the course of years. Small changes were imperceptible until they were compared. Armande had aged well. But no one looking at a picture of him at 30 verses now, at 58, would not see the huge difference. Brandon, at 58 was exactly the same. It wasn't proof of anything. But...it nagged at him.
And there was more. Some of the prophecy fit. The bloodless conqueror, who will conquer not with armies and machines of war, but with gold and guile. He was no fundamentalist, determined to see fulfillment in his lifetime no matter how much torture of facts was necessary. People had been expecting the end since Jesus walked the earth. And every catastrophe, every calculated date, whipped up fervor and mindless acceptance and panic.
The creatures the Atharim fought were not fairy tales. That gave their tradition a sounder footing. And the gods were returning. The reports and even videos- verified as being unedited- made it clear. Flee before the return of the dead gods.
The blue fire blazed in his eyes as he leaned forward, forearms on the table, hands lightly clasped, seizing him in his gaze. "The gods have returned. Few and weak, at the moment. I hope." He had his suspicions about Brandon. But what did it mean, The Great Serpent shall be torn from his flesh? "But they are returning." He nodded to the book. "It says so in your scripture. Please read Revelation 9:1-11. It has been prophesied."