Chapter 95 “Infiltration”

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Vanna ascended the stone stairs from the dimly lit underground prison cells beneath the church’s sanctuary. Emerging into the comfortably furnished lounge above, she saw the regional bishop awaiting her. He was a slight, fragile-looking man, his face marked by age and the weight of responsibility.

“Inquisitor Vanna,” he greeted with a respectful bow, “May the waves protect your soul.”

Returning the bow, Vanna responded, “May the waves protect your soul as well.” She moved slowly to one of the plush chairs, exhausted. “Is this the second group of Suntists we’ve apprehended and placed in the prison cells near the port?”

The regional bishop nodded, his gaze clouded with concern. “Yes, it is. Just three days ago, we caught over a dozen of them plotting to kill one of our citizens, fortunately intercepted in time. This second group was discovered in the middle of a dark ritual in an apartment building, thanks to an observant citizen who reported it.”

He paused, shaking his head softly. “It’s unsettling how many cult members have infiltrated our city. We’re fortunate we discovered them when we did; who knows what damage their rituals might have caused?”

Vanna nodded. “Pland has been a significant port city for years, and the last four have been relatively peaceful, lulling people into complacency. We can’t be sure whether we discovered these infiltrators early or late. Others may have been working in the shadows, only now revealing themselves.”

The bishop hesitated before asking, “I understand other regions have experienced similar infiltrations?”

“Yes,” Vanna replied, not mincing her words. “Almost every church in the city-state has its underground prison filling up with captured Suntists. Some churches have a few; others hold dozens. Most are low-level operatives collecting data around the city, poorly trained and easily exposed. However, their high-ranking priests remain at large.”

As she uttered the last sentence, Vanna’s voice grew graver, her expression revealing unease.

Since discovering the heretical cultists’ quest for “sun fragments,” both the Pland government and the Storm Church had taken sweeping action. A massive undercover operation was launched across the city, and the public was encouraged to report anything suspicious. The initiative was successful.

In a remarkably short time, many cultists, caught off guard, were exposed and captured. The underground detention facilities in various churches were now almost at capacity, a situation unheard of in recent years. The number of captured Suntists was nearly equal to the total found throughout the city-state over the last four years.

So far, those apprehended were low-level foot soldiers acting haphazardly. The most significant catches were a few minor priests with mass-produced “holy relics” recently consecrated. The truly dangerous figures, those wielding formidable powers and likely orchestrating the actions of these henchmen, remained elusive.

This ceaseless cycle of capturing only the underlings was wearing on Vanna, leaving her restless and uneasy.

“Day in and day out, we capture their foot soldiers and minor figures, but the core leadership remains untouched. It’s as though the real threat is growing, unseen but ever-present,” Vanna voiced her concerns to the regional bishop. “Given the sheer number of cultists we’re finding, there’s likely a high-ranking individual orchestrating their moves from behind the curtain. Yet, this mastermind has not shown their face.”

The regional bishop, furrowing his brow, took a moment before responding, “Interrogations suggest these lower-level members take orders from ’emissaries.’ These emissaries, lower-ranking priests, claim to communicate with the Sun Offspring through their counterfeit sun masks. Could such a Sun Offspring have infiltrated our city?”

Vanna’s eyebrows knit together. “An offspring of the Black Sun dwelling unnoticed in a city like ours? Highly unlikely. While they wield incredible powers, they also carry a potent, foul aura that’s hard to conceal. Our city is replete with churches and patrolling guardians; theoretically, there should be no place for them to hide.”

The regional bishop shook his head, dismissing his theory. “I agree; the idea that a Sun Offspring could evade detection in our well-guarded city is far-fetched. However, these emissaries carry sun masks. Even if they’re not in direct communication with a Sun Offspring, there must be some contact. Otherwise, distributing these relics wouldn’t make sense.”

Vanna leaned back in her chair, her fingers curling thoughtfully around her chin. “Yesterday, I reviewed transcripts from recent interrogations. These cultists focus on the supernatural event that occurred in the city eleven years ago. Do they believe this event is connected to the sun fragments they’re obsessed with?”

The bishop nodded gravely, “It seems so. Although we don’t know how they’re connecting the events, they’re convinced the sun fragments were involved in the chemical plant incident over a decade ago. I remember you were also—”

He stopped abruptly, his eyes momentarily fixating on the pronounced scar near Vanna’s left eye before looking away. “I apologize, that was thoughtless of me.”

Almost reflexively, Vanna’s hand rose to touch the scar, a lingering memento of past upheaval. She shook her head gently, managing a light smile. “It’s alright. It’s merely a scar—a part of my history. You’re right; I witnessed that unsettling event. Nothing about it should remain unspoken or hidden.”

“In the uprising eleven years ago, many arrested were affiliated with this Sun Cult—upwards of a hundred,” the regional bishop declared solemnly. “Yet, these new cultists we’ve apprehended are inquiring about that same event. It’s as if they’re completely in the dark about what transpired. Isn’t that puzzling?”

Reflecting, Vanna finally responded, “There are a few possibilities. First, the Suntists in Pland involved eleven years ago acted independently, so their counterparts in other city-states are unaware of the specifics. Second, the appearance of the sun fragments in Pland was either accidental or orchestrated by a third party. Those involved in the riots might have been unwitting pawns in a larger game.” She elaborated, “If we revisit the interrogation records, you’ll recall those arrested were in a highly altered mental state. Their frenzied behavior didn’t appear voluntary; they seemed under external influence.”

“Imagine being ensnared by mysterious artifacts, driven to madness by their arcane power, used as catalysts for chaos, then abandoned like flotsam,” the regional bishop sighed. “It’s a tragic existence.”

Vanna said nothing, rising silently to the window overlooking the lounge.

Through the glass, her eyes swept over the port. Most of the dock was bustling again as the lockdown lifted. However, Dock One remained under maximum security. Anchored at the pier’s far end was the elegant, newly-built steamship “White Oak,” under round-the-clock surveillance and daily purification rituals.

The crew members of the White Oak had been transferred to the Storm Cathedral under strict monitoring. Given their close interaction with the mysterious ship, they were subjects of intense scrutiny.

Between the heretical followers of the Black Sun in the Storm Cathedral dungeons, the scrutinized steamship at the port, and a crew with direct interactions with the enigmatic Captain Duncan residing within the cathedral, the situation’s intricacies were indeed headache-inducing.

As the sun began its descent, not yet ushering in twilight, the regional bishop ignited several oil lamps in the room. The flames projected their glow onto the windowpane.

Vanna redirected her attention from the port. “Have the reports on Anomaly 099’s loss of control been forwarded to this port?”

“Yes, the files arrived this afternoon,” the regional bishop confirmed, pulling out a stack of papers from a satchel beside him. “Oddly, they arrived later than anticipated. Would you like to review them?”

“Certainly, let me have a look,” Vanna said, accepting the thick stack of files. As she skimmed through the documents, the dimming light from the setting sun cast a warm glow over the papers. “The delay isn’t surprising, given the exceptional circumstances surrounding Anomaly 099’s breach. It lost control while in direct contact with that legendary vessel, the so-called ‘ghost ship.’ I assume bishops from multiple city-states were cautious in crafting these notification files. They likely avoided establishing too many ‘direct associations,’ especially since it’s for distribution across all maritime routes. The ironic risk is that a document meant to help ship captains avoid hazards might inadvertently link them to the legendary Vanished.”

As Vanna pronounced the ship’s name, the nearest oil lamp flickered unpredictably. The flame sputtered and crackled softly, responding to the gravity of the word she had just uttered. The momentary disturbance added a subtle layer of tension to the already weighty atmosphere of the room.

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