Arrogance and Folly

The true purpose of the Church of Order sending an investigation delegation to the Church of the Wasteland was to assess the actual situation on both sides under the guise of an "investigation," laying the groundwork for subsequent intervention by Order. Whatever happened, the Church of Order's "original intention"—to swallow and control the Church of the Wasteland, turning it into a puppet vassal church like the Church of Pamires—had never wavered. However, Order's original plan had been to prop up the separatist faction of the Church of the Desert as a breakthrough point. Originally, this plan was proceeding smoothly. Even when the assassination of Head Bishop Wolflen's entire family occurred in the Yorktown Region, and the Church of Order uncovered clues pointing to the culprits, Order had intended to hold its nose and swallow the insult for the sake of the greater strategic picture. Yet upon emerging from seclusion, High Priest Norton forcibly overturned this tacit acquiescence born of self-interest. As a result, the Church of Order had to abort its original plan, shifting instead to publicly condemning the Church of the Desert's villainous actions against Order, and backing the Church of the Wasteland's crackdown on the Desert separatists. From that point on, all pretenses were dropped between the Church of the Wasteland and the Church of the Desert, and civil war erupted in earnest. At first, dissenting voices rose within several factions of the Church of Order regarding the High Priest's decision to scrap the plan—including from factions that had originally supported him. But as the civil war dragged on, those murmurs gradually dissipated. Even stripped of Order's support, the military prowess displayed by the Church of the Desert in the civil war was astonishing. Although the orthodox Church of the Wasteland initially held an overwhelming advantage on paper and claimed one supposed victory after another in suppressing the rebellion, they consistently failed to achieve decisive results at critical junctures. Then, the Church of the Desert launched a series of effective counteroffensives. Its sleeper agents planted deep within the Church of the Wasteland began defecting in calculated waves, causing the Wasteland to gradually forfeit the battlefield initiative and be dragged into a grueling stalemate. Today's clash was another prime example of recent events. The Desert rebels had secretly massed their forces and launched a surprise assault on the Wasteland holy land of Makina, but the heavily fortified Makina Holy Land had held out against their onslaught. This unforeseen complication had forced the Church of Order to expedite the arrival of its investigation delegation. According to the original plan, once the delegation arrived at the Makina Holy Land, they were to relocate immediately and rendezvous with the earlier contingents. Yet an unexpected catastrophe struck anyway. First, a mutiny broke out in one of Makina's garrison legions. The holy land's chief of church affairs and its defense commander personally went to defuse the internal rift, only for the holy land's second-in-command to seize the opportunity to defect outright. He not only detained the other high-ranking priests, but coordinated from within to shut down multiple vital defensive arrays throughout the sanctuary, ushering the external rebels right through the gates. Thus, by the time Karen and his group teleported in, the rebels had already breached the holy land. The remaining Wasteland forces within the sanctuary were mounting a last stand, but stripped of leadership and broken in formation, their resistance was merely futile flailing. ... Inside the teleportation array hall, every eye in the delegation was fixed on the two deputy leaders. This investigation delegation had one leader and eight deputy leaders; this final contingent happened to be led by two of those deputies. Yet to Karen's utter disbelief, in such a tense and critical situation, the two honorable deputy leaders had actually broken into an argument. Yes, an argument. In their agitation, neither had bothered to set up an isolation barrier, so every word was audible to the entire room. Deputy Head Zean urged an immediate breakout, proposing they lead the delegation out while the rebels had not fully consolidated their hold on the Makina Holy Land, and then seek to rendezvous with the main delegation. Deputy Head Yamrek, on the other hand, insisted on holding their ground, establishing contact with the rebel commanders, and having the rebels courteously escort them out. This, he argued, would avoid casualties that could occur during a breakout. What was more, the majority of the delegation supported Yamrek, tipping the scales heavily in his favor. Richard swore in utter bewilderment. "Fuck! Has their brain turned to bean paste?!" Karen glanced at Richard and shook his head. Their brains hadn't turned to paste; this was simply the inevitable result of ingrained habits of mind meeting reality. If Karen were the ranking deputy leader here, he wouldn't have hesitated to issue the same order as Zean: seize the initiative as much as possible in a crisis. Staying put to negotiate with the rebels, however, was tantamount to relinquishing all initiative, handing over their freedom, safety, and fate entirely to the enemy. This was something Karen could never accept. Both his temperament and his professional background made him deeply averse to such passivity in a crisis. The problem was that this delegation was not made up entirely of Knights or Whip of Order operatives. The Whip contingent was limited to Karen's small squad—a minuscule fraction of the whole. The vast majority were clerical staff, many of whom had used personal connections to secure a spot just to pad their resumes for career advancement. When they first emerged from the teleportation array, fewer than half of them had even managed to remain standing rather than collapsing onto the floor. Many of them knew perfectly well that any breakout would inevitably bring casualties, and plenty among them would end up as mere statistics. This wasn't a matter of random chance; it was based on an acute awareness of their own lack of combat ability. Compounding this was their habituation to the Church of Order's transcendent status within the ecclesiastical community. Trapped in that ingrained mindset, they simply didn't believe the rebels would dare lay a hand on an Order delegation, fearing it might provoke Order into deploying its knight orders to intervene directly in the civil war. Karen saw things very differently. Looking at the recent frontline battle reports, the Desert rebels' string of victories was partly due to their deep infiltration of the Wasteland, but there was another underlying factor: after the Church of Order announced its support for the Wasteland's counter-insurgency, the Desert faction had secretly gained backing from other orthodox churches. Karen still remembered washing dishes with Budalas in those memory visions just a few days ago. The topic then had been the Church of Light's invasion of Rest over a thousand years ago, and Budalas had enthusiastically predicted that Order would back the Church of Rest to bleed Light dry on that front. A similar scene was likely playing out a millennium later, except the roles had reversed—now it was the other orthodox churches seeking to bleed Order. If that were truly the case, then as the real backers behind the Desert faction, those orthodox churches would welcome the rebels escalating matters to the extreme, thereby dragging Order into the quagmire of direct intervention. Even if the Knights of Order could crush every enemy on the open battlefield, the ensuing counterinsurgency and pacification campaign would slowly slice away at Order's flesh like a dull blade. Although the Church of the Wasteland did not have the largest following—being merely a large-tier church—its territory was vast. Holy lands and parish districts were separated by immense distances, consisting mostly of arid deserts with sparse populations and vast stretches of worthless terrain. In that respect, it closely resembled the Church of Rest from a thousand years prior. Immense strategic depth, coupled with an endless flow of covert resources—meeting these two conditions was all it took to create a bleeding bowl. And so, standing around waiting to be handled... Karen was genuinely worried they would end up marched onto a gallows, broadcast live across the ecclesiastical world via communication arrays. When that happened, about the only thing left for them to do before the trapdoor opened would be to face the communication array lens and shout, "Long live Order!" Their only remaining hope was for Deputy Head Zean to show some spine. Even if he couldn't change the overall consensus, he could at least force a split—leading anyone willing to break out along with him. Yet Karen was disappointed, though it was an expected disappointment. Even Karen hadn't simply turned on his heel and fled, because he knew he was part of this delegation. Defying group orders to desert his post and act unilaterally was an absolute taboo. Unless you were a hundred percent certain that staying meant hanging, any milder outcome from the rebels would leave you facing a severe purge from the Church of Order upon return. Deputy Head Zean was in the same boat. Though he had voiced his proposal, he had no desire to shoulder the administrative fallout of splitting the delegation. So they remained in the teleportation array hall, resting and waiting. Deputy Head Zean relinquished all command authority. Somewhat disheartened, he sat down as well. Karen initially expected Deputy Head Yamrek to summon him—or if not him, another experienced squad leader—to organize the combat personnel into a basic perimeter defense. Yet Karen waited and waited, but Yamrek called neither him nor anyone else. Instead, his first order was to repair the communication array damaged by the violent explosions earlier, eager to establish contact with the church hierarchy. However, repairing a foreign array system was tedious and impossible to finish in short order. So Deputy Head Yamrek simply sat cross-legged on the floor, laid a copy of *Light of Order* across his knees, and began reciting scripture to soothe people's nerves. The sight left Karen utterly numb. If Deputy Head Yamrek were his subordinate, Karen would have already had him executed to consecrate the war banners. Yet infuriatingly, the man was the highest-ranking Order official present. Even Philomena, who seldom spoke, muttered under her breath, "This is why one must climb higher—so pigs never get the chance to be your superiors." In the end, Karen took the initiative and walked up to Deputy Head Yamrek. Yamrek looked up at him. "My Lord." "Ah, Karen. You truly are young. Two nights ago, I specifically told my people to invite you to dinner, only to be told you hadn't arrived yet. You probably don't know, but Wolflen and I were very close. We worked together for a time back then—he was my deputy, a wonderful partner." Karen suppressed his surging impatience. *Is now really the time to reminisce?* "My Lord, I suggest leading a detachment to establish an outer perimeter. That would allow us to monitor developments outside and buy ourselves a margin of safety." "No, no, we cannot do that." Yamrek stroked his grizzled beard. "That would easily lead to unnecessary skirmishes with the rebels. I fear they might mistake it for direct intervention in the civil war between the Wasteland and the Desert, which could backfire terribly. You are still young; you don't realize that in such chaos, even the slightest misunderstanding can trigger catastrophic consequences." "But, My Lord, our church has already publicly declared support for the Church of the Wasteland's campaign. I don't believe..." "Foolish." Yamrek shook his head, lecturing Karen in the manner of a patronizing elder. "A declaration is just a declaration. When it comes to what can and cannot be done in practice, the rebel leadership is surely clear-headed. They wouldn't dare touch us, haha." "Yet they butchered Head Bishop Wolflen's entire family." Yamrek glared at him. "A covert act done in shadows and an overt act done in public—can the two even be compared? Besides, whether what happened to Wolflen was truly as the so-called investigation report claims is still up in the air. I read that report; the evidence was far from solid, full of conjecture." Karen pressed his lips together. "Just wait quietly until the situation outside clarifies. Do not take unnecessary actions. In circumstances like these, doing more only means making more mistakes. Young man, don't be so impetuous. Understand?" "Understood, My Lord." Karen was out of options. Not only did Yamrek hold absolute authority, but the vast majority of the delegation supported him. Just then, Deputy Head Zean, who had been sitting aside in despondent surrender, stood up and walked over. "Karen, take some people to set up basic arrangements on the perimeter." Yamrek's face soured immediately. "Zean, didn't you say you washed your hands of this? Why interfere now? Remember, in the delegation's hierarchy of deputy leaders, your rank is below mine!" "Have you forgotten something, Yamrek?" Zean replied. "The rebels don't know our Order delegation has arrived, nor do they know we are currently inside this teleportation hall. Aren't you worried that when their vanguard reaches this place, they'll simply fire a magic crystal cannon directly into the hall?" Yamrek choked on his words. Zean pressed on. "You have to station people outside to initiate contact with the rebels. I concede your point and accept your decision—the rebels wouldn't dare harm us. But if their vanguard charges in without their commanders present, roughly detains us, or subjects us to humiliating treatment like prisoners of war, it will be the dignity of the Church of Order that suffers. "You must send people ahead to inform the rebels of our identity and location so we can receive the courtesies due to us!" Yamrek hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Very well. We can proceed with that." Zean turned to Karen and instructed, "Karen, pick a squad..." "Karen cannot go," Yamrek interrupted. "Young people act too impetuously. If he ends up—" Zean cut in immediately. "Karen successfully coordinated affairs in the Church of the Burrow. He has relevant experience." Helpless, Yamrek waved a hand. "Fine. Karen, go see to it. Remember, do not provoke any conflict on your own authority. Simply establish contact and make our presence known." "Yes, My Lord." Order in hand, Karen finally breathed an inward sigh of relief. Even if he couldn't stage an early breakout, being positioned on the perimeter would spare him the worst immediate outcomes. He could assess the situation firsthand outside; if things took a turn for the worse, he could attempt to slip away into concealment and break out on his own. Of course, with every minute wasted, the chances of successful concealment and escape dwindled significantly. Karen signaled Richard and Philomena, then looked at the seven Whip of Order members in his group and gave a direct command: "Gather your people. You're coming outside with me to set up a perimeter." "Yes, Group Leader." "Yes, Group Leader." Though they had only recently met, and all the section chiefs here were older than Karen, his position as group leader elicited an immediate, disciplined response. People forged within the same system were simply easier to direct. Furthermore, they all shared a remarkably similar assessment of their current predicament. Seven members plus their two attendants each was plenty. Karen had no desire to recruit broadly, but he walked over to where Deputy Head Zean had previously been sitting. Zean was currently conferring with Yamrek beneath an isolation barrier, whispering in private, leaving behind only Zean's four attendants. Due to his high rank, he was entitled to twice the attendants of others. "Come with me to set up the perimeter," Karen told the four attendants. The four attendants—two younger and two older men—exchanged glances upon hearing Karen's command, then stood up and followed him out of the teleportation array hall. Along the way, Karen sensed Deputy Head Zean's gaze shifting toward him, and Karen briefly met his eyes. Once outside the hall, Karen immediately organized the perimeter positions. Since this was not a purely defensive cordon, the sentry posts were deliberately spaced loose and wide. Finally, Karen gave strict instructions: "Remember, when relaying our identity to the rebels, use message crows. Do not show yourselves in person. Also, ensure you have your signal flares on hand. When the time comes, my signal flare commands take precedence. Understood?" "Understood!" "Understood!" "Take your positions." Karen produced signal flares, distributed them to Zean's four attendants, and explained the meaning of each signal. Two of the younger men said excitedly: "Section Chief Karen, I've always admired you!" "Me too! You're incredible, truly amazing." "How are you related to Deputy Head Zean?" "He's our uncle." "Ah, I see." Bringing one's nephews along to gain experience and pad their records in an investigation mission was nothing unusual. Technically speaking, Karen had brought his own cousin—along with the girl his grandfather unilaterally considered his future cousin-in-law. After entering his designated watchpoint, Karen observed that the rebels had already seized control of virtually the entire Makina Holy Land. Priests originally belonging to the Church of the Wasteland were surrendering in droves. The believers qualified to reside within the holy city were typically core devotees, yet their will to resist the rebels was barely noticeable; no widespread wave of defiance materialized. The remaining resistance forces on the Wasteland side were disintegrating rapidly. This was the nature of their civil war. To most at the grassroots level, whether Wasteland or Desert prevailed, all that changed was the primary deity of their devotion. Whichever side won, the other deity's worship would not be extinguished, merely relegated to a secondary tier. Consequently, the ruthless bloodlust of a fight to the bitter end was hard to find. Rebel forces began entering the district, seizing the holy land's principal facilities. Karen's sentries promptly dispatched message crows, alerting the rebel vanguard to the identity of the occupants within the teleportation hall. Even now... Karen found the whole affair utterly moronic. Had they been surrounded the moment they teleported in, that would be one thing, but sitting on their hands and waiting to be cornered was another entirely. He had only ever heard of smaller churches acting timid and cautious before major ones, never imagining the dynamic could be inverted like this. Soon, a rebel detachment surrounded the teleportation array hall. At its center stood a colossal Desert Camel Walker. It somewhat resembled the Order Giants of the Church of Order, though while Order Giants were hideous, they at least possessed humanoid silhouettes. The Desert Camel Walkers were all hunched and bent-backed, covered in coarse yellowish-brown fur like enormous apes. A platform sat atop the beast's back, where several figures stood in the distance, likely of commander rank. High above, numerous massive sand eagles circled the sky—some monitoring the area, others scattering public notices to pacify the populace. Karen raised his flare gun and signaled: "Remain concealed." A rebel soldier stepped forward to negotiate. Moments later, five Order priests emerged from the teleportation array hall. Each of them had meticulously straightened their clerical robes and maintained an immaculate appearance. One glance was enough to tell they were responsible for liturgical rituals in everyday life—and, well, feeding the Sandys. Their inclusion in the delegation was for comprehensive planning; to subjugate the Church of the Wasteland, matters of doctrine and liturgical rites could not be overlooked. The five priests arranged themselves—one ahead, four behind. Using an amplification spell, the priest in front announced in solemn tones: "The honorable Deputy Head of the Church of Order's Investigation Delegation awaits within. Representatives of the Church of the Desert may enter to pay their respects." Ordinarily, if the Desert faction sent representatives inside to confer and accorded the delegation full honors, the mission would be safe. They would be treated as guests and escorted by the rebels back to Wasteland territory. Deputy Head Yamrek would win renown for his composure under pressure, upholding the dignity and grace of Order, adding a glittering credential to his future career. Yet laughter drifted down from the platform on the camel walker's back—a laugh thick with contempt. Then, The Desert Camel Walker opened its cavernous maw. Teeth embedded with fire-attribute crystals ignited with brilliant light. An instant later, an immense column of roaring fire blasted downward, incinerating all five Order priests to ashes. Burned along with them were their arrogance and folly.