Chương 423: 13.9

Havel was not sure if Peter Bulchava was mad. But if he was not it was a near thing, after tracking down and watching the decrepit man at the center of this 'Bulchavan Enterprise' for days and coming to grips with the labyrinthine warren of hallways and rooms that the Pantheon's interior had become. The man at the least had an infatuation with Wyrm Eggs. When he thought no eyes were watching him he was inclined to stroke a shard of one he kept on his person.

You could see that his eyes ran over the dishes of sky blue which contained the various paints. That the waif had learned were made by inks and powders mixed with the 'yolk' from the broken eggs. Peter Bulchava had an energy to him whenever another merchant brought in more Wyrm eggs, and despite the prodigious call on the man's time for what seemed like a thousand matters the old merchant made time to meet every single merchant that brought him (and the Pantheon) another egg.

Havel was pretty sure that the man was thinking of Wyrm Eggs whenever he looked up to a clear day's sky or considered his reflection in a mirror. The once guard had seen greed before, a hunger for riches and food. Even as a trainee you saw quite a lot of that. What drove one man to cheat or steal from another. The greed in a man's heart could be a terrible thing. But it was a rare thing to see what Havel saw in the head of the Balchavan Enterprise.

He'd only heard word of it from other guards, not even the bloody Countess Bathory had quite the same frenzied look to his eyes when this man looked at the works of others. Also if the man was not held up by divine miracles and sorcery Havel would eat his whole team's boots, unwashed and raw. Peter Bulchava's skin hung like loose parchment, his face was a creasing folding of wrinkles over bones, speckled with age spots like a spattering of mold on bread.

It was a wonder that he wasn't rheumy eyed or trembling with every step! Yet despite the advanced age in the man he was instead as spry as Havel on his feet, his back was unbent and he never seemed to struggle to make his way even in private! The aged man's overwrought layers upon layers of fine blue garments must have weighed considerably and yet this weathered breathing corpse moved as if he was not encumbered by it at all!

Havel was just about fed up with trailing Peter Bulchava who seemed content to cryptically order his artisans in their sorcerous work to further extend the tangled up maze that had been made of the Pantheon and try to convince peddlers to join his 'enterprise' for days on end! Thank the stars and the Countess something substantial was scheduled for today. At last a meeting of importance was happening!

One of the 'High Priests', a member of the highest council of the Pantheon itself was entering, and to Havel's relief he was abrupt in getting to the heart of the matter.

"Peter, the council's concerns are again growing." Unlike the egg obsessed target of Havel's observations so far the High Priest had dispensed with the more ostentatious finery he wore during ceremonies and more public addresses or invocations to the heavens. In what the two men thought was a private meeting one of the highest of the Pantheon wore a simple set of robes of an incredibly fine weave that most certainly would bring comfort but no ornaments.

Havel knew the quality of its threads; he had thumbed over it in curiosity in the High Priest's chambers ten days ago. It was a contrast two men made, one assured in the divine power he could call upon, confident enough to do away with decoration and another all but drowning in an attempt to showcase his own importance with every stitch.

"What do they want now? The gods are pleased are they not? You've said before that the heavens are eager to engage in every cracking we've done." The High Priest nodded to him but his face was grim.

"With the first success that did indeed reassure them, but we've opened fifty two of them now Peter, and the gods are no less eager than the first time." The man laughed, wrapped in foreign silks and over vibrant blue dyes which trembled with his bellows, billowing choking perfumes that attempted and failed to cover the dry rot of age.

"What's there to be concerned about a customer that remains hungry for your services Father Arrigo? Are they short changing you priests in the miracles they provide in exchange?" The waif did a carefully practiced lean past Peter's right to take in the face of the priest while his gaze was not looking that way. The High Priest's grimace at the words matched his tone, but there was a flicker of the same hunger that Havel saw in Peter Bulchava every day, not as openly lusting but there all the same.

It was just as he'd seen in other meetings, Havel silently lamented that he could no longer live in the dream that temple workers and priests were pure men and women who served their fellows as intercessions with the gods from virtue alone. The Pantheon and the opulent appetites of its highest priests had buried all such notions.

"Oh no, there has been no diminishing in the miracles offered the Pantheon by the heavens for every accursed wyrm egg we break open. But not all of the council share the same views as you and I. Peter, they look upon the fervor of the gods to shower us in miracles and see shadows and fables of doom from the past. They shy away from it like apprentices."

The crazed man in finery sighed heavily then shifted, the prickle of his gaze passing over the room showing Havel he was considering the plainly robed High Priest up and down.

"How many are against us now?" Another quick lean of a peek showed Father Arrigo's mouth thinned, he glanced around the room with suspicion, but Havel was already slipping back into carefully standing behind Peter Bulchava from the High Priest's perspective, hidden entirely by the bulk of the man and his dressing.

"Six of the seventeen, It would have been nine but I was able to convince them of the rightness of the course. But Peter, all of the council of the zodiac are on a knife's edge in their judgement now! Word from the war between 'Cantor Reborn' and Magarska has all of them concerned. Two wyrms rage against men and the missives from the east are damning for just how far the barbarian diviners strayed from the path of the Pantheon. It's so much worse than we feared!" This story originates from Royal Road.

Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Peter rumbled then sighed and nodded.

"I presume we cannot offer any more enticements to the council members? No more miracles they could call on for themselves? Or on behalf of their families?" The High Priest shook his head with a scowl.

"The council have gained too many blessings far too fast, they are indolent in the breadth of their pacts, miracles and newfound riches. It is shameful but now they look around them and fear to lose what they have gathered, rather than looking for what their duty is to man and god." The wrinkles in the decrepit over swaddled man furled around his face, Havel was very familiar with how the sagging skin changed the space his eyes actually clearly saw.

The itching presence of where not to go was more than enough to imagine the man's expression. The bones shifting as his jaw ground far too complete teeth for such an old man were clear to an ear tuned to what steps could be made when deafened by them, again Havel wondered to what degree that Peter Bulchavan had partaken of divine miracles himself. Far too much for how the Pantheon preached to avoid the touch of the stars in mortal affairs.

"What will calm the council's fears then Arrigo? To soothe those currently lost to 'sin' back with our purpose?" Father Arrigo scoffed and the sweeping presence of attention told Havel he shook his head.

"Sin is precisely what they see all over your enterprise Peter, you are calling too much of the gods' attention down onto the world, every egg cracked seems to draw the gaze of every known star in the heavens." Again the Priest glanced around the room, but Havel was still in the shadow of Peter Bulchava's robes. Hidden perfectly, although he began having to silently step a little to the left as the man walked around the room, continuing with his lecture.

Thankfully Peter turned with the man, keeping his back available as a refuge from the other's gaze.

"The most fearful of the council want to forbid the act entirely, have its details entered into the books of forbidden rites and every diviner and man who has witnessed it censored under a death vow if they should ever attempt to share it." That finally caught Peter Bulchava's attention, narrowing now like a spear, the old man focused intensely on the High Priest with a glint of murder in his eye.

"Who? How many" Father Arrigo shook his head again, sweeping the room with mostly closed sliver of attention, a sudden obscurement in one of his eyes at the outer edge almost certainly a waved hand.

"It is not for you to know the voices of the council Peter, but it was only one among the seventeen who argued for such and the other sixteen overruled them." To an uncritical eye on the old man's back Peter had relaxed and probably smiled, but Havel saw the tension still in that ancient spine even under all the probably-elf-silk and other finery, if he had seen a man standing like that in a dark alley Havel would have his sword out.

"Ah, then no concern there, and of course as the council judged we won't be doing that so what did the esteemed zodiac council of the Pantheon conclude? What's the appeasement they demand, Arrigo?" Havel could practically smell the lie in those words, but the Priest seemed oblivious, or perhaps he had a better skill for subterfuge then Havel could pierce? Hard to say, with only a few swaying peeks to catch his expression.

"We are putting a halt to the rite for the time being, the Council does agree that the power and attention it gives is too great, the offered miracles for such acts is dangerous. Those that may attend to such rites will be limited in future, those that already know how to enact it are to be elevated in the Pantheon's temples and their loyalty secured by all means possible." Havel shifted just enough to see a vein in Peter's dangling cock's comb of a throat bulging.

But the Peddler was all smiles and his words sweet.

"I see, only a temporary delay though? The work upon the Pantheon and all the commissions you've made of my enterprise will be needing a steady supply if we are to meet our promises Arrigo." Again the priest's attention was obscured by a waved hand, seemingly unconcerned by the venom underneath the sweet tone.

"After the knowledge is contained it will be limited to only seventeen times a year at the most, to be presided over by no less than an Archpriest or Archpriestess to a god of that time's Zodiac. There will be no more uninitiated witnesses to the breakings either, all of your men who were present for the others need to take up a vow Peter." The merchant froze.

"Surely I will be exempt from that Arrigo, I leave the god bothering and dealing to you and the pantheon, you leave the sourcing of the wyrm eggs and the artisans to work the yolk of creation to me. That was our deal." Havel heard a much more overt threat in the old man's tone then. Father Arrigo, member of the Council of the Zodiac, one of the highest positions in the Pantheon of Old Cantor, met Peter Bulchava's gaze.

The intensity of the focus from both men was clear in how their attention faded from the rest of the room.

"For now I can spare you any strictures or bindings from the heavens, Peter, but step lightly, I can argue that your already present blessings are sufficient to ensure your loyalty to the Pantheon in this matter but I can't have you or yours contradicting me. Not at this time, give me a year, I can turn the Council back to the proper course on this matter in a year."

Havel had to move to another vantage point, slipping where High Priest Arrigo could not notice him as the man walked towards the door, then as expected swept the room with a terribly itchy inspection before meeting Peter Bulchava's eyes again, freeing the room of attention once more.

"Be warned Peter Bulchaava, If you give reason for the council to suspect treachery in this they will move to replace you." And then the two of them were alone in Peter Bulchava's room, as far as the overdressed man was concerned he was entirely on his own. Havel silently shifted along in the hazy space of inattention behind his head, tracking his eyes moving over the room in a lazy sweep with the sense of the Guildmistress' trick."

Well, it's so unfortunate that such great diviners should suffer such terrible accidents. A pity, I'm sure they will be mourned by their replacements." Havel did not sigh, he did not do anything but breath in the shallow gaps when the decrepit old man would not hear. He was still not sure if Peter Bulchava suffered from madness or not. But he was still dangerous.