The Silver Sphinx

 

“Not every test asks whether you have fallen.

Some ask to whom you have remained faithful.”

from the teachings of Saint Aleria

 

 

Third Lower Day of Decadre, 126 HR

Faith stood motionless before the statue of Iomedae in the Great Basilica on Arcadia. The white marble floor was shimmering in the sunlight that streamed through the tall windows of the nave. The mighty columns stood in solemn silence, only the muffled murmurs of a few priests faded beneath the vaults, while the scent of incense slowly wafted through the aisles. How many times had she stood here? Before journeys that had taken her to dangerous regions of the planes. Before so many difficult decisions. On her wedding day. Before and after the birth of each of her children. And, of course, when Sarin had been appointed factol of the Harmonium and they had both believed that the greatest trials were already behind them. She let her gaze wander slowly over the familiar halls. Nothing had changed. Every statue still stood in its place, every mosaic tile seemed to have remained the same, and yet the basilica felt different than it used to. Perhaps it was because she herself was no longer the same. Over twenty years ago, she had left Arcadia to follow Sarin to Sigil. Arakiel had tried to talk her out of it back then. He had been convinced that the City of Doors would change her. Faith had left anyway. Today she knew that he had been right about at least one thing: Sigil had taught her that the path of good didn’t always follow the most straightforward route. Amidst the city’s countless cultures, philosophies, religions and organizations, she had all too often been confronted with situations in which duty and compassion conflicted. Decisions had to be made, even if they weren’t perfect.

She remembered the magistrate who had appeared at the Barracks two days earlier. A quiet man in the red-and-white robes of the church, whose unadorned attire almost seemed at odds with the authority of the office he held. With professional precision, he had read a letter from the High Convent and asked her to come to Arcadia for further questioning regarding the events in the realm of Shekinester. Faith had, of course, complied with the summons. She hadn’t been surprised that her church had questions about the events at the Opal Tears Palace. Her fingers glided over the holy symbol of Iomedae around her neck. Once again, she wondered if she should have acted differently. She knew she shouldn’t have taken away her husband’s responsibility for his decision. Yet a faint doubt lingered, like a barely visible shadow that did not quite dissipate even in the brightest light.

A young priest, who was now quietly approaching, interrupted her thoughts. “Lady Faith.” He bowed respectfully. “The committee is expecting you.”

She nodded, smoothed out the folds in her white dress and cast one last glance at the statue of her goddess. Then she followed the priest, who led her to a side aisle of the basilica. The wide corridors were more austere than the main nave, and instead of the large mosaics depicting the deeds of Iomedae, reliefs carved in stone adorned the bright walls here. They depicted some of the church’s saints, priests helping the indigents and paladins lifting up the defeated rather than humiliating them. Faith knew this part of the basilica well. No services were held in the adjoining rooms. Here, deliberations took place, cases were examined and decisions were made. Many years earlier, she herself had taken part in such discussions, as a young priestess who had still believed that every question could have a clear-cut answer.

The priest stopped in front of a heavy double door. “The committee is in session.”

Faith nodded, and for a moment her hand rested on the holy symbol around her neck. “Thank you.”

The young man opened the door, and she entered a room of austere simplicity. A table of light-colored stone divided the hall in two. Three chairs stood on one side, a single one on the other. Tall windows let in the early afternoon light, which bathed the walls in a warm gold. The only decoration here was the symbol of Iomedae, a sword before a sun, whose clean lines were carved into the stone of the wall without any superfluous ornamentation. The three members of the committee rose politely as Faith entered. Standing in the center was Lady Dianora Sanudo, the General Preceptor of the Basilica. She was a woman of about sixty, whose simple robe hardly differed from that of an ordinary priestess. Yet her calm demeanor and dignified bearing lent her words more weight than any jewelry or insignia could have. Faith had known her for many years, as she was responsible, among other things, for coordinating matters between the Church of Iomedae in Sigil and in Arcadia. Lady Dianora was known for her prudence. She rarely spoke hastily and even more rarely did she speak loudly. To her left stood Karasiel, with gold-speckled wings and her long, blonde hair loose. When their eyes met, Faith thought she glimpsed a barely perceptible smile for a fleeting moment, one that vanished just as quickly, like a silent reassurance.

To the General Preceptor’s right, Faith discovered Arakiel, unchanged over the decades, like all angels. His black hair fell past his shoulders, the feathers of his wings were white with red tips, the sacred colors of the goddess. His face looked stern, his blue eyes alert and watchful. When he took his seat again, he sat very upright, both hands folded on the table. Faith detected no real harshness in his gaze, but neither did she recognize the familiarity that had once connected them. She recalled the many conversations she had had with the angel who had once been her teacher and mentor, conversations about responsibility, justice and the will of the goddess. Arakiel had set high expectations for her, often higher than for other novices. Back then, she had believed it was because he placed special trust in her. Only later she understood that, for him, trust and high standards were inseparable. When she had decided to follow Sarin to Sigil, Arakiel had tried for a long time to change her mind. Not because he thought Sarin was a bad man, at least that much Faith had known for certain. But because he was convinced that, sooner or later, Sigil would force everyone to question their own ideals. A city of countless possibilities, he had said, offered just as many temptations. Back then, Faith had disagreed, saying that true ideals had to bear scrutiny. She still believed that, and yet she understood now why Arakiel had been so concerned.

Lady Dianora gestured towards the empty chair opposite the committee. “Please take a seat, Lady Faith.”

She sat down, and for a moment there was silence. Only the soft singing of a hymn from the main nave reached their ears.

The General Preceptor let her gaze wander once more over the documents before her, then folded her hands on top of them. “First of all, I would like to thank you for responding to our request so promptly. As you have already been informed, this is neither a tribunal nor a disciplinary measure. We simply wish to fully understand the facts of the matter before reaching a final assessment.”

Faith nodded solemnly. “I understand.”

“To begin with, we would like to reconstruct the basic facts of the situation,” explained Lady Dianora. “Not because we doubt your previous statements, but because we wish to fully understand the context. You, Lady Faith, were present when Factol Sarin kissed the demoness Red Shroud. You were aware of Red Shroud’s true nature - namely, that she is a succubus with the rank of a demon princess. And you understood the significance of that act.”

Faith took a deep breath. “Yes, that is correct.”

Lady Dianora looked up from the file. “Yet you did not attempt to dissuade Factol Sarin from his decision, nor did you report his plan to the church in advance. Why?”

Of course, she had anticipated this question. It was one of the crucial ones. Thus she had already prepared her answer. “Because it would have amounted to treason had I tried to prevent his decision in that way.”

Arakiel crossed his arms, the look in his blue eyes hardening. “Treason against whom?”

“Against my office as a factor of the Harmonium and, therefore, against my factol,” Faith replied seriously. “And against my husband.”

The General Preceptor scrutinized her closely. “You are thus placing personal ties and your duties within your faction on the same level as your ecclesiastical duties.”

Faith’s voice remained calm. “I have weighed them against one another. I had to.”

Lady Dianora now leaned forward slightly. Her voice was measured, but insistent. “Why did your weighing of these matters turn out this way?”

“Sarin faced a decision that no one could take off his hands or make for him,” Faith explained. “If I had tried to stop him, it would have meant that I didn't trust his conscience. My husband never acts recklessly. When he makes a decision, he has first examined every possibility. If there had been another way to save the prisoners, he would have chosen it. I am convinced of that.”

“Even today?” Karasiel asked.

“Yes.” Faith put a certain emphasis in her voice and met the committee members’ gazes firmly.

Now Arakiel joined the conversation again. “Many years ago, we discussed how even the most righteous person should seek counsel when faced with an insurmountable decision. Do you remember?”

Faith sighed softly. How could she have forgotten the angel’s lessons, so forceful as they had been back then? “I remember,” she confirmed.

“Why didn’t Sarin do that?” Arakiel pressed relentlessly.

Faith was silent for a moment before she answered. “Because he was convinced that this decision rested solely on his shoulders. Whether that’s true or not, that’s how he saw it. And he acted accordingly.”

Arakiel's expression grew a touch darker. “So you’re talking about a predicament. Not a temptation?”

This time, Faith’s reply came promptly. “Anyone who knows my husband would never see that kiss as a temptation.” She couldn’t stop a hint of defiance from creeping into her voice.

Her former mentor met her gaze sternly, but it seemed to Faith that there was also a trace of melancholy in it. For a while, no one spoke.

Finally, it was Lady Dianora who broke the silence. “Lady Faith, we would like to ask for one final assessment of Factol Sarin.” She placed her fingertips on the file. “You know that he is still suffering from the consequences of that decision. Do you believe he is still fit to be in charge of others?”

“Yes,” Faith replied, now more composed. “I am convinced that he can still bear this responsibility. He now knows that his faith is not inviolable, his judgment not infallible. That his … margin of discretion has limits. He has learned this the hard way, more so than many others. But there is one thing we must not forget: Someone who has fallen is more vigilant than someone who has never been tested.”

Lady Dianora nodded slowly. “And if he were faced with the same decision again, what would he do?”

Faith closed her eyes for a moment. That was the second crucial question. But she could neither lie nor sugarcoat anything. “He would make the same decision again,” she replied.

The words hung in the air for a moment. “And you?” Arakiel then asked.

Faith looked him straight in the eyes. “Me too. I wish there had been another way. I wish Sarin had never faced that decision. And I would give anything to undo the pain that kiss has brought upon us. But if the lives of innocents could only be saved at the cost of his own fall, then it was not for me to ask him to act differently. I love my husband. And that is precisely why I could never have denied him that decision.”

Something changed in Arakiel’s expression as she spoke. It was only a fleeting moment, but Faith recognized the same disappointment she had seen many years earlier when she had told him she wanted to leave Arcadia. Karasiel, on the other hand, gave her an encouraging smile.

Arakiel said nothing more on the matter, but leaned back and looked at Karasiel. “You’ve gone to great lengths to ensure that Sarin gets the chance to redeem himself through the three trials. You’re asking for a great deal of trust - more than he’s currently entitled to.”

“Perhaps,” Karasiel replied calmly. “But less than he deserves.”

Once again, a brief silence fell. Then Arakiel turned back to Faith. “And what if his path leads him further away from the Church of Iomedae?”

“I will remain faithful to my goddess,” Faith assured. “And I will remain faithful to my husband.”

Lady Dianora interlaced her fingers. “And what if those two paths should diverge one day?”

But Faith remained unwavering. “Then I will do everything in my power to bring them back together.”

The General Preceptor nodded slowly, apparently satisfied with the answer. Then she cast a brief glance at the two angels. Karasiel smiled warmly and bowed her head slightly. Arakiel seemed less conciliatory, but nodded as well.

Lady Dianora closed the file. “Thank you, Lady Faith. Your statements were sincere and helpful. We have no further questions.”

Faith stood up, and the members of the committee rose as well.

Karasiel bowed her head once more in farewell. “May Iomedae bless you.”

“And all of you as well,” Faith replied with a curtsy.

After Lady Dianora and Karasiel had left the room, Arakiel remained behind. He stepped around the table and approached Faith. “I remember it clearly,” he said, his tone now less harsh, more pained. “Back then, I feared Sigil would change you.”

Faith met his gaze and held it. “And did it?”

A hint of a smile flitted across his features. “Yes. I’m just not sure whether I should see that as proof of my misjudgement or as confirmation of my concern.”

Faith nodded slowly. She knew there were no words that would do justice to the moment. That there was too much standing between them, especially now. So she simply bowed respectfully. “Farewell, Arakiel.”

“Farewell, Faith.” The harshness had faded from his voice, leaving behind resignation and melancholy.

 

 

As she closed the door, she knew that she had also left behind a part of herself in that room. Perhaps it was the part that had once believed that duty and love were always reconcilable. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath. Then she placed her hand on the holy symbol of Iomedae and continued on her way.

 

 

 

Two days later, a messenger brought a sealed letter to Sigil, addressed to Faith personally. Inside, she found a copy of the decision regarding her hearing, as it had been filed in the church’s archives.

 

Archives of the Basilica of Iomedae – Arcadia

Internal Assessment – Case S-IX/47

 

Subject: Faith of Sigil, High Priestess – Knowing and Omittance

 

Finding:

It is undisputed that Lady Faith was present during the encounter between Factol Sarin and the demoness Red Shroud in the Opal Tears Palace. It is also undisputed that she neither attempted to prevent the action nor reported the incident to the church.

Assessment:

The committee acknowledges that Lady Faith did not exercise any ecclesiastical authority to justify the action. According to her own statement, her decision not to intervene was based on her trust in the factol’s conscience as well as on her duty as a factor of the Harmonium. No intentional disregard of ecclesiastical principles could be established.

Consideration:

There are indications of a possible dereliction of duty regarding the failure to report the incident. At the same time, it must be taken into account that Lady Faith did not view her loyalty to the church and to her faction as conflicting, but rather as compatible with one another. The committee assesses her statements as credible and free from any discernible intent to deceive.

Sanction:

A public reprimand is waived. A final assessment under canon law will be made following the completion of Factol Sarin’s rehabilitation trials and after a renewed evaluation of the long-term consequences of the incident.

 

Signed

Lady Dianora Sanudo

General Preceptor of the Church of Iomedae in Arcadia

 

Faith nodded gently after reading the letter and rolling it back up. It was not an acquittal, but neither was it a conviction. The church had believed her. She had not hoped for more from this hearing. The committee’s questions had been answered. The real test, however, still lay ahead of them. Faith ran her fingers over the seal of Iomedae on the outside of the scroll. Every trial changed a person. She only prayed that this one might bring Sarin - and herself - closer to their goddess in the end.