Apostolic Journey

[Luminar]

The summons came not by courier, nor wrapped in a seal, but through an encrypted channel. Its authority made plain not by the message itself, but by the voice that soon followed it. Myshelov Tarasovich. Patron of Dominance I.

Theron had spoken with him before, but always in private, never in light. Their acquaintance was a secret even from those who imagined themselves well-informed. In public, the Brotherhood and the Custody were separate entities, touching only in rhetoric. In truth, the Patron’s hand fed the Brotherhood’s accounts more than any would guess, and more than any ledger could safely record.

But the invitation? The Kremlin? That surprised even him.

The image of Myshelov flickered into being across Theron's desk: sharp-featured, poised, wearing a smile that held no warmth.

“What, then is the true purpose behind this summons?” He inquired, head held high.

The Patron offered a soft laugh, barely more than breath. “What you do not yet know is this: you will stand before the Ascendancy in the same audience as the Pope. You will be presented together. Two figures of faith. As equals at least in the Ascendancy’s eyes.”

For a moment, Theron was speechless. Such moments were rare.

A thousand implications flared through his thoughts, each branching into a dozen more. The Brotherhood existed in but only barely acknowledged. Now? Now the world would see. The spirit would glance at the sacred. And the sacred would glance back. And in between them both, the Luminar. Him.

“I will bring three,” Theron said at last. “One officer of the Brotherhood and two Veilwardens.”

Myshelov’s expression did not change, but the shake of his head was final. “Three is one too many. Two. That is the maximum.”

Theron frowned slightly, though the Patron would not see it in the usual way. The projection left much to be desired. Still, he could not argue with that polite, direct, and immovable tone.

“Two,” he agreed.

When the connection ended, Theron summoned Lucien with a thought. The man would be ready.

As for the second... that required thought. Quillon had the skill. Steady, fierce, a wall in the shape of a man. But balance mattered. The court of the Ascendancy was a mysterious place. Seraphis, though less naturally talented in politics, had something better than insight. She was a woman, and could sense things that he could not. Besides, she had once been his ward, and though sentiment had no place in decision, Theron would not pretend he was made of stone.

Yes. She would do.

Quillon could remain behind, in command by absentia.