They explored deeper into the cathedral.
The place seemed to unfold the farther they walked, each corridor leading into another chamber, each chamber into another hall, each hall more polished and reverent than the last. There were side chapels lit by floating candles, alcoves full of saintly statues, confession booths carved from dark wood and gold, and glass reliquaries containing things Celeste was fairly sure should not be glowing.
Silver moved like he belonged there.
Celeste moved like she expected the floor to ask her to leave.
Mezzo peered into one display case and frowned. “Is that someone’s hand?”
Hughes leaned over from just ahead. “Relic.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“It does, unfortunately.”
Topsy, who had wandered slightly farther down the hall with Hughes, pressed her face very close to the glass of another reliquary. “Do you think it waves at night?”
“Topsy,” Celeste whispered, horrified.
“What? It might be lonely.”
Before anyone could answer, the sound of marching boots echoed from the far corridor.
Hughes lifted a hand.
They stopped at once.
A formation of paladins turned the corner in perfect step, their voices raised in prayer-song. The melody rolled through the stone halls, deep and steady, each word catching in the vaulted ceiling until it sounded larger than the singers themselves.
“By Light we rise, by Light we burn,
From ash and shadow we return…”
Their armour was gold and white, polished until it caught every candle and threw it back in blinding fragments. Plates overlapped like sunlit feathers. Capes fell in clean ceremonial lines. Spears and rifles rested at their shoulders, each weapon etched with tiny sun-discs and oath-runes.
Celeste forgot to breathe for a moment.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered.
Silver glanced at her sidelong, faintly amused. “Try not to say that too loudly. It will encourage them.”
Behind the paladins came the Luminarch mages.
They walked in looser order, but no less impressive. Their robes were ornate gold and white, heavy with embroidered suns, layered silk, and jewels sewn into collars and sleeves. Mana-light glowed around their hands in carefully controlled halos, contained and elegant, as if even magic had been instructed to behave itself inside the cathedral.
Mezzo squinted. “That’s a lot of money to spend on sleeves.”
Silver murmured, “Those sleeves could fund your entire armour situation for a year.”
Mezzo looked offended. “Don’t make me respect sleeves.”
Then came the Inquisition.
Only a few of them.
That made Celeste look twice.
They were not bright like the paladins or gleaming like the mages. They wore fitted white coats beneath dark cloaks, their armour thinner, quieter, made for movement rather than display. Their hoods were low. Their faces were calm.
Too calm.
Each one carried blades that didn’t shine and arcbracers fitted with discreet black-gold seals.
Stealth and spywork, Celeste realised.
Not battlefield glory.
Secrets.
Silence.
Control.
She leaned closer to Silver, whispering, “There aren’t many of them.”
Silver’s eyes followed the small group until they vanished down another hall. “Most of the Inquisition was training in Brecon when the barrier came up.”
Celeste’s ears dipped. “Oh.”
“A pity,” he added dryly. “We could rather use them right now.”
Mezzo snorted. “What, more creepy cloak people?”
“Competent creepy cloak people,” Silver corrected. “There’s a difference.”
As the paladins passed, one of them slowed.
He was young—not as young as Crystal, but not far off. A lynx hybrid, broad-shouldered in gold and white armour that still looked newly fitted. He glanced toward the line, hesitated as if deciding whether he was about to ruin his own discipline, then stepped out of formation just long enough to bow his head toward Celeste.
“Knight-Commander?”
Celeste startled. “Oh—um. Yes?”
The paladin lifted his helmet beneath one arm.
A suppression rune sat at the side of his neck, half-hidden beneath the edge of his collar.
Celeste’s eyes flicked to it before she could stop herself.
He noticed, but didn’t seem offended.
“I just wanted to say,” he said quietly, “I think you’re doing a good job.”
Celeste blinked.
“Oh.”
“And I’m glad the Knights are part of both the Church and the Crefft,” he added. “Officially, I mean.”
Silver’s expression sharpened slightly.
The paladin swallowed, then went on. “My mother is a Mythic summoner. My father is a Pureblood paladin. My brother’s training to be a summoner too.” His fingers tightened around his helmet. “My little sister… she’s like me. Rune fitted. Mana unstable. Too much Church for the Crefft, too much Crefft for the Church.”
Celeste’s face softened at once.
The paladin looked down for a moment, embarrassed by his own honesty.
“But seeing all of you,” he said, “I hope you do well. Because I think she wouldn’t mind belonging to something that’s both faiths. Something that doesn’t ask her to cut herself in half.”
Celeste hadn’t considered that.
Not properly.
She had thought about survival. Legitimacy. Getting enough official backing that no one could simply disband them.
She hadn’t thought that the Knights might look, to someone else, like a door.
A place between.
A place where people who didn’t fit could still stand.
Her throat tightened.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “I… I really hope we can be that.”
The paladin smiled, small but sincere.
“So do I.”
A voice called his name from farther down the hall.
He straightened at once, slid his helmet back beneath his arm, and hurried after the formation.
Celeste watched him go.
Silver watched her.
Then he looked after the paladin.
Hybrids thanking the Knights.
Not just tolerating them.
Not just gawking at them after battles.
Thanking them.
As if this ridiculous unit meant something beyond utility.
Beyond his mother’s strategy.
Beyond Council optics.
Silver’s gaze lingered on Celeste’s face, on the way she still looked quietly stunned by a kindness she had not expected.
Perhaps, he thought, the Knights of Clawdiff were becoming more than anyone had planned.
Which was inconvenient.
And possibly useful.
And, worse still, interesting.
They waited until the procession had passed fully, the prayer-song fading into the training halls beyond.
Hughes and Topsy, who had drifted ahead, slowed near the next turning and waited for the others to catch up. Topsy bounced on her heels, clearly trying very hard not to touch a decorative sun-disc mounted on the wall.
“Topsy,” Hughes said without looking at her.
“I wasn’t.”
“You were considering it.”
“I was appreciating it with my fingers.”
“No.”
She sighed dramatically and shoved both hands into her sleeves.
Only then did they move again.
Near the next alcove, two cadet paladins stood half-hidden behind a marble column, armour still too new, voices low and tight with nerves. Their helmets were off, ears flicking constantly as if the walls themselves might listen.
“…another one,” one whispered. “That’s three this month.”
“I know,” the other said, swallowing. “They said Crystal was asking questions again but—well—she’s a hybrid. No one wants to talk to her.”
“Does her mother even believe her?”
A pause.
“Outwardly? No. Denies everything. But… I’ve seen her. She’s been looking too.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Afraid.
From behind the wall, Silver straightened slightly, expression sharpening.
“They know something,” he murmured. “We should inquire. Quietly.”
Mezzo scoffed immediately. “Absolutely not. You open your mouth and they’ll bolt like startled bug-pigeons.”
“I am perfectly capable of—”
“I’ll handle it,” Mezzo said, already stepping past Celeste. “You’ll ruin it.”
Celeste blinked. “Oh—”
Silver winced. “He will absolutely ruin it.”
Mezzo swore under his breath and sprinted ahead, sliding into the cadets’ line of sight with an easy grin and a casual lean against the stone.
“Well hello there,” he said warmly. “You two look like you’re about to confess to stealing a holy relic or three.”
The cadets jumped.
“W-we weren’t—!”
“Relax,” Mezzo said, flashing a wink. “We’re not priests. We’re… freelancers.”
That did it.
Their shoulders loosened.
Just a fraction.
One of them laughed nervously. “You’re with the Knights of Clawdiff, right?”
“Guilty,” Mezzo said cheerfully. “So. Off the record. What’s going on?”
A glance between the cadets.
Then—
“At night,” one said quietly. “Always night watch.”
“No alarms,” the other added. “No signs of struggle. Just… gone.”
“And the patrol routes?” Mezzo prompted, still smiling but suddenly sharp-eyed.
“Near the east cloister,” the first cadet said. “Old reliquary wing.”
The second looked down the hall and lowered his voice further. “And confession records. Someone’s been pulling them. Not copying. Pulling. Whole files gone.”
Silver’s brows drew together.
Mezzo nodded like he had just been told the time.
“Perfect. You’ve been a massive help.”
They blinked. “We have?”
“Yep.” He pushed off the wall. “Go get some water. You look like you need it.”
The cadets exchanged one last frightened look, then hurried away in the opposite direction.
As Mezzo turned back, Celeste was already there, eyes wide with concern.
“Oh no,” she said softly. “They’re really scared.”
Mezzo grinned, though his eyes had gone serious. “And now we’ve got our next clue.”
Silver stepped out from behind the wall, arms folded.
“…At night,” he said thoughtfully. “Of course.”
Celeste clasped her hands. “Then we should be extra careful. People disappear more easily when no one’s watching.”
Mezzo pointed finger-guns at her. “See? She gets it.”
Silver sighed, but there was something approving in his eyes.
“Very well,” he said. “Night investigation it is.”
A soft voice spoke from the side corridor.
“You found something?”
They turned.
Crystal stood near the archway, hood pulled low, face pale but determined. She looked like she had been moving quickly and trying very hard not to be seen.
Mezzo lifted a hand. “Cadets say disappearances happen at night watch. East cloister. Old reliquary wing. No alarms, no struggle. Also confession records going missing.”
Crystal’s expression tightened.
“That matches what I found.”
Celeste stepped toward her. “Are you alright?”
Crystal nodded too quickly. “Yes. I’m going to check Tamsin’s room.”
Silver’s head snapped slightly toward her. “That is a bold place to search.”
“I know,” Crystal said.
“And if you’re caught?”
Her smile was small and frightened. “Then I’ll improvise.”
Hughes muttered, “That means no.”
Crystal ignored that, looking to Celeste instead. “Find me later. I’ll see what I can get before the service starts.”
Celeste hesitated. “Do you want someone with you?”
Crystal shook her head. “Too obvious. I know the route. You keep looking here.”
Then she was already moving, slipping back into the side passage with practised quiet.
Mezzo watched her go.
“Brave girl.”
Hughes’s expression was grim. “Brave girls get hurt when grown fools make messes.”
Celeste looked toward the east cloister.
Then toward the corridor Crystal had vanished down.
Her paws curled.
Then a small voice called from farther down the corridor.
“Celeste?”
They all turned.
Lumina stood near an open archway up ahead, one hand resting against the stone frame, eyes wide with curiosity.
“There’s a museum up here.”
Topsy froze.
Slowly, she turned.
Then she crossed her arms, puffed herself up, and marched toward Lumina with exaggerated seriousness.
“Lumina Astallan,” she said in a dramatic whisper, “we are supposed to be sneaky-sneaky. Very hush-hush. Tiptoe business. Secret mission. Spy feet.”
Lumina blinked.
“There’s a giant cheese wheel with Fatherflame’s face on it.”
Topsy’s entire expression changed.
Her ears shot up.
Her tail went rigid.
Lumina continued, entirely too calmly. “They also have keychains that are meant to look like the Saint’s Blessing, but I think they look like soggy muffins. And snowglobes.”
Celeste perked up despite herself. “Ooh. Any cute ones?”
Lumina nodded seriously. “Some of them have tiny paladins in.”
Topsy inhaled.
Lumina added, “And the world’s largest Caerfaen cake. I already took a selfie, but it’s too big for the picture.”
Topsy slowly turned to Celeste.
“Hold my snacks.”
She shoved a popcorn bucket into Celeste’s hands.
Celeste looked down at it.
She had no idea where Topsy had got popcorn.
She had even less idea how Topsy had snuck it into a cathedral.
“Topsy,” Celeste whispered, horrified, “have you had that the whole time?”
Topsy was already power-walking toward the archway. “I have to see this.”
Hughes sighed the sigh of a man watching fate put on tap shoes.
“I’d better follow before she breaks something we can’t afford to fix.”
He started after her.
Mezzo leaned closer to Celeste, eyeing the popcorn bucket.
“…Are you going to eat that?”
Celeste clutched it protectively. “I don’t know. It might be evidence.”
