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The two men led Mary into the deepest chambers of the cathedral. The path there was twisting and winding, with many different routes like a maze. Even if she had a teensy problem with directions, at least Mary knew how to get back to the surface. She’d simply cut through the ceiling and jump through the hole. Knowing her escape route was secure, Mary strode behind the two men with her head held high, her hand on her sword’s hilt.
At the end of the path, there was a simple wooden door that one of the men knocked on. There was a short pause before a deep voice said, “Come in.”
The hooded man pushed the door open and bowed his head. “Archbishop, this woman kicked open the door and demanded to be taken to you. I suspect she’s a witch.”
Inside of the room, there was a group of thirteen men. Twelve of them were sitting around a round table while the last man was standing. He frowned upon seeing Mary. “You brought a witch this deep into our headquarters?”
The white-garbed men cleared their throats. “Archbishop,” one of them said, still staring at the floor, “she has a sword. I suspect if I didn’t do as she asked, she’d draw it.”
The archbishop’s expression darkened, and he straightened his back. He spoke towards Mary with the table of twelve men between them. “Who are you? What business do you have with the inquisition? Daring to barge into the holy land of the Lord, brave, aren’t you?”
Mary’s head swiveled from side to side, inspecting the men within the room. The man that was speaking, the archbishop, didn’t attract her attention at all. Judging by his plump figure, he hadn’t experienced any form of hardship whatsoever. However, the twelve men who were sitting, their muscles stretched their clothes tight against their bodies, and scars were visible on their arms. They reminded her of her Shadows.
“Hey!” The archbishop slapped his hand against the table. “Seize her!”
The twelve men exchanged glances with each other. The one closest to the door stood up and grabbed a short spear that was resting against his chair. “Surrender and I can spare your life,” the man said, pointing the spear at her. He frowned at Mary’s doubting expression and glanced down at his toes. His eyebrows raised, and a faint smile appeared on his lips as he stared at Mary. “Are you looking down on me because I’m not wearing armor?”
Mary nodded. “I’ve only met one person who could stop my sword with his flesh.”
The short-spear-wielding man furrowed his brow. He reached up with his empty hand, clasping the cross hanging from his neck. “The Lord is on my side; I will not fear: What can man do unto me?” A white light exploded out of him, enveloping his body in a white aura that blurred his features. “I will give you one chance to back down. Surrender in the name of the Lord.”
Mary’s expression turned solemn, and she drew her sword. She lifted her blade and stabbed it into the gap of her armor near her left shoulder. Veins wiggled on her forehead, and her face paled as her sword’s blade turned red. With a short cry, she sprinted forward while drawing her sword, slashing in an underhanded motion. The floor shattered beneath her feet as they touched the tiles in front of the man. Her sword cut through the air and collided against the man’s short spear that he had barely lowered in time to block. Surprisingly, the wooden spear withstood the sword’s edge, not even a single notch cut into its shaft. However, the strength behind Mary’s swing was too strong, and the man was sent flying along with his unbreakable spear. His head and shoulders sank into the ceiling, and he hung up there for a few seconds before dropping to the ground. The white light around his body dimmed, and he groaned as he regained his balance.
Without giving the man a chance to take a proper stance, Mary dashed forward, swinging her sword down in an overhand chop with both hands. The man raised his short spear up to block her blow, but Mary took a step forward, bent her elbows in, and spun around. Her sword avoided the spear’s shaft by a hairsbreadth as it pulled back and struck out again in a horizontal chop aimed at the man’s waist. He didn’t have any time to block with his spear, but the light surrounding his body gathered around his waist, creating a thick layer of white between his flesh and Mary’s sword. Her sword struck him like a hammer, sending him flying while crushing his flesh, but no blood came out as his skin remained intact. He crashed into the round table, breaking it into pieces. He rolled a few times and came to a stop once he hit the wall, directly knocking him out.
The eleven other men shot to their feet, gathering the weapons around themselves. “Who are you!?” the man closest to the archbishop shouted. “How can you ignore the power of the Lord!?”
Mary’s brow furrowed, and she stared at her sword. She lightly waved it, and a fissure split the floor beneath her, extending into the earth without an end in sight. She hadn’t held back, but that strange white light actually blocked her attacks. Her expression relaxed, and she raised her head, watching as the eleven other men were enveloped in a white light. She raised an eyebrow. “What strange creature imprinted you twelve?”
“Imprinted?” the man closest to the archbishop asked. “Strange creature? Our strength was given to us by our ancestors, and their strength was received from the Lord himself. In a sense, you can say our power was bestowed by the Lord!”
Mary glanced at the unconscious man who was smashed against the wall, his body completely free of white light. “His powers are just so-so.”