Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

Aric waited in the shadowed corners of the meeting room…a place he found himself more often than not recntly, his gaze fixed on the flickering flames that danced in the hearth.

The silence was a deep one, broken only by the occasional crackle of burning wood. Tonight, his study felt smaller, the walls pressing close with the weight of his plan. He allowed the silence to grow until the quiet murmurs of his assembled company took on a tense anticipation.

Maxim Sylmaris, first son of Eliron and the heir to the Sylmaris house leaned against the wall near the fireplace, his arms crossed, eyes sharp as they glinted with curiosity. His relaxed posture was a mask, as always.

Maxim was too clever to betray a single thought, his face framed by a light smirk that was half invitation, half challenge. His coat, lined with discreet patches of green—the Sylmaris colors—hinted at his noble birth, but his bearing was more of a common rogue than a noble lord.

A perfect spy.

Old Man Hitoshi stood across from him, his gaze distant and contemplative. His worn fingers traced patterns on his cane, a habit that surfaced only when he was calculating something.

Then there was Serina, She sat with her arms folded, her steely eyes scanning the room, assessing everyone. Serina was known to most of his court now as Aric's second-in-command, trusted beyond measure.

Aric cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him.

"Tonight marks the first step in casting doubt on the Church's so-called relics," Aric said, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "The whispers say the true relics have been sold for wealth, and some say they never existed at all…either way all the chrch now posses are fakes," His eyes narrowed. "It's time to let the people know this truth"

Maxim raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "And how will we do that, Your Highness?"

Aric's gaze shifted to him, a flicker of amusement in his own eyes. "You're a man of considerable charm, Maxim. I think you'll enjoy this. I need your spies to investigate these relics, discreetly, of course. Once we have enough information, we'll expose the truth publicly."

Hitoshi tapped his cane thoughtfully. "The Church's power lies heavily in the belief of the people. If we're to break that belief, we must give them something undeniable in return. They'll need to see for certain these relics are worthless trinkets with no holy value."

Maxim nodded, a smile playing at his lips. "I know just the people for this task. My network reaches every tavern and inn in the capital; it won't take much to plant rumors in places where they'll blossom." He paused, thoughtful. "Though, I wonder if it's wise to strike so directly. The Iron Circle houses will certainly take note if we weaken the Church."

Aric's smile hardened. "That's precisely the point. The Iron Circle holds most its power through military influence, but a considerable unmount of it prominence is through the Church, and when that influence is in question, so too is their authority. They'll find themselves scrambling to regain control. And while they're busy fighting their shadows, we'll be advancing."

Serina's eyes glinted. "Then let's get started. Lord Sylmaris, what's your plan for our first move?"

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Maxim straightened, his gaze keen. "First, we'll need to inspect the relics. Quietly. Most cathedrals keep them under lock and key, displayed only on holy days. I know a few ways to get inside without causing a stir. Once we've examined them, we can find a way to… reveal their worthlessness to the right people."

---

Two nights later, Maxim, face disguised, led a small team toward the Grand Cathedral, cloaked in the guise of travelers seeking evening prayers. Serina accompanied him, along with three of his trusted spies—a wiry young man with sharp eyes, a middle-aged woman with a soft, motherly face, and a quiet lad who carried a pouch of tools meant for picking locks.

The cathedral—imposing towering arches and stained glass, each window painting muted colors across the cobblestone as candlelight flickered inside. Maxim paused just outside the massive iron doors, giving the group a sharp look.

"Remember," he murmured, barely loud enough for them to hear. "We're humble pilgrims seeking guidance. Keep your eyes low and your voices softer."

They slipped inside, the scent of incense thick and cloying. The cathedral was sparsely populated, mostly with elderly worshippers kneeling in the pews, whispering fervent prayers. At the far end of the hall, a group of clergymen shuffled near the altar, their robes brushing the ground with a soft rustle.

Maxim tilted his head, signaling for the others to follow. They moved slowly, their footsteps muffled as they walked along the rows of pews, edging closer to the altar where a small glass case held the Cathedral's prized relic—the "Divine Chalice," said to have been touched by saints, with the power to heal the sick.

It was a gilded cup, adorned with jewels and polished to a brilliant sheen, resting on a pedestal and guarded by two stern-looking priests.

Maxim kept his expression mild, his voice soft as he murmured to the guard. "Forgive me, brother. We're simple travelers from the north, but we've heard of the Divine Chalice's healing powers and wished to see it."

The priest looked them over with a critical eye, but Maxim's practiced humility seemed to ease his suspicion. After a moment, the guard nodded, his voice low.

"You may look, but keep your distance. Only the pure may approach the relic."

Maxim inclined his head in feigned reverence, but as his gaze fell upon the chalice, he noted every detail. The jewels embedded in the chalice were large but flawed, their colors too bright to be genuine. The craftsmanship was passable, but it lacked the intricacy expected of a true relic. It was, without doubt, an ornate forgery.

He exchanged a brief glance with Serina, who nodded, her mouth a thin line of contempt as she gazed upon the supposed holy artifact. She caught his eye, and he gave a barely perceptible nod, signaling their departure.

They slipped out of the cathedral as easily as they'd entered, and once they were back in the shadows of the alleyway, Serina let out a scoff.

"That's the holy relic?" she said, cocking her head. "A polished cup with cheap stones?"

Maxim smirked. "It's all about perception, miss. The Church tells the people it's holy, and they believe it. But once we show them the truth…" He trailed off, the meaning clear.

---

In the days that followed, whispers spread quietly through the capital. Maxim's spies took their places in crowded taverns, marketplaces, and even at the doors of smaller cathedrals, sharing the tale of the "Divine Chalice" and its lack of true power. They spoke of how the jewels were flawed, how the craftsmanship was rough, and how the Church had used trickery to maintain control.

The words were subtle at first, exchanged as if in confidence between strangers. But soon, the rumors spread, growing bolder as they reached the ears of more people.

At one of the city's busier taverns, a young woman dressed as a maid leaned over the bar, her voice just loud enough to catch the attention of those around her. "They say the chalice is nothing but glass and gold-plating. Imagine—praying to that."

A grizzled guard beside her scoffed, shaking his head. "Bah, we've always known the Church is full of gold and silver, but if they're lying about their relics too…"

"Careful," murmured an older man nearby, glancing around nervously. "They'll call it blasphemy."

The common guard just laughed, a rough sound that turned heads. "Blasphemy, eh? It's only blasphemy if they're telling the truth. But I'd wager they're just rich men in robes, hiding their greed behind holy words."

The words caught like wildfire, and in the days that followed, the story grew. Tales of the "Divine Chalice" reached the lower nobility, some of whom owed the Church heavily. It wasn't long before murmurs of discontent began spreading through those circles, too.

---

Aric watched from the confines of his estate as word of the exposed relics drifted back to him, carried by his informants with quiet satisfaction. The Iron Circle, too, was beginning to feel the effects. Lords who had once been vocal supporters of the Church were starting to pull back, concerned about how closely their reputations were tied to an institution that was losing its credibility among the people.

That evening, as the last embers of twilight faded from the sky, Aric met again with his inner circle. Maxim recounted the rumors spreading through the capital, his voice filled with smug amusement.

"It's working," he said, leaning back in his chair. "The people are beginning to question, and even some of the lower nobility are voicing their doubts."

Serina grinned, her eyes gleaming. "The Church won't be able to contain this. Not once it spreads beyond the capital."

Hitoshi, quiet until now, gave a nod of approval. "And when the commoners no longer trust the Church's word, their influence will crumble."

Aric allowed himself a small smile, a rare gesture of satisfaction. "This is only the beginning. Soon, the Church's foundation will be as hollow as those relics, and when they're weak enough… we'll be all they have left…and we will take complete control"

"Your highness, are you certain after bringing it down, we will still be able to restore the church's respect and authority so it may be useful to us?" Maxim shared his concerns

"Hmm…there is nothing enough money can't fix"