As a Senior Deacon of the church, Silas had the right to withdraw sealed items from behind the Charnes Gate for his own use.
But a reason was required.
Because Ince Zangwill had fled while carrying a Sequence 0 sealed item in his capacity as Archbishop, causing serious repercussions, the corresponding procedures had become somewhat more involved.
Of course, the authority of an Archbishop or Senior Deacon still ran quite high; as long as one had a reasonably sound justification, one could still pass through that door.
After all, someone like Ince was very much the exception rather than the rule.
"Here, take these."
Silas handed the release order and the wooden token back to the Nighthawk on duty, but kept the application form for himself.
"...Lord Ishmael?"
The man asked, puzzled.
"Give the release order to the guards and have them let those vampires out. As for the items, I'll go retrieve them from behind the Charnes Gate myself."
"Wouldn't that be improper?"
The Nighthawk on duty was taken aback.
"Nothing improper about it."
Silas said evenly. "I've been at St. Samuel's Cathedral for a while now and still haven't been behind the Charnes Gate here. Might as well take the opportunity to see what it looks like inside."
He suddenly felt he'd been a bit careless, not having gone through this cathedral's inventory of sealed items.
It was probably a holdover from his earlier days working alone, when it had never occurred to him that such things could be put to use in future battles.
Having said that, he paid no further mind to the bewildered Nighthawk, took the form, and made his way underground, going deeper by memory.
Tap, tap.
Silas's footsteps echoed through the underground passage.
Just like the underground structure beneath the Black Thorn Security Company, the Charnes Gate here was also a set of double doors in black iron, engraved with seven holy emblems that looked cold, heavy, and impossible to force open.
In the watch room in front of the Charnes Gate, a Nighthawk sat with his legs propped up and crossed on the desk. Seeing Silas approach, he hastily pulled his legs back and rose from his chair.
"Lord Ishmael."
Leonard drew a red moon over his chest in salute to him.
What a coincidence, that it happened to be him...
"Praise be to the Goddess."
Silas returned the gesture without much reverence, then held out the application document.
Leonard took it and looked it over, then raised his head with a somewhat awkward expression. "My lord, this document hasn't been signed yet."
"Oh, one moment."
Silas picked up a pen from the desk in the watch room, signed his name, and showed it to Leonard. Once Leonard had confirmed it was in order, he led Silas to the black iron double doors and knocked.
A few seconds later.
Creak.
The heavy doors were pushed open a crack, and a deep darkness came surging out from within.
Even with the many gas lamps lighting the underground passage, even with the silver candles carved with patterns burning quietly behind the door, none of it could dispel that heavy, deathly stillness.
If anything, the blue flames of those burning candles only deepened the feeling.
Countless fine black threads spread outward, some drifting quietly, swaying gently, others clumping together, twining around one another.
They looked like a lady's glossy black hair, or like the writhing tentacles of some monster.
They reached out toward the living, as though crossing the barrier between reality and illusion, seeking to bind themselves to the spirits of those before them.
Whoosh.
Silas, without any outward change, summoned an illusory sea tide within his mind, shielding his own spirit so that the black threads could not intrude into his body.
He saw that Leonard was shivering as though from cold.
The tentacles, once they reached the space around him, seemed to grow dull and sluggish, making no attempt to burrow into him, only hovering nearby, as if they'd forgotten how to invade a human body.
Just as Silas was observing Leonard beside him, an aged face appeared in the gap of the doorway.
"Documents."
The figure said in a hoarse voice.
"Senior Deacon of the church, Ahab Ishmael."
Silas said evenly, even as Leonard handed the documents over. "By the authority of my position as Senior Deacon, I request entry behind the Charnes Gate to take a general look at what lies within."
The old man inside the door took the documents, examined them carefully for a moment, then looked up at Silas's face, as if to confirm his identity.
Silas noticed that this inner guardian's body was entwined with black threads, the corruption having sunk deep into his very organs, so that he had, in some sense, become one with the world behind the door.
Those black threads coiled around him, resonating with the cufflinks at his shirt sleeves, and seemed to settle somewhat, growing calmer.
"...Mm."
After a moment of silence, the old man stepped aside, clearing the way. The implication seemed to be that Silas could now enter.
"Lord Ishmael, I'll head back then."
Leonard said, and returned to his watch room.
As for Silas, he pressed forward through those fine black threads and passed through the gap, in behind the Charnes Gate.
A deep rumble.
The inner guardian pushed the doors, slowly closing them shut.
In an instant, all sound from the outside world was completely cut off, and yet within the door it was just as silent.
It felt like arriving in the realm of the dead, like arriving in the realm of the dead, with only the faint beating of his own heart reaching his ears. But that sound, rather than settling him, only made him feel more restless and afraid.
Deep darkness was, in itself, a fear of the unknown.
The inner guardian showed no intention whatsoever of speaking further. Maintaining the silence of the world behind the door, he walked forward a few steps.
On the ground behind the door lay a simple mat, and he sat back down upon it, as though he were some ascetic, closing his eyes in devout and quiet stillness.
Did this mean... he was to make himself at home?
Seeing that the man showed no sign of opening his eyes again anytime soon, Silas guessed at his meaning and picked up a portable gas lamp from a nearby table, lighting it.
Hiss, hiss...
The flame flared up at once.
Its orange glow offered a bit of warmth, but seemed somehow restrained, unable to spread any further than its immediate reach. Silas held up the lantern and walked forward.
Ahead, in a temporary storage area, he found the vampires' belongings: a fang-shaped dagger, a pendant curved like a crescent moon, and a small booklet with a bronze casing, which was Lenormand's travel journal.
Everything was here.
Silas checked the items over briefly and found nothing missing. But instead of taking them out directly, he kept the lantern raised and went on deeper.
The first level behind the Charnes Gate held a great many things: various Beyonder materials, potion formulas, secret knowledge, and even, at times, cultists or malevolent wild Beyonders under confinement.
Tonight, though, it was quite silent in here.
The prisoners in the stone chambers made no cries, only lying there without a sound, and the more ordinary materials held no interest for Silas either, so he merely glanced at them in passing and kept moving forward.
A flight of stone steps leading downward gradually came into view ahead.
At the bottom of the steps lay a darkness that even the lantern could not illuminate.