The murmurs were gone but the cold of the stone floor was still in Aarav's knees when Rajan and Veer pulled him upright. Both of them were doing the thing where they were clearly worried but hadn't decided how to say it yet.
Veer decided first.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah yeah," Aarav said, steadying himself. "Just a headache. I'm fine."
Rajan looked at him with the expression of a man who had heard those exact words before and had opinions about them. He held Aarav's arm a moment longer than necessary before letting go.
The blur at the edges of Aarav's vision had mostly cleared. He didn't mention that either.
A Cathedral staff member appeared nearby, patient and soft footed.
"Sir, are you alright? You're welcome to come inside and rest. The Bishop is giving his preaching this evening. It might do you some good."
Aarav looked at the warm light coming from inside the Cathedral doors.
"Yes," he said. "Thank you."
---
Inside, the Cathedral was larger than the entrance suggested.
The ceiling rose high overhead, pale stone vaulted in long arches meeting at the centre. Along both walls iron stands held oil lamps and candles, their light warm and unsteady, moving slightly with the draught from the open doors. The murals covered the walls between the windows from floor to ceiling.
Aarav looked at them as they walked to their seats.
A woman teaching children gathered in a circle around her, books open in their laps. A great library with figures moving through it, reaching for shelves that stretched beyond what any ceiling should allow. And above the altar at the far end, the largest mural of all. A battlefield, smoke and broken ground, two armies facing each other across a ruined plain. And in the space between them, standing alone, a priest holding an open book. On both sides the soldiers had stopped. The king at the front of one army was on his knees, his armour dusty and bloodied, hands clasped before him. His army behind him had followed. On the other side the enemy had done the same. Two armies that had been trying to kill each other moments before, both on their knees in the dirt, before a single man holding a book.
Aarav stopped walking for a moment and looked at it.
Then they found their seats in the middle of the hall.
The pews were filling steadily. Refugees in worn clothes, the same weathered faces from the North West Borough, sitting with the stillness of people who had found somewhere they were allowed to be without justification. A group of small shopkeepers still in their trade clothes, shoulders loose after a long day. Elderly men and women with rosaries and small tokens held in their laps. A young mother with two children pressed against her on either side, both of them looking around the Cathedral with wide eyes. Near the back, a group of street girls sat together in a row, dressed for work, faces carefully arranged, looking at the altar with an expression that was the same on all of them. Not hope exactly. Something quieter than hope. A boy of perhaps ten sat straight backed in the row ahead of Aarav, watching the altar with his mouth slightly open.
The Bishop entered.
He was a man of perhaps sixty, white haired, lean, deep blue robes with silver at the edges. He stood behind the altar and let his eyes move across the assembled people with calm and unhurried attention. The hall settled into silence without being asked. Then he began to speak.
---
His voice carried cleanly through the stone arches without effort.
He spoke of Kaelis. Goddess of Knowledge, he said, had not begun as a distant deity looking down at the world from beyond the clouds. In the age the texts called the Golden Age she had walked among people. Sat with fishermen and learned what they knew of tides. Sat with farmers and learned what they knew of soil. Sat with the sick and the grieving not to offer answers but to listen, because Kaelis understood that knowledge begins with listening.
She had walked into villages where women were barred from schools and sat beside them anyway and asked what they thought about things. She had said that a civilisation educating only half its people was working at half its capacity. That disrespect toward knowledge in any form was disrespect toward her directly. That the child of a farmer who could read was worth exactly as much to her as the child of a king who could read.
Her angels had moved through the world during the Golden Age copying texts, building small libraries in villages that had never had one, making knowledge accessible to people who had been told it was not for them. When the Golden Age ended and Kaelis returned to the heavens she left behind the only thing that truly persisted.
Not gold. Not power. Not bloodlines.
What people knew.
---
Aarav sat with his hands loosely clasped and listened.
All of this, he thought, is almost certainly invented or myth.
A goddess who walked among farmers. Angels promoting literacy. A golden age ending at the exact point where records became unreliable. The structure was identical to every religion he had encountered. This one at least wanted its followers to value knowledge, which was more useful than blind obedience, but the bones were the same underneath.
He looked at the people around him.
The refugee woman two rows ahead with a child asleep against her shoulder. The old shopkeeper turning something small over and over in his fingers. The street girls near the back sitting very still. The boy in the row ahead watching the Bishop with complete and unguarded attention.
The Bishop's voice moved through the stone arches and the candles moved slightly with the draught and the hall was warm in a way that had nothing to do with temperature.
Fake or not, Aarav thought, this man is very good at his job.
He kept listening.
---
After the preaching ended the hall came slowly back to itself. People rose, spoke quietly to neighbours, made their way toward the doors or toward the Cathedral staff standing near the altar.
Aarav told Rajan and Veer to wait and walked to the front.
The Bishop was finishing a conversation with an elderly woman when Aarav arrived. When she moved away the Bishop turned to him with the same unhurried attention he had given the whole room.
"You had a difficult moment at the entrance earlier," he said.
"I'm fine now," Aarav said. "I wanted to ask about the night classes. When does the next one begin and can I join?"
The Bishop's expression shifted into something warmer. "A new batch begins in just over an hour. And we do not turn away anyone who wishes to pursue knowledge." A small pause. "What is your name?"
"Arlan," Aarav said.
"Welcome, Arlan. Come back in an hour. Bring your friends."
---
About half an hour later a grey robed priest led them through a side corridor into a separate hall. Longer than the main Cathedral hall, lower ceilinged, plain wooden benches in rows facing a raised platform at the front. Unlike the preaching hall, magic lamps were mounted along the upper walls here, their steady unwavering light filling every corner of the room without shadow. For reading and writing, Aarav understood, candlelight was not enough.
They found a bench in the middle. People filtered in slowly, the same faces from the preaching hall mostly, settling into seats with the quiet organisation of people who had done this before or were watching others and following along.
When the hall was full the Bishop entered with four priests and two young catechists. The hall went quiet.
A priest stepped forward and explained the structure. Six areas. Basic mathematics. Elorian language, reading and writing both. Basic Elorian history. History of the Church of Knowledge. And the Church Bible. Three hours, ending when the bell tower rang at ten. No cost, no requirements, nobody turned away.
Then they began.
They began with the Bible.
---
The catechist who led the Bible portion was young, mid twenties, with the earnest energy of someone who genuinely believed what he was teaching. He read passages about Kaelis walking among people during the Golden Age, explained each one carefully, asked questions, waited for answers with patient encouragement.
Aarav understood within twenty minutes exactly what the night classes were.
The mathematics would come. The language would come. The history would come. But they had started with the Bible and started with it deliberately. Open the door with religion. Make the first thing people learn in this hall the Church's story of itself. By the time they reached the useful material the students would already associate the Church with the feeling of learning and progress and warmth and welcome. And they would come back, not just for the reading lessons, but for all of it together, because the two things had been braided from the beginning.
Deeply cynical, he thought. Genuinely impressive.
He listened anyway. New vocabulary surfaced in the passages read aloud, words he didn't know appearing in context, and he filed each one away quietly. The Bible was at least giving him the language even while it was giving him nothing else.
Beside him Rajan listened with the focused attention he brought to everything regardless of what he thought of it. Veer listened with his whole face open, not looking for the mechanism, simply present.
The mathematics portion and language class were meant for tomorrow's session, the catechist explained near the end. Tonight was Bible only, an introduction, a foundation. Next class they would begin the rest.
Of course, Aarav thought.
At ten o'clock the bell tower rang through the stone walls, deep and clean, and the hall exhaled collectively.
---
Outside the Cathedral the night air was cooler than the evening had been. Aarav came down the front steps and found Rajan and Veer already at the bottom.
They looked genuinely happy. Not performed happiness. Something quieter and more honest. Rajan was looking at nothing in particular with an expression Aarav hadn't seen on him since before Silva. Veer had his hands in his pockets and was looking up at the sky with his whole face open.
Aarav looked at them and felt something he didn't examine too closely.
He thought about home. The specific quality of darkness in a familiar place. The sounds that belonged there. He didn't know when he would stand somewhere and have that feeling again. He didn't know if he would.
"They are very good at what they do," he said, falling into step beside them. "Start with the Bible, make everyone feel warm and welcome, and by the time you realise you've been sitting in a recruitment session you already like the place too much to be properly annoyed."
"The Bible passages had interesting stories," Veer said.
"The Bible passages were the entire class."
"I know. I still liked them."
Rajan said nothing. He just walked.
---
They were moving through the West Borough toward the carriage line when they nearly walked into Sean.
He was coming the other direction, jacket collar up. He saw Aarav and stopped.
"Neighbour," he said.
"Sean." Aarav gestured to Rajan and Veer. "Raja. Von."
Sean greeted them with a nod and they fell into step together naturally, moving in the same direction.
"Coming from the Cathedral?" Sean asked.
"Yes, night classes. But why are you so late?"
"Factory shift ended at eight. Went to my fiancée's house after."
Aarav looked at him. "You have a fiancée?"
"I do."
"I don't even have enough money for a decent dinner and you have a fiancée."
Sean smiled slightly. "She's my older co-worker's daughter. We met through him. Getting married in two months."
"Congratulations," Aarav said and jokingly added "Don't forget to invite me."
Sean looked at him with mild amusement. "I genuinely will."
They kept walking. The streets were quieter than they should have been for this hour. Shops shuttered earlier than normal. Fewer people moving between streets. The whole borough had a held breath quality that Aarav noticed without naming.
"There are no carriages today." Aarav sighed.
Hearing this Sean said, "Didn't you hear there's a serial killing going on in the city? Three murders have happened already. Actually one just happened this evening."
Aarav stopped walking.
Rajan and Veer stopped beside him.
"The victims were two refugees and one poor citizen," Sean said.
The fear came onto Aarav's face before he could arrange it into anything else. Beside him Rajan had gone very still. Veer was looking at Sean with wide eyes and saying nothing.
"What happened to them?" Aarav asked.
"Found missing organs. Body parts. Nobody knows the exact details yet." Sean's voice was level but quiet. "Police are investigating but half of them are stationed in the Central and South Borough because of the rich fellas. Up here in the North West there are almost no officers." He reached into his jacket and produced a knife, held it where they could see it. "I'd recommend getting one. Until this is sorted."
Nobody said anything for a moment.
They kept walking.
---
Rust Street was empty when they reached it. The building sat at the end of it dark and ordinary. They climbed the stairs single file, the steps creaking in the same places as the night before.
At the top, in front of their apartment doors, Sean stopped and said goodnight. Aarav said it back. Sean unlocked his door and went inside.
Rajan unlocked the door and went in. Veer followed.
Aarav stepped through his door.
He had just shut the door when they all heard a loud scream from a woman outside !