Title: In the Name of Power

By: S. Arallion

Based loosely on the anime series "Trinity Blood" (originally crafted as a novel by Yoshida Sunao, character design by THORES Shibamoto; turned into manga by Kiyo Kuujou and most recently developed into an anime series produced by GONZO)

Acknowledgments: Thanks again to Lael Adair for catching more of my goofy mistakes! ;) (You do realize that there will ALWAYS be too many commas in my drafts. Chalk it up to my deliberate thought processes. At least it's not quite Shatneritis: "I must, pause, and think, about this…" Heh…)

Disclaimer: All characters in this story are owned by their respective copyright holders and authorized licensors —namely, not myself. Anything you don't recognize is my fault. I make absolutely no profit from my use of these characters. - Arallion

Part 5: The Game's Afoot

"Lurking" was not one of William's strong suits, so it was with a touch of nervousness that he turned to walk down the long, straight path leading past the Bureau of Inquisition once more. He'd traversed the road between the Palazzo Sparta and the Basilica twice now, but his quarry was nowhere to be seen. And it was nearing the evening service.

Sighing, the Professor prayed that Petros hadn't seen him coming and taken the long way around to get to Vespers.

Happily, his prayers were answered, or perhaps Lady Luck was simply feeling sorry for the Ministry of Holy Affairs today. The lean, tall figure of the Chief Inquisitor stepped from a side door just as he neared the building; an opportunist at heart, Wordsworth wasn't going to be picky about circumstances. Taking a bracing breath, the Professor put on his best "innocent socialite" expression and strode forward with a wave and shout of greeting.

Petros stiffened at the sound. For a moment it appeared as if he might try to ignore the call – but there was nowhere else to go but back into the building, and William was closing the distance quickly. He stepped reluctantly out onto the path, the normally inscrutable face settling into an expression of dull resignation as Wordsworth joined him.

"Brother Petros! You don't look well, are you quite all right?" It was unsettling to see the Inquisitor without his ubiquitous armor; the cleric seemed oddly defenseless dressed in the lighter-weight, standard issue vestments – like a tortoise out of its shell. William had been braced for an encounter with a vastly more intimidating figure.

He reminded himself firmly not to relax too much.

Petros jerked his head in a brisk nod, avoiding his eyes. Trying to escape, the Professor noted with interest. "I am well, Father. Thank you for your concern. If you'll excuse me – "

"Nonsense, it's been ages since we caught up."

The Inquisitor's blue-grey eyes focused on Wordsworth at last with a tinge of exasperation. He drew a breath, but then closed his mouth abruptly, glancing ahead towards the Basilica.

A woman dressed in Inquisitorial light armor stood in the path further down, watching them. Her close-cropped platinum hair glinted in the dying sunlight as she tilted her head curiously. William couldn't make out her expression, but knowing Sister Paula, it was probably something along the lines of "suspicious and irritated".

Not good timing… He hummed thoughtfully, mind racing as their pace drew them closer to her. "Are you sure you don't have a moment to grab a coffee, Brother? The service doesn't start for another twenty minutes; that's more than enough time to make it to the café, even for a lay-about such as myself. Have you had their specialty blend? It's truly divine!" He gestured grandly in the direction of the small coffeehouse that served the Vatican personnel in off hours.

Unsurprisingly, the wordplay was lost on Petros. The man blinked, and then scowled. "Coffee? At this hour?"

"Better than falling asleep during the sermon," William replied with a wink. "Forgive me, old boy, but you look just about done in for the day. Working with a vampire is rather difficult, I expect?"

The Inquisitor stopped cold in the middle of the road, doing a rapid about-face to gaze at Wordsworth in shock. "How do you know about that?"

He doesn't know either, the Professor noted, filing the information away in his mind. Isaak had managed to fool quite a few people, it seemed. "His Eminence invited him into the room while we were discussing Father Nightroad's… ah… situation," he replied delicately. "I'm assuming he had something to do with the technology used down there? Quite a feat, I must say…"

Petros recovered his composure, glowering down at the scholarly priest. "I wouldn't know," he rumbled grimly. "I don't work with him."

Wordsworth's elegantly arched eyebrow spoke volumes. Rather than argue, the Inquisitor snorted and began to stomp ferociously down the path towards the Basilica. The Professor shrugged, waving politely to the waiting Sister Paula.

"Hmm… that could have gone better," he muttered to himself. But hopefully he'd planted the seed of an idea. Now he would simply have to wait and see if it bore fruit.

"What did he want?"

Paula's gaze was sharp and probing, but the Chief Inquisitor's annoyed snort brushed her concerns aside. "He is an AX member. What do you think he wanted, Vice-Chief?"

The woman blinked and shut her mouth with an audible snap, stepping back hastily out of the way as Petros continued walking. She fell into line at his left shoulder, casting him doubtful glances out of the corner of her eye.

He sighed. "Did you perhaps come to tell me that it is time for us to accompany His Eminence to Vespers?"

"I – no, sir," she replied, straightening, as if startled out of her thoughts. "I… you've been inaccessible most of the day, and a few personnel issues arose that I wanted to discuss with you. That's all."

The Inquisitor almost smiled. There probably were some issues, at that. Paula was intelligent enough to know that the best lies were couched in truth. And her dedication and loyalty were unwavering. He remembered a time when he was the same. But that was before he met the Crusnik.

His life had been much easier, back then…

It pained him slightly to realize that he could not trust her.

"Let us head to the Basilica then, Sister. You may tell me on the way."

The Basilica was lit brightly, a rich golden glow illuminating the massive columns surrounding it, giving the whole structure the appearance of an ornately carved lantern that had been set down to grace one end of the plaza of San Pietro. In a way it was just that, Francesco mused, casting a glance up at the monolithic, wire-supported cross that adorned the apex of the Basilica's entrance. A light in the darkness; a beacon of hope in troubled times.

And he intended to keep it that way.

The boots of his escort clicked rhythmically on the smooth paving of the colonnade. Echoes of the footsteps flitted warily between the simple Doric columns, some still cracked and stressed from the near-disaster they had experienced during the Silent Noise incident…

As foul a taste as that entire situation had left in his mouth, it had proven that even in adversity, God would provide.

The lights were flickering on outside as the sky, sporting faint wisps of purple and orange-tinted cloud, darkened to indigo. Francesco paused on the stair that led to the massive entry doors, watching as the sleek lines of the delicately suspended cross became bathed in great swaths of golden color, as if the sunset had been captured and poured into the plaza to honor the Holy See.

The technology they had mastered had always fascinated him. Certainly there was nothing too fantastical about electrical lighting; it had been around for thousands of years. But the effects that could be produced, both great and small! Francesco could only see them as minor miracles – God obviously having inspired their discovery. Technology could never replace His might, of course… but technology could allow man to do His Will on earth.

Turning with a slight smile, the Cardinal adjusted his cope about his shoulders before passing beneath the glorious archway into His Holiness' presence. He dipped three fingers in the holy font, crossing himself piously, and then strode off down the nave as the six clerics surrounding him hurried to likewise purify themselves. It would not do to be late to Vespers considering the work he intended to accomplish afterward.

He was a bit surprised when he did not see the familiar, proud figure of his half-sister among the celebrants, and wondered briefly if the ordeal she'd gone through had perhaps been too much. After all, there had been many rumors that Caterina's health was not as good as it should be… but he'd not heard anything dire since she left. It was most likely that she was simply late, having trouble dragging herself away from making some plan or other to free her beloved pet.

Again, God provides. Whether she was ill or busily plotting, his task would be far easier without her interference.

The Vespers ceremonies went smoothly, although Francesco silently prayed for forgiveness for his distraction. Surely God would understand, however, in the name of saving His people… He joined in the final antiphon with extra fervor, just in case.

Glória Patri, et Fílio, et Spirítui Sancto. Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, et in sǽcula sæculórum. Amen. Allelúia.

Clergy and Vatican personnel filed out with varying degrees of decorum after the completion of the ceremony. Unfortunately, rather than the quick exit he'd hoped for, the Cardinal found himself cornered by two of the elder bishops intent on getting his opinion on something they found extremely important. He never did quite figure out what it was they wanted, as one kept interrupting the other in mid-sentence and the entire discussion dissolved into a squabble by the time he managed to extricate himself. However, the end result was that the cathedral was nearly devoid of life when he finally ducked into the sacristy to make his way to the Vatican palace. Needless to say, he was a bit annoyed.

Still… if the evening went as expected, a moment of respect to the elderly would serve him in good stead.

He'd left most of the guards behind now, entering the palace flanked by his two ranking officers and one meek aide scurrying behind, carrying the disc that would set everything in motion. Although normally only the Cardinals met in the Pope's official hall, tonight an exception had been made. At least twenty highly influential clergy would be present. More than enough, he knew, to produce the desired results when the time came.

Francesco's forceful strides carried him swiftly to the Room of the Archangel, passing the palace's intricate mosaics and well-preserved ancient sculptures with an indifference born of long familiarity. He genuflected in the required fashion before raising his eyes to the young boy who sat, a little uncomfortably, in the ornate Papal throne. His Holiness, the representative of the Divine; the embodiment of the Church. Pope Alessandro XVIII.

His younger brother.

"Brother Francesco," His Holiness proclaimed in a wavering voice. Granted, the pitch fluctuations were now more likely to be the side-effects of puberty's onset than the sound of a boy shaking in fear. "Please rise." His voice lowered so as not to carry to the circle of onlookers. "You know I hate it when you do that."

Francesco sniffed as he rose. "You know it's necessary, Your Holiness," he replied in an equally low tone, before climbing the few steps to reach his seat. His eyes flickered to the gathered clergy. "Where is our dear sister?"

Alessandro looked nervous. "I'm not sure… I would have expected her to send word if she couldn't attend. Brother – don't make a scene," he added quickly, as the older man appeared to draw a fuming breath.

The Pope's flashes of bravery were becoming more frequent… which simply meant that Francesco had to manage him with a bit more subtlety than in the past. The Cardinal glanced at Alessandro sidelong, visibly deflating. "Perhaps we should start then, Your Holiness? It might draw less attention if we make it seem that her absence was expected."

Alessandro blinked, and then smiled gratefully. "Of course. We are here because of what you had to tell us, anyway." Francesco bowed deeply, hiding his expression.

The Pope stood and the room full of clerics quieted instantly. "My brethren, I am grateful to you all for meeting tonight. I've called this meeting on behalf of Cardinal di Medici, who has an urgent request. Let us give him our full attention."

Mildly impressed at the smooth introduction, Francesco stepped forward on the platform as Alessandro calmly resumed his seat. "Thank you, Your Holiness.

"Brethren! As you all know, we are in the middle of a dangerous transition. In His Holiness' wisdom, we have begun negotiations with the New Human Empire, exploring the possibility that we and the Methuselah might coexist in peace.

"Yet as you also know, there is a third power at large in the world. A third power that despises the idea of peace in any form. That wishes us all to be purged from this world in fire and blood." There was a murmur of consternation from the gathering. Although it wasn't news to anyone, it still was unnerving to have such a fact stated so baldly. Francesco raised a hand to quiet them.

"But, my brethren, I believe I may have a solution."

Startled glances and murmurs of disbelief met this statement. He smiled faintly.

"The Holy See needs protection, and it needs to offer that protection to the world. With the assistance of our new potential allies, I believe that we can use certain forms of Lost Technology to make that possible."

The words hung in the air as he gestured to the aide to bring up the holographic projection he'd prepared. An image of Vatican City appeared, glimmering blue in the air. "We are well-protected from an attack by normal troops, approaching by land or sea. However, as we saw in Albion, an attack from the air could be devastating. Only by heroic effort were we able to defeat one lone battleship. Suffice it to say, should the Order of Rosenkreutz attack the Vatican directly, the number of ships is likely to multiply."

Nervous muttering and shifting among the clergy below increased, and the Pope made a small noise of protest. "Brother, you're frightening us."

"Your Holiness, we should be frightened!" Francesco barked, noting Alessandro's instinctive flinch with satisfaction. "And then instead of ignoring the problem, we should do something about it. Something, perhaps, like this." He nodded to the aide to let the projection play further.

From the model of the great cross in St. Peter's Square, a spiraling arc of light launched straight up and then sprayed outward in a vast, shimmering dome. In a heartbeat, the entirety of the city-state was enclosed.

"W…w-what… is that?"

The Cardinal gestured expansively. "That, Your Holiness, is the technology that will save us, should we come under attack by the Enemy of the World."

There was a long moment of silence. Then a cacophony of voices rose in disbelief, ridicule, alarm and confusion, drowning out anything more Francesco might have wished to say. The Pope stood, lifting his hands and trying to get his aides to restore order – but it was several minutes before the roar died down to sullen grumbling. Still, the Cardinal di Medici seemed less angered by the response than one would expect.

From the depths of a gold-trimmed scarlet hood, blue eyes narrowed in contemplation.