Entry 05

314Fi.2Q.69

Horus arrived with the resupply. Though he expressed approval of our progress, he issued a clear directive: we have one week to identify and resolve the root cause of the situation here. At that point another Ledgermen crew will be dispatched to finish the assignment. He believes the Temple of Aqua Vitae, connected directly to the contaminated wells, is the source.

NOTE: Horus’ resupply log indicates Charles questioned Horus about the 181st Steel Covenant unit. Horus sympathetic to what Charles had gone through, expressed uncertainty any survived. He emphasized that this and future operations should be handled quietly.

We began reconnaissance of the temple. Mazarin and Yedan-Neric disguised themselves and molded into the crowd; Charles and I took position atop an abandoned apartment building. Charles has acquired a magical construct purpose built to fabricate ammunition. He has named it Mr. Chompy. I do not understand naming a tool. Still, output appears functional and it has an obvious tactical value.

While monitoring the area, we noted a disproportionate Ordinance presence: six patrols within a single alley’s distance, all positioned to avoid the temple itself. Then, Elvire appeared, flanked by two armored attendants. He wore modified Steel Covenant shock armor and carried a greatsword. The crowds parted around him, reverence bordering on cultic response.

On watch, I asked Charles to examine my wound. He carries field supplies, and I know little of proper healing. He asked if I’d ever been injured before. I almost laughed, perhaps the funniest thing he’s said to date. I admitted that serious injury in my House was handled by… replacement. Saying it aloud felt disorienting. Uncomfortably personal. I dismissed both my feelings and the topic and instead asked about his family and childhood. He said he doesn’t remember any of it.

I recalled what I had seen in his mind when I cast detect magic, evidence of Class-4 memory alignment with layered remediation. I decided not to ask further. A kind of Pruning in its own right, less bloody than mine, but no gentler. If given the choice I would take my family’s blade over was done to him.

Mazarin and Yedan-Neric returned. They found that Water Saints entered the temple to fill their vessels, while reciting scripture from the Manual of Ascension. The temple though is public. Yedan overheard mention of “divine hydraulics” and a figure named Mother Valerie in the lower levels. He also saw an individual disappear into a crypt in the graveyard behind the temple.

A sudden pulse from underground swept through us. For an instant, all of us felt suddenly observed.

We decided to move with more speed and shifted our focus to the graveyard. No activity. We investigated the crypt. Mazarin found a concealed passage descending deeper.

A second pulse. This time a voice entered our minds. “You are out of position. This is not sanctioned.”

The tunnels gave way to a cavern, vast and oppressive. A third pulse.
“Understand this. Each of you—your titles, your seal, your mandate—is you from my glorious mind. If I am fallible, then so are you. If I am compromised, then your appointment is an error.”

I suspected we were close to The Oracle itself. I found myself speechless.

Elvire was waiting, but we did not receive the promised attack from our last confrontation. Instead: a negotiation. A dark mass of shadow writhed at his back, Mazarin tells us that this was only a projection, that its true form is deeper in the cavern.

The Oracle addressed Yedan as a woman named Yosuka, wearing Sixth House leather and all the trappings of a history I do not know. Then it appeared as Marrion, which unsettled me more. The Oracle has degraded. Sacrifice of dissidents alone could not sustain it; mindflayer aberrations were an attempted supplement. If the Oracle dies, the Machine fails. Its proposition: halt the investigation and prevent further inquiry.

In exchange, by midday tomorrow, Elvire will surrender. He will claim sole responsibility for the aberrations. The mindflayer mutations will cease. The Scriptorium will meet its quotas.

It claimed allegiance to the Founder’s vision. Claimed that our fates are intertwined. Claimed it had chosen us—for what, it would not say. Claimed that any citizen number, including ours, could be reclassified as dissident at will. A warning dressed as a blessing. A threat framed as favor. The Oracle speaks like a god and calculates like a machine.

Nothing is clear. What it wants, what it offers, what it threatens. I need clarity. So I follow Mazarin and Charles deeper, because there is no safety and certainly no perfection, in ignorance.