Conti was nearly ninety and felt every second of those years with his darkened, leathery skin and his bone white hair. His walking stick made a soft clicking sound on the tiles as he made his way deeper into the Vatican Archives to the chambers of his Master. He had been a servant to his Master, and to the Church, for eighty-five of those years. He'd been with them since the end of the second War. There was never a moment he regretted it. The only thing he regretted was the failing of his body and the knowledge that his service would no doubt end soon. He knew the loss would wound his Master. Master Jack was a kind man.

  As he passed row upon row of storage shelves, he considered how dependent his Master was on the sun and how deeply he had been buried underground by the Apostle Paul. Was it ironic? He never remembered what irony truly was. Literature of that kind was, funnily enough, a closed book to him. He just knew for certain it was a sad fact that the being he served had to remain buried underground away from light, and life, and nature. After far longer than it used to take, he reached the giant, carved, double doors of his Master’s chambers. Vines and greenery decorated the wood and foliate faces with various expressions stared out of each panel. The door opened easily for Conti on its perfect hinges and he stepped inside.

  Slouched at the desk in this central chamber sat the being he served. Master Jack. Jack In The Leaves. He was made entirely of plant matter. His muscles were thick vines. His coverings were giant leaves. His armor was the bark of an oak. His hair was long, long blades of grass. His fungus skin was normally a light green. The woods in spring was his normal color but after so long without feeding he looked like dead vegetation in winter. It broke his heart.

  Conti looked at the dozing entity that he loved and stepped outside the chamber for a moment. He yelled for attendants to come, and when they arrived he ordered them to lift his Master and take him to the White Throne. As they did so, carefully, the being stirred.

  “Conti?” it asked.

  “Yes, my lord. I am here.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  The attendants were carefully walking him around the desk and out the door. Master Jack was dry and brittle. Conti answered quietly and with as much authority as he dared with Master Jack.

  “You have been too long between feedings, my lord. I know you detest the necessity, but you are now unwell. I blame myself for not insisting.”

  Master Jack turned his head to see him and the dry cracking sound it made caused Conti to wince. Soon this might not be needed. The recent plan with the Soul Engines had failed as if fate itself had pulled a hand brake, but there were other plans in motion. Always other plans.

  “Nonsense,” Master Jack said, “this was my doing. I will not have you blame yourself.”

  His head hung down again. His strength was dwindling.

  “Tell me,” his voice rasped, “tell me of the Soul Engines.”

  Conti stiffened. He’d hoped to wait until after the feeding but there was nothing to be done now.

  “Failure, my lord.”

  The sound of wind through dried leaves. A sigh. He continued.

  “It seems that military engagements took most of the beasts, a few were taken down by the Earth’s immune system, and one in the Southern U.S. was defeated by a member of your Order.”

  “Lawless.” His Master said. “ We should have considered him in the plan. I DID insist. How many did he gather for this?”

  And now they were to the subject he truly wished he could avoid. He disliked involving his Master directly in the affairs of the Order of St. George, but the Order had been his idea. His project. His gift to a struggling world.

  “My lord, Robert Lawless has vanished. His email has been deleted, his phone line is disconnected, and there have been no reports of him for weeks.”

  Again, the horrible, dry, crunching sound as the head turned. They were nearing the throne room though. Soon this would be remedied. But Master Jack would want to know who. He'd want to know how. Conti dreaded this question. His Master took the knights too personally.

  “Then WHO, Conti?”

  He stared straight ahead to not meet his Master’s remaining eye.

  “An Errant Apprentice, my lord. A LONE Errant Apprentice.”

  “Whooooo.” It sounded like the wind whistling through the hollows of a dead tree. Conti took a deep breath to steady himself.

  “Terrance Lingal.”

  Master Jack's head dropped at the name. They both knew the implications of Glen Lingal's son. Neither of them said anything as Conti opened the doors to the throne room and the two attendants walked his Master in and sat him in the Throne. The throne and the room were made of a white stone that had somehow been brought from the Everywhen in the time before the Separation. It was attached to another room. The other room was mobile. It was an unfixed point attached to reality and the entrance could be relocated. This room had been built as the core of the Secret Archives. It was the center of Master Jack's limited domain.

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  Two clerics in their purple robes with their yellow runic symbols came in through another door and bowed. Conti addressed them.

  “Is the White Room filled enough?

  One of them bowed a second time.

  “Yes, Father. Two mages and four clerics. It should be enough for weeks.” Conti nodded at that.

  “Then begin.”

  The two mages took positions sitting on marble table-like structures and faced the throne. They began to chant prayers and to sway, arms raised. Pure, white mana began to flow into the two tables and energy flowed from somewhere below into the throne.

  Master Jack, finally sitting there, stared at Conti with that one good eye behind it’s bark mask. It was not a look of anger, but of concern. Conti busied himself with watching the arcane mechanism to distract himself from the news he’d brought.

  The machine was at least 2,500 years old and Master Jack had never revealed where he had obtained it or how it had been built. All that Conti knew was that for over two millenia, the White Throne had kept his master alive in the absence of mana in the world. In 1975 it became easier with the Awakening, but the Throne and, it’s more recent White Room addition, were needed. Mana was still not concentrated enough to sustain him without it.

  He turned his attention back to Master Jack and watched as the foliate form began to grow and return to life. The withered and hunched being filled out. The brown became green. Leaves became glossy. It all seemed to blow in an unseen wind for a moment. He reached his full height again. Conti smiled. The man who had saved him after the war sat in that throne. The full man. Not the husk. Master Jack sighed, his head falling back on the headrest of the great marble-like seat. He just sat and reveled in his renewed vigor for a moment. Finally, he looked at Conti, stood and approached him. Master Jack embraced him in a warm hug, which Conti welcomed. He put his free hand around his Master.

  “I’m sorry I worry you, my child. Perhaps this won’t be needed much longer. And thank you, as always, for watching over me.” His Master said, his voice having regained it’s deep timbre. Conti smiled into the leaves. He treasured these moments.

  “As always,” he said, “it is my pleasure to serve you.”

  Master Jack sighed and stepped back, hand’s on Conti’s shoulders.

  “I should have treated you as a son instead of a servant. It is my greatest regret.”

  Conti smiled at him.

  “Perhaps in the new world.”

  “Yes.” Jack said, smiling back. “Yes, in the new world I can fix my mistakes."

  Master Jack turned to the two mages as they stood from their stations.

  "Thank you both. Please see that the families of those sacrificed are compensated in some way. I will not have my shame be hidden completely." He turned to Conti. "Now! Lingal you said?”

  Master Jack began walking from the chamber. He kept his pace slow and steady so Conti could keep speed with him. He treated Conti like a child sometimes. He bore it out of love.

  “Yes, my lord.” He began. “Terrance Lingal. Son of Glen Lingal.” Jack looked to the ceiling, seeming to recall everything he could about the man.

  “Glen was a good man. Possibly the best. He could have been. . .well, anyway. I’d hoped for so much from him. I hate what we had to do. I’d hoped with the Tengu and the loss of his family he could be dissuaded from joining the Order for his own sake.”

  Conti shook his head.

  “I know, my lord, but it seems to have galvanized him. His surviving family showed nothing but love and support for his endeavors. His tally shows that he is more dedicated than even his father was. It also speaks to his, um, abilities.”

  Master Jack looked at him.

  “He has them? He has discovered the truth already? Does he need to be eliminated?”

  Conti smiled.

  “That may not be completely necessary. As you know, we have plans and contingencies for most situations. From what we’ve gathered from his Troubadour on social media and his one statement to the press,” he thought for a moment, “AND the brief interviews with the residents of Hilochita, he seems to be truly dedicated to helping people and seeing good done. We may be able to break him with a quest.”

  Master Jack grimaced.

  “I see. I don’t like breaking good men, Conti. I know what I’m doing is needed, and I know that in the new world things will be right, but I don’t like destroying a good man like this.”

  Conti shook his head. It was distasteful work. That was why they employed the people they did.

  “I know, my lord. The boy could truly be great, but we have a quest in mind that with any outcome, we benefit. AND he will not refuse due to his nature.”

  Jack looked at him again in curiosity and smiled.

  “And what have your math obsessed planners come up with today, my son?”

  Conti smiled.

  “Outcome one, he breaks and leaves the Order. He is disillusioned. Outcome two, he breaks, alienates himself further, and becomes a knight like Robert Lawless. He takes the blood oath and joins us. Outcome three. . .”

  Conti paused for no other reason than dramatic effect.

  “Option three, he succeeds in his quest and our final goal becomes that much easier.”

  They walked in silence back to Master Jack’s chambers and Jack sat. He looked through papers on his desk for a moment before looking up at Conti. His expression was troubled.

  “Conti, I have guided this church for most of its existence when its leaders would listen. I have tried to be benevolent. I have guided humanity in the hopes of making a better world. With the Awakening I saw a way to take a shortcut to that goal. I saw a way to fix everything that had gone wrong from the start.”

  He shook his head and Conti could sympathize.

  “Since then, I have taken steps I regret only because I knew in the end I could right my wrongs. This. . . This leaves a terrible taste in my mouth. I wish to your God there was another way.”

  Conti lowered his head and felt nothing but sympathy for his Master.

  “Shall I ask them to destroy these options? Find another way?”

  “GOD no.” His Master said. “No. Of course not. Begin the plans. Sacrifices are always needed.” He looked away. He looked wistful. “I’ll do right by him in the next world. I’ll do right by everyone then.”

  Conti bowed and when he straightened, Master Jack was looking at him sadly. Conti turned and hurried from the room as fast as his aged legs could carry him. Master Jack had been seeing him as he was lately. Not as he had been. He knew what would be coming. There was no way to stop it. Not in the current world.

  Conti had to talk to the planning department and get a message sent to New Orleans. He needed to set so many things in motion. But for Master Jack? For Master Jack he would try until his last day. That's what you did for the people you loved.