"Uh... well... about that..."
Theodosia's gaze began to drift, her fingers unconsciously twisting the strap of her canvas bag.
"Procedurally... theoretically... there should be a process for this... but I left in a bit of a rush... maybe, just maybe the coordination department didn't have time yet... or..."
"In other words, you didn't give them a heads-up."
Vesper's voice turned utterly cold. It carried a metallic edge that cut straight through her stammering excuses.
In that moment, Theodosia's stuttering and the look on her face acted like a key, instantly flipping a switch in Vesper's mind. The various questions regarding the cause and effect of this "commission," as well as the rationale behind their selection, clicked together with sudden, sharp clarity.
Why had the "Church of Necessary Evil" been so desperate to dispatch the two of them? Why were they willing to pay a premium to make an "outsider" like him drop his current work and rush to the middle of nowhere to handle a so-called "astral anomaly"?
And why, of all people, was it Theodosia? She was the "unlucky" veteran mage who always seemed to be "mysteriously" assigned to the most troublesome field missions, despite her supposed experience.
The answer lay in the delicate power dynamics of Rajasthan.
St. Mary's Church—the fortress established by 19th-century British missionaries—was a relic of the colonial era. It was one of the few strongholds firmly controlled by the "Anglicans," who maintained a permanent squad of mages there. Its existence was about far more than spreading faith.
It was a nail, driven deep into this strategic gateway of Northwest India. It served as a hub to monitor and suppress the activities of local, fragmented "magic cabals," and acted as an "outpost" to prevent magical incidents from spilling over into the civilian populations of neighboring countries. Naturally, it was a prime target for the "Roman Orthodox Church."
The "anomalous astral trajectory" appearing locally—regardless of whether it was a natural phenomenon or man-made magic—offered an opportunity. Whichever side intervened first to uncover the truth and resolve the issue would seize the initiative in the invisible war for local converts and religious influence.
The side that could "fix" the problem faster would gain greater authority in the region. That authority made it easier to win over followers and consolidate, or even expand, their parish boundaries.
(Tsk. I've been played by those Anglican fanatics...)
Realizing this, Vesper understood almost instantly why the Anglicans hadn't used local mages to handle the situation, opting instead for an "expedition" from London.
The biggest question was: were the mages stationed at St. Mary's truly devout followers of the English Church? How many were loyalists dispatched from Britain, and how many were locals recruited and trained in India—locals whose sense of belonging to the "Anglican" cause might be shaky at best?
In the magic side of the world, a reality that was cynical to the point of cruelty, loyalty was a cheap commodity. It was often built entirely upon dependency on power and resources. Once the Roman Orthodox Church demonstrated greater strength or offered better terms, the possibility of these local mages switching sides and defecting to the Vatican was very real.
Vesper's eyes grew cold. Theodosia, not understanding his concerns and assuming he was simply furious with her, didn't dare look his way. She could only glance around awkwardly, at a loss for words.
(No. In a place like this, they definitely would do it if they had to...)
If such a defection occurred, it would mean the Anglicans would lose total control over the strategic territory of Rajasthan. A gap would open in Britain's layout for the Northwest Indian subcontinent that would be impossible to bridge. The Vatican's influence would inevitably surge in to fill the spiritual vacuum. Britain would lose a key pivot point for monitoring magical activity on the subcontinent and checking the power of other factions.
That was why London was so anxious.
This wasn't a simple "investigation of an anomaly." This was a "speedrun"—a race against time and a shadow war against the Roman Orthodox Church. Whoever solved the problem first would establish dominance in the hearts of the local mages and secure their sphere of influence.
That was why they needed a "temp" like him and a "clumsy elite" like Theodosia. The goal was simple: if an incident occurred that required the Church to distance itself, they could naturally shift the blame onto this "unreliable" duo.
And Theodosia, that idiot, hadn't even performed the most basic "heads-up" to clear them of liability. She had just led him blindly into this mess.
"Tsk..."
A sharp click of the tongue cut through the fabric of his mask.
He had originally planned to treat this "official business" as a well-paid foreign excursion. He'd intended to investigate at a leisurely pace, maybe browse for some local magical materials or spices along the way. Slacking off while fleecing the Anglicans for all they were worth—that was his comfort zone.
But now, thanks to Theodosia's negligence...
(No. It probably would have been the same even if she had followed protocol.)
The undercurrents between the two great denominations in this land had forcibly twisted a potentially low-difficulty investigation into a high-stakes, time-sensitive "death race."
The invisible hostility in the air seemed to take on a deeper meaning. They weren't just intruders; they were blunderers who had accidentally stepped into the territory of another behemoth. What came next likely wouldn't just be cold stares from passersby.
"Let's go, 'Little Match Girl'..."
Vesper's voice returned to a state of near-lazy calm. There was no point in discussing it further now.
He stopped looking at the frozen Theodosia and began walking toward St. Mary's Church, which stood at the end of the heatwaves—a symbol of the Anglicans' final bastion in this land.
"We need to hurry. Otherwise, when the 'Blizzard' blows in, those little matches of yours won't be enough to keep us warm..."
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