Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 435

**Chapter Four Hundred Thirty-Five: Propaganda**

As dusk settled, a tall, golden-haired woman clad in scarlet robes stood silently within an elegantly furnished chamber decorated in the Glorious Church’s unmistakable aesthetic. The thick curtains behind her filtered the waning light as she faced the window, her gaze fixed on the glowing horizon. Though calm on the surface, unease stirred in her eyes.

“Your Eminence, there is new information from Ivig…”

The words came from behind, spoken by a spectral nun—partially transparent, her presence barely disturbing the air. Amanda, the woman at the window, didn’t glance back. She answered slowly.

“So… the operation has finally begun?”

“Negative. The rescue and cleansing efforts scheduled for ten this morning have been placed on hold. The reason is that communication arrived from the [Plunder Priest] of the Summertree Tribe. They’re proposing to release every pilgrim and convert to the Holy Mother’s doctrine in return for peace.”

Amanda stood unmoving for a beat, her silhouette lit by the dying sun, then slowly turned to face the nun. Though her expression remained reserved, a flash of astonishment sparked in her gaze.

“Summertree folded? They’re offering conversion willingly? Are we certain this is accurate?”

“This intelligence was delivered directly by Archbishop Antonio. I’ve conducted multiple verifications. The report holds. The Grey Veil Monks have already made landfall on Summertree’s central isle. They confirmed the pilgrims are safe, and not a single act of resistance was met.”

Amanda’s brows knit together slightly, thoughts turning inward.

“For years, under Antonio’s patient efforts, Summertree stayed rooted in the Old Faith—an unyielding bastion in the southwest Konosh waters. And now, suddenly, they switch sides without a struggle?”

Her voice carried skepticism as she spoke, doubt shadowing her tone. The translucent nun replied promptly.

“The public telegram sent by Archbishop Antonio states that the Summertrees were moved by the deeds of a nun from the pilgrim convoy. Her piety and actions apparently inspired their full conversion.”

“A nun?” Amanda’s stoicism cracked, surprise clearly registering now.

“Yes. Her name is Vinia Chaphelem, from the Prithvi diocese—assigned to St. Hymn Cathedral in Tivian. It’s said she ministered to Summertree’s people with genuine compassion and healed many of them. Beyond that, she reportedly engaged and defeated several elders in theological discourse, which earned their deep respect and led to the conversion.”

Amanda didn’t answer immediately. Her expression hardened, contemplative. At last, she spoke quietly.

“Antonio has overseen Ivig for over two years. He’s tried every charitable route, dispatched his most eloquent orators, and not once did they make headway. And yet now, after all this time, it’s a single Prayer Healer nun who convinces Summertree to change its ways overnight?”

Amanda clearly found this version of events implausible. She addressed the nun again, her tone edged with disbelief.

“It’s unlikely to be so simple. There must be more at play than just one nun’s efforts.”

“You’re absolutely right. The story I relayed is the official version released by Summertree. But Archbishop Antonio included a classified update. According to a coded message Summertree sent him, a deeper reason underpins the sudden reversal.

“Their [Plunder Priest] confided that a spy from the Abyssian Cult had embedded themselves among their ranks—an informant who manipulated internal decisions and fed Summertree bad intelligence. It was this planted operative who instigated the hijacking of the pilgrim convoy by presenting misleading data.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed, her reaction one of grim confirmation rather than surprise.

“The Abyssian Cult… as I suspected. They’ve had their hand in this from the beginning. So, Summertree wasn’t acting entirely of its own accord—they were misled by forged intelligence?”

“Correct. This mole persuaded Summertree that the convoy was weakly guarded. Simultaneously, they were led to believe that capturing it would give them leverage to halt the forced relocation. Acting on this, Summertree launched their assault.

“But soon after, the spy made a critical mistake and was exposed. Once captured, the truth unraveled—Summertree understood they’d been duped, and that their hostage gambit would likely lead not to negotiation, but to swift and total Purification.”

Amanda listened carefully, piecing things together.

“So when they realized they’d been manipulated and faced imminent destruction, they pivoted. Released the captives and declared conversion—using the nun’s efforts as a convenient, presentable excuse. In reality, she’s part of the cover.”

“Exactly. While Vinia Chaphelem did indeed tend to the Summertrees and shared the Holy Mother’s teachings with sincerity, the scale of the claimed conversion cannot be attributed to her alone. Most likely, the tribe’s leadership used her influence as a soft landing—a way to save face while pulling back from the brink.”

Amanda processed this silently. Everything now fell into place: the uncharacteristic change, the sudden ceasefire, the out-of-nowhere acceptance of the Church. The real turning point hadn’t been theology—it had been fear and strategic retreat, veiled by the narrative of spiritual awakening.

“So even Summertree, the most entrenched Old Faith enclave in the southwest Konosh, folds when faced with imminent ruin. Ironically, it’s the Abyss we should thank this time… And that brave little nun who never stopped preaching, even while in captivity…”

Amanda exhaled, the tension in her frame easing. The spectral nun spoke again.

“For the Church, this outcome is ideal. No need for Purification. No casualties. Archbishop Antonio gains a great triumph. And you, Your Eminence, who endorsed him, will see your standing rise even further in the College of Cardinals.”

Amanda nodded faintly.

“I’d braced myself for a political blow from Hilberg over this. And yet… things have flipped so suddenly. I wonder what kind of face he’s wearing right now.”

She allowed herself a subtle, satisfied smile. But the nun wasn’t finished.

“Even though the Purification was avoided, I believe His Eminence Hilberg will argue that the threat of it is what pushed Summertree into submission. He’ll spin it as coercion rather than faith—and use that to bolster his own doctrinal stance.”

“He’ll certainly try. Which is why we need a counterstroke—one that centers around that young nun. Her narrative must take center stage. Truth aside, she is our ideal symbol.”

“A symbol… of propaganda?”

“Exactly. Whether we’re speaking to lay believers or Church hierarchy, a story of a selfless nun, imprisoned yet undaunted, spreading love and light even under threat—that’s powerful. That’s inspiring.

“Contrast that with the tale of heretics bending under military pressure—one stirs hearts, the other stirs unease.

“We need to elevate her story, cast her as the heroine who resolved the crisis. If her tale becomes the accepted truth among the faithful, Hilberg’s accusations lose their potency. His reality will simply be… irrelevant.”

Amanda’s tone remained soft but confident, a hint of amusement in her expression. The nun gave a small nod of acknowledgment. Then Amanda asked:

“Do we have her full profile yet? That nun—Vinia Chaphelem—what else do we know about her?”

“She’s from the Prithvi diocese. Based out of St. Hymn Cathedral in Tivian. Our contacts are currently retrieving her full file.”

Amanda tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Vinia… hmm…”

—

**North shore of the Conqueror Sea, Troyes—Castiglienza’s southern stronghold**

Morning broke over the port city of Troyes. In an upscale suite near the waterfront, Dorothy sat in rumpled pajamas, her hair still tangled from sleep. At a small table beside the window, she nibbled her breakfast and sipped warm milk, eyes drifting lazily across the pages of the morning newspaper.

‘A whole day’s passed since the Summertree incident… Still no coverage. Seems the Church is keeping this one under wraps. Makes sense—no way they’d let the general public in on something like that.’<e/m>

She flipped to the next page, still sipping from her glass. Not finding anything noteworthy, she gave a small sigh and tossed the paper onto the table.

‘Vinia reported last night that Church operatives made it to Summertree without issue. No violence, total control. That was fast… Almost too fast.<e/m>

‘She and the others will be leaving soon. Reinforcements will pour in shortly. I just hope Anman and the elders remember what I taught them and can play along well enough…<e/m>’

Before leaving Summertree, Dorothy had instructed Vinia to tear out a few pages from her holy text and hand them to Anman. These weren’t just scripture—they acted as enchanted communication links, letting Dorothy send messages directly to the Summertree leadership under the guise of a different [Plunder Priest]. It was the perfect cover to guide their sham conversion—and to stay updated in near real time.

‘Anyway, that matter’s done with. Time to focus on my next objective… I’ll finish breakfast and then start looking into the White Stonemason Guild. Let’s hope their stock of “Stone” texts is worth the trip.’<e/m>

With that resolution in mind, Dorothy picked up the pace of her meal. Once finished, she dabbed her mouth with a napkin and rose. A long grooming session followed—hairbrushes, water, and patience battling the mess on her head. Afterward, she changed into a neat white blouse, a dark skirt, and a pale vest. A flower-trimmed hat topped the ensemble. She stepped into oxfords, packed her things, and exited the suite, leaving it tidy behind her.

Stepping into Troyes’s bustling streets, Dorothy considered her next step: locating the elusive White Stonemason Guild in a city this large. After a moment of thought, she settled on a plan.

The Guild was a key trading hub for non-ordinary practitioners and arcane scholars. Anyone immersed in the city’s occult scene would eventually point toward it. The trick was finding the right doors to knock on.

The fastest path? Visit shops favored by those dabbling in low-level mysticism.

Dorothy knew the signs. Basic rituals—like summoning light sleep, sensing residual spirits, or building resistance to spiritual toxins—didn’t require expensive components. Everyday ingredients like herbs, salt, mineral dusts, even animal bits, could be purchased from unassuming merchants. No need for high-profile alchemy dealers.

She’d scoured such places before—spice sellers, dusty apothecaries, exotic meat stalls with strange cuts on offer. These were gathering points for fringe scholars and dabblers. Bookstores selling rare tomes and antique vendors selling forgotten relics also held promise; places not unlike where Colif in Igwint bought the [Forbidden Grimoire], or where Edrick in Volkov stumbled upon the “Corpse Puppet Ring” at a flea market.

Then there was the criminal underworld. Every city had one. And in places like Igwint and Tivian, shadowy groups had real ties to the supernatural. Crimson Heart had controlled smuggling lanes in East Tivian. Crimson Blood Church operated covertly in Igwint’s seedy night haunts. Colif had even disguised his own occult dealings behind the mask of a legitimate bookshop.

All these were valid avenues. Useful contacts, if you knew where to look.

‘So many ways to dig beneath the surface… no need to rush. I’ll enjoy the exploration.’<e/m>

Smiling faintly, she took her first steps into the busy city, letting the flow of Troyes draw her in.