“I speak for the Baron,” Immental said.
<To a point, > the voice whispered. <But we wish him to speak for us. >
“The level of paranoia the Baron has regarding security… he is so very cautious. Even I can’t get close enough to administer the sacrament, and we’ve known each other since we were children. His guards are never alone, so they can never be corrupted.”
<There will be opportunities to turn the Baron, during preparations for the summit on Arc Prime. >
“Perhaps, guides,” Immental said. The summit would involve changes in routine, which could provide opportunities. But the idea of taking action that might be construed as – well, as treason – was powerful enough to cause a twinge of discomfort, even in the sea of bliss that accompanied her devotion to the guides.
Her masters sensed her hesitation. <You fear that your cousin would not want this. You fear that he would kill you if he knew your loyalty was to us, and not him. >
“Yes, guides,” she murmured.
<But think of it this way, faithful one: you are giving the Baron a great gift. Isn’t your life better now, in our care? >
Immental thought of her existence before she took the sacrament. Striving, scheming, and the exercise of naked ambition; playing her rivals against one another; jockeying for her cousin and supreme leader’s favor; amassing as much power for herself as possible. In retrospect, all those enterprises were hollow and empty. Immental had wanted to rule, but now, she knew, true pleasure came from service and devotion. “My cousin… he serves no one !” She spoke with the force of revelation. “He has no idea the joy that could be his! If the bonds of duty mean anything to me, then surely it is my duty to share the wonder of the sacrament with my Baron!”
<Yes. You will give him our blessing, and the great work will proceed. >