Insert, Journal of Clara Nobray:
17 October 2012
Cedric and Peter tasked me with going into town to discover more about the resistance and the governor. I don’t think any of us thought that this fox hole would go so deep. But I should be precise if we are to help anyone here. And lord knows there are many here in need of it.
I started on the Road of the Old Chaplain and set out north-west to some of the back-alleys. There was a man there selling food for cheap. He was obviously not of the “upper” class (there are so few of them anyway), so I decided to ask him about the resistance. At first he denied that he knew anything about it, but there was something in his eyes. A little flash of something. I pressed him about it and finally he told me that “Every fox finds a hole under a church.” I thanked him for the sandwich and moved on to the cathedral just down the road. Perhaps I should have started there in the first place. It is a center for beggars and people in need. Just the kind of people who would know about the resistance.
Just as I thought, the first woman I talked to gave me the information about what I wanted to know. She told me that one of the holy men in the church, the one clothed in red, was running the resistance center under the church in the old catacombs. They’ve been officially closed for decades due to “unsound walls” or something, but it now seems more likely that the church has been keeping them in secret to help those in need. In any case, I thanked the woman and gave her some money.
I found the churchman she was talking about easily. It was the priest himself. He was burning incense and walking around the circumference of the cathedral and praying. I tried to approach him as casually as possible, falling in step as penitently as I could manage.
“First pew, five minutes,” he said before I even said anything. I nodded, though I was a bit shocked, and did as instructed. I didn’t want to seem out of place, so I began to pray. Good cover and, well, I was in a church. It seemed like a good idea.
Just as he said, the priest came to retrieve me and we walked to the back of the church. He motioned to a confession box and I entered.
“What brings you here, my child?”
“Concerns about the governor, father. And the people.”
“Do not fret about such matters child, you are young yet.”
“I am young, father, but I am a member of the Heroes University.”
There came no response from the box next to me. Instead, the panel behind me gave way, revealing a dimly lit hallway and the priest with a candle.
“What you have come for is down this way,” he said. I nodded and walked down the dark hallway which quickly turned into stairs. These I took down into the catacombs themselves.
It was incredible. People were everywhere. The catacombs were not so much small hallways as I expected, but a large cavern. I then realized that the “catacombs” had been converted into this space, that they no longer existed. I found a teenage boy to talk to who seemed to have a good idea of what was going on. It was incredible what he said.
“This is the resistance,” he said. Secretly hidden under the vary nose of the governor. At least, the city branch. Most of the people there were wanted for one reason or another by the governor. Mostly for petty crimes or criticisms. But, most surprising of all, they were learning to fight. It was clumsy, the stuff of beginners and pampered city folk, but the fact that they were even trying was striking. They asked me if I could get word to the resistance members outside of town because they had such difficulty with sending news. Of course I agreed.
What have we stumbled on? I never dreamed we would come to this country to help them overthrow someone, but it seems that such may be the case. And perhaps even we will be helping goblins too. It’s all so strange. So, so strange. I will have to talk with the others about what we are to do.