Knowledge is power...A saying used by slimy con artists and wise sages alike. But what does it mean? How could knowledge be stronger than something physical, such as a sword?
All in all, it was a simple question, but its complexity lay in its simplicity. Knowledge did not mean power in the normal sense of the word; no, the strength gained from knowledge was more abstract; it lent towards a psychological advantage.
In a battle of words, the one with more information would be the one to win. It was as simple as adding one to one. But that didn't mean all information meant power; most details would be irrelevant, and as such, useless.
Like with everything of its kind, you had to filter out what was useful and discard the rest. A toddler with a sword would not be able to fight a teenager with a knife. Rather, the chances that the child would harm himself were higher than his chances of harming the teenager.
Understanding was required to wield a blade, further practice was required to hone it, and years of dedication were required to master it. To wield knowledge effectively, to make sure it doesn't harm the wielder themselves, it was important to take everything at face value.
Blindly trusting something would only put the bearer at risk. Research was required to use it, and the mind was required to exploit it.
Zareil knew all of this, which was why he was so wary of the information the heiress of Diavolo—his sister—gave him.
Outright dismissing the words would be utter foolishness, so he quietly stored them at the corner of his mind, where they would wait until he proved their authenticity.
Old habits die hard.
He had trained himself to organize information in such a way during his preparation for the IDT exams, which were essential for him to pass should he want to achieve his goal.
After collecting his thoughts, Zareil probed his sister for more information.
"So you're saying that something as unprecedented as being chosen by a Page just so happened to both of us? Two people who just so happen to have the same blood running through their veins."
Astrid gave him a look, half annoyance and half reluctant acceptance, then said: "Now that I hear it out loud, I realize how stupid I must sound, but you must believe me, little brother, as I would never lie to you."
Zareil wore a baffled expression, stunned by the sheer shamelessness of his sister's statement.
His reaction, of course, was warranted.
What Astrid had said was a very bold statement, emphasis on the very. It was so bold infact, that her words alone would have caused outrage across the world, and the Sanctum of Solace would have appeared at their doorsteps, ready to behead them for blasphemy against all that is holy.
And the worst part was that Zareil couldn't even blame them for it. The reason was simple: no one had been blessed by the Page of Dominion in over ten millennia.
Out of all the Eight Pages, she just had to say the only one that hasn't blessed anyone for as long as history remembers.
The omnipotent being that watched over all of existence was known as the Book. The Book blessed people, which in turn gave them access to three of its eight pages.
Mind, body, and spirit.
They were the three pillars of power. You could have a high blessing in one, maybe two, or all of them, but what you couldn't have was a connection to any of the other five pages.
The fourth Page, Dominion.
The fifth Page, Fate.
The sixth Page, Serenity.
The seventh Page, Ruin.
And finally, the eighth and final page, The Page of Innovation.
Currently, only the Page of Serenity had a blessed one, and that person just so happened to be the Pope of the Sanctum.
"Let's say I believe your absurd claims, and that this is a trial meant to awaken our powers. What I don't understand is how you knew this was going to happen and how both of us are blessed, because to my knowledge, only a single person could be blessed by the five pages at a time."
Astrid stood still, perhaps thinking of how to further lie to him, but at the very least, she didn't make him wait long, because after just a few seconds had passed, she gave him his answer.
"There are three things you need to know, brother," she raised a finger. "First, my claims aren't insane and are based upon actual proof, which I have."
This time, instead of just a single finger, Astrid raised two and said, "Two, you don't need to know where I got my information from; all you need to do is listen. Whether you accept it is entirely up to you."
Zareil opened his mouth to cut in before the third thing, but his sister was faster, "Three, to answer your second question, your information is partially right. The number of people who can be blessed by a Page varies; some only bless one, some hundreds, but the Page of Dominion specifically blesses two, siblings in most cases."
All of a sudden, she stopped talking, as if to give him enough time to process the information. Only when he began to tap his feet in impatience did Astrid talk again.
"Yes, yes. No need to be impatient. Anyways this trial isn't meant to see if we are worthy or not, that was decided the moment we were blessed, me much sooner than you. No, the real purpose of this trial is something far more sinister."
Zareil gulped, feeling something cold travel up his spine. What a horrifying feeling it was, being scared of mere words, but Zareil knew—better than most—how dangerous words could be.
Instead of showing his real reaction to the information he was about to receive, Zareil smiled. It was a cold smile, one that spoke of many things, but most prominently, it was a smile that held his resolve.
"Tell me, Astrid, what is this insidious thing you speak of?"
Astrid responded with a chilling smile of her own, "The real purpose is to cull the competition."