Wraith brought Sethlzaar to Skeldrige in two days. He'd been lucky enough to be set upon by bandits who had been too careless to spot the massive wolf sleeping a few trees away while he settled elsewhere for a piss. Four of them, all men with knives. He'd given them a beating and taken the one thing he needed and was in short supply of: coins.
In his haste to leave his brothers he had taken what he needed but hadn't accounted for money. In truth, he'd thought this wouldn't last long, a few days perhaps. He knew now that he'd b
Clad in his hooded cassock, veils and bow securely strapped in place, and his quiver hanging low on his hip, Sethlzaar left the hotel. When he relinquished his room key to the man behind the table at the entrance, the man said nothing, choosing to receive the key in silence. Smart men never asked priests questions. Especially when they were in their cassock.The night was illuminated by glowing street lamps, and even after accepting three nights were more than enough to have grown accustomed to a bright night, it did nothing to shake away the wrongness he felt as he walked the streets.
Shaking his head in refusal Sethlzaar almost stepped away in disagreement with reality. His throat grew dry, choked up, and his eyes stung. He didn't fight it. He let the tears well up as he reached his hand to the woman's face. Her voice had strained to push the words out even as a whisper, and saliva dripped from her mouth when she spoke. She leaned into his touch, blood and dirt staining his palm. He didn't care.She was crying from her good eye.
Dimma had said nothing in the past hour. When they walked through the gates of the city, he had paid her entrance fee while she looked around. Despite the hood concealing most of her face, she leaned back to take in the buildings and people around her.They were just returning from the healer's house where he'd gone to show her to a friend. Not all his contacts from his time at the realm were priests. Some men he had saved from certain perils, and he knew if they learned he was no longer of the frock they'd still help him.
Sethlzaar’s return to the cathedral was welcomed just as was the return of the prodigal son in the scriptures; with threats of wrath and fury which were followed through.He was received at the end of drawn veils of varying designs, and displaced of his veils, bows and quiver. They’d even taken his insignia from around his neck. Somehow, he had a feeling if he’d worn his cassock into the compound they’d have ripped it off his body too.
Most Reverend Father Bratvi Arrufa was a muscled, middle aged man with a clean shaved head. When he spoke people were forced to listen. His pale skin marked his heritage as somewhere not within the realm which made him a compelling sight, and his brogue, if it could be described as one, was flat, almost as if the man didn’t understand what intonations were. Perhaps his vocal cords didn’t care for the nuisance.Men like him were rare in the realm, but among priests, outsiders weren’t so unheard of.
They rode hard for five days. During the day they pushed the horses as far as they could go, and at night they set up camp anywhere they found themselves between cities.They left Arslagh six hundred priests strong under the command of two reverends, who reported to Bratvi. Once outside the capital, they quickly met up with another reverend with command over three hundred priests. Before nightfall, they came upon the city of Hovgrad, a simple city of the realm with no significant repute. Sethlzaar had come upon the city during his travels with Valerik, and like his travel, they di
Six days into their march they were going three thousand six hundred priests strong, and at most, seven one-thousand-man generals. At over ten thousand men strong—priest horses ridden by white cassocks leading war horses ridden by black armor—they were a sight to behold, and a force primed for battle.Then they began doing what Sethlzaar considered the unreasonable.
Six days into their march they were going three thousand six hundred priests strong, and at most, seven one-thousand-man generals. At over ten thousand men strong—priest horses ridden by white cassocks leading war horses ridden by black armor—they were a sight to behold, and a force primed for battle.Then they began doing what Sethlzaar considered the unreasonable.