I had been mentally preparing myself to fight the smoke demon when the clank of armored heels hitting the wood had caught my attention.

I knew who it was at once of course. It'd be impossible not to given how much I had heard of her from my father, and the shock of her arrival was enough to still my thoughts.

More than six feet tall in her armor, which was the most elegantly crafted metalworking I had ever seen in my life. Ornately carved scriptures were literally interwoven through the metal, and the jewel in her breastplate glowed with a brilliant visible light. Covering her face was a golden masked helmet, portraying a stern, beatific face. A pair of ornately woven golden protrusions stood like meshed lace behind her head, attached at her shoulder plates with small statuettes of Cherubs holding Trumpets.

The Sword in her hand was simple in comparison, silvery and lacking in decorations, but pulsing to my arcane senses with as much power as the armor or perhaps even more.

Then she cast a simple spell and it was as if the very heavens themselves split open. Light pouring forth more like a volcanic eruption than a beam, it swept across the square and simply disintegrated the demon. I don't know how else to even explain it. That was a spell I knew, had practiced since I was a toddler, but the sheer holy power she had put into it was almost incomprehensible to me. With something like that she could melt through a mountain and out the other side. It literally rang like a chorus in magic, and I could swear the cherubs on her armor were playing along with it.

I fell to my knees of course.

That was simply what you did when you met the Prophetess.

Everyone knew her origin of course. A simple village girl some thousand years ago. At the fall of the Mirnese Empire, when The Tyrant Nevan took the throne and feuding Necromantic warlords and demonic cultists picked over the scraps of the land like dogs tearing meat from a shattered carcass.

It was the very first chapter of the holy scripture of Light. From verses 1:5 to 1:26.

And the Hordes of that great darkness fell upon the people of Shallowbrook and slaughtered man and woman, child and elder until the blood ran through the streets like water and the dead fell upon their living kin with the darkest of evils. All died save for one, who is called the prophetess, but in those days I was called Livia.

When the forces of darkness attacked, I was tending the fields and fled from their cruel fangs into the wilds, which I did not know, for I was no hunter. But by Mercy and his guiding hand I found a cave to sleep in, and a spring of golden water that gave me succor.

In my dreams, He came to me, first as light, then as a soothing balm, and last as a sword. In my ear, he spoke, and on my heart, he wrote these words.

"I am the light, but my people suffer in shadow. You, child of my people. Take up the sword, and let darkness know no rest until the world is safe for my people."

When I awoke, I held within my grasp the sword I had seen in my dream. This the first Miracle of God. Thanks be to God.

She had written that scripture down at the close of the war, along with the other two scriptures of Mercy and the Blade.

I was kneeling in front of the founder of my faith, a woman I knew to be a thousand years old. Sure, my father was one of her first disciples, a living saint, and I had heard plenty of stories of her. (Some that certainly weren't fit for public consumption), but that didn't make it any less petrifying to be standing in front of… well, the Prophetess. The blasted cherubs on her armor weren't making it any easier, what with her spell sounding like Handel's Messiah when she blew the demon away.

When the glow from her spell finally faded away, the demon was, of course, gone without a trace, and a pretty big hole had been melted into the face of the Dark Temple, burning out any smoke it left behind.

I vaguely heard the others hurry to kneel, Mary and Karsten following my example at least, but my eyes were fixed on her helmet as she turned towards me with softly glowing eyes.

"Is anyone hurt?" A surprisingly tender voice spoke out. Slightly lower-pitched than Mary, but bearing a sort of flawlessness in tone that was almost like a song.

I blinked as I realized she was asking me, and I felt a blush rapidly creep up my neck onto my cheeks. "Ah… um… none of us, but some of the rest of the company may be..?"

"Alright…" She gave me a nod, Me! Before turning suddenly on her heel, leaving me dazed and embarrassed as her golden gaze left my own.

It took me a moment to recover my senses as I looked around the square. Dawn was on the horizon now, coming with her to push back any undead still left. At the edges of the square small groups of the adventurers, from my company and the independent ones too, were beginning to trickle in. I blinked a bit of the daze away as I realized that a lot of them were injured.

I was perhaps too hasty as I got to my feet, tripping and falling down the side of the big wooden death mound with a small shriek, only for the Prophetess herself to catch me, snagging the back of my robes and holding me up with one arm easily.

"Are you alright?" She asked again, and I wanted to die of embarrassment! She was the Prophetess, my dad's boss! I must have been red as tomatoes as she put me down on the ground gently and brushed the hair out of my face.

"Y-yeah…" I normally didn't mind looking like a kid, but in front of the literal chief agent of God on earth not looking my best was killing me.

Then she patted my head and the urge to die tripled.

"Don't worry about helping, I can take care of them." She said in that same soft tone, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, before stepping away from me and kicking off the ground.

I thought for a moment she was flying because she jumped far too high for any normal person. Even someone bordering on superhuman with magic, but from the arc she made as she drifted over to the nearest injured party, I could tell that it was indeed a jump, albeit one that sent her drifting silently through the air like an angel.

Then of course, without using ointment or anything, she cast Hasha, and a heavily injured scout literally regrew an arm.

It was humbling, more than anything. I considered myself an expert of the healing light. Everywhere I went I was best at healing I had learned it from my Father after all. My healing was nearly as good as his had been, and unlike the more martial aspects of Light magic, I could actually use it to its full extent despite my lack of height or muscle.

But she was above and beyond my father, and that thought shook me.

She went around healing the rest with barely a pause, which was good of course, some of them were badly injured, but I barely had the time to look over one or two of the most hurt before she had already cleared all hurt away as if it wasn't even there.

"Is that everyone?" She asked over the crowd that had gathered around the Dragon's corpse, and I fought to suppress another pang of jealousy as I realized she could stand above the men with literal extra effort. She really was very tall, and only Strong and a couple of the others matched her height. "Does anyone else need healing?" She asked, her voice confident and controlled, no doubt she had spent more time public speaking than most men's entire lifetimes. "If not then I would like to commend you all. Few alive today have faced the terrors you survived this past night, let alone killed them." Her words were meant to be uplifting, and I could tell by everyone else's faces that they were having their desired effect. Even Karsten and Harald seemed chuffed with themselves, though Theen was effecting the same look he always did, half amused and half-apathetic.

In my own heart though, I was just a little bit jealous. She had come in here, killed that demon, then done everything I could do better, and now she was even giving a speech I was gonna give. Sure she was the Prophetess and all, and I knew she was a good person, my father even said she was the best, but that didn't stop my feelings.

I knew I shouldn't be jealous of course, but it was all so sudden, and she was so much better than me at everything. I wanted to apologize for being jealous even at the time, but I knew that was silly too.

"And for that, I think I should give a few- Ah, Anne, took your time getting hear I see." A slightly teasing tone entered the Prophetess’s voice as she paused momentarily in her speech.

I glanced up as she turned from her words towards a new group of people. A squadron of Paladins, led by a substantially shorter woman in a red Cardinal's cloak. The new woman had jet black hair, and a pair of glasses I was sure she shouldn't need, given her status in the church and the general ability to heal eyes. It was a precise art of course, but even I could fix eyesight in a few minutes with the right herbs to smooth the process.

"Not all of us can leap across rivers and walls, your holiness." The black-haired Cardinal, identified by the prophetess as Anne, bowed sharply, placing her hand over her bosom. "We have had to eliminate a fair number of the undead, moving on foot, as well."

"Well, you missed all the fighting. Our friends here beat us to it, just like Publius said." The measured tone of the walking founder of my religion continued to tease. "They even put down Syrrax!, oh, and as I was saying. You there, spearman, you're the one who killed her right? Tell me your name."

Karsten seemed stunned as she walked over towards him, apparently ignoring the Cardinal for now, as well as the small force of fully armored paladins behind her. From their heraldry, I was guessing they were the knights of the Silver Star, the Prophetess' elite guards. They were recruited from churchmen with a particular knack for weaponry and used their long lifespans to become some of the most powerful warriors around.

I kinda wanted to join them, in all honesty, but the size of my body and the weakness in my arm made that an unfeasible idea.

Still, I shouldn't let myself get distracted by all their shiny armor, this was a big moment for Karsten. He'd finally choked up enough nerves to stand in front of the Towering Prophetess. Though from the look on his face he was about ready to bolt.

"K-Karsten Ma'am," he said nervously, glancing back towards Mary for support.

God bless the girl for giving him a thumbs up. Swallowing, he turned back to the Holy Woman. "And um… yeah… I put this spear into its heart after Abbott blessed it…" he inclined his head slightly towards me, and I felt embarrassment suddenly smother my jealousy, I was sure a blush was back on my face.

"Hmm… Meeting a Dragonslayer is rare, even for me." The Prophetess raised her sword, and for a moment I panicked before I remembered who she was. "Karsten then. I think I'll grant you a boon. Do you have a last name?"

"Lanthorn, uh… your Holyness."

If the armored woman noticed his use of her proper title, she didn't show it. "Then you shall be Sir Karsten Lanthorn." She said as calmly as if she was describing the rain coming in. "There's normally a great big ceremony for this, but as a dragonslayer, I think we can forget about that."

Anne, the red-robed Cardinal made something like an "eep" at that, but quickly rushed over anyway as the Prophetess gestured her forward.

"Anne here can witness. Do you serve a nation Dragonslayer? I can knight you to any save Veluca."

Karsten paused for a moment and pressed his hand to his chin, then he glanced at me, before turning back to her, and I felt warmth fill my heart as he shook his head. "No, your Holiness, I'm sworn to one master, but no nations."

"Oh? Very well then." I could almost hear the raised eyebrow in the prophetess’s voice. She reached out and tapped his arm with her sword. "You'll need to kneel for this part."

"Wha-Oh! Of course!" He promptly dropped to his knees on the stone, the Wooden prison of the dragon, of Syrrax behind him.

"Then, Sir Karsten Lanthorn, Dragonslayer, spearman of Mirno, I dub you a knight, and let no man nor woman question this title in all the lands of God." The Prophetess tapped each of his shoulders in turn, and then it was done, with little fanfare or boasting, Karsten had risen to be a minor noble, but perhaps more importantly, he had been given that title by the Prophetess herself.

That was like being knighted by a king, only moreso.

Karsten though, God love him, had far too much honesty in him to accept it like that. Damn his eyes. "T-thank you, your holiness." He said, clearly stiff as a skeleton, still feeling from everything that was going on. "O-only, I only gave the killing blow to the beast, I… I don't think I would have been able to do it without Mary, and Harald, and certainly not without Theen or Abbott."

"Hmm, is that humility? Or perhaps honesty? Well, I have no power to elevate dwarves or elves, but would this Mary perhaps care for a knighthood?" The Prophetess offered, and I half got the sense she was joking as she fixed her eyes on Mary, who was waving her hands back and forth in front of her frantically.

"N-no, I think only one of those in the family will be enough." She said quickly. "I'm not cut for that much responsibility anyway and-"

"Oh are you two a couple? Have you been married yet?" She asked, and I watched the color drain out of Mary's face. "You know it's wrong to consummate a relationship before marriage, but if you're committed I could marry you right here."

That the prophetess, the literal founder, was enjoying teasing my companions was now obvious, despite her still measured voice.

That she was doing it the same way I had was a supremely odd feeling. Though for Karsten it apparently let him throw off his earlier shock.

"N-no your Holiness, that won't be necessary. Abbott already offered to Marry us, uh… when we're ready."

"Is that so?" The thousand-year-old woman said, and though I thought she would turn and say something to me, she didn't, instead, turning towards the black temple. "Well then… let's go see how it looks in there." She waved to Anne. "Come along, more hands will make clearing the rubble easier, and I've always been curious what Nevan did to the place…"

Of course, nobody was going to argue with her, and as we went I saw the Cardinal, Anne, shove a scroll marked with the seal of the prophetess into Karsten's hands. It was interesting to see it in person, it was quite similar to my father's official seal, albeit with a slightly adjusted outer ring. The interior was still an eye radiating sunbeams with an open palmed hand below it, held inside a diamond, already an only somewhat expanded version of some common church symbology.

Soon enough we passed into the front gates of the temple, surround d by columns carved like enormous gargoyles. I doubt the unaffiliated adventurers who had come with us would have been half as happy to go inside, were it not for the Prophetess’s presence.

That said, the amount of gold present in the decorations was certainly making their day, and the Prophetess and her church knights seemed to have no interest in looting it themselves as they lead on the front of the party deeper into the depths of the enormous structure.

It wasn't long until most of the party had broken off, either directed to clear ruined passageways by some of the holy knights, or pulled away by their own greed to take down chandeliers, paintings, and filigree.

Still, I almost walked straight into the Prophetess' legs as she abruptly stopped in front of me. Looking around her I could see why, as the hallway abruptly ended in a gigantic pit that ran from the bottom through the roof of the temple, below us some sort of basement or dungeon was down there, maybe a hundred feet down.

"Syrrax came out from there…" I mumbled as I stepped up next to her, only just now realizing myself. There was nowhere else in this place that a dragon that size would have fit.

"Is that so?" The Prophetess asked. "The curse too, I'll wager… well let's go check it out."

"I don't see any sta-whoa!" I let out a squeaky cry as I felt an armored gauntlet reach down and wrap me under her side like a sack of flour.

My cry as she leaped up into the hole and we started falling towards that pit was too embarrassing to put into words.

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