As ready as I was to throw down whoever was bothering the girls, as I got closer to the entrance I slowly realized that that might cause some problems, especially if the ones at the door are actual authority figures.

I mean they did say they were looking for a criminal, and I sure as hell ain’t one, so I’m pretty sure I’m just overreacting.

I realized that I’ve been so quick to choose the violent options lately and hadn’t noticed until now. Is this because I haven’t slept with anyone after doing it with Ellen? It really sounds like a load of bull to me, but…

Well, whatever… for now I have to focus on the troublesome two at hand. After nodding to Miss Sorena and letting her handle the situation, she nodded in response and proceeded to head out and discuss things with the two. As I stayed by the entrance, I listened in on their conversation and immediately understood that things were going south.

With my gut on cue, one of the two bastards made a mad dash towards Miss Sorena. Rage took me as I sprung from behind the doorway and leapt towards the trash. I can tell the fool was surprised by my appearance as I grabbed his head and smashed it onto the ground. I didn’t crush it of course despite the temptation, but I needed to teach this insect that touching one of my wome– that harming one of my friends will result in horrendous amounts of pain!

“Klemtos!”

The fool’s friend looked panicked as he immediately abandoned facing Azula and made his way to me. Unwise, considering Azula’s skill as she instantly capitalized on the exposure of his back, knocking him down then pinning him to the ground.

Seeing that the other one was dealt with, I held up the bastard using his head in my hand and looked at him in the eye… or whatever constitutes as an eyehole on the mask he’s wearing.

“K-kill me… and my brothers… and our order… will see to… executing you all… as sinners…”

It seems this bug can still talk, and with threats no less. I brought him closer to my face so that he can see my eyes under the hood as I angrily replied, “So you think you can threaten me despite your earlier attempt of murder? From what I can tell in your discussion, you two are the heretics for claiming your words are your god’s own, while renouncing your own god’s doctrine.”

“T-The false… teachings… of a weak… order… of our church… our order’s words… are Lord Seraphaem’s… truth… and law… you claim murder… but you denied me… killing a heretic… foolish criminal…”

Hearing his creaking voice fanned the flames of my rage further. Soon, I’m seeing everything in a hazy red as my grip tightened and I responded in fury, “Your… words? YOUR.WORDS!? Are you that deluded, zealot? You would put your worthless words’ worth on the same level as a god’s? You would claim that your understanding of the gods will is greater than the others of your own church!? I have seen mortal foolishness before, but none as depraved as this!”

The words… coming out of my mouth… didn’t feel like my own… and yet… I can understand… I can understand how it feels… that I must crush the vile filth that is held in my claws.

Slowly, I can feel the thing in my claws creak and crack… as it struggled to free itself from my grip while wailing in pain. Just as I feel that I was about to experience the satisfying sensation of crushing an egg in my claws, a gentle, warm, and calming sensation flowed from my right shoulder to the rest of my body. I looked to my right and saw Miss Sorena with an anxious look and a hand on my shoulder.

“Sir Camus… please. That’s enough. It won’t do you any good to kill his kind. It would only bring more trouble.”

… I stared at her blankly for a few seconds and after some time; the red haze seemed to slowly disappear. Realizing what I almost did, I somehow unknowingly let go of the man in my hands while staring at my claw.

‘Did I really almost lose myself there? And what I said earlier… were those… my own words? But… what would I know about understanding the gods… other than what I was taught?”

I was really out of it if I started spewing BS that made it seem like I knew better than these lunatics. I was brought out of my discombobulation by the said lunatic’s crazed hoarse screaming.

“Y-You would d-dare… to strangle… a servant of S-Serapahem’s… t-the impudence! You a-all, will pay for this!”

The idiot hobbled along as he left. Azula let go of his companion, but not before giving him a nice kick to the ass as she let him off. They both ran like a couple of beaten up drunks, but soon they were gone. I’m a bit surprised they were able to find this place in the first place considering all the alleys and turns I had to make while being led by Azula, Cheshi, and Emi. It was highly unlikely they were regulars here.

I suddenly remembered what that bastard said as they left, so I turned to Miss Sorena with a worried look.

She looked back to me in understanding and smiled as she said, “You needn’t worry Sir Camus. I understand what he said was concerning, but their preparation would still take a few days and we’ll be ok once we make a report to the Adventurer’s Guild in the morning. After all, we have quite a number of regulars there. Hmhmhm.”

Her light chuckle gave me a sense of comfort, but I still can’t help but feel that that isn’t enough. It seems Miss Sorena read me once again as she continued, “Also, if you recall earlier, I mentioned we are an establishment authorized by His Highness, the King of Argodia himself.

That wasn’t a lie.

The All-Treasure Pavilion is a high-class luxury brothel that serves the nobles and many upper echelons of the kingdom itself. The nobles, along with many of those higher up in society, are the sponsors of our establishment. In summary, this is their little hideout spot to satisfy their exotic desires. How do you think we thrived in such a desolate location that’s hard to find?”

What she said makes a lot of sense. After all, I was wondering how the brothel managed to look like a luxury inn despite how isolated this area looks. Plus, all the girls look beautiful and seem to be quite healthy. With this in mind, it’s safe to say that she’s telling the truth. With this realization, I soon calmed my fears, but I still think we should inform the Guild as soon as we can.

“Now that the excitement is over, come. It’s getting quite late and I believe you still need some time to rest.” said Miss Sorena as she gently held my arm.

Rest… after the surging rage I felt earlier subsided, somehow my body felt like lead. I knew it was important to inform the Guild as soon as possible, but it wasn’t urgent. I believe Miss Sorena, and it would probably take them a few days or more to prepare a contingent to deal with a brothel owned by the kingdom itself. I didn’t even question the Pavilion’s security, as I could hardly even remember my steps as she led me to one of the rooms. As soon as my face met with the pillow on my bed, I was out like a light.

***

Unbeknownst to the residents of the Pavilion, a hazy shadow entered into the building just as the disturbance caused by the Lionhawk Order peaked.

Carefully avoiding the magical traps and alarms, it slowly and quietly entered one of the vacant rooms. As the shadow materialized, the cloaked woman called Vai, appeared from the darkness.

“Their spellwork is powerful… but not undoable.”

Nodding to herself, she used her magic to examine the room. Finding nothing out of place, she made to check her equipment as she prepared for her work to come. Darkness and silence remained… but what her magic failed to perceive… she failed to know… of the eyes that see beyond the walls and the dark.

***

A few hours before the two Templars of the Lionhawk Order arrived at the All-Treasure Pavilion…

“Klemtos, Foresher, you two will go towards the lead that was last seen with three demi-humes. Ibris, Malcoi, you will follow the one said to have gone to the slums. I will personally take the most troublesome one down at the Fighter’s Hall.”

““By your will, Master Cyril!””

Cyril, a Templar Captain of the Lionhawks, was a valiant man who truly believed in the good of those loyal to the faith of Seraphaem.

“So this is the Fighter’s Hall… undoubtedly a den of sinners…”

His origins were mysterious as he grew up within the order, but many devotees loved him and felt reassured by the strength brought by his presence. Being one of their greatest warriors, he rose in the ranks from an early age singing praises and spreading the word of their Order.

“Huh? Hey you! You’re one of em’ Templars, aren’ ya? Wot you want skulkin aroun’ ere for?”

Though believed to be perfect by his peers for always blindly following his masters, there can be said to be one flaw in his character…

“…”

“Oi, are ya’ deaf, man? This be the Fighter’s Hall! We don’t want your priestly lot aroun’ ere!”

“So disgraceful… and depraved…

“Whatsat?”

Is that when dealing with those his order brands as sinners and heretics…

*schluk*… Gaaaah!...*thunk*

He ruthlessly and cruelly ‘punishes’ them in the name of their god, Seraphaem, regardless of whether they were innocent or not. Because of the way he was raised, he strongly believes that if a person were to have been branded a sinner or heretic even falsely, then that must mean that they have somehow earned it.

After all… how could someone chosen by Serphaem make a false accusation? It simply means that they must have sinned in another way!

As the Templar entered the underground pub known as the ‘Fighter’s Hall’, all eyes were on him and his bloodied robes. The Fighter’s Hall was aptly named as the bar earned its repute by being the only place to host waged fights for fighters across the city.

It can even be said that Llorden’s greatest fighters can be found coming and going through the pub. Hence the place was hardly touched even by local authorities.

Just as Cyril walked towards the bar, he saw his target – a large hooded man sitting across and conversing with what appears to be a well-dressed man surrounded by six of the most violent looking men to be found in the Hall.

As he made straight for the hooded man, one of the large bodyguards stood in his way.

“… state your business, Templar.”

“Stand aside, lesser servant. My matters are only with that man.”

“That ‘man’ you are pointing to is my boss’ business partner and a VIP of the Hall. Turn around now, or your god won’t be able to save you.”

“…what did you say?”

Cyril had also another flaw in his character that he was even better known for. While he was respected and looked up to by his peers, he was also feared for the ‘insanity’ of his ‘devotion.’

“Are you deaf? I said leave before I make you beg to your god for your worthless life!”

“I see… it’s unfortunate… but it seems none of you… can be saved…”

Cyril of the Red Robes – this was his most infamous title. Earned by the merciless slaughter of those who earned his ire for insulting his beliefs and his god, Serapahaem. It was said that when he once went to a remote village to capture a criminal branded by the order, one of the villagers drunkenly insulted his beliefs.

When those traveling to the village came, all they could find was a sea of blood and the remains of the villagers littered all over. In the center of the massacre, was Cyril, his robes dyed red while praying to Seraphaem for the punishment of the sinners he’d slain.

Many discounted it as exaggeration and refused to believe it, while his order exalted his actions and praised him for ‘saving’ depraved souls.

If those who said the rumors were false were to see the Fighter’s Hall this day… then they can only cry in despair for being wrong.

In the center of the carnage, Cyril prayed as he was bathed in blood. All lives within the Hall were reaped to ‘purify’ the taint of the insult to Seraphaem. Just as he was finished, two figures entered the hall, wearing similar robes as Cyril.

“Ibris… Malcoi… I see you have finished. What of the sinner?”

“Done with. We have captured and brought him to the order.”

“Very good. You have honored Seraphaem this day, my brothers. And what of brother Klemtos and Foresher?”

“… it’s unfortunate, brother Cyril.”

“…what happened?”

Ibris and Malcoi informed him of the events that occurred between their other two brothers. As soon as they finished, they could visibly see Cyril unfathomably enraged to the point that his hands bled from straining his fists.

“Brothers… it seems that we have sullied our Lord Seraphaem’s honor by letting these vile heretics live… to think… that they would go so far in insulting us… and damning our very order’s word… there can be no time wasted… every second they breathe is a vile pox in this world… take me to them, and I shall burn all of their vile blood and refuse along with their wretched souls… so that their existence shall no longer taint Lord Seraphaem in the afterlife!”

His eyes red with fury and madness, Cyril made his way to the All-Treasure Pavilion… like a mad beast ready to devour its prey.