Bo'sett was still with Redmun by the time he'd finished his business. A spear and two axes, as well as new sets of clothes and equipment had been ordered on their behalf, as Bo'sett said, 'As thanks for your help.' What help he'd given, Redmun didn't know. They passed back through the thrum and noise of the market, both men as quiet as the grave. Their talk had been perfunctory since the Evil's interruption, and all Redmun wanted was to go to his room and rest, and so he walked quicker than he probably ought to.

A resounding knocking stuck at Lutmouth's door.

The entire Great Chamber stopped. Each man woman and child turned to the entrance. Even through the double set of large gates, the knocks were hard, and rattled the wooden doors.

It was odd timing. Caravans came regularly, every week at least, to their doors, but they always arrived late in the afternoon as the pre-planned routes dictated. It was barely midday.

Bo'sett cleared his throat, and addressed the crowd in his booming voice, stepping forward with confidence. “Peace, friends. I'll see to it personally.” The crowd turned to look at him – almost the entire room, as the stone walls rebounded his words wonderfully – then, almost in unison, seemed to shrug. “I hope you don't mind my leaving you, Redmun. It puts people's mind at ease.” Almost before he'd even started speaking, the buzzing echoing sounds of the market had started up.

Redmun, tired and irritable, wanted to say he couldn't care less, or something even more pointlessly blunt, but instead he opted for: “Of course. I may even join you,” with a smile to top off his efforts. Besides, if this was something unwholesome, better that a Possessor be there. Even if the Possessor in question was a pitiful excuse.

Bo'sett nodded with a distinct lack of ease, and gave a weak smile. They set off together towards the entrance.

Bo'sett approached the massive doors, and the two guards in charge of the gate unlocked their side, then knocked with a polite knuckle. “I'm afraid you'll have to wait here, Master Possessor. I'll return shortly.” As bolts slid, Bo'sett nodded to the Possessor, then to the crowd in general, before disappearing through the door, shuffling through almost before the gap was big enough. The bolts closed shut once more.

Redmun folded his arms to wait. All he really wanted to do was go to his room and rest. If, that was, the Evil didn't invade his dreams again. Would he ever be able to rest again, now that it could bother him even at night? Or had it always been able to, holding it back until now, for whatever reason? It almost made him afraid to sleep, thinking about that place. Trapped, unable to move, burning inside and out with that Light. Maybe he'd just decide never to sleep again…

Redmun bit his lip, shaking his head. No, he mustn't think about it, mustn't let it bother him. His face must have looked sullen, or at least unhappy, judging by the looks some of the crowd was giving him. Most weren't even giving that much. No, he had to be stronger, more resilient. Maybe he'd had it easy with the Light-Evil so far, but that wasn't an excuse to start faltering. He was Possessor. He protected the world from Evils, inside and out.

A small boy broke from the crowd, approaching arms and eyes wide, his smile unabashedly huge on his face, as if looking to hug the strongest man in Lutmouth. His father quickly picked him up, put him on his shoulder, and when Redmun looked at the father, gave that usual nod which was almost a bow. Well at least the respect was there, but people weren't usually this put off by a Possessor. Not even in the cities.

He tried on a more pleasant, passive expression, looking at the door and the guards there not with anticipation or anxiety, but patience and confidence. A good ten minutes passed, and his forced change of mood seemed to have an effect as a crowd slowly, if not exactly excitedly grew around him. Redmun knew the general populace's feelings about him., about all Possessors. It showed on their faces. A mix of admiration and terror. The world knew – even the Church knew, though they'd never admit it – that no progress would have been made without Possessors. No wall, no cities, no food. No life. They were scared, but they showed respect. At least when Redmun played the part. And on his half, he let them be. He didn't much respect their way of life, knowing what he knew about the outside world, but it was what it was. At least he wasn't as bad as Jessa.

A knock on the outer door. The two guards re-opened their sides, and the doors swung outwards. Standing just inside was Bo'sett his hands clasped together, his smile wide and excited. His eyes, however, caught sight of Redmun, and became wild. His smile held, though, and he opened his arms in a grand gesture.

“Citizens of Lutmouth, a wondrous surprise has come to our humble abode!” He bellowed, though he didn't need to in those echoing halls. Trailing to his right and left, were knights of the Church, fully armored and wearing the beautifully over-done tabards of their order, though at least their armor looked worn. Redmun's heart sank. “I humbly present to you…” He began to turn, his last look being to Redmun. It was a look of both apology and pleading. “Seventh Saint of the Church of the Far-Gods, Her Holy Servant, Cielaine Grunçios.”

He gestured and bowed aside, revealing an icy, pristine beauty. Her multi-layered gown was a creamy white, with golden edges that gave her the appearance of glowing, despite the dirt that caked its torn hems. Sweat trickled down her pale, freckled face, and soaked the bright-red hair splayed about her shoulders.

“Lutmouth,” her voice rang, like a song whose tune was at once sad and full of hope. “I come you, a humble servant of the Far-Gods. In the name of Orth-tet, The Unburdened Myriad, and Sephelia, The Overwhelming Grace. I…” Her green eyes, which had been scanning the crowd like a queen deigning to descent amongst the peasants, locked on Redmun, and the symbol partially obfuscated by his folded arms.

Redmun stayed perfectly still, but inside he felt like screaming. This was the last thing he wanted in his life. And he had still yet to go see the local Church community about Layla. Would he have to deal with this 'Saint' as well?

“Greetings, Evil,” the Saint said, dropping a curtsey that was about as genuinely polite as a kick to the groin.

“Lady Grunçios,” Redmun said, and bowed an Al'Hagr bow. He stayed in the crouched position for more than was necessary, which gave the woman before him even more honour. He at last rose, and controlled his face into a pleasant one with an iron will.

Cielaine's face didn't shift that Redmun saw, but her cohorts' helmets had lowered, letting them watch Redmun through the slit. It had been a tactical move, bowing like that, if slightly petty. Not only had the bow been Al'Hagran, a place where the Church was openly laughed at, but by giving her a long, genuine bow, he'd shown himself to be the saintlier one.

Redmun wanted to giggle, to chuckle, to burst into uproarious laughter in the bitch's face, but he remained outwardly calm. A Possessor wouldn't let themselves be made fools of, but neither would they act the fool, or be unjustly rude. The rules didn't cover subtlety, though.

Cielaine smiled that sad smile which was the only expression allowed in the church. A drop of sweat fell from her nose, soaking into her dress. “This thing wishes to make a fool of me.” She stepped back, and passed those green, dead eyes over the crowd. “Such is the way of this world, is it not, dear friends?”

The crowd, who perhaps wished they hadn't been so eager to see who were the new arrivals, shuffled in their feet, though some few looked outright euphoric. Technically, since almost everyone on the Forsaken Continent was a believer in the Far-Gods, everyone was also part of the Church. The reality was not so clear cut, but the Church had always been good at pretending.

“I forgive you, each and everyone one, for letting such a thing into your home. The needs of the flesh and mind tempt us all. If we did not struggle with our suffering, what, then, would be the reason? Ha ha.” No-one mimicked her mechanical laugh. No-one was meant to. “I come to Lutmouth to share in your toils, to hide in your hole as you do.” There was no judgement in her words; indeed, hiding in a hole is exactly what the Church wanted their members to do. They also wanted their members to piss and shit themselves in that hole out of fear, and then get found and killed anyway, all in the name of some pathetic penitence. Not that they said such things outright. The cowards hid behind scripture and metaphor. “I'll not begrudge you your failings, your attempts at bettering your lives through whatever means you see fit, I wish only to admire what suffering you have, and share in it. Cherish it.” She stepped all about the empty space as though it were a stage, looking into each and every eye as she spoke, except Redmun's. “The Far-Gods are kind and generous in their judgement, and whether it takes a single lifetime, or an eternity of death and rebirth, we shall all have our chains and our freedom returned to us. Such is our fate,” she finished, with her hand held to her breast as though she were cradling a beloved item. “Is it not, good Mayor Bryce Bo'sett?”

“So it is our fate, all of our fates, my Saint. And well put at that.” Bo'sett's performance was almost convincing. He stepped towards her, with a glance at her armed escorts first, and raised an arm. “I welcome you to Lutmouth, honoured servant of the Far-Gods, with gratefulness and hope for our enlightenment. Our suffering is great, and we would be glad to share it with you.”

Saint Cielaine Grunçios held out her hand, again in that queen-like manner which Bo'sett took, and kissed.

“I and my partner Possessor welcome you as well, as much as it is our right to,” Redmun said as soon as Bo'sett had straightened. With a cold face, he added a humbler bow. “I only hope our stay will not displease you.”

“Why, my humble thing, is not your presence here not another pain given by the gods?” She took her hand back from Bo'sett, who watched agape as Redmun continued to push his luck, and glided toward Redmun once more. “You may have forsaken the Far-God's decree of penitence, but in a way, you also serve them, by adding to our struggles. The pain you bring will only cleanse us further.”

You beautiful lunatic, Redmun thought, sighing inwardly. You almost sound like the Light-Evil.

Cielaine stepped around Redmun. Her two armed, glaring knights came next, and then Bo'sett, who didn't look at Redmun at all. Redmun stood, watching the ground, listening as the crowd parted, Cielaine and her cohorts' steps eching in the halls. Redmun waited until they were a fair distance away before moving, heading straight for the infirmary.

I hope Jessa can move soon, he thought, suddenly not so glad to be back in civilization. The sooner we're gone from here, the better.

A sensation from his chest, a sort of rolling, or perhaps a buzzing. The Evil said nothing. Redmun quickened his step.