Brenn stood on his toes to get a better look, but it didn't answer much in the way of his questions. Martin Klaus occupied one of the middling villas in the city, within the ring where the streets grew clearer, cleaner, straight and wider

'Middling', as good a sign as any of how extravagant humans had become if they viewed a three storied, terraced, squared structure that served as both wall around a wide park of pools and topiary's as 'middling'. The main house was even bigger, forty bedrooms! Not quite a challenger for Tyr's estate that they frequented when in Amistad, but it was definitely palatial. Far more extravagant in other ways, though. Lot's of women here, all the time, and all in various states of undress.

The only men were the guards or few male attendant staff, a profligate household. Another part of the mask Martin liked to wear, they'd never seen him touch any of the women or do much else besides mind his business and work. Martin was very industrious, he cared for nothing else besides success for the sake of it – not even money interested him as much as expected.

“What's all this then?” Brenn asked, very interested in the sight before them, some kind of parade. It was a rhetorical question, if he didn't know, why would they? Even Martin said he didn't have the slightest clue what this was about. But the balcony above gave him a better look, he wished he hadn't bothered.

Rows of armored knights were marching in lockstep, five ranks to the fore and rear of an impressively dressed palanquin, a 'hero' inside of it. Brenn was young and a hedge, a paladin of the road, not an official militant of the church – but he was of the church of light. He knew Aotrom, Vanator, Aphrosia, and of course Vestia. All of the others, too. Among those, there were few he held much disdain for than Vanator's chosen.

'Paladins', or inquisitors as they called themselves. Brenn revered all the gods and their servants, naturally, but he could not say the same for those who went about the work of Vanator. There was sort of an irony in the fact that he'd chosen to become one himself, albeit to another god, considering these very same devils had burned the aunt who'd raised him after the death of his parents at the stake for 'witching'. All because she'd used probability magic to 'divine the future'.

'Looking through time' was taboo, but she'd never accessed prescience, just simple tarot charms – nothing more than educated guessing games to earn a few coins. Something one could find on many street corners in Amistad to this day. She'd been killed for it while Brenn watched on. Too young to understand.

“They're putting on quite a show.” Alex crossed her arms, unimpressed, she didn't have much love for paladins either. More specifically the churches who constantly meddled in the affairs of nations and abused their power consistently enough to make it a real problem. The colleges were consistently saddled with dealing with them, old men poking their noses where they didn't belong. To do so, many thought, was to disrespect the primus', but the templars were useful. Inquisitors were not typically permitted within the empire though, thankfully, Haran had its own church, and its own rank and file clergy not so intimately bound to the papacy. “Why would they bring the papal guard to Kriegstad? It doesn't make any sense.”

Vanator was the godly house of the current papacy, the so-called first among equals. Many churches didn't enjoy being insulted like that, but Vestia's faith were taught to be humble. Vestia loved all the gods, like brothers and sisters, from all the houses – and thus her followers were expected to share that same consideration.

Brenn shrugged. He didn't know, silently searching the legion marching through the city for men and women he might recognize. None, they were all Vanator's thus far, knights of gilded steel armor and crimson cloaks. A vain and well decorated get up that he did not favor, oaths of moment and scrolled parchment hanging from their kit like war metals. Fixed to the metal in the red seal of the 'god of purity', as if even a single one of them had ever served in an actual war. They were celebrating themselves, though Brenn did not know why.

With that 'hero' Aurelius riding his palanquin like some kind of national sovereign. Truly a vain and disgusting man, brutal and degenerate, but his incredible charm helped to ensure only the rarest few saw that part of him.

Brenn had heard many stories regarding the man. Why the gods yet offered Aurelius the divine gifts unique to paladins and templars was beyond his understanding. Even going so far as to lift him up to the status of 'hero'. But technically, Aurelius wasn't one of Vanator's, he was the 'torchbearer' of Indura. The fire goddess of purity, strategy, and chasteness. Of the churches that participated in the inquisition, those two were the largest, and they worked in concert quite often, Vanator and Indura. Dual gods of purity, it made sense considering all the flame iconography and obsession with throwing people into bonfires.

“A crucifixion it seems.” Sigi's hard voice rang out, her sharp eyes drawn to the figure far in the distance held aloft on a golden cross, with his feet and hands staked to it. A foul thing. As if that wasn't enough, he was skinned – torn apart all over, wrapped in thorny brambles and lit in perpetually burning flame. “You southerners like to talk about the barbarism of the north quite a lot considering your own... Predilections.” Her critique of things wasn't wrong, Brenn was pointed towards the sight of it and scowled. As if a simple death was not enough, this was disrespectful, something only done to the most egregious abusers of the law.

To parade a dead body around like that was obscene, how could such a thing be considered the will of the divine? All gods followed the cycle just as living things did, criminals beyond salvation – those worthy of crucifixion – were not left alive for long. Never. They were killed in short order, to allow Thanatos his due as the warden of their eternal rest, a part of offering criminals this mercy was allowing the gods to do as they were meant to. Which... Was no such mercy, all told. A lifetime of pain would never equate to the suffering the lands of the dead would offer the sinful. Or so they said.

They looked on as the marching figures below grew clearer, two burly kijin bound and shackled, pulling the burning cross with thick deuritium chains. Marking that figure on the cross as apostate. A dangerous one by the thickness of those chains, perhaps the blackest mage of the modern era – Brenn had never seen anything so overblown as this spectacle of theirs.

“...”

It didn't take long for them to notice. This man... A mage indeed, and still very much alive. Seemingly immune to the painful death brought on by deuritium poisoning. There was only one person they knew who could fit those characteristics, when one considered the fact that his chest was open wide for the gradually assembling crowd to see.

“...Tyr.” Alex half spoke, feeling bile rising up in her throat. Brenn grabbed her, thinking she might've been at risk to throw herself into the street, but all she did was tremble.

It was Sigi and Astrid instead who leaped down and into the street, but both of them were whisked away by hooded figures before they could reach the row of paladins that had yet to notice them. It happened so fast that none of them could've stopped it. Sigi tried to resist but was beaten ragged before being flung bodily over the wall and back into the villa. Astrid beside her as the two masked strangers blurred away, leaving both women unconscious and unable to cause a scene.

Clearly they weren't enemies, but Brenn was uncertain if they were friends. It had all happened so fast he didn't even know how to react.

Is this a part of your plan...? You idiot. Brenn truly believe Tyr was concocting some scheme, otherwise none of this would make sense – surely a primus couldn't lose to the torch bearers?

“They finally caught him.” Martin's lips were pursed and his fists clenched, but this was the church. The 8 Pillars. Even if he had the power to stop such a travesty, he wouldn't. There was liking someone and appreciating them as a business partner, but that wasn't worth surrendering his life to defend an apostate. Something he was, and always had been, only now had they gotten around to doing something about it.

Convenient timing if ever there was such a thing.

“I'm assuming there's nothing we can do...?” Micah's voice was lost and somber. By now, they could see Tyr's face – which was left whole, likely so that it would still be recognizable to viewers. His eyes were lifeless, jaw slack and drooling. Tyr was many things, Brenn always observed that fact. He had an almost naturally duplicitous character.

One day he was a certain way, and the next he might be completely different – ruled by his moods and unpredictable at the best of times. Sometimes manic, but never this – Tyr had always seemed unbreakable, possessive of a steel that was beyond any other. He looked like a man that had been broken beyond recovery.

Brenn couldn't even feel any soul in him, but the consciousness was still there. When he passed, the others weren't any more than ten meters away, but Tyr didn't look at them. His eyes staring forward in a thousand yard stare.

Tyr didn't surrender, he might be haunted – even if by his own deeds at times – but he was a rebellious and stubborn person by default. Harani always were, it was in their blood. They bowed themselves to one man, and one man only, and only in the back – not in the knees. Tyr bowed his spirit to nobody, not even the gods let alone his father. He profaned them all, verbally daring them to smite him down.

And it looks like they'd done just that. Granting his wish, so to speak.

Brenn didn't think Tyr was unjust. He'd seen with his own eyes the kind of evil Tyr had been fighting, all while the man said it was no such thing. Evil did not exist, and neither did good, a nihilist mindset – and a flawed one at that. This was that sort of evil. Brenn would've felt loss if they'd executed Tyr, he would mourn, but he would ultimately understand – because Tyr deserved an accounting for his actions.

But this was just cruelty made manifest. To make a primus a living monument of the churches retribution was beyond sacrilege. The other faiths would be equally furious if they saw this revolting display. This would start a civil war, no matter what they'd accuse him of. Killing him would've been pushing it, but this... No member of the faithful, not even the pope, had the authority to judge a primus – they were not equal. Primus' self regulated, as Jartor had with Cortus, and he wondered at what they'd do once learning of how far the faith had gone.

“No.” Brenn replied simply, gritting his teeth. He'd warned Tyr of this for ages. Just in reaction or not, touching paladins was a terrible idea, the church had methods of doing things to people, powers even the primus' didn't possess. Hence, they existed, were allowed their authority. The actions of Vanator's chosen told Brenn that the gods weren't always lowering themselves to be in charge, mostly leaving the darkest members of the human race about their business. Else, why would Aurelius, a rapist and a murderer be allowed the gifts of the goddess of purity? His degeneracy was well known, but so was his power – everybody aware was terrified of him and he was protected by the inquisition itself. The right arm of the papacy and terror to anyone that came within their sights, sometimes simply because they were bored. “There is nothing we can do.”

“Is that so?” Nala, always coming and going as she pleased, prowled to the edge of the balcony and leaned over it in observation of the event. Her eyes communicated no sympathy, only disgust and revilement. “Twenty of your trifling human currency says I can tear him from that cross and be gone from here in an instant. This is barbaric.”

“I'd take that bet.” Brenn replied grimly. “But even you can't handle Aurelius. He is very strong, and he's watching us. This path was chosen for a reason, I think, the inquisition is cunning. They want to draw out any supporters Tyr might have and eliminate them as quickly as possible, perhaps expecting him to have followers or not. Even if a weak magicless human tried to stop them, they'd torture and burn them just to make an example. It's been a long time since a crusade has been called, and I believe we're about to see one very soon. As it stands, all of our lives are in danger, and Aurelius is not the only one at that level hidden among the cloth. There are many like him.”

The golden, luminous eyes of the hero were visible to him, through the silken curtains of the palanquin borne aloft by a dozen burly slave kijin. As if in challenge, wishing they'd try. As relaxed as the man inside appeared to be, he was coiled like a viper poised to strike. Brenn could feel the energy of the divine pouring out of him, but the others could not. Holy powers were considered 'mana' in the general sense, but it was different. Purer, maybe, but that felt an affront to the gods to say that Aurelius had an ounce of purity in him.

Why would Vanator, of all gods, support this? Brenn frowned, it made so little sense, had Lucian himself not conferred with Tyr? Why now?

“It'll be fine.” Magnus had remained altogether too still for comfort in the background, staring with slit eyes at the paladins and moving his mouth in rapid calculation. Brenn knew that even that oft-absent friend was already planning a rescue mission. Magnus wasn't the type to risk his life for friendship and propriety, no, Magnus would risk his life for anything because he'd naturally see a challenge in these men taking such action on one of 'their own'. He'd been in the Krieg citadel proper for over a year, and it looked like... “Meet me at dusk, as soon as the sun falls – we're going to spring him and get the hell out of here. Iscari is coming.”

“Really?” Micah turned, feeling some hope blossom in his chest and wondering what they'd think when he threw off those braces and stood on his new set of legs. Given to him by the verdant one, that friend of Nala's. Who was a friend of Tyr's, and so his promise had been fulfilled, it was his time to reciprocate that faith. Something had changed within him beyond his ambulatory capability, he could feel it! “How do you know that?”

“Because I know Iscari. And Iscari knows a lot more than me.” Magnus replied, turning his muscular back to them and walking quietly down to the villa in contemplation of all they'd just seen.

“Kill them...” Alex shook, fists clenched. She looked like she was about to vomit, shaking like a leaf in the wind. Her eyes were... Like Astrid's, really, when she got too excited about something. Psychotic and crazed, turned towards an unnatural wrath that painted her face scarlet. “I'm going to kill them all.”

“Mmm.” As for Magnus, turning back, he had his constantly gloved hands splayed open, staring down at them with an excited expression. He was looking forward to this, finally something to cut through the boredom. “We will.”

Brenn wondered at that for a moment. The women were another thing entirely, bound by oaths or feelings he didn't quite understand. Alexis loved Tyr, which had always seemed like such a strange thing to him in the first place. Why? It wasn't as if he were abusive, but he was a poor partner by any measurable standard, and very toxic. Love had that effect on people. Vestia was the goddess of love. Not Aphrosia's love, in the romantic sense, but the love for companions, the hearth, familiar and platonic love.

Birth, and strong bonds, brother or sisterhood by another name. Love did things to people, Alexis had known Tyr since their infant years – clearly there was some bond there. But he'd most certainly never understood Magnus – nor Tythas. Why they were so ready to rush into things to help Tyr all of the time. Doing everything he asked of them, often with smiles on their faces. As if it were pleasant. And here was Micah, not what one would call an exceptionally brave individual, looking like he might do as Astrid and Sigi had tried to do just moments before.

Little did he know that this was the true reason Tyr had found himself on that cross.