The Golden Hammer patted a large pile of papers and ledgers on his desk. “I have been reading about you.”

Gardinal furrowed his brow. About him? What was there possibly to read about? He was no legend worthy of these halls. He was just a Khazimi, doing his best to honour the First Mother and protect Her Prophetess.

“You were the sole survivor at the battle of Serexis, is that correct?” The Golden Hammer asked him. Gardinal felt a chill at the name of that place. That had been Chaos on earth. Even the mention of it brought forward visions of death and decay, of a blood-soaked field of battle. They had fought against the Theremya to the last man, and Gardinal had been that man. One other man stumbled off the battlefield with him that day. He had died of Theremya poison three days later. All for a bloody tower in the middle of nowhere.

“Yes.” Gardinal eventually responded. He tried his best to hold it back, but the pain soaked the word.

“The war took many good men, but as Zethor purifies iron into steel within his mighty forge, so too do Feren and Seratos forge men through war.” The Golden Hammer spoke, and Gardinal felt the wisdom in those words. He was a stronger man for his scars, he knew that. Even if the scars did ache. “But you have been forged by more than just that battle. You served all across the front lines in the Shaded Lands. You were a part of the healing corps, then allied beside Academy forces. Then, after returning to Terminia at the end of the war, you were assigned the command of old Shelezan’s faith militia, is that correct?” The Golden Hammer was reading from a paper but took his eyes off of it for a moment to look at Gardinal. Gardinal nodded.

“I must say it is all rather impressive.” The Golden Hammer continued. “The kingdom is in need of impressive men, Brother Gardinal. Especially with the death of one of its greatest champions.” The Golden Hammer shook his head. “With Jösef gone, the Council is left a man short. A talented priest with a long history of bravery both in and out of war would sit well at the council table.” The Golden Hammer locked eyes with Gardinal then. Gardinal looked back, at first confused, then with shock.

“Your Grace.” Gardinal began with a near stammer. “I… I.” Then Gardinal shook his head. It was impossible, he had never even dared dream... “Only nobility may join the council, Your Grace.” Gardinal reminded the man.

The Golden Hammer smiled warmly at Gardinal. Something Gardinal wasn’t used to seeing on an old Sherya face. Though perhaps the only old Sherya he knew well was the Bishop of Life, and he was not the smiling sort. “I know our rules well Brother Gardinal. But remember, Geradom Bronzeblade was born of a commoner lower than you. Now he stands as one of our illustrious order.” The Golden Hammer attempted to give him hope, bur Gardinal knew it was without point.

“Your Grace, I mean no impertinence, but Lord Geradom is a Fereni. There has never been a Khazimi lord in Terminia.”

“Never is a word of the past Brother Gardinal. And you do not need to be a lord proper to be on our council, only a knight.” The Golden Hammer tapped a letter on his desk, it held the four cornered seal of the king. One for each of the princedoms he ruled over. Gardinal had never seen the seal pressed in wax before. But of course, a man who himself stood as a prince of the realm would be in correspondence with the king. The Golden Hammer was on the king’s high council after all. “I have… sway with the king. If I were to ask his permission to organize the knighting of a talented priest, I doubt he would protest too hard.”

It took all of Gardinal’s self control to keep his jaw from dropping. Sir Gardinal? The one thing his kin had dreamed of for generations, and he could be the one to succeed? Gardinal felt shocked at it. Was this what the Golden Hammer offered?

“Your Grace… I… I am not worthy.”

“Do not be modest, you are certainly worthy. I do not think it was chance that Brother Silverarm sought you out. Somehow he saw something within you that had, until now, gone unseen. I am glad for his noble sacrifice, for now I too can see it.

You have bonded an ancient relic of the First Mother, served the Pantheon, and defended the kingdom. I believe it is high time that the faith gives thanks for your sacrifice.” The Golden Hammer began to shuffle his papers on the table, before pulling a particularly old piece of parchment with a cracked wax seal atop it.

“Here we are.” He continued. “You served under a knight during the war, a Sir Kristofferus?”

Gardinal nodded. Kristoff, as he preferred to be called, had commanded his legion near the end of the war. He was a good man, Gardinal still attempted to visit him in Northshore every few months.

“I believe he shall be perfect then.” The Golden Hammer seemed to proclaim. “I shall write him and explain the situation. Considering the letter he wrote for your commendation, I see no issue why he would not accept to take you as his squire. Give it a month or so, and he may knight you once we obtain his Majesty’s permission.”

“Your… your Grace I don’t know what to say… I…”

“Say nothing of it.” The Golden Hammer cut Gardinal off. “You have served well brother; these are the fruits born of long sown seeds.”

“Thank you, your Grace.” Gardinal finally managed to say.

“It is truly my blessing to offer this.” The Golden Hammer smiled warmly on Gardinal, then suddenly shifted to a cold, stern face. “Though there is one more thing we need speak of.”

Gardinal's brow furrowed but nodded. “Yes, of course, anything your Grace.”

The Golden Hammer sighed loudly before rising. Turning away from Gardinal, he studied the large stained-glass window behind him. A towering image of Seratos and Ethinia, hands stretched out to one another. Between them, blocking the gods from touching, was the golden hammer, the object itself.

“There are... rumors.” The man's words were cold and Gardinal's heart skipped a beat at them. Was his relationship with the Grand Duke going to cause a problem? Would he cut it off for this chance? Gardinal wasn't sure. “Rumors about Her Radiance, and our dear Bishop of Life.” The Golden Hammer turned back to Gardinal, and his face dared Gardinal to lie to him. “Do you know of what I speak?”

Gardinal could feel his face pale. That was not what he had expected. Gardinal could only make himself nod.

“Good.” He responded. “If you said you didn't, you would be a fool or a liar. Neither belong on our council. Same as traitors.” The Golden Hammer let that word linger in the room. “Seratos Himself chose our King. Crowned him in his glory and accorded him his rod. Do you believe that the True Father makes mistakes?”

Gardinal swallowed hard. He knew what the Bishop sought, and Gardinal knew how he felt about it as well. In his heart, Gardinal felt no desire for the Prophetess to take the throne. It was too dangerous, and he would do anything to protect her. “No.” Gardinal finally responded. “He does not.” The Golden Hammer nodded at that.

“The oath to join the Council is an oath to the gods and to the king. Will you be able to make that oath, Brother Gardinal?” He stared Gardinal down. Gardinal would protect Her Radiance no matter what, even if it was against the king. Though he was sure he would never have to make that choice. He knew her better than anyone, and he could not imagine her doing what would be necessary to take a throne. Not her, not that.

“Yes. I could take that vow.” Gardinal wasn't sure if he had lied. It felt strange coming from his tongue. As long as he made sure The Prophetess never rose against the king, as long as he insured she was safe, he would never have to find out if it was a lie.

The Golden Hammer gave Gardinal a wide smile after that. “Good, I didn't believe it would be a problem of course. But one can't be too safe.” He reached over and patted Gardinal on the shoulder. “Now unfortunately I have more business to attend to. In the meantime, continue on your righteous path, and I shall send a letter to Sir Kristofferus so that he might come find you and begin your knightly training.”

Gardinal rose and bade The Golden Hammer good day. Leaving the towering building, Gardinal felt lighter than a feather, and heavier than a mountain. He had just been offered one of the most powerful positions in the kingdom. If he was to become a member of the council, then he would outrank nearly every noble lower than a count. Even some counts, he thought, the image of Vallerian being below him a small victory.

Looking out at the mid day sun, Gardinal realized he had some extra time before he would be needed at home. As much as his heart pulled for him to return to the Prophetess, he figured today would be a good day to finally go speak with the Bishop. Gardinal wanted to know if he had received his report, and how their movements against the cult were going. The sooner the cult was dealt with, the sooner Her Radiance would be safe. Gardinal began his long trek back to Southshore.