I must yet confess in your eyes and Feren's.

You know who I am,

-Note within the hidden journal.

Gardinal had just lied to one of the most important people in the faith. “Will you be able to make that oath?” The Golden Hammer’s question rang through his head for the entirety of the walk back to Southshore. Gardinal had made many oaths throughout his life: oaths of servitude to the gods, oaths of obedience to the clergy, and his most sacred, his oath of guardianship for Her Radiance. Oaths had forged Gardinal's life since he first declared himself a dedicant of Ethinia. Every oath had been taken with absolute conviction; without a single shred of doubt. Yet at the Golden Hammer’s question Gardinal had felt…hesitation.

Gardinal knew he could not truly make that oath and hold to it. He also knew he would say the words if they were put to him. The opportunity to join the Council was everything he and his family had ever wanted. Even as a boy, Gardinal had looked up to the Golden Hammer and dreamed of serving him. That, and to be on the Council was to be nobility. The first of any Khazimi to be in the court of Terminia. A gift that was offered to him freely by the Golden Hammer.

But the Council served the throne and Gardinal knew all too well that the Bishop’s plans would put The Prophetess on a road that would cross the king himself. What consequences would he face if his oath came to call, and Gardinal did not answer? Gardinal knew he would lay his life down for Her Radiance. But could he sacrifice his family? Everything they had built?

“Of course you would.” Gardinal muttered to himself. From the first time her light flowed through him, he knew his heart was forever in the grasp of that little girl.

Walking beside the low white-stone wall that marked out the temple grounds, Gardinal followed it towards the main entry gate. It took a great deal of work to keep that wall white on the outside, long hours of scrubbing by the freshest temple initiates. The symbol it provided for Southshore was worth the effort.

The gentle rain of white pear blossoms fell around him. A beautiful sight that reminded him of springs past. Her Radiance had always sat in the gardens at this time of year, but now she was locked in his home. Would she be back at the Temple in time for the Feast of the First Fruit? The Cult seemed to be proving a difficult infestation to cleanse, and in the meantime, he would do what he must to uphold his vow of protection.

Glancing over at the tall domed building that rose above short walls and pear blossom trees, Gardinal thought perhaps the Bishop of Life might know. It had been a few days now since Gardinal had sent his report to the Bishop. Knowing the old Sherya, he would already have a plan on how to handle the cult. Gardinal would have to stop by and see the man, as much as it might get him lectured. There was so much going on in his life right now, so many questions, and so few answers. If the Bishop could shed some light, then it would be worth a little admonishment.

Rounding the corner, the main entry gate came into sight. Behind it was something Gardinal hadn’t expected. At least a hundred men formed rank in the central temple courtyard. Faith Militia mostly, adorned in chain mail covered by a white tabard with the teal crescent moon. But leading those men were Gardinal’s brothers and sisters of the Order of the Golden Hammer.

Each of the captains inspecting the ranks wore the same gold hammer amulet around their necks that Gardinal wore. Unlike Gardinal though, they were dressed for battle. Glistening polished-steel pauldrons atop their left shoulder clipped a coloured cloth that wrapped around the opposite shoulder. The colour of the cloth would mark which of the gods they were individually dedicated to. All bore plate armour, an expensive gift bestowed to them upon swearing their oaths as a member of Golden Hammers. There had to have been at least a dozen members of the order here, each leading as many Faith Militia or more. Gardinal had not seen so many of his order in one place since the war.

Gardinal made his way through the gates and into the ranks of holy soldiers. They bustled about, shouting out orders and talking among themselves in seeming anticipation. It reminded Gardinal of the war, too much so.

“You are not supposed to be here, Brother Gardinal.” The stern voice of the Bishop of Life caused Gardinal to jump. Turning to the man, Gardinal dropped to one knee.

“Your Grace.” Gardinal bowed his head. “It had been some time since I came to the temple…”

“For good reason.” The Bishop responded. The old Sherya never snapped, nor would Gardinal particularly call the man angry, but his words always carried an icy sting. As though no matter what you did, you never quite measured up to his expectations. “Though it appears you have forgotten that reason.”

Looking up at the Bishop, Gardinal noticed the man’s gaze flicking to the other soldiers about. So they were still keeping up the façade that Her Radiance had left the city on a pilgrimage, Gardinal realized.

“My duties are well attended Your Grace.” Gardinal answered. “A trusted lord and two sisters watch over... it.” It was likely best to not bring up Kriss at this moment. A handsome young man being brought into The Prophetess’s guards was not likely to help the situation any.

The Bishop raised an elegant brow. “I had forgotten about our new… sister in faith. Our shared duty does have a proclivity for picking up strays.” The Bishop wrinkled his nose and sniffed in a way only those of noble breeding could ever manage to do. “Be that as it may, I am busy. You will tell me why you are here and be on your way.” The Bishop blessed Gardinal with the symbol of the Mother, then motioned for him to stand and follow.

“I came to pray at the temple, and perhaps seek your council. It had been too long. Though now that I am here I must ask, what is going on?” Gardinal asked, rising from his knee and motioning to the soldiers arrayed around them.

“Your letter was well received Brother Gardinal. I must commend you on your successful investigation. This is our response.” The Bishop waved his hand over the assembled faith militia. “Today, we strike at all ends, and burn the blighted roots of this infestation for good. Something long overdue I would think.”