But know this above all else.

For it is my utmost shame,

-Note within the hidden journal.

A powerful gust blew through the streets of Southshore as Gardinal and his accompanying dozen faith militia arrived at their destination. It was said to be a good omen to have the Storm Keeper’s breath at your back.

“There’s more than I expected.” Derenath muttered under his breath, peeking out around the low structure their men hid behind. The man still held his helm under his arm, but Gardinal had little doubt the man would don it soon enough. “Two dozen at least patrol the tents outside.”

“That is what our scouts reported.” The Bishop responded. He wore armor, of sorts. A breastplate and pauldrons befitting his station fastened over his near floor length white robe. The traditional day-robe of a Sherya nobleman was a single long stretch of fabric wrapped around the body multiple times. It was supposedly the clothing the Sherya wore in the Great Tree, and therefore it was what the Bishop always wore as well. The man was nothing if not traditional, safety be damned it seemed. “Brother Gardinal, Brother Derenath, you both fought in the war. Tell us your assessment of the situation.”

Gardinal swapped positions with Derenath to get a look for himself. They hid behind an old, abandoned inn that one of their men had been scouting for over a week. If it wasn’t for the rotted stairs out front, Gardinal had no doubt people would have mistaken it for a functioning inn and tried to walk in. Steeling himself for a quick look, Gardinal poked his head around the corner.

The stench struck him before the sight. The fetid scent of stale human waste assailed his nose. Gardinal forced himself to ignore it for the time being. The spaces around all the sewer outlets in the city tended to look about the same. A wide-open square of sorts with a massive pool of human waste that connected the catacombs of the sewers to the Mudport. Around the wide, shallow pools of filth sat what seemed like a hundred cobbled together tents made of all sorts of waste material. Half tattered cloth draped over splintering wood stakes. Large rocks often moved to provide some sort of support for each of the ramshackle tents. Gardinal made no habit of visiting the wretched places, but he had been by a few in his years living in Southshore. They were often full of the sorts that Her Radiance would likely fawn over, but today the men that haunted those hovels were far more dangerous.

Moving among the now abandoned tents were a collection of black robed figures. They strode among the tents in groups of two or three. All carried weapons of sorts, more often than not just small knives and clubs. Occasionally one would have a crossbow or a steel tipped spear. Rare enough to not worry Gardinal. He finished his assessment and turned his gaze back to the two men beside him.

“They outnumber us, but I’m hardly impressed Your Grace.” Gardinal reported. “With a solid formation we should be fine. I’m more concerned for our other forces.” Six other groups of Faith Militia had moved to strike across the city. Each at a different sewer outlet reported to be used by the cult for their activities. Many of them were being led by the fearsome Spear-Sisters of the Ferenic order. The faith of Feren, God of Contest and Competition, tended to produce the most impressive holy warriors, the mighty Spear-Sisters chief among them. But that didn’t stop Gardinal from worrying.

“We must trust in our brothers and sisters in faith Brother Gardinal.” The older man assured him. “They have their duty, and we ours. I fear ours might still prove to be the riskier venture.” The Bishop looked over their men and nodded.

The dozen faith militia they had organized for their attack had been some of Gardinal’s best men. The ones he had personally trained and picked out for the His Grace to use in his most recent letter. Even then, the real strength of this mission was in Brother Derenath and the Bishop himself. Gardinal knew first-hand the impressive talents of Shelezan, the only man to hold both the offices of Bishop of Kings and Bishop of Life. Or the many legends of Derenath the Redeemer. A dark part of Gardinal, a bitter part that he had thought left on the frontlines, thought that the militia were only here to take arrows for the two in command. Gardinal banished the thought from his head. That was a dangerous though while leading men into battle.

“We should ambush them with a double envelopment.” Derenath began, having come up with a plan from his beard stroking and humming. “If our men can maintain cover with the outlying tents, we should be able to flank them well before they are aware we are here.” Derenath stroked his beard once more as he thought, the long well-groomed black bush a rather attractive sight on the man. “Once surrounded we march in with shields up and glaives out. It won’t be a pretty sight, but it will be effective I reckon.” Derenath finished his plan and turned his handsome face towards Gardinal and the Bishop.

“Effective, yes.” Gardinal responded. “But hardly merciful.” He was a dedicant of Ethinia, First Mother. He would not strike in a manner so ruthless. “I don’t want a blood bath if we can avoid it Brother Derenath.”

“After charging into this place, a bath might be exactly what I’ll need.” Derenath chuckled, but a cold look shared by Gardinal and the Bishop ended it quickly. “We keep it clean then. Order our men to focus on keeping pressure until they surrender or break. Untrained peasants shouldn’t be too difficult to break.” Derenath shook his head. “Better?”

“Better.” The Bishop responded coldly. “Go in grace, Brother Derenath.” The Bishop was a wise man, with more than one lifetime of experience. But he was no soldier. Gardinal had heard the legends of Derenath, and he knew they shared the bitter trait of all soldiers. An ability to do what needed to be done, no matter how distasteful.

“I’ll lead.” Gardinal eventually stated. “I can draw their attention while our men get behind them. Perhaps I’ll see how well this thing works.” Gardinal tapped his large shield.

The two men nodded in agreement and set to work.