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Eric arrived at the capital of Lorain the next day, an amazing testament of speed and stamina. Upon his arrival, he went straight to the blacksmith's and walked in without warning.

"Welcome," George greeted happily, looking at Eric with a huge smile. "I heard what you've been doing with the slaves, and I'd like you to know you have my suppor-"

"Where is the queen?" Eric suddenly blurted out at the black blacksmith.

"Uh, she's away on business," George said wearily.

"Where? Where did she go?"

"Bagonia, I think," George answered, and Eric's eyes opened like fireworks. "Why? What's going on?"

"I need to speak with Princess Vicky," Eric told the blacksmith, "do you know how I could do that?"

"Well, unless your divine weapons let you talk to someone across the country, you won't be able to speak with her. She left shortly after her mother on a trip towards the east. It's been a while, and the whole country is starting to get nervous about whether negotiations broke down or not."

Eric's expression of annoyed outrage suddenly calmed, his eyes suddenly closed slowly before opening up with sudden clarity. He had dropped the hier-apparent off almost three months ago, yet there had been no news that she had returned after an attempted assassination. Moreover, even after Eric had assaulted the castle, the queen had not come back to deal with a war on her own turf. Something wasn't adding up, there should have been some sort of reaction about these royals having their asses handed to them.

"George," Eric said very slowly, "where is the main headquarters of the Trinity Church?"

"It's in Celestial City," George said slowly, "about three days ride west of here."

"Thank you," Eric said, and he turned to leave.

"Should I pretend you were never here?" George called before Eric left. The big man paused at the doorframe and honestly thought about it.

"You might want to leave for a few weeks," Eric suggested, his tone as dead serious as a tombstone. With that, Eric Bane left the smithees workshop and trudged directly to the castle.

This time, he didn't even bother displaying his power. He wasn't trying to send a message, he needed efficiency. Eric ran straight past the entrances, not even registering the guards as he sped into the castle. Eric grabbed a maid and forced her to divulge where the dungeon was, then he let go and sprinted there.

"VICKY!" Eric shouted as he passed iron cages with heavy iron locks across the doors. He repeatedly shouted until John arrived with his gloves ready to fight.

"Eric, what are you doing?" he shouted at the frantic man.

"John! Thank god! Have you seen a little girl dressed in a goth dress with black hair and green eyes. She was this tall," Eric held his hand out at the approximate height, "and was kind of snotty?"

"What?" John couldn't keep up with Eric's sudden description.

"Princess Vicky," Eric shouted, "I escorted her here two months ago! Did you not hear about this?"

"Eric, there's only one princess here," John said in all confidence. "Are you okay? You seem kind of crazy?"

"Okay, is there somewhere you're not allowed to go? Somewhere that the king forbade you from visiting?"

"Um, not really," John said, wierded out by Eric's apparent depravity. "Well, actually, the temple in town won't allow Todd or me to enter. What's this all about?"

"John, two months ago I saved a girl from assassins who claimed to be Princess Vicky," Eric explained while carrying Todd out of the dungeon. "When we got to town, the guards even recognized her as Princess Vicky, but I have a feeling she might have been kidnapped later. Also, I think the queen's in trouble. Why didn't she show up after I attacked the castle?"

"We were told that she hadn't been told," John said whilst being carried. "The king didn't want to disturb the negotiations."

"The news should have reached them regardless," Eric said heavily. "This is all on a hunch, but it's a damn strong hunch."

Eric kicked down the door to a large cathedral, entering with John still under his arm.

"So this is what the inside looks like," John mused as the spectator. There were rows of seats that were illuminated by fantastic stained-glass windows, each one depicting a frowning cross. The stone of the building was a young grey, almost as if it had been cut yesterday.

Eric marched in as nuns and priests emerged from every corner to see who had entered with such brazen noise. "Somebody is going to tell me where Princess Vicky is right now!" Eric's voice thoomed with violent authority, but more than that, it actually pressurized a shockwave that shattered some of the windows. People screamed as glass rained down, John squirming a little at the sudden destruction.

"Hey, you didn't need to go that far," the hero of the fists complained.

"The Demon of the Chains," one of the priests cried. "How dare you assault this holy sanctuary!"

Eric ignored both of the disturbances, instead he turned to the right and began to search through every nook and cranny. Finally, he reached a group of stairs that lead down into a basement. He followed them quickly as nuns and priests tried to resist, but it was futile. Once in the basement, Eric saw what looked like and enormous hourglass with glowing sand inside.

"This must be the Divine Clock," John mused before being hauled to the side with Eric. The big man went up to the hourglass, then reached out and touched it with his bare hand. He could feel a surge of energy rising within him, so he quickly removed his hand. He looked back at the Divine Clock, and a question came to mind. He watched the sand fall slowly, very very slowly into the bottom chamber. The sand didn't look like sand, it seemed different somehow.

"Priest, which part of this clock contains the magic necessary for ranking up?" Eric demanded. The priest spit in response, so Eric kicked him in the teeth. "My my, don't you know it's herecy to spit on holy ground?" After that, Eric began breaking down doors one by one until he found what could only be the head honcho's office. There were cabinets with various papers, but Eric had become proficient enough in the language to know the gist of them.

After an hour of searching, Eric found the right paper.

It was a bill of instruction to kidnap the queen and heir princess, signed by some name Eric couldn't make out. He rolled up the paper and put it in his inventory, then he left the room and returned to the Divine Clock. The longer he watched, the more certain he was that the falling sand inside contained strong magic. Eric remembered seeing a storage room that contained chests full of items, which gave him a wicked idea.

Two hours later and Eric was finished with his 'de-construction' project. John had been speechless the entire way through, and now he didn't even have the capacity to think straight.

"Come on, let's go," Eric said, letting John stand up on his own. Eric led the way back into the light of day, and once he made it to the top of the stairs he felt the difference in the air. Five people in similar clothes to the assassins that he had taken down protecting Vicky were stationed around the room. They said nothing, which was fine with Eric.

He was never good with small talk.

They moved first, swift and together like a team should. Eric whipped his empty hands in front of him before summoning his divine weapons. The flash blinded his enemies momentarily, giving Eric the advantage he needed to dodge their hidden blades. With practiced efficiency, the chain user snapped and cracked the assassins down to the core, dismantling their swiftness with his own inhuman speed. Once they were dealt with, Eric strolled confidently out into the streets.

There were no city guards coming to arrest him, no call going out to the army for his head on a pike. The church must have wanted this settled in house to avoid drawing attention to themselves. That made things perfect for Eric, it meant his name wouldn't be dragged any farther down into the dirt than it already has. And if the church wanted to keep this whole thing quiet, it meant that they wouldn't ask for help.

Eric left the capital of Lorain on a mission to change the world in the most fantastic way.

The thug way.

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