With a low creak, the massive double doors that served as the entrance to the cathedral opened. The cathedral was built in honor of Saint Mark, an Apostle of Hristus the Ebrahin crucified, giving up his life shortly after Hristus was crucified, when he wouldn't deny the faith. Being one of the first built after the Ristusians took power in Romis, it was old and beautiful.
As the doors swung open, a knot of men in black, heavy long swords strapped to their waists with elaborate belts, stepped out to walk across the porch. And as they walked, they talked amongst themselves in low voices as they headed towards the stairs that would take them to the street and their waiting horses. One look was enough to identify the men's martial nature, seen in the way they walked and gestured: spare, efficient, and deadly. Such men were common in Romis, the city being home to the Grand Headquarters, the central command of what was once the unified Order Militant of the Ristusian Church. They were paladin, holy knights of the church.
These particular paladin belonged to the Order Militant of Saint Raphael, the warrior angel who, according to the Book of Hristus, was one of God's generals in the war against the Great Enemy, the war which saw a third of the Hosts of Heaven follow the Adversary into destruction. The losers were summarily cast from Heaven down into Hell, to torment Humanity forever after with their evil ways. The order was one of the smallest, but most martial of the all the orders militant, preferring to be in the vanguard in most attacks.
The Raphaelites were just finishing their noon services, always held here, in the cathedral of Saint Mark, and were seeking to return to their great hall close to the Vestican, to renew their study and training. And so they weren't prepared to see a carriage abruptly careen out of a side street and onto Halifrin's Way, the broad avenue that ran past St. Mark's. But it didn't take them long to recover and react.
Swords sliding out of sheaths with steely hisses, the paladin raced forward, leaping the stairs several at a time as they stared hard to their right, eyes focused on the hard charging carriage. Wait a moment! Wasn't that a bishop sitting in the back?
"You three, cover the side road," a big knight barked, pointing three paladin out with hard stabs of his forefinger, scars on his face marking him a veteran of not a few armed encounters.
"The rest, you're with me!" Leading the way, the big man charged out into the street, intent on blocking the wagon's wild path with his own body.
Unhesitatingly the other Raphaelites followed the big man, keeping an eye on the wagon as it swerved closer and closer. Hands gripped sword hilts tightly and boots shifted slightly as they braced themselves, faces masks of determination.
Just as the wagon was about to run them over, its driver sawed back on the reins, somehow pulling the four horses that dragged the open conveyance behind them, into a skidding halt. Sparks flew as their shod hooves dragged against the cobblestoned street. And then they were at a rest, a cloud of dust surrounding them like a cloak, the horses' sides heaving hard, foam flecking their muzzles.
Grimly the scar-faced man stalked around the horses, which shied as he went by, his sword held ready. When he came to the driver's seat, he looked up, eyes narrowed.
"I suggest you climb down from there, young lady," he grated. "I believe you have some explaining to do!"
"Oooo, that's going to get somebody's back up," Brice said sarcastically as a full dozen Raphaelite paladin raced by, their horses at a full gallop, heading back the way the carriage had come.
"I don't think the Bishop's Guard is going to appreciate the assistance."
Kira glanced at the slender Elfborn from where she sat, somewhat dejected after her interrogation at the hands of the scar-faced paladin, on the steps leading up to the porch of the massive cathedral behind them. Brice stood on the top step, his face aglow with a strange joy, as if he was happily anticipating the possibility of a conflict between the two military arms of the church. But he was quickly set to rights, and not by Eje or Panoni.
"The Guardsmen will welcome my fellow knights," the scar faced paladin bluntly stated in a low, throaty voice, turning away from watching the Raphaelites disappear into the trees to stare at Brice with bright blue eyes, intense and penetrating as they bore into the slender young man's face.
"Pride is not important, nor martial skill. Only Mother Church."
Despite the hard eyes that regarded him coldly, almost daring Brice to speak against the big man, the Elfborn declined with a sniff. Instead, he turned away to gaze back at St. Mark's, as if suddenly intrigued by the intricate stonework and stained glass that decorated it's elaborate front façade.
"And Mother Church thanks you, Lord Commander Havlocke," Panoni interjected smoothly from where he had been standing in a murmured conference with Eje. "Your knights will certainly turn the tide against the assassins that struck against us."
The bright eyes came around swiftly to regard the long faced bishop for a moment before the short-shorn head bowed.
"Of course, Your Grace," Havlocke replied smoothly, his head not staying down for long. "The paladin of the Order Militant of Saint Raphael stand ready always to raise the sword against the enemies of the church." The bright gaze quickly swept around to stab at the ragged-looking Elfborn, the implication quite clear that he regarded them in that same category. Still, with another bow of his head, Havlocke stepped away to stride towards a knot of black-clad paladin that had remained behind, joining them to quickly add his voice to theirs as they spoke in low tones by the horses.
"I don't think he likes us very much," Heather noted with a frown.
"Don't worry, Heather," Eje said softly, stepping up to the slender Ekossan woman to lay a soothing hand on her shoulder. "The Raphaelites don't like anybody who doesn't wear the robes of the clergy. And sometimes not very many of them either!"
Heather turned to Eje, her expression growing curious.
"There's something I don't understand, Sister Eje," she began. "What are these Orders Militant that this man Havlocke mentioned? I thought the Ristusian Church was supposed to espouse peace and tolerance towards their fellow human beings."
Eje's mouth, opening to answer Heather's question, clicked shut at her last statement. How could she explain that the Orders Militant were priests that had taken upon themselves the garb of knights in order to physically battle against the enemies of the church? And, in the same breath, confirm the Ristusians believed in peace and tolerance? The two would appear to contradict. She smiled at the slender, brown-haired Ekossan, knowing full well that the Ekossans were one of the last of the Hybernian nations to accept Ristusia and that the Forerunners still labored hard in the northern kingdom to convert its peoples.
"First, Heather, you are quite right. The Ristusian Church does teach peace and tolerance towards all human beings. It is one of their core principles. However, the Jebusin have often met with those people that don't want to accept the teachings of our lord Joachin Hristus. Which, according to our principles of tolerance, is entirely acceptable to us."
"Not according to Jase and the Hesivans," Brice commented flatly from the top of the stairs without looking around.
Ignoring the sarcasm-laden statement, Eje went on.
"Some of those people even got the wrong impression that the Ristusian Church would spell the downfall of their way of life and they sought to protect it by attacking the church and its representatives." The Jebusin smiled sadly as Heather looked down at the ground. "It was understandable. After all, any one of us would fight to protect what we felt was our way of life. And that is why many Jebusin felt they had to do the same. They could no longer watch their fellow priests being hunted and killed by those that didn't understand what the Jebusin were trying to do: simply spread the message of love and peace Hristus wanted for all of us."
"Those same priests began to train themselves in the martial arts, becoming knights in both name and ability. However, they did not join themselves to a liege lord as knights in the kingdoms of Evindel do. Instead, they swear oaths of allegiance to the church itself, to protect it and its clergy from acts of aggression, wherever they may happen."
Eje paused to glance back Havlocke and his paladins, still locked in intense conversation. Though she wouldn't admit it to Heather or any of the Hybernians, not even to Bishop Panoni, she was frightened of the so-called holy knights of the church. Often they charged into situations they didn't understand with swords swinging. Only remarkable restraint on Havlocke's behalf didn't see Kira on the ground, bleeding to death for an imagined threat against Bishop Panoni and herself.
And the knights of the militant order of St. Raphael scared her the most! Although they were a small order, numbering only in the hundreds, they more than made up for their lack in numbers with their ferocity in battle and their desire to be in the forefront of any attack. Only the Dedicated were better skilled in warfare and combat, making the Raphaelites formidable indeed!
One look at Havlocke was also enough to confirm the powerful Lord Commander of the Raphaelites wasn't happy that his paladins hadn't been invited by the Quest kings to take part in the effort to retake the Holy Land of Ebrahin from the Manadim. They were especially aggrieved that King Frederik of Germanse had failed to invite them to be part of his vanguard force in the Quest.
Ah, yes, the Quest! The very thought of such a thing made Eje queasy. A holy war against the Manadim? Who was the fool that thought that idiocy up? And why had Pade Mari put the weight of her office into supporting it?? She had torn up the missive that told her of it when she received it in Caminor, before the Dolphin had departed for Romis and had nearly hit the messenger that had brought it. Maker burn them, they had bigger enemies to worry about other than a nation that had never troubled them since driving the Ebrahin from Ebrahim thousands of years ago.
Eje pursed her lips as she realized that, according to the schedule the missive had outlined, Frederik must have sailed from southern Gaul with the first elements of the invasion force by now. It was a good bet Havlocke knew the schedule as well, further explanation for the rather surly look on the Lord Commander's face. If they didn't walk carefully, they might find themselves in a situation that may be somewhat more difficult to extract themselves from than the one they just managed to escape.
"At first they all grouped together, one body to protect Mother Church," She continued her explanation in a somewhat softer voice, looking back to Heather. "But, as more influential and charismatic knights became leaders, they each grasped a principle of doctrine as a focus point in their own beliefs and preparations. And so the orders were born, as the knights divided themselves between these powerful leaders, the first Lord Commanders, according to their own beliefs."
"These knights in the order of St. Raphael, what do they believe in?" Heather asked.
"Preparation and steadfastness in battle," Havlocke's voice abruptly rumbled in answer, the big Lord Commander taking two steps at a time to step past Eje and Heather. "As exemplified by the archangel Raphael, one of the One God's generals in the battle for Heaven's gates with the Great Adversary," the big man continued over his shoulder at the frowning Jebusin and the bemused Hybernian as he stopped in front of Panoni, bowing his head slightly.
"An admirable attempt at explaining the orders to an unwashed heathen, Sister. But I'm afraid I must ask you to hold your lessons until later." He turned back to Panoni. "Your Grace. It is my opinion that this area is no longer secure. If you would, it would be my pleasure to escort you and your party the rest of the way to the Vestican and to safety within the sanctified walls of the Most Holy of Holies."
"Well, Lord Commander Havlocke, your offer is more than generous. But, I'm sure as soon as word reaches the Bishop's Guard ..."
With each word that fell from Panoni's lips, the others could see Havlocke's face grow harder and harder. Until he finally interjected before Panoni could finish.
"Your Grace ... I must insist," he said tightly, a hand on the hilt of his sword.
Seeing that, and the determination in the big man's face, the bishop quickly capitulated.
"Very well, Lord Commander. You may form your escort at your convenience."
"Your Grace." Havlocke bowed smoothly, his face once again without emotion as if nothing untoward had happened. "I will come for you and your party within five minutes."
As the big man turned and quickly descended the steps to the other waiting paladin, barking orders as he went, Heather turned to Kira to murmur softly.
"Who's in control of this place, Kira? Those knights? Or the bishops?" Kira grimaced.
"Those with the most power, Heather. Just like anywhere else," she replied just as quietly. "And right now Panoni is outnumbered fifteen to one!"