And then Seratos did take the chaos and formed all creation.

Shaping the stars in the sky, the endless heavens themselves.

And He looked upon it and found Himself alone.

So, from the chaos once more He made Himself love.

And His wife was born of chaos as He.

She named Herself Ethinia, First Mother, Most Merciful.

-Book of the Dawn 1;7-12

To be ready to give one's life for the Pantheon's virtues, that was the first oath of the Golden Hammers. Gardinal Belnur had proven his commitment to those words many times in his years. It was an oath he hadn't thought on much of late. Not since he had been given the honour of being the Prophetess Celeste's personal guard. That was after returning from the war with the Theremya, in the Shaded Lands, eight years ago now. In those long years of being the captain of these thick-bellied and empty-headed noble boys, not once had she been attacked. So as his charge fell from her litter, a porter dead on the ground, Gardinal felt a forgotten rage begin to fill him up. He pushed it down.

“a'Men, you finally have some protecting to do!” He barked, the guards stumbling into some semblance of order. “Protect her with your lives!” He had tried to get rid of his Khazimi accent as a young man, but in times of stress it had a habit of bleeding through.

Blessedly, the men took rank around the fallen litter, forming a tight circle that Gardinal ducked into. His heart fell as he saw The Prophetess, kneeling on the ground, tears streaming down her grief-stricken face. In silver-teal glowing hands she held the dead man's head. She was trying to heal him. But Gardinal knew what death looked like, and even she couldn't heal that. With as gentle hands as he had, he grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Your Radiance, there's a'nothing more you can do here.” He tried his best to console her, but she held the blood-spattered face tight, heavy sobs wracking her as she shook her head. Death he could, and had, handled. But Gardinal's gut churned at the sight of her like this. He had vowed to keep this child safe, and to him that had meant her body, heart, and soul. With thick hands wrapping her shoulders he pulled her free from the corpse, turning her to meet his eyes. “There was a'nothing you did wrong, and a'nothing a'more you could have done.”

Her metallic eyes glistened with tears, and her lips quivered. Gardinal set his jaw. Whoever did this would not get away with it. For now, though he needed to keep calm, and keep her safe. Looking up he spotted the other porter, eyes wide staring down at his dead companion.

“You a'man, grab Her Radiance's handmaidens and get them damned well in here.” Gardinal almost cursed, his Khazimi accent hadn't been this bad in years. The man just continued to stare. “Porter-man! Pay attention and get to work!” Gardinal snapped and he noticed The Prophetess flinch. The man though, for better or worse, did dash out of the circle of guards. He turned his attention back to The Prophetess. “Are you hurt?”

She was staring down at her hands now, fresh wet blood covering them as the glow finally faded. She shook her head in response to him, not meeting his eyes. He nodded, good, he didn't want to know what he would do if she ever was injured. The rage inside lessened a bit now, he could control it, he had to.

“Brother Gardinal, dark hooded folk seem to be heading this way.” One of the young guards, a Fershya kid barely older than The Prophetess, stammered out nervously. “I think I see weapons!” The guards came and went so frequently that he never bothered to remember their names. They were usually noble brats just paying their duty to the temple.

Gardinal rose, noticing a handful of white clad women and girls pushing through some of the guards into the circle. Seemed the porter wasn't useless after all. The women immediately surrounded Her Radiance, fawning over every scratch and tear in her clothing. Gardinal caught one of them by the arm.

“Valleresa, keep her calm and keep her safe. She's hurt a'more in than out.” Gardinal let the girl go. She was a Fereni noblewoman who had served The Prophetess for almost three years now, and she knew the Prophetess almost as well as he did. Valleresa nodded, before diving into the fuss around The Prophetess, pushing the other women aside. Confident in her care Gardinal strode to join his men.

Pulling his ornamental war hammer free from its clip, he held it ready. The thing was barely functional, and the weight was all off, but right now it would have to do. What he wouldn't give for his shield though. Gardinal took his place next to the boy who had spoken earlier, barely a pebble of a kid but still a full head taller than him. The bloody Fershya and Sherya alike were always so damned tall. He stood as broad as any two of them though, and as he was proud to point out, it was all muscle. In a deep ready stance, he nodded for the boy to report.

“By the cart over there, and atop the low roof on the edge there.” the boy motioned into the desperate mass that swarmed around them now. The commonfolk moved in a panicked craze to escape the tight market, people clambering over one another and pushing down carts as they rushed towards the exits. These Southshore wretches were always so unruly.

Gardinal squinted, trying to make out what the boy was pointing to. He spotted the men, though in the churning crowd he was sure he must have missed a few. At least a dozen dark hooded figures pushed slowly against the flow of people, a few with long daggers brandished. Instead of moving towards the exits they edged ever closer to Gardinal and his men. Closer to The Prophetess. Gardinal growled.

“Men! At the ready! Bring your glaives down and pierce the flesh of any bastard that dares approach Her Radiance.” He barked the order, and the men mostly in unison brought their glaives pointed out in front of them, the masses of people struggling to give them space. The guards weren't anything like the men he fought beside during the war, but they would do.

Someone screamed from within the crowd, a woman’s voice by the sound of it. Looking over, Gardinal was barely able to see what had happened. A young woman had fallen in the stampede, and people were beginning to trample her in the panic. Her dirt covered hand stretched out as foot after foot slammed into her. Her scream subsided as people began to stomp over her chest, caving it in with every step. Gardinal moved to help, to get her out of there, flashes of children buried in burning homes filling his head. His feet never budged. He couldn't leave The Prophetess, not with only these boys to protect her.

“Blessed Ethinia, please forgive me.” he prayed under his breath, staring at the desperate dying woman.

A small hand pressed against Gardinal's leg; a tiny body pushing through the space between him and the Fershya guard. Looking down he saw a bloody handprint on his leg plate. His heart stopped. Turning his eyes back up to the crowd all Gardinal could spot was long golden hair trailing into the masses. He spun, looking back to where The Prophetess had just been moments earlier. Only the nervous handmaidens remained. Gardinal cursed a low dirty Khazimi curse. “Protect the handmaidens, I'll get Her Radiance back.” he commanded his men, not bothering to wait for confirmation as he pushed into the crowd behind her.

Bodies pummeled him as he moved against them, pushing people aside with all the strength he had. Despite their similar heights, The Prophetess's slender body seemed to make it easier to duck around people. Gardinal just barrelled through them. He was short but easily weighed double any of these starving peasants. Where was she? The throng of people was so thick he couldn't see a thing in front of him.

Pushing over a young Fereni man, he came upon the edge of the crowd and spotted The Prophetess. She kneeled on the ground beside a half-broken spice stand, gently glowing hands pressed against the trampled woman's chest. Searching for threats, Gardinal caught one of the hooded men. He as well had spotted The Prophetess, moving towards her with dagger gleaming from under his long sleeve. Gardinal roared at the sight. No one would touch her while he still breathed.

The hooded threat was only twenty paces away, but Gardinal rushed across the muddy cobblestones with hammer at the ready. The fearsome growl drew the man's attention as Gardinal approached, but too late. Gardinal's raised hammer slammed into the man’s chest. With no armour beneath the dark cloak, Gardinal could hear the man's ribcage crack as the hammer lodged into the him. The attacker howled with pain, blood dripping down his chest. Gardinal moved to rip the hammer free with both hands but was met with a sharp pain in his left shoulder. Glancing over he saw the man's dagger lodged between thick metal plates. The bastard had stabbed him.

“I'm tougher than one bloody dagger.” He spat at the man, pulling his hammer free and dropping the man to the ground with a thick elbow strike to the face.

Enemy neutralized, Gardinal spun, checking on The Prophetess once more. He found himself farther from the Prophetess than he expected, having moved in his struggle with the man beneath him. Too far, as another of the robed figures approached her from behind, one more from in front of her pulled up a crossbow, loaded and ready to strike. Pushing himself Gardinal attempted to reach her, to get across the space before either man could harm her. It was pointless. He might be able to stop the one behind her, maybe, but he knew the crossbowman was too far. He was going to lose the only good thing he'd ever known.

Gardinal breathed once more as a tall Fereni man with tied back hair appeared next to the crossbowman, skewering him with a long thin black blade. A Theremeya blade, forged by those bastards in the Shaded Lands. The crossbowman fell to his knees as the Fereni man reached around stealing the crossbow from the man’s hands, sword left in the dying man's chest. The stranger leveled the crossbow towards The Prophetess and her new attacker.

He didn't shoot. Why wasn't the man shooting the other attacker? Gardinal knew from that cursed blade he couldn't trust the man. With time now to reach the other hooded attacker, Gardinal began a prayer: A light chant to Ethinia’s grace for Her to strengthen him. He felt the power of the Mother filling him up, warming his body in Her life-giving radiance. His muscles strengthened, and his step quickened to near inhuman levels. He could protect her, he had to.

A force pushed against Gardinal from the side forcing the air from his lungs as his hammer flew away. A man pressed atop him, causing them both to careen into a nearby fruit cart. The wood shattered as the combatants slammed into it. This new attacker raised his dagger high, aiming towards Gardinal’s exposed neck. Gardinal raised a desperate hand, grabbing the man’s wrist. The Prophetess. He looked over, staring at his charge as her hooded attacker loomed over her now, his shadow covering the girl as his dagger raised to strike into her back. The Prophetess turned from the woman she healed, eyes widening at the man.

A crossbow bolt slammed into her attacker's shoulder. The man falling back in shock at the blow. Gardinal ground his teeth, seemed the Fereni man was actually on their side. He had a moment now at least. Looking back at his attacker, still struggling to press the blade down, Gardinal spat in the man's eye, causing him to flinch. With the split-second distraction, Gardinal threw his fist into the man's face. Flesh met flesh with a loud crunch that sent the man reeling. Gardinal pulled himself up from the crumbling fruit cart, pulling free the dagger lodged in his shoulder. Gardinal stepped over to the still recovering man, grabbed his hair, and shoved the small blade into the man’s spine. He collapsed with a screech of pain.

Turning back to The Prophetess, he saw the man with a bolt lodged within his shoulder, recovered, and moving towards the girl once more. His charge still next to the woman he had abandoned to die, refusing to leave her side. Damned stubborn child. Gardinal began to move towards her but stumbled. Looking down he saw an ingot sized splinter of rotted wood jutting out his left leg. It must have pierced him during the struggle on the cart. Gardinal cursed as he pulled it free, beginning his prayer once more for the strength to reach The Prophetess in time.

He moved with a rough hobble now. Even with divine powers flowing into him, every split second counted, and he grew increasingly unsure if he could make it to her in time. He pushed himself, pressing desperately towards her. He could not lose his charge, his hope. Not again. Gardinal raised his eyes and looked for the mysterious Fereni ally once more. The blasted man just stood, crossbow dangling at his side, as he pointed at The Prophetess’s attacker and whistled. What by the bloody Pantheon was a whistle going to do?!

A huge bird that seemed to glimmer gold in the day's light screeched as it swooped down claw first into The Prophetess's attacker's face. The man tried to bat the bird away, but it was relentless, clawing away at him with sharp talons. It wouldn't stop the man forever, but it bought Gardinal a few precious moments as he finally approached.

The attacker pushed the bird away just as Gardinal tackled him, both crashing into the spice stand that The Prophetess kneeled against. Plumes of stale foreign spices filled the air in puffs as they struggled. Despite the height difference, Gardinal pushed down on the man, keeping him pressed tight against the stand. Gardinal lifted a meaty fist up and crashed it down into the man's face, blood splattering across multicoloured spice bowls.

“YOU.” He screamed, punching him once more. “DARE.” Another punch. “STRIKE.” The man's face became a bloody pulp under the pummeling. “HER RADIANCE.” Gardinal grabbed a heavy stone spice mortar, lifting it high to crush the man’s skull.

“NO!” A high-pitched voice wrenched him from his rage filled trance.

Gardinal stopped. Looking down he saw The Prophetess, staring up with trembling eyes. She just shook her head, fear written in every quiver of her lip. Fear of him. Gardinal dropped the mortar into a bowl of spice. He inhaled deeply, smothering the rage that had taken him over. The man beneath him still breathed, if barely, but his face was a bloody mess with broken nose and cracked jaw. Gardinal stumbled back from his carnage, his hands shaking.

“Y... Your Radiance... I'm sorry.” he stammered out. She turned her head from him, a tear flowing down her cheek as she did so. It hurt to see her look at him with such emotion, but it ached to see her turn away. After the war, she was the only good left in this world. He needed her.

Gardinal looked around the market once more, the people of Southshore having now all but abandoned the square. It seemed violence had a way of clearing a space. No more of the hooded figures remained, though he did spot the mysterious Fereni man pushing a body into a canvas tent. The crossbowman he had killed earlier still lay on the ground a few steps away. Seemed the man had killed another of the would-be assassins. Gardinal would have to speak with that one.

The woman beside The Prophetess stirred, that woman he had abandoned to death. The only signs of her trampling now the marks on her clothing. “Thank you, Your Radiance.” The woman mumbled. She smiled at The Prophetess and began to pull herself up from the ground.

The Prophetess followed suit, stumbling as she rose. Gardinal caught her. Her hand still glowed as they grasped onto his arms, and the latent energy within her pulsed through him. It was intoxicating. More energy than he could channel through prayer in a week filled him in an instant, and the wounds he still bore sealed themselves shut. She collapsed into his arms.

“You're alright Your Radiance, everything is safe now.” he comforted her. She shook her head, lifting a finger to the bleeding man on the spice stand.

She whispered to him, exhaustion latent in her voice. “I have... to heal... one more...” she tried to move her lame body towards her attempted assassin. “No death... not today... not ever...” She fainted into Gardinal’s arms.