Hear now, the beating of the drums

Children of the Korek.

-Korek Song of the Covenant

“We must strike now, while we know he is still here.” Derenath said to the Bishop. Gardinal grunted in agreement. If X was in there. If this man, who stood opposed to everything Her Radiance represented, was so close. They had to put an end to him. Otherwise, she would never be safe.

“Although I agree that this X figure has proven a threat to Her Radiance. We are simply not adequately equipped to handle such a threat as we are.” The Bishop stood immaculate as always. Not a speck of mud or ash stained his white robes. Only the faintest sheen of sweat on his brow hinted at the exertion of healing multiple men, a task that would have crippled any other light-bearing priest. Gardinal was used to impressive shows of Ethinia's light from the Prophetess but watching the master that was The Bishop always left Gardinal in awe.

“I have smote far greater threats than...” Derenath began but was cut off as the Bishop raised a hand.

“I do not doubt your abilities, but my scouts have had... disturbing reports on this X. It is said that he can call forth Chaos with the ease that any of my brother or sister bishops can call forth the Pantheon's light. This is no threat to face carelessly.” A uneasy silence spread over Gardinal and Derenath, the Bishop’s calculating eyes studying them each in turn.

Behind them, their men had started chaining up the surviving cultists, and moving aside their deceased brothers in faith to be returned to the temple later. It was a gruesome job, trudging through the ash, mud, and shit that made up the small square outside the sewer entrance, but it was one they did with solemnity. Gardinal was proud.

“Men have died for this already, Your Grace.” Gardinal began. “We must see this through or else their sacrifice shall be in vain.”

“Besides.” Derenath said with a grin. “With that artifact of Brother Gardinal's at our disposal, any exploding heretics shouldn't prove a problem.” The large man took a large gulp of his wine flask. Derenath put up a good front but Gardinal could tell that the Faith Militia deaths pulled on his soul. It was never easy to lose men in battle, and the weight of their deaths never got lighter. Gardinal whispered a prayer for his fallen comrades, from today, and from times long past.

“Your Grace.” Gardinal spoke up once again as the Sherya man formed his familiar thinking scowl. “Her Radiance's safety must, as always, be our foremost goal. She is more important than any of us. This could ensure her safety.” Gardinal chewed on his words, but knew he meant them. He was nervous about marching today with these men. He had prayed after the war he would never have to watch his men die again. With this one strike he could change things. It just might be enough to make the city safe for the Prophetess again. He would do it for her, he would do anything for her.

“To march into that darkness is to forfeit your lives, and those of the men who follow us.” The Bishop stated coldly. “Yet, if it is to protect Her Radiance from these heretics, then I agree that we must. Ethinia bless our souls.” At the Bishop’s words, Gardinal and Derenath looked to each other and nodded.

It took mere moments to rally their men back together into formation and prepare for their descent into the sewers. From the angry mutters of the surviving Faith Militia, it seemed they were ready to avenge their fallen comrades. Vengeance was not something the Faith condoned, but perhaps right now it would do in place of Feren's Valor. So long as it didn't stand in the way of the Mother's Mercy, Gardinal would not object. The slick stone staircase that led up into the sewer was only wide enough for one man to pass. From what they could see of it, the small walkway within the sewers wasn't any wider. So Gardinal led, with Derenath directly behind for support, and the Bishop at the very back behind all the faith Militiamen.

From the moment they entered the sewer Gardinal felt two different, yet near equally uncomfortable, sensations. The first, and ever so slightly less awful, was that of being within a sewer. The twisted stone catacombs overflowed with the waste of man and beast high above. The city was built on a massive hill ending on a tall cliff overlooking the water, with the castle at its apex looming over all. Much like the power held by the nobility, their waste trickled down until it ended in Southshore. Now, unfortunately, Gardinal walked beside it. The stench burned his nostrils, the air itself giving a slimy sensation to everything he shuffled past. Every breath seemed to taste of the foul substance that sludged ever onward in a channel next to him.

The second, much worse sensation, was one he had felt all too often recently. That of the Chaos. Worse even than the stench of human refuse was the pervasive presence of the Chaos's terrible touch. The whole tunnel seemed to drip of the all-consuming power that stood as antithesis to the gods. Despite the flickering torch that Derenath held behind him, the deep shadowed blackness of the tunnel seemed to consume all the light it could.

“I feel it as well Brother, stay strong.” Derenath whispered and Gardinal felt the man’s strong hand briefly squeeze his arm. At this reassurance, Gardinal realized how tense he had been. So much Chaos was nauseating and as they slowly moved through the space it only grew. It was that awful presence that Gardinal used to guide them through the twisting catacombs. Wherever that feeling grew stronger, Gardinal was sure he would find X.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes, though it had felt like hours, when Gardinal stopped before a turn. A flickering glow lit the sewage that flowed from there, and the intensity of the Chaos was nearly enough to physically halt Gardinal alone.

“I can feel him.” Gardinal whispered. “He's just around the corner. It's...”

“The worst thing I've ever felt.” Derenath finished for him. “Yes, I feel it as well.” They both looked back to the Bishop, who simply nodded at them. It felt odd to Gardinal to have the bishop defer to his judgement. During his tenure as Archbishop of Kings, Shelezan had practically ruled over the entire kingdom for nearly as long as Gardinal had been alive. Yet it seemed, in battle, the older man wisely trusted the experience of his warriors. Gardinal took a deep breath, immediately regretted it from the taste, then threw himself around the corner.