Closing his chamber door with a loud thud, Gardinal stood in the center of the room, stewing over his anger. How dare she try to force him like that? Try to pressure him like she was…

“Like she was the head of your order…” He whispered aloud. It hurt to admit, but in a way, she truly was. The head of every order that might claim the Pantheon as their way. The Prophetess represented Ethinia in a way no Bishop of Life in over two thousand years had, as a voice of the First Mother. “And I just denied that voice.” Gardinal thought aloud, shaking his head in shame.

But it was her own protection, for her own safety. Despite her incredible gifts, despite her brilliance, The Prophetess was still yet just a child. Not that she had been acting like one earlier, no. She had been acting like… a queen.

Gardinal ground his teeth at the intrusive thought. He had tried to deny it nearly her whole life. But now that she was growing older, her blood seemed to be strengthening in her. Those eyes marked her as royalty, and she had a queen’s determination as well it seemed. Gardinal felt lost, unsure of himself in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. And so, he did what he always had when he was lost, he looked to the Mother.

There was a small shrine in the corner of his bedchambers, mostly just used for his morning and evening prayers. A small hand carved wooden statue of the First Mother stood before a half dozen small, unlit candles, a bowl of water, and a small plant. It was a paltry sight compared to the silver inlayed shrine he had lost in the fire, but this wooden statue was precious to him now as well. It had been a gift from Her Radiance. Staring at that small rough-hewn figurine, Gardinal knew what he had to do.

“I can’t deny her can I Mother?” He asked of the goddess, his heart weighing him down. “Your voice on our mortal plane, and I tried to deny her.” With a shake of his head, Gardinal fell to his knees before the shrine, head bowed. “I will protect her, oh Most Merciful, I will.” Then, looking up at the crying form of the Most Merciful, he felt Her warmth upon his soul. “And if in doing so I am to meet you today, please accept my unworthy soul into your embrace.”

Gardinal finished his prayer, a tear falling down his rugged face, then rose. Turning, he took in the sight of his armour, standing before the chamber’s window it cast a great shadow that nearly stretched all the way across the room. I will don you again, old friend. He thought solemnly as he looked upon it. The gilded armour of the Golden Hammers. An armour gifted upon full initiation into his order’s ranks, the armour that marked him as a defender of the faith.

Many saw the Ethinian member of the Golden Hammers as an oddity. Those who were sworn to the goddess of life and mercy, fighting as soldiers. But what those people could never understand was the reason that Gardinal fought. He thought on that once more now, as he donned his armour.

In the Book of the Dawn, during the Daemon Wars, there was a battle so awful, so terrible, that Ethinia herself took up a sword made of her own divine essence and struck down the mightiest daemon that ever was. The Ninth Sorrow it was called. When Gardinal first heard that tale as a child, it struck something deep within. That someone so pure, so good, could be pushed to violence if it was to protect others. That was the day that Gardinal decided he would be a member of the Golden Hammers one day, so that he might be Her blade, forged from Her own essence. So he could strike down something purely evil to protect that which was good.

“I will end you.” Gardinal hissed, thinking on that which was no longer a man, “If you are there today, I will be your end.” He vowed; the image of X set in his mind. Tightening his greaves, Gardinal rose. The plate was heavy on his form, but it gave him a strength as well. A confidence that came from knowing all that had worn armour like it as brothers and sisters of his order for the past millennia. Picking up his shield —Archibald having thankfully put it back for once — Gardinal steeled himself to face those who waited for him below, still not fully sure on what to do with the Prophetess.

Leaving his room, Gardinal quickly made his way back to the top of the staircase and looked down at his assembled companions.

Vallerian had thankfully prepared himself, his black cloak of was that crushed velvet? wrapped his shoulders. He held a bow, strung and ready to use. Gardinal growled a bit as he continued his sweep across them.

The young man, Kriss, also seemed prepared for battle. He wore a thick quilted jacket as a sorry replacement for real armour, but at least he had a buckler and long spear nearly his own impressive height.

Then there was the Prophetess between the two men, looking up at Gardinal with a determined look upon her face. She wore a riding cloak and leather boots that poked out from beneath her relatively shorter gown. Was this what the girl considered ‘ready for battle’?

“Brother Gardinal.” She began. “It is time we make haste and…”

“Where did other two go?” Gardinal asked, realizing that Rekiak and the Jöln now missing from their ranks.

“They…” Vallerian began, but The Prophetess cut him off by stepping forward.

“I sent them off. Rekiak to his people, to request assistance from the Korek. And of the young man I sent him to the temple after he told us where we were needed. There he can get help, and Father can send us assistance as well. We will not face this threat alone Brother Gardinal.”

We. Gardinal thought. We will not face this threat alone. She was still determined to come and determined to fight him if he argued. Looking down at her, those glistening gold and silver eyes staring back up at him in defiance, Gardinal knew he could not deny her any longer. The blood of a queen, and a soul divine, who could possibly stand against her for long? Besides, Gardinal realized, she had been wise. The Korek were useful in a fight, and he would never deny the assistance of his brothers in faith.

Stepping down the staircase, a tension hung in the air as all eyes fell on him. Gardinal strode past the group, leaning down to swipe up his hammer, and moving towards the door. Reaching the wooden frame, he stopped. Gardinal could hear them breathing heavily behind him, could feel their stares upon his back, waiting for him to protest, waiting for him to argue with the Prophetess further.

“Well then.” Gardinal began with a forced calm. “Are you three coming or not?” Glancing back, he saw Vallerian grin, and noticed Kriss bit his lip with a nervous air. But most importantly, he saw The Prophetess beam, and Gardinal knew in that moment he had made the right choice. “We don’t have much time, let’s get going.”