Cyr Wendynhelm sat on his horse in the middle of the now desolate village of Trall. The hovels that had not burned during the traitor's betrayal had been ransacked, mostly stripped of food, and what peasant villagers would have used for weapons. His [Hunt Master] returned from investigating the village and stood to attention, awaiting his liege's permission to speak. The cyr gave it with a flick of his fingers

"The people have all been fled or dead for a fortnight. I found a papermaking frame at one of the standing hovels, and signs of someone making char ink, but nothing more suspicious than that. That house even still had a full larder, looked like enough for four put away."

The [Hunt Master] held up the logbook. "I did find the village rolls. That house had one child, due to go to their classing place about when the village got sacked. Appears they have a cobble walkway to their ... grotto of ascension? Maybe some Solarian priest influence?"

The Cyr extended his hand and the [Hunt Master] respectfully laid the book on the open palm. He held his silence while the cyr flipped through the rolls.

"Josef, mark stick," the cyr ordered. An aide quickly produced a stick stuffed with compressed graphite and held it out to his cyr.

The cyr used the mark stick to line through the names his skill informed him were dead. He circled the names of his subjects that his skills told him yet lived. Five names remained untouched at the end.

"Locate these people. Either they gave false names, or they know how to break a liege covenant. Put out warrants for those with circled names, unless they came to warn us of this betrayal."

"Yes, my liege," the [Hunt Master] said, receiving the book back with a submissive bow.

"I will inspect the classing place, and then we will inspect the mine site."

Cyr Wendynhelm suited actions to words, and turned his horse to locate this cobble way.

It was a pleasant ride that ended at an odd crack in the hill face. The cyr pushed through the weak barrier of repulsion and noted the heavy mana density in the cave.

Once the cyr pushed in, his three knight attendants were able to follow. He allowed Sir Leon to take point. Pausing only briefly to confirm the composition of the walls, they soon entered the cave the villagers called the grotto of ascension. Cyr Wendynhelm narrowed his gaze on spotting the location of the crystal.

"Break it," he ordered.

Sir Leon nodded and turned to the two other knights. "Either of you at Good Might?"

"Aye, Sir Leon," the broader of the two said.

"Good. I'll stand on his shoulders and you brace me." Sir Leon left his sword sheathed and left his shield on the ground. Instead, after scaling his fellow knight and confirming the other was properly bracing him, he drew his mace, took a few careful test swings, and then drew back for his attack.

As he let loose for the actual strike, all the lights in the grotto fled. The quartz in the crystal shattered, and the Voice of the World rang in the minds of all present with the same grim announcement.

Sir Leon fell with a clatter to the ground and lay still.

Your actions have earned you the curse of [Blasphemy]. The title of [Blasphemer] will appear to all [Basic Identify] or better checks. You cannot benefit from divine healing or benedictions, and divine damage spells and skills do aggravated damage against you. This curse can only be lifted through the successful completion of a Quest of Atonement.

Cyr Wendynhelm's jaw flexed, and anger filled his gaze. His knights cussed.

"It would seem," he drawled, "that the gods are liars."

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"Or you're just an idiot, Wendy." A woman's voice answered from the dark.

Then light spilled back into the grotto, cast by a glowing figure. Aside from a generally female humanoid body shape, the woman's radiance prevented distinguishing any of her features.

"Who, pray tell, are you?" The cyr asked.

"Your quest giver. You do want that curse removed, don't you?"

"I do not submit to extortionists," he spat out.

"I did not make you break the Class Stone. I'm merely offering you a means to repay your debt so that you are in a position to negotiate a new contract to replace the one you. Just. Broke."

"That was a Dungeon Stone!" He snapped out.

"That was a Class Stone," she snapped back. "One, I might add, that has existed in this location for millennia. Even were it a Dungeon Stone, it would have been exempt. Oh, and you would've been cursed as a [Dungeon Slayer], not a [Blasphemer]. Your Atonement Quest is getting more difficult the more you argue."

"Please, my Lady, what can I do to atone?" The knight that Sir Leon had stood on asked.

"Silence!" Cyr Wendynhelm roared.

The glowing woman ignored him. She made an ancient gesture, the fingers of her right hand splayed but for her middle and ring fingers, which pressed against themselves. With her hands so arranged, she drew a circle in the air, and bisected it with a horizontal line ending before her heart. It was an old Solarian blessing gesture, and it apparently was also the signal of a Quest being given out.

The young knight sputtered and began to sob. He took off his sword belt, and laid it down, and then began to remove his armor. When he stood in only his gambeson and britches, he said, choking on every word, "I renounce my classes. I forfeit my skills. I atone for the evils of my actions."

Blue mist spilled out of him. He fell, crying, to his knees. The mist coalesced into a small crystal and fell among the shards of the class stone.

The knight with Might swallowed visibly, then said, "How may I atone?"

The glowing woman made the same gesture, and the mighty knight, too, stripped off the accoutrements of his class. Tears fell from his face as he repeated the same words, though his voice did not shake. When the blue mist spilled out from him, he, too, fell to his knees, and another crystal joined with the shards.

Cyr Wendynhelm turned to Sir Leon, ready to snarl an order to ignore the woman. It died in his throat as he looked at the twisted shape of his retainer, the man's vacant gaze no longer bound to the mortal world. "Leon?"

The woman, her voice bored, said, "Sadly for him, he shall not have the opportunity to atone in life. Noq-el already has him, and he will have to plead for Nam-am's intercession. You are wearing out my Lady's patience, Wendynhelm. Will you accept your Quest of Atonement?"

"Damn you!" He yelled, clawing at his sword. "Damn you!" He yelled again as he drew it. "Damn you!" He repeated, like a chant, a cadence as he swung and hacked at the glowing woman. He was too lost to rage to care that his sword simply passed through her with less effect than trying to carve sunbeams. At least swinging at sunbeams cast a shadow.

When his Stamina fell to zero, he fell to his knees, though rage kept his spine stiff. "Damn you and all the deceitful, bastard gods! Abyss take you all!"

[Blasphemer] advances to [Profaner]. Every divine champion will know you for an enemy on sight. Anyone who knows you for a [Profaner] and shelters or aids you anyhow will be cursed with [Blasphemy].

"You really like digging your hole deep, don't you?" The woman said, shaking her head. She turned her gaze to the former knights. "Wendynhelm is now a [Profaner] and all who help him shall be cursed with [Blasphemy]. Warn your companions that they need not suffer as you have. You may seek out another Class Stone and begin once more, but the skills and classes you forfeited are forever locked to you.

"Now go."

The two men who had atoned left.

It was probably wise. The cyr was enraged enough to kill them, prevented only by his lack of stamina.

The woman left him in the dark, with the cooling corpse of his faithful knight retainer.

When he finally recovered enough to stagger out of the cave, he found only his [Hunt Master] awaiting him. He felt the invasion of an Inspect skill, and then his [Hunt Master] removed the badge of his house and dropped it on the ground. The [Hunt Master] said nothing, merely turned and walked away from his cyr.

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King Ahrahm of Druerjan was holding court when he raised his hand, cutting off the current petitioner mid-word. He glowed with the use of several skills, which made the petitioner sweat, and drew interest from the courtiers. After the glow of the last skill faded, he stood.

"Arlthane Kwellan of House Nagister, approach."

The arlthane's graying eyebrows rose, but he moved swiftly to heed his king's command. "Your Majesty," he intoned as he bowed.

"The Voice of the World has just informed me that a cyr under your authority, one Wendynhelm of House Kelm, has broken the divine covenant that limits the growth of dungeons within our lands, and in the dooming became a [Profaner].

"I hereby strip Wendynhelm of House Kelm of his nobility. Bring me his head, detached from his body, and the living members of his House that I may judge for myself how far the rot has spread."

"Your will be done, your Majesty," the elderly arlthane said. Knowing a dismissal when he heard it, he backed away to an acceptable distance, then turned and left.

King Ahrahm looked at the petitioner. "We will reschedule your hearing for another time. Seneschal, dismiss court and summon the Council of God Speakers. We have a new covenant to negotiate."

"Your will be done, your Majesty," the seneschal intoned.