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  "Lucia, if it isn't my favorite tigress," George greeted happily. Even when the black smith smiled at the customer, the girl did not smile back.

  "George, I need your help," Lucia said in all seriousness. The air in the smithee became tense as George understood the gravity of the situation.

  "What could I help you with?"

  "Eric's in trouble," Lucia began, then she went through the story about what Eric had done. George listened intently, absorbing the information as best he could. It took a while for the story to finish, and by the end, the old smithee had a deep frown that accented his wrinkles. 

  "I'm sorry," George said sadly, "but I can't do anything to help you. You would need an army to break him out of there. Nobody in this world is going to help you."

  "What if I told you, we already have an army?"

  George cocked an eyebrow at Lucia as the tigress smiled to show her pearly white.

  "You need armor?"

  "And weapons," Lucia added. "Lots and lots of weapons."

  "How big is your army?"

  "I don't know," Lucia answered honestly, "I haven't had time to count."

  "Give a rough estimate," George responed.

  "Maybe... ten thousand?"

  Amassing on the outskirts of Celestial City, a great number of demi-humans were gathering around the city. There was no explanation to their presence, but the church didn't like it either way. Members were repeatedly sent out to speak with the demi-humans, but the delegates were all sent on a wild goose chase trying to find the ones in charge. The question of why they were there didn't seem to have an answer, until one of the members came up with an idea. 

  "What if they're here for Eric?"

  "That's impossible," the pope said calmly, "they don't have the armaments to wage a war."

  "They don't need to wage a war with violence," said the attendant wisely, "they only need to wait outside the walls. If they attack any caravans that carry food, we won't have enough to sustain ourselves."

  "Do you think that's what they're trying to do?"

  "No, sir," the attendant answered, "that was only an idea. Although..."

  "Yes?"

  "I was thinking that they might try a night raid," the attendant strategized. "The demi-humans are well known for their superior eyesight at night. If they were able to sneak in during the hours of darkness, we wouldn't have the defenses to fight them off."

  "Start putting more lights outside immediately," the pope said, his hand sliding up and down his scepter. The attendant bowed gracefully, then turned to leave.

  "Also," the pope called, "send in Deacon Hershel." The attendant bowed once again, then exited the room. The pope sat on his throne with a thoughtful expression until Deacon Hershel arrived.

  "You asked for me, my prophet?" the deacon questioned with a graceful bow.

  "I want you to implement the Iscariots," the pope said.

  "S-Sir, are you sure?" the deacon questioned, a cold sweat appearing on his forehead. "The Iscariots are only for emergency use, shouldn't we wait until-"

  "Are you questioning my judgement?"

  His voice was natural, but the pope's threat still reached the deacon's ears.

  "No sir," the deacon said while walking back towards the door. "Your will be done, I shall arrange to have the Iscariots assembled."

  "Good," said the pope as the door shut behind the deacon. The old man sat on his throne and looked off into the distance, constantly thinking. This situation was unique, it was something that no pope had ever encountered before him. If he could solve it, this would immortalize him in the history of the church. Every measure would be taken to ensure his success.

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  The pope sat on his throne for hours, thinking about scenarios and outcomes. It plagued his mind the many thousands of ways this could go badly, but it lightened his mood when he considered the church's clear superiority. Time didn't pass for the pope, who was stuck in his own mind.

  At least, not until Deacon Hershel came racing back through the doors in sheer distress. 

  "They're gone!" he shouted with such severity that his voice cracked. "They're all gone!" 

  "What's gone?"

  It was almost a week later when Lucia came to the edge of Celestial City with several dozen carts of lightweight and easily made armor and weapons. George had worked ceaselessly along with ten other smiths that had been contracted out to complete the order. It drained the combined funds of Eric's party and some sponsors from Bagonia, but the price was well worth it. When Lucia passed out the plates of armor and swords of iron, she realized just how large of an operation this had grown to be.

  Demi-humans now ringed the city, outnumbering both the population of Celestial City and the local wildlife. The cathedral stood tall and proud, but with the demi-humans completely circling the city, it had become a monument to sin. While Lucia had expected a large number of former slaves to appear, there were a lot of people that had weapons and armor of their own.

  As Lucia helped pass out armor, she was approached by the Midrardian Elas with an envoy of demi-humans wearing purple armor.

  "Lucia, this is General Vener from the Bagonia Royal Gaurd," Elas introduced an alligator with a beard. "General Vener, this is Lucia of Eric's party."

  "It's a pleasure to meet with you," Lucia said respectfully, exchanging a handshake with the old alligator. He had the same green scales as all alligators, and his mouth extended a foot out from his head. His white beard jutted out from under his neck down to his belt. General Vener carried himself like a military man, but his reptilian skin seemed to sag from old age. Despite his age, he commanded the immediate space around him just with his presence.

  "The pleasure is all mine," said Vener with a smile. "You can throw aside the formalities, I'm no longer a general of the Royal Guard. I come here on personal business."

  "Okay, do you want to talk about it?" Lucia asked, gesturing to a nearby seating arrangement.

  "I come here to settle a score with the church," General Vener said with a snarling alligator growl. "When I was a Second Lieutenant in the army, my wife and I vacationed here in Lorain while the old king still ruled. We were expecting a child, but then my wife was taken away by slavers. For years I've followed her trail, rising up the ranks trying to find out where she had gone. It took a while, but I eventually had to accept that she wasn't coming back."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," said Lucia sincerely, and the old alligator nodded.

  "It wasn't until you and your friends liberated the slaves that I felt hope once again that I might meet with my wife," said the old general sadly. It was clear this was hard to talk about, but it wasn't his first time telling his tale. "When Bagonia finally managed to sort out names and unnamed ones, I happened to see my family name with a first name I didn't recognize. When I went to meet with this person, I saw a strong young alligator man with a hard look in his eye.

  "He looked so much like me, I couldn't deny who he was. I felt more guilt in that moment than I had ever felt in my life. To think I had searched for so long for my wife, but I didn't think to search for my own child. I listened to his story, and I hold no shame in saying that I cried like a babe. When he mentioned that one of his slavers marked him on his back, I asked to see this mark.

  "When I saw that damnable frowing cross, I knew that the church had been holding my boy. I wanted to go to war with them, and probably would have done it alone if you hadn't organized this militia. I may have given up my position as general to fight, but know that you have soldiers of the elite under your command."

  "Thank you, Sir Vener," Lucia said, "but I'm afraid I don't command these people. I asked that they come of their own accord, but I never presumed to lead them."

  "An army without a leader is a mob," stressed General Vener wisely. "A single spark could ignite this entire effort. You need to have a strong voice to keep the people in line."

  "I'm afraid my voice isn't as strong as I'd like," said Lucia, her ears flattening against her head.

  "Why don't you lead us?" Draco asked, appearing behind Lucia suddenly. "As a General, you've got more experience than anyone here to lead an army."

  "I'm afraid I stepped down from my position," said Vener sadly. "The men who have followed me are not under my control, they simply share my experience."

  "Mister Vener," Lucia said, her voice suddenly heavy, "if what you said is true, then this fight may end in disaster. I'm not going to ask General Vener to lead an army, I'm going to ask the father who cares for his son: Please, let us use your voice." Lucia stood up, then kneeled to the old alligator. It was a sign of utmost respect and desperation on Lucia's part, filling the old gator with a sense of purpose.

  "Men," Vener said loudly, standing up from his seat, "prepare to be soldiers once again."

  Turning away from Lucia, Vener added, "We've got a war to win."

  That night, under the many hundreds of fires that ring the city, a figure dressed entirely in black with a knarled helmet walked silently through the camp. He walked like a shadow, staying close to the trees and avoiding the light. As the figure made it's way through the encampment, he seemed to pause every so often whenever a noise reached his ears. He had the caution of a cornered wolf and the movement of a cat practicing Olympic gymnastics. The density of the demi-human militia became thicker as he got closer, but eventually the figure made it to a large group of purple tents where guards in purple armor stood outside. 

  The figure went to the back of the tent and lifted the flap to let himself inside. The inside of the tent had an old alligator looking at a map of Celestial City. General Vener looked up at the black clad figure, narrowing his reptilian eyes at the intruder. 

  "Are you an assassin from the church?" General Vener asked quietly. 

  "Not in the slightest," said the figure wearing a helmet. "I've come here to give you some advice."  

  "And what kind of advice would that be?" 

  "If you manage to capture the pope, don't kill him." 

  "And why shouldn't I?" 

  "Because that's my privilege," said the figure angrily. 

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