Clink... Clang... Chatter... Chatter...

Busy was a familiar word, for it ran in every street, gutter, door, and window of Avalon City. It simply existed within the air they breathed into their lungs.

Efficiency. Competition. Production.

The hallmark of Avalon City, and by extension, the Wardenlocke Kingdom. Everyday they produce and cultivate the best of the best, as one of the leading powers of the continent.

Everyday, chivalrous knights are sworn in, academic scholars and mages graduate, merchants show off their wares, and famed adventurers set off in hopes of treasure. Today, once more were the streets packed with locals and foreigners alike, carriages strode among the developed brick roads as many walked with them on foot, entering shops and whatever establishments had set up there.

Thanks to the advancement of geomancy and other similar forms of magic, mages and builders worked together endlessly, toiling as they made monstrous structures of brick, concrete, glass and metal. The fruit of their passion and labor could be seen proudly standing even from beyond the wall, some standing as high as twice the height of the wall that stood twelve meters tall.

Of course, even that was dwarfed by the splendor of the impenetrable Wardenlocke Castle.

Avalon City was one of the most diverse cities on the continent, leaps and bounds more progressive than the likes of the Remus Empire, ever since the Champion King had taken the mantle, opening the kingdom's gate to the rest of the world.

Yet they were way off, as compared to the likes of the diplomatic Perrins Kingdom, but the future was bright and the path was paved.

Pride and ambition were practically synonymous with what lay behind its walls.

Avalon City never stopped, no matter what.

Unfamiliar, familiar, it's all constant, nothing surprises Avalon City.

Today however, was quite a shock to the esteemed city guards. Responsible for the border patrol and watching over the City's veritable walls, they keep watch for hours on end, from dusk till dawn.

"Your Excellency Delacroix! We were expecting you! Please, go on through." A guard clad in full armor lined with silver and gold saluted, slight nervousness painted his tone.

They had gotten over their surprise quickly, as they had spotted the Bishop from as far as a couple of kilometers away, as he traversed the endless plains.

The stalwart guardsman ushered the Bishop and his companion through the giant crowd of people all looking to enter the valiant kingdom of knights with dreams and aspirations.

The pair received some odd looks and garnered quite the attention, but the Bishop strode through the crowd unconcerned, as the boy tried his best to hide behind the jawed hood of his midnight black pelt, unused to the stares of so many people, which only served to attract more curious eyes.

"Gatekeeper!" The guard that led them saluted another guardsman stationed directly by the monolithic gates, sorting through the crowd.

The Gatekeeper stood unmoving like a statue by the towering gates, as lower ranked guardsmen at the head of the never-ending line dealt with letters and medallions, dealing with the visitors personally.

The guardsman's giant stature and fierce gold-encrusted halberd spoke volumes of his station. His platinum white armor shone with a dull gleam, marred with scratches, it covered every inch of the man's skin.

Here he stood, as impenetrable and formidable as the walls he stood watch over.

An Avalon Sentry.

The supreme watchmen of the Champion's City of Drakes, famed for their impeachable track record of keeping unwanted guests, enemies, out.

"Guardsman. Bishop Delacroix. Enter." The Gatekeeper acknowledged with a rumble, sparing only a glance at the three.

With that, the guard beckoned them forward, sending warm welcomes, but before they could, another deep rumble reverberated and shook the metal gates as the armored giant suddenly spoke out.

"Halt. Identify yourself." The Gatekeeper regarded the mysterious boy, still hidden within the protection of his prized trophy.

The boy seemed to pause, not knowing what to do.

"He is with me, Gatekeeper." Georges stared into the hollowed eyes of the armored giant in silence, before the Gatekeeper relented.

"Acknowledged. Enter."

"Thank you, Gatekeeper."

Finally, they were in, the boy thought with relief as he looked to the Bishop in gratitude. He received a nod in return as they finally stepped into Avalon City.

After weeks upon weeks, possibly months of training and travel on foot, he was finally allowed to venture into a city, and stay there.

"Welcome to Avalon, truly this time, this is your city now." Georges said as they walked side by side.

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"It's... alive." The boy remarked, his pearl white eyes taking in as much as they possible could.

"More than you can imagine."

"What now?"

"Draigheart Cathedral, you and I will be staying there for the duration of our stay."

"Stay?"

"I am only bishop second, but that does not mean I do not lead my own diocese." The boy caught on to what he meant.

"Why'd they make you a bishop if it meant you had to attend to your own Church?"

"I don't need to. Bishops, like I, grant my priests permission to perform duties for me. It's an efficient system, perfect for my duties."

They were walking through the perpetually busy streets, as the boy marveled at the sights and sounds. He saw all manner of people, from those dressed in extravagant garbs, to those in mere rags, from humans, to those bearing animalistic characteristics.

Feline ears, canid ears, sharp teeth and fangs, buck teeth, wolf tails, cat tails, feathers... they seemed to pile on and on in a whirlwind of unfamiliar faces.

The boy, hailing from a modern world, could only try his best not to gawk outwardly. He knew that he was no more... unique, than they were.

Must've been why they were staring as much as he was.

It must've been a peculiar sight, as no one would have expected a fur-clad brat walking with a bishop of all people. His lithe frame, sickly pale skin and simple brown tunic and pants contrasted with the charcoal black coat hanging comfortably on his shoulders.

The animal pelt he wore bore an expression of unbridled rage, its scarred hollow eyes glaring at those who had the gall to stare openly, an oddball accessory for even veteran adventurers who fancied the hunt.

Yet not even that could distract from the boy's eerie gaze, his beady pearl white eyes bore a perfect, white reflection of the world, entrancing those that ignored the beast in favor of staring into the replicated abyss.

Those that didn't immediately assume he was blind of course, which encompassed most passerby, but it didn't escape the knowing eyes of a select few.

But even they could not see past these eyes, for those few that tried could only see the glaring reflection of themselves echoing within those blank pupils.

Their expression, blatant inquisitive stare, and the history behind their very own eyes were all laid bare before them, and so they turned away.

For the city that had seen everything, they had not quite seen anything like him.

He carried on, just like his mentor, as unfazed as he could manage.

Instead, he stared off into the distance, realizing that within this small corner of the city, the city stretched on and on endlessly, like a labyrinth. Yet even in this maze, the grandeur of the tallest structure roared with splendid pride, nearly overwhelming even his eyes.

"Is that the royal palace?" The boy asked with great interest.

"The Wardenlocke Castle, a true remnant of the ages, its greatness surely rings in the hallowed halls of history. It is indeed the home of the royal Draigheart family."

The boy stared in awe at the castle, even as he nearly bumped into passerby.

It looked completely impenetrable, standing unified with the city, yet blocked off with even taller walls.

It climbed onto the boundless sky, grabbing at the clouds, in an interlocking weave of towers, walks and battlements, like an amalgamation of concrete and steel. It was a beast in stone skin, a labyrinth within a labyrinth, all headed by the centerpiece of a tower, a pinnacle sprouting from the castle's base in a show of chaotic unity.

Even as a modern human, he had not expected a structure of such size to have such beauty and complexity. He was used to tall towering buildings, but not anything like this.

A real work of art.

The pride of the Wardenlocke kingdom, the home of the Champion King.

The home of the Draighearts.

"Follow. Do not dawdle." The boy was snapped out his reverie by a sharp voice, he did not even realize he had ceased his steps.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm coming."

"The Draigheart Cathedral rests on the other side of the city." Georges mentioned, noting the slightly confused expression on his student's face.

"Oh... I'd assumed it was the other way around."

"The Orthodoxy does indeed have significant and long-running history in the Wardenlocke Kingdom, yet the cathedral was only built when the Draigheart family had noticed the growing population of believers within the less-developed parts of the city, —which happened to be he outskirts at the time— as a way of completely accepting the religion into its fold."

"Hence the name?"

"Hence the name."

A silence fell upon the pair.

"Will it be long?"

"Not at all. Pay heed, remember this path."

And so they walked, traversing an untold number of streets and blocks, travelling perpendicular to the great castle. It seemed his teacher was not mistaken, he did indeed require the navigational skills he had learned to traverse this concrete jungle.

Though his mentor had deemed it a little much when he started marking the walls of passing buildings.

He noticed however, that the buildings seemed to be getting shorter each street they passed.

After a fifteen minute walk, it seemed they had finally reached their destination. Turning a corner to an open street, the pair could clearly see another structure taller than the others.

"It's beautiful."

"Of course it is. Twas' made in the name of the Lord after all, by the royal family themselves."

It was not as grand as the castle, by the boy doubted most could. It was still breathtaking in its own right, and if he had not known better, he would assumed it was a noble palace.

Bordered by an intricate metal fence 3 meters high, it had a spacious part of the block to itself, seemingly elevated on an artificially flattened hill. It mirrored the royal castle in material and style, yet bore more sophisticated designs made with clear passion. Spires and towers on high,

The boy stared onto the stained glass panes that littered the structure, which contrasted beautifully with the pitch black fence, brown shingles on its roof, and pure white walls.

"Enter now." Georges said, opening the gate by himself.

"No one is here?"

"They are here, they are aware. He expects us." He said cryptically.

The pair walked along a brick path, through the yard. The Bishop stared at the cathedral doors in silence as he opened them. Pulling open the giant wooden doors, they stepped inside.

And the boy could honestly say, that the outside paled in comparison to what lay inside. Natural light filtered through from above, painting the cathedral in the stained glass' myriad of colors. It seemed hundreds upon hundreds of pews lined up in rows, leading up to the grand altar, which was illuminated with a soft serene glow.

Murals upon murals lined the walls, the painted figures flowing as if liquid.

The place seemed alive, filled with vitality and heart, even when no one was present.

Except them.

And him.

Seated on the very front, on a wooden pew, was a white-clad figure wearing a liturgical headdress. His pallium was engraved with golden embroidery of crosses, and worn over the lavish purple chasuble and pure white vestment.

"Took you long enough." The figure spoke at a distance, not even deigning to look back at them. His raspy voice spoke briskly and almost faintly, yet it rattled the boy.

"I apologize, Your Grace, Most Reverend... matters came up."

The Archbishop, the head of this archdiocese, the head of the Wardenlocke Kingdom's lead religion.

"Taking a vacation? Interrogator Delacroix?" The Archbishop said, with muffled bemusement, as he used Georges' true title.

The Archbishop finally panned his weary head as he finished his sentence, a burning sneer on his lips as he regarded the pair.