The town of Wyrmden was abuzz with chatter and banter. It was a sizable town that had gone through a lot, being a border town resting along the outskirts of the Kingdom of Wardenlocke.

The town was in close proximity to a great forest claimed by and only by nature. These types of lands were called the Asphodel meadows, usually infested by monsters and ruled by the law of the strong. The town of Wyrmden was situated next to a large river separating the humans from the giant mass of towering trees and the macabre festivities in the name of survival.

In Asphodel, it was mere wishful thinking for mere mortals to lay claim to everything they had tread on. Some places were simply too dangerous, or too far gone...

Today, the town's respected priest had spent his day frantically cleaning up the Church, in preparation for the arrival for the 'guest'.

Father Brook was a brilliant man who deserves much more than he has, but he knew his limits. He grew up in the capital of Wardenlocke, yet moved to a—relative to the splendor of Avalon— backwater town like Wyrmden, some would even say it was primitive.

However, having a comfortable middle-class family, ambition, and intellect were not enough to truly thrive in the 'Capital of the Drakes'. Brook lacked talent, for magic, specifically. He wasn't suited for Elysian mysticism nor could he efficiently perform the miracles that others could with ease. Maybe he was just incompetent, or he lacked conviction and belief, Brook felt he did not want to know So, instead of a life slaving a life under another person for most of his life without hope for climbing the ranks, he simply decided to move, and find a comfortable position here.

"Alcott! Where have you been?" Father Brook said as he finished directing everyone, giving chores and errands.

"Good morning Father Brook."

"Good morning to you as well boy! And?"

"I was just feeding the strays by the block."

"Well alright then, but don't feed them near the church. We don't want them getting comfortable and then ending up being near the patients we have in the infirmary."

"Of course, Father Brook."

"Don't be so rigid Alcott! Just Father will do, or Brook, when none of those stubborn officials are around."

"How could I refer to you that way? You're way too qualified to even be in this backwater town Father Brook! You should be in the capital, or Drakeshold at least..."

"Just Father then."

The warm and familiar atmosphere permeated throughout the room. The entire town seemed to be in a working buzz, diligently and contentedly going through their routines like a colony of ants. Truly, Wyrmden was not as advanced nor efficient as others, but it was alive. Having a history of being constantly terrorized by monsters, the city has grown to be close-knit and everyone well connected.

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"I want this place up to snuff! Everyone's got to do their best, ya' hear!" Father Brook yelled out.

"Naturally!"

"Of course, Father."

"Whatever ya' say, mister!"

A myriad of voices diligently responded.

"Alcott, over here please." Father Brook called.

"Yeah?"

"Let go of that broom, I've a different task for you."

"Anything."

"I need you to keep a lookout for a very important guest, I've already told the town guards, and I've instructed them to tell you when they arrive. I want you to go the gates and wait for that signal, yeah?"

"Easy!" Alcott responded, relieved that he didn't have to do any more tedious chores.

He quickly bid goodbye and left swiftly.

"Good lad, he has a bright future." The church's custodian remarked loudly as he busily arranged some documents in another room.

"Indeed, might even take my spot."

"He'll have to wait for you to retire. Imagine, a man like you, in a place like this."

"A place like ours, you mean."

"Ha! We're happy to have you, father."

"And you, Digby."

However, Brook knew what the truth was. He didn't belong in Avalon, a world like that, it was too big for him. Too vast, too cramped.

"..Father..."

Frankly, the hustle and bustle of Avalon and Wyrmden would be like comparing an old rickety clock to a well-oiled machine, mass producing geniuses and prodigious men and women on the daily.

"Father Brook!"

He somewhat envied the people here, they never had to face the bigger world. They didn't have to know what it was like to be in the giant machine, toiling everyday, surrounded by strange and uncaring faces, knowing that you were just another gear in the machine. Human, yet the same as any other, and valued as such.

"Oy! Father Brook! The kid's talking to ye'!" Digby exclaimed.

"Ah! Uhh... Sorry about that everyone, you know I tend to be a scatterbrain..."

"We know." Digby grumbled off, continuing his monotonous work.

"It is no matter, Father. However, it's time."

"They are here?" Brook said expectantly, he had to admit that he was worried.

Inquisitors weren't exactly reputable, more infamous than looked kindly upon. Lord, even only a certain few know they even exist past the rumors and tall tales.

"I am here." A voice echoed softly, it seemed to be coming from right beside the duo.

"Ah!" Alcott jumped in a fright, scrambling and hiding behind Brook.

Although caught off guard, Brook easily composed and himself and turned his head to the owner of the abrupt voice.

He was a tall man, towering Brook by at least half a head. He had a dark complexion, and his head was bereft of hair, but one could still see his platinum blonde eyebrows. His golden eyes were practically boring into his soul, as if he were silently reading him like a book. Built and compact muscles were visible even through the midnight-black cassock he was wearing, yet one could easily disregard them in favor of putting their attention on the vibrant purple cuffs above his hands and the sash he had decorated below his waist.

The attire of a bishop, a very prestigious position in the Elysian Orthodoxy.

"Welcome! I am Brook, the priest here at this church, and you are...?"

"Bishop Georges Delacroix." The man said, towering over the pair.

"A bishop!... " Alcott gasped, wanting to further hide behind Brook.

"It is a great honor for a bishop to be visiting! Please! Follow me, I wouldn't want our guest to be left standing." Brook led them into the open chancel, with Alcott trailing further and further behind, hoping to eventually disappear unnoticed.