For His wife Seratos did make the earth.

And with swipe of hand, He made it beautiful.

When Ethinia looked upon it she wept.

And from that single tear that struck the earth, a tree arose.

From its bough all beasts in the sky,

And of the earth, and of the sea, were borne.

Of the tree came one final gift, the Gift of the Sherya, the First-Borne.

And they were the god’s children, eternal.

            -Book of the Dawn 1;18-25

Vallerian rolled the last of the corpses under a small canvas tent. Somebody would find it eventually, and somebody would dispose of it, eventually. Neither would be Vallerian. Rubbing his hands free of blood on the last of the dead men, he stepped away from the tent. It was an unfortunate thing that, the killing of men, but Vallerian hadn't really had a choice. His target was in danger. He really did try to avoid killing. But when he couldn't, the trick was making sure nobody saw him. People tended to be squeamish about that sort of thing.

It was not that Vallerian had no moral compass, he would say he had a very strong one, but it had been shaped by his teacher years ago.

His teacher had once told him “a’Men deserve to die, ain’t a damn one hasn't done something to warrant killing I tell ya. But kids? Boy you touch one of them and I'll kill ya a’myself.” Out of curiosity he had asked the old huntsman about women. The bloody Khazimi told him to flip a coin. Vallerian had erred on the side of not.

Vallerian's eyes scanned the ravaged market. “Shit.” He had hoped for a more graceful introduction to the Prophetess, but this would have to do.

The market was mostly empty now, save a few zealous merchants who clung desperately to their wares. There wasn't much worth clinging to as far as Vallerian could tell. A few Faith Militia stood atop manacled men, the would-be assassins now held for questioning. Vallerian's gaze passed over those, letting his eyes instead settle on the huddled mass of metal-clad fools on the far side of the market. Those men had been useless in the fight. It did not speak well of the Faith Militia, and they already had a reputation for incompetence. That Khazimi guard though, the Golden Hammer member, he had shown some skill. Vallerian spotted the short man as he carried the unconscious Prophetess back behind the glittering host. Those two were very close. That could be a problem. He might just have to weaken that bond a bit.

Vallerian began towards the group, standing around gawking at fools would certainly not accomplish anything. With a loud whistle, Charlotte swooped back down to rest upon his shoulder once more. She seemed to have something in her beak with which she was fighting.

“I thought I told you not to hunt rats in Southshore.” he chided, pushing aside an overturned barrel in his way. “You don't know what diseases they have.”

Charlotte swallowed before giving him a rasping sound in return, sassy bird she was.

“Stop right there!” shouted a young man in ornamental armour. He had stepped away from his gaggle of fools, shaking glaive nervously pointed towards Vallerian. He seemed to be one of the Fershya, or Half-borne, tall and slender with gem-hued eyes indicated his Sherya blood, but surprisingly sturdy from his Fereni heritage. Though as a true-blooded Fereni, Vallerian would easily overpower him. Striding up to the glaive, Vallerian simply batted the thing away with a free hand.

“Do not point that thing unless you are prepared to use it.” Vallerian chastised the man. “As it is, you already stand testament to your order's well-earned reputation.” He could see the man's face contort, trying to parse out what he had heard. Vallerian just patted his shoulder as he passed the guard by.

“Hey wait!” The man shouted, but Vallerian had already passed him; almost already reaching the guard's compatriots. Those tightly formed Faith Militia men looked nervously from one to another as he approached. Seemed some of them had actually paid attention to the fight, good. A little fear was healthy, especially when it was of him.

“Who's your commanding officer men?” Vallerian deepened his voice, trying his best to sound like his father. Miserable bastard that he was, his father got results. The men shuffled in their spots, and one called back for a Brother Gardinal. It seemed the Khazimi man was in charge. The time he had spent with his teacher had taught Vallerian how to deal with Khazimi men.

The short man who pushed his way through the wall of men was a rougher sort than Vallerian had expected. A thick map of scars criss crossed his face, a large slightly hooked nose sticking out over a un-Khazimi-like short cropped beard. This Brother Gardinal made an odd sight in full plate armour. He seemed more soldier than priest, and one of the First Mother no less.

“I'd step back if I were you boy.” Gardinal growled as he approached, raising his hammer and pressing it to Vallerian’s chest. Vallerian rolled his eyes.

“You are not me. And you will know your place, Khazimi.” It always helped to remind the Khazimi that Terminia was no mountain forge, and that they were not in charge here. Gardinal just seemed to grind his teeth.

“No one approaches Her Radiance without a'my permission, and I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“Good, I didn't ask for it.” Vallerian snapped back, this one was starting to get on his nerves. He lifted his hand up to brush away the hammer, but Gardinal grabbed his wrist.

“Stand. Down. Boy.”

“Please I beg of you, cease this argument immediately!” A light feminine voice called out, pushing her way through the men. Both he and Gardinal turned to the slender child. To the Prophetess.

Gardinal lifted his hammer from Vallerian’s chest, moving to help her. But she was leaning on someone else, some Fereni handmaiden who looked a lot like...

“Vallerian?!” the handmaiden exclaimed. Vallerian recognized the voice immediately.

“Valleresa?” He was shocked to see her, in full white handmaiden habit no less. His twin sister. And she was helping keep his target standing. Complications were never a good thing.

“Sister Valleresa, you know this man?” Gardinal asked, taking his sister’s position beside the Prophetess.

“Know him? Brother Gardinal, this is my twin.” Valleresa explained before turning on him, she seemed flustered for some reason. “Brother Gardinal, Your Radiance, I present to you my brother, The Count Vallerian.” Did his sister really just attempt a proper introduction? She messed up the title, but still, odd.

Vallerian looked from his sister to Celeste, her mismatched silver and gold eyes seeming to take in the scene before her. There was an intelligence to those eyes, one that sought out information like a falcon seeks mice.

“I wasn't aware that the Fyri-Harrisdalls were Counts now.” Gardinal stepped in, bringing up Vallerian's father's house. It seemed the Khazimi man had some knowledge of Noble Houses.

Vallerian turned to his sister first, ignoring the remark for now. “I was in the neighborhood. Our little sister told me you had joined the temple and I wished to see you.”

“I joined three years ago.” Valleresa retorted.

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“I've been busy.” he defended, knowing she did not believe his lie. “New wife and all that.” He grinned, turning to Gardinal. “and if you must know, Brother Gardinal, I am the Count of Tarnarquill. A small county in the Shaded lands. Ever heard of it?” at that the Khazimi growled a low violent sound.

Following the annexation of the Shaded lands, all Theremya nobles had been pressed to wed a Terminian. Lest they lose their land and titles. So, as a second son with little to inherit, his father had arranged his marriage to a Theremya Countess. Really she was just a Marchioness' daughter who had been given a county. The details didn't matter. What did matter was that it had gotten Vallerian out of no small amount of trouble and his lot went up in the world a fair bit. The politicking of the role he did not particularly care for, but the title did get him some leeway with city guards.

“I know the Shaded Lands better than you, bloody traitor.” The Khazimi priest spat. Some people did not take well to those who wed the Theremya, particularly those who fought in the war. It seemed this one must have done just that.

“Let me guess Khazimi, you couldn't be a knight so you settled for an angry priest?” Vallerian tried, and failed, to keep a grin from his face. Gardinal's hand seemed to clench on his hammer. This man was simply too easy to irritate.

“Please stop, both of you.” The Prophetess cut in once more, her soft voice seemingly shaking to near tears. With her hand pressed on Gardinal's shoulder he could see the man visibly deflate, calming in an instant. She turned her all too important eyes to Vallerian. “My Lord, it is my honour to make your acquaintance, though I do wish it were under better circumstances.” She gave a small, respectful head nod. That of a superior to a favoured subordinate. She'd been trained well, very well. Was this really the street rat the old Bishop found in Southshore's gutters? Perhaps a change of tactics would be needed.

Vallerian reached out to grab Celeste's hand, raising it to his lips with a kiss. “The honour is all mine, Your Radiance.” He shot her his smile, the one that had gotten him into all that trouble five years back. “I must say, your address suits you well. Radiant indeed” She blushed. This might be easier than he thought.

“What, precisely, is going on here?” A sharp voice cut in, and Vallerian felt chills run down his spine. There was a reason he had come to find Celeste here instead of the Temple, and that reason had just entered the market square. At the sound of that voice Charlotte flew off, traitorous avian that she was. Vallerian spun, alongside the rest of their small gathering, to face him. Shelezan, the Bishop of Life, official head of the Church of Ethinia First-Mother.

Vallerian knew the Bishop of course, everybody who was anybody in the city did. When Vallerian was a child, the man had been the Bishop of Kings, head of the Church of Seratos, and spiritual advisor to His Majesty. Vallerian remembered the day the man had given all that away. Given it away for her, a little street child with the eyes of a queen, and the gifts of a goddess.

Vallerian watched the man as he commanded the armoured retinue in his wake. The organized squads moved to guard all entrances in and out of the square. Despite the Sherya man's ancient age, and he was the oldest among even the Sherya in the city, he always had an air of power and vigor to him. A trait seemingly shared by those who spent time with this girl.

Approaching their group, the Bishop's cold eyes swept across them all, lingering longer on Celeste than any other. Vallerian's sister and Gardinal both bowed their heads, the latter taking a knee to his superior as the former genuflected.

“My Lord Bishop, I...” Gardinal begun before being silenced with only a look from old Shelezan. Vallerian had been silenced by that very glance more than once in his life. The Bishop did it well. With Gardinal silenced, the Bishop settled his stare on Celeste.

“Your Radiance.” he said, voice the picture of elder authority. “Have you come to any harm?”

Celeste seemed more timid in front of this man, and that was saying something for the already skittish child. It seemed some things couldn't be trained out of a street rat. Celeste straightened her dress and brushed stray hairs aside before facing the Bishop. She seemed to move up to embrace the Bishop, but he stepped back, holding out his hand instead. She kissed it. Those two had a very odd relationship.

“Father.” she began. “My defenders served ever so honourably in protecting my sisters and I from any danger.” She sounds rehearsed.

“Is that so?” The Bishop nodded before returning his attention to Gardinal. He raised his hand, pressing a slightly bent finger to Gardinal’s chin, his ear, and his forehead. The Blessing of the First Mother. “Brother Gardinal, rise and report.”

Gardinal did so, quickly beginning his explanation of what had occurred, with the precision of a soldier. That Gardinal was certainly an interesting one, Vallerian would have to watch out for him. With the Bishop and Gardinal busy though, Vallerian rounded on Celeste and his sister.

“Valleresa, you never told me you served the Prophetess.” He said. How long did she say? Two years?

“Your sister is a most wonderful handmaiden, My Lord. She serves the First Mother with grace and humility.” Celeste spoke with seeming honesty. Vallerian almost snorted at that, his sister? Graceful and humble? Valleresa must sure have this girl fooled.

“Thank you, Your Radiance.” Valleresa gave the Prophetess a curtsy. A curtsy, from his twin sister? What an odd sight. “As for you, brother, you would know these things if you ever visited the manor.” She scolded him. The Fyri-Harrisdall manor though, was not a place he would ever return to willingly. Too many memories, too few of them good. He could still feel the welts on his back sometimes.

“Your Grace, I can't simply just leave when...” the tone in Gardinal’s voice seemed to draw Celeste's attention, so Vallerian let his ears wander back as well.

“You can and you will.” The Bishop snapped. “Do you doubt her other protectors' dedication? The ones you yourself have trained?” There was a sharpness to his words. So, this Brother Gardinal really was in charge of these men. He seemed a good soldier, but his training skills were certainly wanting. A Khazimi trait, Vallerian figured, thinking on his teacher.

Gardinal audibly ground teeth, obviously biting back an objection. There was a tension between Old Shelezan and Gardinal. He could exploit that, somehow.

“Good.” The Bishop continued. “Now go find out what is going on here, you will better serve Her Radiance by ensuring this never happens again than by loitering about her.” He ended his proclamation with a sense of finality.

Gardinal gave the Bishop a rigid bow, then turned to Celeste.

“Forgive a'me your Radiance.” He gave her a deep bow. “But I will return to the temple tonight. For now, I a’must depart.” His accent seemed to slip in when he was stressed, a solid giveaway. Celeste reached up with a hand and cupped his cheek.

“Go with the First Mother's blessing, Brother Gardinal.” She smiled and kissed him on his forehead. That brought a grin from Gardinal as well. He gave her a bow and began marching off. They were close indeed, very close. Perhaps he should stop antagonizing the man, a change of strategy might be needed.

“Brother Gardinal, I find myself most regretful of our initial confrontation. Go well in the Pantheon's light, and in it I hope to know you better.” Vallerian gave the Khazimi a small bow, taking his cue from the Bishop's parlance. Gardinal eyed him suspiciously.

“I don't know what you're about, my lord, but I don't like it. You stay clear from Her Radiance, you understand?” He responded in a hush, so only the two of them were privy.

“I only wish to know her better.” Vallerian grinned. Gardinal blustered as he departed. That man might yet be an asset, or an obstacle. Vallerian would need to keep an eye on him.

“And now for you, Lord Vallerian.” The Bishop spoke, the faintest hint of a sneer to his tone. Vallerian reluctantly turned to meet his fate. “Why am I not surprised to find you at the center of catastrophe?”

Vallerian opened his mouth to defend himself but the Bishop stopped him with a raised hand.

“I do not wish to hear it; I heard enough excuses from you as a youth to last even my lifetime.” The Bishop moved back to Celeste and Vallerian felt sufficiently chastised. He had caused a small commotion in the Temple of Seratos when he was a boy, and the Bishop had been more than stern with him back then. It was still odd to think of Shelezan as the Bishop of Life now, as he had been the Bishop of Kings for nearly a hundred years before stepping down.

“Father.” Celeste began. “His Lordship defended me well and made the honourable choice to disarm my attacker instead of killing him.” She tried to defend him; it was sweet. But really, who talked like that? She sounded like scripture. Vallerian just counted himself lucky that his skill with a crossbow was so lacking. He had been aiming for the man's skull.

“Be that as it may, you are dismissed Lord Vallerian. Be gone before I begin asking questions as to what a peer of the realm such as yourself would be doing in the Southshore market.” The Bishop dismissed him, and Vallerian figured it was as good a time as any to make his exit. Before leaving though he gave both Celeste and Valleresa deep bows.

“I will be coming to speak with you soon, Sister.” Vallerian said, pointing a finger at his sister. “And I wish you a safe journey home, Your Radiance. I hope to be better acquainted with you soon.” He would certainly find time for that, or his mother-in-law would likely kill him. Vallerian sighed at the idea of facing that woman down, but as he began on his way, he knew that horror lay at the end of his journey.

Charlotte flew down and clasped onto his shoulder once more as he walked, nipping away at his ear. Of course, she'd be gone for the Bishop but come back for the ride home, lazy coward.