“A Sentinel?! Sir, I am barely fit to be a soldier...” Martin couldn't believe the question that he had just been asked.

“Sentinels aren't soldiers, Martin. We aren't knights, we are hunters of the occult and slayers of the Magical. We rarely take orders from anyone and are never treated anything less than what we are… Warriors of God. It's your choice Martin, It’s your life.” Sovereign said with potency.

“But why me? Why not an officer or Sergeant Vance?” Martin just couldn't believe that he could be considered anything more than fodder. The very notion distorted his frail reality, he was practically trying to hand the offer to another man just to make sense of it.

“Stop being dense Martin it spoils the character I've seen in you today!” Sovereign raised his voice and stared at Martin sharply.

“As I said, you were the only one to follow us in battle today and fight back. It's not like you weren't afraid, I sensed it in you, that's why you hesitated to come into the church at first, wasn't it?” Sovereign continued to stare at the boy but Martin turned his face toward the fireplace in embarrassment.

“You were, as they say, Heroic. You did what had to be done even if it felt impossible in the moment Martin. That takes Valor, and that's someone I could consider as a brother under the right circumstances.” Sovereigns words were so striking, so unequivocal, that Martin was convinced that Sovereign absolutely believed in them.

“But my platoon?” Martin questioning the last bit of reason holding him back.

“Martin, I have holy-law granted upon me by the church to ordain anyone I deem worthy an Apostle. Your command would have no choice but to release you, or, suffer the consequences,” said the Sentinel.

“An Apostle?” Martin questioned.

“You wouldn't be a Sentinel outright, of course. It would take years of meticulous studying and practice under the watchful tutelage of a consecrated Sentinel and our staff. It could be up to ten years before you ever had the opportunity to test for the title.” Sovereign admitted to him openly.

“A test?!” Martin was shocked. He had never taken a test before in his life, he was only taught basic arithmetic by his father and was nearly illiterate.

“Yes, a four-part test to be exact. A written portion, a spoken portion, a combat orientated portion, and you have to take on a commission, a lot like this one. You take a test in each of the three great cities. Of course, the Cardinal of that city would determine the curriculum of that individual portion of the qualifying examination. The Commission comes from the church, where you will undergo anything from an exorcism to hunting and killing a Demonic beast.” Sovereign was studying Martins resolve, making sure it stood up to the threat of academia. He knew that the other Sentinels wouldn't be as kind as he had been to the young boy. Martin stared into the fire, motionless and deep in thought. He stood up and faced Sovereign.

“Yes, I want to be a Sentinel,” Martin said with unyielding confidence in his voice.

“I know Martin. Now, go get some sleep, we leave early in the morning. I'll finish your shift for you, besides, I'll be riding my horse tomorrow and you'll be walking.”

The boy nodded and went to the designated sleeping quarters. Sovereign stared into the fiery abyss and breathed deeply, letting out a long exhale knowing the crooked door he had opened for the boy.

Early in the morning before the rooster crowed Sovereign pulled Martin out of bed, the sun still asleep below the horizon, and the rest of the platoon with it. Martin was waiting next to Sovereign who was writing a letter that the boy could barely read.

“Sign here Martin,” Sovereign said pointing toward the line on the bottom of the paper.

“What does it say, sir?” Martin asked.

The Sentinel cleared his throat. “Dear Platoon Thirty-two Echo, I have taken Private Martin Helmwood and dubbed him my Apostle for acts of Valor, by decree of the holy law, I hereby relinquish him of all current military duties. His rank will no longer be a Private in the service of the church but now an Apostle of God, and will be under my care from here on out. Dutifully, Sovereign of Morn Awolon.” He gave the quill to Martin “Sign so they know I didn't kidnap you.” He lightly chuckled

Martin quickly signed the letter the best he could. The pair headed out onto the road, the starry sky was bright and the moon was full.

“Sir, why are we leaving so early?” Martin yawned out.

“Never let the sun catch you sleep, Martin. It's disrespectful to the radiant one. We are in service to God, whose image is of a great sun upon our chest, and as such we must be up before it. Now I don't want to hear a word from you till we stop for supper, I like to travel in silence. And as my Apostle you will do as I command, that won't be a problem, will it Martin?” Sovereign said looking down at the boy who was walking next to his horse.

“No, sir!” Said the boy proudly.

“Good.” Sovereign was overly pleased with his new apprentice. It was always desired to find a pupil as young as possible. The younger the apprentice easier they would be to teach and not hold onto past ideologies.

The two travelers arrived at an inn right before sundown, hungry and tired from a long day worth of traveling.

“Martin, Tie up my horse in the stable, brush her, pick her feet, and feed her then come inside to finish the rest of your chores,” Sovereign ordered in a calm straightforward tone.

“Yes, sir!” Martin did as he was commanded, he treated the horse like royalty, even if it was just a stubborn old mare. After he handled the horse he came inside the inn, it smelt like fresh bread and elm sap. It was busy, all types of men smoking pipes with vanilla tobacco, eating fire-roasted meat, and who was breaking bread with each other. There was the sound of a string instrument in the background, and the chattering of glasses filled the main dining hall. There was plenty of singing floating through the air, the atmosphere felt very hospitable and homely. Martin asked the Inn host if she had seen where Sovereign was, she thought for a moment and gave him the directions to his room. Inside, Sovereign was unarmed and in his shirt and trousers, scrawling some notes inside a small travel journal.

“What will you have me do next sir?” Martin enthusiastically asked as he walked in. Sovereign looked up as he closed his journal.

“I need you to brush the dirt off my boots and shine them, polish all my armor, Sharpen my sword, and rub beeswax on all my leather straps. I'm going to take a warm bath after your done with you your chores I want you to take these gold pieces and get enough food for both of us. Oh! No fish, Martin. I hate fish.” Sovereign said while undressing till he was nude. He then handed the boy ten gold shekels in a tight leather pouch. Martins' hand felt heavy, he had never seen so much money in his life. It was customary to have at least one gold piece in your home in case of an emergency, but that was only if you were well off. Most families barely had Ten coppers let alone one gold piece. The splendor of being a Sentinel showed in just a small sack of leather. Martin grinned and thought in time he would have more money than his home village. The boy dry scrubbed all the dirt from the boots and polished them feverishly till his arms ached, while buffing the armor he caught his reflection but paid himself no mind, he couldn't be distracted and continued his chores. He sharpened Sovereigns sword by stropping it and finished it with a whetstone. The blade was elaborate and contained a ruby embedded in the hilt, Martin barely noticed any of these details while they were in combat with Bahmat. Martin slicked all the leather straps on his armor, belt, and boots with beeswax. Martin was proud of the care he took on such a noble warriors kit. The young boy quickly hurried down-stairs where he ordered, with purpose, a cask of ale, bread, two scotch eggs, soup, and a pitcher of water. The Boy and two garden-variety homunculi brought the food up to sovereigns spacious room. Martin set the table and waited for Sovereign to finish bathing.

“Martin, come here,” Sovereign called from the bathroom. Martin peaked his head in and saw Sovereign shaving his face with a straight razor peering into a small mirror mounted onto the wall. The man had a towel wrapped around his waist, his body was covered in scars and claw marks, he had a light athletic build and was tight like a wildcat. The room was filled with steam and smelt of pine and rosemary.

“You weren't thinking about eating like that?”Sovereign said not breaking his concentration from the razor on his neck.

“Like what sir?” Martin said cluelessly.

“Martin, you just got done grooming my horse and cleaning my boots. You haven't bathed in who knows how long. I can practically smell you from here... You aren't a peasant, you're not a soldier, you are an Apostle of the church. Your body must be as clean as your spirit to be recognized as pure. Go order a homunculus to draw you a warm bath and join me when you're clean.

“Yes sir, I had no idea of my current state,” Martin said apologetically.

“The food is getting cold Martin...” The man said implying his impatience.

Martin did what he was told. He laid in the warm soapy water and scrubbed till he was pruned and red. Emerging from the light brown froth his body smelt immaculate and felt right as rain, but his stomach squealed like a horse in heat. He dressed in his only other pair of clean clothes. Reentering The Sentinels room he saw Sovereign writing something inside the same journal, he tore the page out, folded it, and put it in an envelope. He handed the letter to a man who had Markings of a courier but Martin couldn't be sure.

“Much better Martin! Come, let us pray and then eat.” Sovereign said cheerfully.

The boy sat down across from the man, they both bowed their heads and silently prayed. Martin thanked God for this opportunity to prove himself, and he vowed to fight courageously for the great sun and for his new champion, Sovereign of Morn Awolon. When Martin raised his head The Sentinel was still deep into his prayer, so the boy waited patiently for the man to be done. When Sovereign finished they began to eat. Martin looked for the ale where he left it, but couldn't find the small cask he had bought.

“Sir, where's the beer?” Martin asked curiously.

“I told the Homunculi to take it away. We are warriors of God and can't abide in anything that could distract us from his light.” Sovereign plainly said while cutting into the loaf of bread.

“Like alcohol?” Martin asked sadly.

“Yes, Martin, like alcohol. There are plenty of other things we abstain from as well. Woman for example. Every Sentinel swears an oath of celibacy, only bound to each other.” Sovereign said while spreading butter over the slice of bread.

“Bound to each other?” Martin began ladling soup in his bowl.

“Yes, bound to each other. You and I would be fated to each other after our binding.” The man said as he chewed on the buttered piece of bread.

“But… but isn't that a sin sir…?” The boy said staring in honest confusion.

“Don't think of it as intimacy Martin. Yes, sodomy is a sin, but it isn't a sexual binding that I'm talking about. It's a loyalty to one another, it's an innate trust that will never fade. It's the purest form of companionship a human can have, even more so than marriage.” Sovereigns warm grin was slightly unusual for he rarely smiled, but it was pleasant and full of cheer so Martin smiled back.

“I don't understand, how so more than marriage?” Martins appetite to know about the world around him was insatiable. He constantly craved answers to the things he didn't understand, so he asked many questions.

“Well... I would die for you Martin, how many wives would do the same?” Sovereigns words sitting in the young boy's heart, like an ember, enkindling him, making him feel warm and wanted.

“I think I understand sir, thank you.” Martin has never felt this before, so the boy was quiet the rest of the night, holding tightly onto the heat in his chest.

The next morning the duo set off before the sun, never letting it catch them sleeping. They traveled all day in silence until they stopped at a lake along the way to water the horse and rest.

“Forgive me Sir, but where are we going?” Martin had been so excited the last day he had forgotten to ask such a simple question.

“The Sentinel district in Morn Awolon... It is the headquarters for all Sentinels... and it will be your home for the next several years.” Sovereign said in between sips of water from his flask. Martins' face lit up, he had never seen the Holiest of holy cities or any city for that matter. His life was taking a turn for the best, had he truly been blessed?

As dawn approached the next day, Martin and Sovereign crossed a hillside bend where the boy saw a figure on the horizon the likes of which he had never seen. It stood taller than anything that ever was, piercing heaven with its expanse, its silhouette blanketed in a gorgeous vanilla twilight. They were miles from it but it would grace their vision until they entered the City. Behold! the Monolith; it was as ancient as the mountains, beautiful as fire, and more striking than a lightning bolt. The massive construct stood as a beacon of hope for the weary and downtrodden. It towered at a mind-boggling Two-thousand and twenty-three feet tall and was Two Hundred and twenty-five feet by two hundred and twenty-five feet in diameter. The size was as glorious as its surface. The face of the tower was made from obsidian that was darker than the deformed ebony that sat deep in the hearts of men. Martin was in awe of it, as was everyone who has had the unfortunate pleasure to gaze upon its excellence.

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Near noon of the Fourth day of travel, they approached the massive wall that encircled the city of Morn Awolon. The wall was made from solid stone that was at least three men thick. The outside rampart was a fortress, near impregnable except for two entrances, one leading out toward Morn Gwenevere and the other toward Morn Ulrich. Watchtowers and sentries were everywhere, you couldn't spit without hitting a guard. As the two crossed under the portcullis the boy stared at a bustling metropolis filled with people from every walks of life. But something seemed off, different in the city than in the small satellite villages. People were busy running about, no one smiling, everyone looked sickly and grey. As the two walked down the main road further into the city Martin noticed that not one person stared at the duo, they just kept their heads low and their eyes lower. The beggars avoided them and even guards bowed their heads not to catch the grey eyes of the Sentinel.

“Forgive me sir, but why are the people acting strangely?” Martin said puzzled from the unusual treatment.

“You're no longer a commoner Martin, you're now a member of the church. Weather that brings you fear or respect, well, that is for you to judge and deal with in your own way. Now, we're almost to our sanctum, when we get there you will handover your current belongings to the Homunculi to be disposed of. Then I want you…” Sovereign trailed off noticing that Martin was gazing at the base of the Monolith as they began to pass it. Hundreds of people were kneeling at its foundation, praying, and bowing on its gently sloping stairs. The people touched it, the elderly cried, they were all praying for God to help their illnesses or, possibly, to see their children come back from the war alive. Martin thought it was glorious before, but now he was stupefied. The absolute majesty that it forced upon the common man was something that sent one in a state of catatonic awe. Its colossal width nearly took up the entire center of the city that was built around it. The towers surface was so smooth and reflective that the boy saw himself in the side of the tower, even at fifty yards. Martin stared entranced as his head and eyes began to travel up the wall of the Monolith, it pierced the sky, the sun spewing rays of brilliant light off of its glassy surface. With unblinking eyes he gazed deep into it, it felt like it stretched into an unfathomable eternity, as if it were part of the void, like staring into the all-seeing eye of God. He was transfixed on it, on its Astonishment, upon its radiance, and that feeling filled him with a sense of unexplainable dread.

While Martins’ eyes were studying the structure, Sovereign rode up behind him and rapped him on the back off his head, snapping him out of his unintentional fixation.

“I know it's your first time in the city, and it's all very interesting, but we do have a lot to get done Martin,” Sovereign said with haste.

“Sorry, sir!” Martin said snapping out of his bewilderment.

The two traveled through a mighty gate into a separate section within the city. The structure ahead of them was massive, housing different sections with four different minarets on each corner. The Sentinels sanctum was a rectangular shape, and the vast square nave was covered with a central stained glass dome that is held on four massive pillars. The arcade around the dome was unbroken with a hundred arched windows to bring more light inside. Excluding the four narthexes and the capacious atrium, the basilica measures two hundred thirty by two forty-five feet. The atrium is large and breathtaking, with hanging plants and vines crawling up its walls. The total length of the establishment measures four hundred and forty-five feet. The long walkway leading to a circular courtyard was flanked on both sides by cloisters, where gray robed homunculi and Apostles wearing dark frocks walked about on their various tasks and lessons. Ornate sculpting was masterfully carved into the various pillars lining the halls. Entering the courtyard Sovereign dismounted his horse and a robed monk took the reins, leading it toward the stable.

“Follow me, Martin,” Sovereign commanded as he began walking toward the door in the center of the courtyard. Martin followed stuck in a pleasant stupor. The building was beautiful, covered in blue and white tiles that had to be constantly polished to sparkling perfection by the Homunculi monks who served the Sentinels. The sanctum was trimmed with gold and embedded with sapphires. Ambling through the large marble doorway Martins' eyes wandered upon all of the decadence. He was then struck by the site above him, he was standing under a massive stained glass dome that showered him in heavenly light and colors, the boy had never experienced so much beauty not even in his most fanciful dreams.

From the shadows a young Apostle, that was around fourteen, bounded toward him and tackled Martin, sending him flying across the marble floor.

“Your stepping on the radiant sun! You do that again and I'll whoop you senseless!” the young boy shouted.

“Wha? What did I do?” Martin cluelessly said as he began to get up in a daze. “Look down…!” The boy pointed toward the floor that he pushed Martin off of. Upon the ground was a beautifully painted white sun with red waves coming off of it, it was the sigil of the Sentinels, The great radiant sun.

“I'm sorry I had no idea, I'm new.” Martin sputtered out

“Apparently! Don't let me catch you doing it again.” The boy said as he was walking away. Sovereign approached his pupil.

“Sorry I didn't warn you, Martin… I guess I've been so used to walking around the Radiant one that I forgot to warn you.” Sovereign said empathetically as he rubbed the back of his head.

“Its ok sir, I suppose I had to learn one way or another!” Martin said ardently, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Ok Martin, This here is the Sergeant of arms, he is is the Homunculus that will show you to the armory where you will be supplied your uniforms, books, and training weapons. We will meet later tonight for the ceremony.” Sovereign said as he gestured to the robbed homunculi.

“Why can't I go with you, sir?” Martin was feeling out of place and wanted to be by his Master's side.

“I'm sorry Martin, where I'm going you cannot follow, Not yet at least. I'll meet you tonight, now be a good Apostle and do as I say.” Sovereigns words echoed through the chamber as he walked up to a broad flight of winding stairs.

“Come, young Apostle, we have a lot to get done in a short amount of time.” The Sergeant said hurriedly as he began to lead Martin toward a stairwell that headed deep into the ground. The stairway was long and winding with torches every ten feet or so. they were far under the earth where it was cool. They happened upon a large wooden door with several different locks on it. The Homunculi unlocked all six of the locks with all the keys on his key ring. The door creaked open and inside the long supply room were many different homunculi folding clothes and sharpening swords. Each one had a specific duty and was hard at work doing whatever task they were deemed was their reason to live. The Boy and the Monk walked toward the end of the room.

“Strip and get dressed in these.” The Monk ordered as he handed Martin a white frock with the colorful radiant sun sewn on the front of it, a red sash, and a pair of minimalistic black slippers. The boy undressed slowly, slightly embarrassed from the strange looking Homunculi standing all around him.

“Dress faster, we have much more to get through.” The monk barked.

The monk than handed the boy a large canvas bag, and eyed him up and down taking a mental note of his size and measurements, he then began to put clothes inside the bag. Another frock and a pair of black slippers, a dark brown training shirt with a pair of padded brown trousers, worn down Leather training gloves, a few pairs of woolen socks, and a pair of training boots. The Sergeant at arms ordered the boy to follow him, and he did. He then gave him a different bag that was large and well put together, there were many thick slots to hold books.

“Listen, young Apostle, I'm only going to repeat myself this one time.” The Monk began to hand him books. “Arithmetic: Volume one and two; Voltez Poetry and Literary fundamentals: Volume one, two, and three; A translated copy of the image and laws of the dead, Demonic imagery and scripture, Sword mastery and combat tactics, abstraction of the five magics, and of course the holy scripture; the Holy write.” The monk named each book as he held them high and then handed them to Martin. The boy was astonished by the size of each tome. They were all very weighty and were thick enough he wouldn't be able to grip them with one hand. He supported each bag from there straps on his shoulders, it was heavy but he was able to bare the physical pain more than the mental anguish from all of these books that he was worried about.

The monk and the boy walked back up the staircase and into the main entryway, the monk-led Martin to a dormitory-style chamber with neat bunk beds lining the room. Martin was guided to his bunk where he was ordered to unpack. He folded his clothes and put his books away in a metal footlocker that was placed horizontally at the foot of his bed next to his bunkmates. Martin sat there on the bottom bunk his eyes looking around the vacant room, his heart was fluttering from all of the excitement, he could barely believe just a few days ago he was a nobody, and now he was deep within this elaborate building entwined with gold. If only his mother could see him she would be so proud, and his Father would pat him on his back and tell him that he's shaping up to be a good man, and his little brother would no doubt idolize and admire him. But nobody was around and he was alone, it didn't matter because he believed in his journey just as Sovereign believed in him. The Monk escorted him to a private bath where a few other monks began to disrobe him, Martin was slightly panicked. But they hushed him and he was calm, almost as if he was under a spell. They washed him in a large tub, scrubbing every inch of his body till he was clean. They clipped his hair short and scrubbed the lice from his scalp. They gave him a white linen frock to dress in. The Head monk-led Martin to a dark chamber with a door which held a stain glass window of a Sun.

“Now young Apostle, we are in the preparatory chamber for your ceremony with Master Sovereign, I need you…” The Monk said before being cut off.

“Ceremony, I haven't planned anything and I'm completely unprepared! I don't even know what the ceremony is for!” Martin blurted out in frantic immaturity.

“Calm down and just follow me and everything will be alright.” The Monk expressed as he attempted to reassure the boy leading him through the door and into a large chapel.

The room was dimly lit, cool and dark, and the smell of the incense was foreign to him and kept him on edge. The great chapel hall was almost filled elbow to elbow with Apostles, Monks, and Sentinels lining the pews and walls, each person was standing at attention waiting for the ceremony to begin. Martin was brought to a wooden altar that was made from a lighter color wood yet the top was unnaturally stained dark. Out from the other sacristy, on the far end of the sanctuary, Sovereign came out wearing the same white frock that Martin was robbed in. The Sentinel was standing on the opposite end of the altar as the boy and had a calm smile on his face as he stared at Martin with his stalwart grey eyes. Shortly following Sovereign a man adorned with a royal red cassock and a tall, gaudy, red satin crown embellished with an abundance of jewels came out of the same door. The man was chanting in an unrecognizable tongue and shaking his hands above his head with holy eccentricity. He was followed by a small procession of monks wearing red hooded robes each carrying a smoking thurible in their left hand and a golden sword in their right hand that was stretched across their chests. The adorned man stood between Sovereign and Martin and began to chant.

“Ouuuur holy all-fatheeeer, notice here todaaaay we recognize this booooy as a member of ouuur clergyyy. Let hiiim and this Sentineeel be bound by blooood and their flesh twisted like the sons. Let him see the light, let his soul be yours to use as you wish, let your word elevate his body and mind, amen.” The old man's voice echoed in a sing-song manner across the chapel hall. The Homunculi took Martins hand and Sovereigns, binding them together with their palms facing each others, and enclosed them in a stained box with a hole on each side. The air was still inside the chapel hall, everything felt so calm and quiet from the anticipation of what was to come. But Martin wasn't calm, he felt a tight ball in his throat and sensed he was in danger. The boy's eyes flicked across the room and gazed at the many men who filled the hall, everyone was staring, waiting. He looked over toward the robbed man who unsheathed a long iron spike from a purple satin cloth. Martin jerked slightly to try and escape but Sovereign was clutching his hand within the box.

“Calm down Martin, it will all be over soon, I promise.” Sovereign smiled at the boy. The ceremony was ready, one of the Homunculi jabbed the long spike through the hole in the box piercing the hands of Martin and Sovereign, and coming out the other side. The boy screamed from the pain, the white-hot burning from the metal was excruciating. He was panicked, self-pity fell over him and was sure he would be sacrificed like a lamb. Martin jerked his hand violently but it only caused him and Sovereign more pain as his hand pulled against the rod stuck inside of it. Blood began to run out of the bottom of the box and pool inside a silver Kylix. Martin noticed the blood and was wild with fear. His terrified eyes met Sovereigns, the Sentinel was as stone-faced as the first day he saw him. This gave no comfort to the boy. In his panic, he felt as if he was tricked into a place of suffering. Martin continued to buck like a mule, letting out profanities for an agonizing Three minutes before Sovereign spoke to him.

“Gather yourself Martin!” He said with an aggressive but hushed tone. “The sooner you endure and accept our pain the sooner it will end. Do not embarrass us.”

Martin trusted the man and attempted to settle down but his body shook from spasms that crept up his spine, his arm burned and pulsed from the inflammation, he stood there silently praying for the anguish to end. Upon seeing that the boy was still The Crowned man began to speak again.

“Notiiice beeefore uuuus, the joining of these two, bound by God and country, bound by flesh and blood. Sovereign do you swear to take this boy as your Apostle to teach him the way of the Sentinel and guide him toward heavens light?”

“I do,” Sovereign said while remaining composed.

“Do you, Martin, accept Sovereign as your guide and will you accept our culture and ways on the path to Sentinel-hood?”

Martin mustered all the strength in his body fighting past the painful lump in his throat “I... do...”

“Than it is decided, The boy is one of us, release them and we will drink from the offerings.”

The two were released from there binding. On each of their hands, a small but visible hole was left bleeding, The swelling had begun as soon as the spike was removed. Each of their hands was immediately treated with a mysterious paste that began to sting the wound but quickly numbed the pain after the rapid application of antibiotic their hands were wrapped tightly in white linen. One of the Monks took the Kylix that was filled with blood and carefully handed it to the orator on the pedestal.

“Through our brother's blood, we shall escape the weight!” He hollered out into the heavens and took a sip. Each man in the Hall would vociferate the same line before drinking from the vase of blood. The Kylix made its way back to Martin and Sovereign standing on the altar there was only a few pitiful spoonfuls left. Sovereign took the vase in his hands.

“Through our brother's blood we shall escape the weight!” he hollered wildly and without self-consciousness. He drank deeply from the bowl letting a droplet of blood stream down his freshly shaved chin. The man handed the vessel to the boy and nodded urging him to take it. Martin took it apprehensively, unsure of what he should do. His eyes scanned the room and saw the crowd with his blood on their lips, hellish longing in their eyes, the absolute barbarism of it gave him cold sweats. Martin perked up his courage once more and lifted the bowl to his face. His hands were cool and clammy, he smelt the metallic odor of the blood. The poor boy didn't want to drink, but he had to if he wanted to continue his quest. So he hardened his resolve and readied himself once more.

“Through our brother's blood, we shall escape the weight!” With much hesitation, he yelled and drank the remainder of the crimson fluid. The blood had begun to coagulate and the chunky consistency slipping over his tongue made him gag, but he finished the soup. The room erupted into cheers and hoots, everyone was pleased to accept a new member to the guild. Licking his lips the copper taste tainted his mouth and made him feel sick. Martin stood up straight and true and was finally pleased with the entire situation. The fledgling Apostle stood proudly among his new Brothers and hoped he could indeed, with their help, escape the weight.