The halls of the chapel were flushed with darkness. Not the kind that incited fear and distress, but rather the tranquil kind. It calmed the soul and massaged the humours. Several motes of dancing flame drenched objects close to them in faint golden highlights. Those candles grasped firmly in the palms of certain individuals for the sacrament were the only sources of interior lighting; just enough to ensure the bare minimum of sight.

He stood as still as the stone pillars that lined the chapel, muttering the sacred words alongside his brothers and sisters. The candlelight pulsated. It swelled, flickered, shrivelled, then started over in a perpetual cycle of fluctuation.

Alric felt a bead of melted wax trace its way onto his ungloved finger. It was hot...but he did not move to wipe it away. He used pain as a measure of his faith. How much could he endure in God's name? If there was a threshold, he was an unworthy servant. He savoured it. He took pleasure in it. For only the living could be struck by pain and he intended to embrace all that God had given him the privilege to behold.

Almost invisible to the naked eye if it weren't for stray lines of candlelight was an immense and beautifully carved wooden portal that dwarfed every person in the chamber. Each eye was pinned to said gate as the sacrament was uttered, all aglow with ending faith.

Suddenly, as if the prayers were being answered, there was a low rumbling that coursed through Alric's innards like an internal crack of thunder. It was far from the first Birthing he had witnessed, but the procession had never lost its lustre. Such majesty did God exercise over each and every object in his domain. The immense tremors stopped as suddenly as they began, and the church hall dropped into complete silence. Led by the head sister, the nuns proceeded to the portal and pried it open. The door was so large that all seven women needed to lend their strength to open it. Time felt as if it had slowed to a painstakingly feeble pace for the knight. His eyes narrowed and his breathing hitched.

When the sanctum was opened, a mass of bodies filled the space that had been empty prior to the sacrament. Lined in perfectly ordered rows starting from the rear were horses, deer, wolves, and finally, seven children. All of the animals were folded down on themselves. The children, like the animals, had eyes of darkness; none were truly ‘alive’ as of yet.

Beneath the new life was a raised platform, referred to as a womb. It was worn rough as if it was as old as time itself. Like clockwork, the nuns filed into the sanctum and gathered up the small children as the priest held his candle to a scrap of parchment, inspecting the text upon it. When the women finished moving the young to safety in the nursery wing, the remaining monks heaved the portal shut.

Alric could barely hold back his wonder. Every person to ever exist entered the world that way. Life was born of the Heavens; it was obvious. One moment there was nothing in that chamber, and in the next there were living and breathing creatures. It was irrefutable proof that God existed and that all of reality was his creation. The knight wished that the non-believers could have witnessed it as he had. Perhaps then would they end their apostasy and rejoin the path. As the halls were bathed in light once more by the monks opening the locked windows, Father Alexander turned to Alric and nodded. “Are you well, Brother Alric?”

Alric coughed into his hand nervously as he wiped tears from his eyes. “It never fails to bring me to weakness, Father. Forgive me.”

The priest shook his head sternly. “Hush, now. Your joyous awe pleases me; many of the others in your Order are much too eager to shed blood to appreciate such things.” The remark irritated Alric to say the least. It was the duty of the Knights of Saint Thestus to safeguard the faith; what else were they to do but shed blood in the name of God? Alric helped Alexander in opening the chapel’s double doors. Beyond was the gathered mass of folk that lived in Hollensfield. Eager husbands, wives, and children gazed at the priest with halted breath. As they braced the doors against the church walls, the priest said to Alric, “I will send for you once we have determined if the accused are indeed the heretics you seek.”

“I beg thy pardon? My informant identified them as members of a heretic cult,” Alric argued. “I would have them at once, so I may impose upon them my inquiries.”

With a shake of his head, Father Alexander replied, “Surely you must understand that I cannot freely give these individuals to you without verifying the claims of some stranger. Until their guilt has been determined, they have been granted sanctuary in these hallowed halls.”

“This is ludicrous,” Alric huffed.

Father Alexander exhaled through his nostrils. “That will be all, Brother Thestor.”

Begrudgingly, the knight laced through the crowd and eventually spied his involuntary companions standing apart from the masses. Peter hobbled around to face Alric as he came closer. Without his armour and Thestor surcoat, Peter could have only recognised Alric by the longsword and rondel dagger that hung heavily on his belt. Otherwise, he was wearing his unassuming and filthy arming doublet.

“You aren't going to kill them too, are you?” Halsten pressed urgently.

Alric crossed his arms. “The choice is theirs. Should they repent, their sins shall be forgiven.”

“Just don’t kill ‘em before they tell us what we want ta know.”

“Men and women of the cloth always exercise utmost discretion during questioning,” replied Alric.

“Questioning? You mean torture.”

Peter scoffed. “Please. Enough of this. We all want to find these heretics. Could we at least try to cooperate with each other?” Halsten fell silent, as did Alric. Peter, however, sighed heavily and said, “Perhaps you should see to your armour, Brother Alric. In the meantime…I suppose Halsten and I shall have a meal?” Peter glared at the agitated woodsman.

“A splendid idea.” Alric stomped off with a huff. He circled the crowd that nipped at the front gates of the church. Several joyous faces marked the families that were chosen to bear the newborn children. Only the most devoted to God were blessed with young. The list held by the priest denoted the most faithful married couples in the village.

Around the side of the church tower he went, and softer and softer did the chatter from the commonfolk become. At the rear of the structure were a handful of plebeians. They were engaged in varying forms of labour including gardening, carpentry, masonry, and painting. Most of them were laying stones and mortar to reinforce a tunnel that led from the rear of the church and into the forest.

One plebeian in particular was applying oil to several pieces of plate armour lined up on a wooden bench. He was dressed in a bright orange tunic, brown hose, and linen shoes. The bench was sitting beneath a simple wooden shelter. Folded neatly next to the pieces of armour was a fresh surcoat. Alric’s surcoat, which had turned dark grey with blood and dirt, was nowhere to be seen. The fresh garment was a pure white.

Alric did not even recognise his armour. It had been polished to a chrome sheen and had the more structurally compromising dents hammered out by a smith. He could see his own reflection upon it grow as he approached. The broken links in his mail had also been replaced. The young plebeian was so absorbed in his work cleaning the plate that he did not raise his eyes to greet the knight.

Without a word, Alric reached over and ran his fingers through the rough fabric of the surcoat. Embroidered on its chest was a red Pillar made of three strokes that wound together into a knot at the base. The Pillar was the central figure of Church worship; it signified the Lord’s magnificence. Finally, as Alric continued to examine the surcoat, the plebeian froze upon noticing his company.

“B-Brother?” he stammered anxiously.

Alric pulled his arm away from the surcoat. “Hast thou been kind to my arms?” he asked, mostly in jest.

“Y-Yes Brother Alric, of course.” The boy's voice quivered and he scrubbed faster.

Alric’s eyes moved to the stone tunnel nearby. Leaving the plebeian to his toil, he approached an iron-barred opening in the tunnel. To his right were more plebeians and the stone mason hard at work laying their mortar. Inside the tunnel, Alric could make out slow movements in the near-darkness. The animals...the horses, deer, and wolves that were birthed. They were being led into the wilderness by the tunnel. Although humans hunted animals for food and produce, on the day of their birth, they were granted passage through the chapel to ensure that God’s balance of nature is unsullied. Once in the wild, animals suitable for farming were distributed to the farmers who were most worthy in the eyes of God.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

The chance to behold with his own eyes that animal and man were all born the same way always hardened Alric’s certainty. All things that should be, were born of God. All else was wretched and dark. Things that were never truly born, that had never passed through the gates of a church. Dark things. He thought of goblins and manticores. Then of those that were worse.

With a jitter, Alric turned and returned to the plebeian tending to his armour. He eagerly set the breastplate onto the bench and looked up at Alric. “Brother Alric, it’s all done. If ya wouldn't mind, you can speak tha words and I can start ‘elping you back into it.”

Alric nodded then knelt. Closing his eyes, he muttered, in the ancient tongue of Edich, the sacred words to himself. In Tritish, the words were:

As God’s love is infinite,

So boundless is His hatred.

As God’s compassion is unlimited,

So fathomless is his indifference.

The first verse in the Oath of Vigilance. Each word was etched into Alric's mind; the old tongue of Edich was always his first language as it was the language of the Scripture. However many amended Tritish versions were created, Alric would only care to witness the Holy words in their original form. He recited eleven of the twelve verses; a sacred vow to adhere to the Second Attestation of Saint Thestus. He swore to the Heavens that he would be vigilant against the enemies of the Lord until the moment he laid his head down to rest. Only once the Prime Moon was at its apex in the night sky could Alric utter the closing verses of the Oath and remove his plate armour.

The plebeian approached with Alric’s greaves and cuisses. The Thestor finally spoke to the boy. “Speak thy name. I shall call it when thou art needed.”

“James, Brother,” he answered awkwardly, laying the pieces of armour onto the wooden table.

The knight snatched the greaves up, clasped them onto his shins, and fastened the straps accordingly. Next, he retrieved one of the pieces of thigh armour, called the cuisses, from the bench. Alric wrapped the open cylinder of steel around his left thigh, making sure to slot the articulated poleyn knee plate to the steel peg on the greave below it and strap them together. The top of the cuisse was to be tied to Alric's arming jacket to hold it upright. Once it was all in place, Alric flexed his knee to ensure that he had done a proper job. He repeated those steps for the opposite leg. The last thing Alric could comfortably see to on his own was the mail skirt that would protect his groin. Once it was tightened and in place, he turned and said, “Come, James.” The following steps were possible on your own, but as Alric knew from his days travelling alone, it was difficult, very particular, much more time consuming, and tiresome. He knew that he was to be doing it alone for many days, so why not take a brief respite and make the boy useful?

Next came the mail voiders that draped over his shoulders to cover his armpits and upper arms. Alric held up his arms to allow James to slide the mail onto his arming doublet and strap it into place. As James began to clasp the steel cuirass about Alric’s torso, the knight had the sense that he was not the first man James had helped into their harness. The cuirass completely entombed Alric’s body, and its fauld overlapped the mail skirt beneath it. “Hast thou armed many men in the past?”

He nodded eagerly. “Y-Yes, Brother. I’ve seen many from yer Order march through ‘ere in big groups. The Grand Hosts, or what ‘ave you.” James secured the cuirass in place then moved onto the vambraces; lengths of smaller pieces of steel linked together with leather to cover his forearms and biceps. Also attached to each vambrace was a pauldron; a shoulder piece. He mounted each vambrace and tied them to Alric’s arming jacket, making sure to tighten each component before moving on. The plebeian asked, “I ain't never seen just one of you. Are ya runnin’ late?”

Alric grimaced at the boy’s idiocy. “As a knight-errant, my charge is to travel God’s kingdoms alone and uphold the Third and Fourth Attestations.”

“Tha Third is ta spread tha faith and the Fourth is ta always ‘elp folk?”

“Very good,” Alric commended begrudgingly. “Folk who recognise the Father as the one true God.”

James continued his duties by outfitting Alric with his gauntlets and fitted a padded coif onto his head. He then handed the knight his bascinet helm; it was fitted with an aventail, a heavily-padded mail collar that would cover his neck. Lastly, James draped the fresh Order of Saint Thestus surcoat over Alric’s armour and tied it about his waist with the same belt that held Alric’s longsword and dagger.

James stepped back and cocked his head, assessing his handiwork. “I-If I may, Brother...how does one join tha Order of Saint Thestus?”

Alric slid his helmet on, but kept its visor open. “Simply ask. Like the Church itself, we are always in search of plebeians to act as squires and sergeants.”

James's eyes dropped to the ground. “Y-Yes Brother. How about…ta become a Thestor Knight?”

Alric took a breath and rested his left hand upon the pommel of his sheathed sword. “Thou must already have attained knighthood, then choose to swear thyself to the Order. The training of a true knight begins at childhood and is tested in battle; to attempt to train an adult volunteer to the same standard would be impossible.” After the plebeian nodded sadly, Alric took his leave.

It had been roughly twenty minutes since Alric had started donning his armour; the dense crowd at the church gate had dispersed. Alric supposed he should attempt to find Peter and Halsten, although he did desperately want to leave them behind. Since arriving in Hollenfield the previous night, Peter had done his part by identifying the other demonists. The only reason Alric allowed Halsten along was that he technically held up the Fourth Attestation in that situation. He was a father who needed assistance in finding his son; a God-worshipping man in need of help, not a person to be turned down by a Knight Thestor. The two unlikely companions were simple peasants who would need protection if danger reared its fangs during the journey. They were ill-trained and ill-equipped to engage in the often perilous work of manhunting. Nevertheless, until either of them gave him a reason not to, he would treat them with reluctant tolerance.

The knight walked down the row of cookshops. The smell of pies, fried meat, fish, fowls, and eggs wafted through the air. By the road was a set of benches and Peter was seated at one, cradling a pie in his hands. As he chewed, his eyes sparked upon seeing Alric. “Where’s Halsten?” Peter asked.

Alric was not pleased. “I was to ask thee the same question.”

Peter swallowed the food in his mouth. “A monk came to summon us...Halsten said he was going to take the message to you.”

With a growl, Alric clenched his fist. “Come.”

Peter hobbled after Alric, one hand bracing on his cane and the other shovelling the pie into his mouth. As they came upon the church, several town guardsmen wandered about the main gate. The priest was standing against the archway, looking as if he had seen a ghost. “Father, what troubles thee?” Alric called.

Alexander shook his head. “Y-Your companion... He attacked one prisoner and kidnapped the other!”

“This could have been avoided if thou simply handed them over to me,” Alric snarled. He then turned to the guards. “What manner of buffoonery allowed one woodsman to escape thee? Why aren’t thou giving chase?”

One of them rolled his eyes at Alric. “He was fast, alright? Lashed out at one of 'em, then made off. Ain’t enough time for anyone to figure out what happened.”

Peter stepped forth, his food completely gone. “The other prisoner, are they still alive?”

“Lissen, get outta 'ere before I toss ya on yer crippled arse,” the guard pressed.

“Best answer the question,” threatened Alric. “So be it, I shall strike thee down for hindering the Lord’s reprieve.”

The guard stammered. His compatriot found the words that he couldn't. “He’s alive. Not fer long.”

He stepped to the side of the gate, revealing a body sprawled in the middle of the entryway. Nuns and monks were gathered around, none prayed for the life of the heretic. Alric approached the dying man and knelt. “The time is upon thee. Speak the truth and be granted passage to God’s kingdom. Renounce thy devilry.”

The man's voice faltered as he desperately cried, “H-He took her...South-East. T-Tha burial mound. P-Please I don't want to die...!”

“Death will come. It cannot be helped, but the soul need not be condemned to Hell. I beg thee, save thyself. Repent,” Alric pleaded in hushed tones.

The heretic’s desperate pleas continued. He died before Alric, who took great disdain in the fact that the man did not cleanse himself before passing. So be it. He would burn in Hell for eternity. All that mattered was that Alric had done his duty; he would not suffer the same fate. He stood and glanced toward the slightly ajar birthing portal. The knight moved into the sanctum, flanked by the two volunteer guards. It was as black as night within, only the distant speck of light in the distance marked the end of the beast tunnel. In the middle of the sanctum was the smooth and pure surface of the womb.

Upon the ground were bootprints. Bootprints that smeared dirt over the sacred womb. Halsten had fled through the sanctum, leaving his filthy handprints across its pristine walls. Not only did the woodsman shed blood on sacred ground, he defiled the church to escape. Alric growled as he lowered his head. Halsten had knowingly made himself exempt from the Fourth Attestation with such affronts, and given Alric another task to complete in order to please the Lord.