Morning came with the sound of bells and the rolling clouds.

The deep, resonant tones echoed through the Red House, reverberating off the ancient stone walls and shaking dust from the rafters.

Nero had been awake for over an hour by then, sitting on the edge of his bed and staring at nothing.

He stood when the bells rang and stretched carefully, testing his arms and legs.

His brows furrowed ever so slightly as his body protested, but less than yesterday. The pain was still there, but the damage was already being repaired by Vineheart as well as the elixirs still in his system.

He had refrained from taking any Divine Elixirs or Essence Pills so as not to appear too off. After all, if Lyon found anything odd, there would be questions he couldn't quite answer waiting for him. It was best to endure the pain and avoid suspicion.

He glanced at his left arm silently. It moved without issue, the pale skin catching the grey dawn light from the window. His skin was smooth and perfect. Completely unnaturally when considering the torments he had faced.

He pulled on his clothes and left the chamber.

The corridors of the Red House were already filled with movement. Templars in various states of dress moved toward the cathedral, their footsteps echoing off the stone. Some wore their armor, crimson plates gleaming in the torchlight. Others wore simple clothes like Nero's. Most of those within the Red House were not Templars. Rather, a majority of them were workers, mundane people that worked tirelessly to keep the house and the cathedral running smoothly.

There were also monks, as well as the researchers and doctors that worked in the eastern wing.

When compared to the Templars, there was a stark difference. Even the Templars that were not clad in armor were enormous, standing heads above the regular man. Their visages were calm and lethal. Like the calm of a hunter stalking a prey.

Most dared not even look into their eyes.

After all he had gone through, Nero had a new found respect for these men.

In order not to stand out, Nero kept his head down and followed the flow of bodies.

***

The cathedral was vast and cold.

The ceiling stretched high above, disappearing into shadows far beyond the reach of the lamps that lined the ornamented walls. Rows of wooden benches filled the floor, most of them already occupied. At the far end, beneath the massive painting of the crimson warrior holding the demon's head, the altar stood empty.

The painting seemed different in the morning light. The warrior's eyes gleamed with reflected amber light of the lamps, and the severed demon head he held appeared to shift slightly, as though the hundreds of eyes covering it were watching the congregation below.

Nero found a spot near the back and sat.

The benches filled quickly.

The Templars filed in, their armor clanking softly as they moved towards the front of the church. Nero watched them from the corner of his eye. The atmosphere was heavy as the congregation fell into silence.

Every morning, these Templars of the Crimson Crucible would receive the blessings of the Red Mother, just like the priest gave blessings to the guards back on Gor.

At this point, every Templar was glad in the illustrious crimson armor. The lights from the lamps glinted off, making them appear even more radiant and sinister.

Nero let his gaze drop. Despite being clad in armor, Nero knew all to well the burdens these men held. Their changes were hidden beneath their armor. Yes, every single one of these Templars fought against the corruption.

It was the price of power, and power demanded that it be paid in full. An eternal penance that continued even beyond the grave.

The bells stopped ringing.

Silence settled over the cathedral like a heavy drape, its hem gilded with the embroidery of oppressive devotion.

Then entered, Red Mother...

The old fossil moved slowly, the crimson veil that clad trailing behind like a river of blood. Her skeletal hands gripped a gnarled staff that looked older than Nero could possibly even comprehend, and her robes whispered against the stone floor with each step she took.

Although he was curious, Nero didn't have the courage to try to see what she looked like behind the veil.

Within the Order of the Crimson Crucible , there existed ten regiments. Each regiment was located in all the ten cities of the empire. Within Liedenstorm, the regiment that existed was the Blood Lotus Regiment.

The templars that were on duty within the garrison numbered less than a hundred.

Their large frames were knelt right below the steps that led to the altar, their heads bowed in deep reverence.

The rest of the congregation rose to their feet.

Nero rose with them, his eyes fixed on the ancient woman as she made her way toward the altar.

For a moment, the world seemed to freeze.

Nero felt a soft wind flow through the large halls of the cathedral.

Even the lamp light flickered for a moment.

Nero closed his eyes. He didn't even need his golden gaze to know. He could tell...

The threads of Ein Sof had shifted, solely due to the presence of this strange being.

The Red Mother reached the altar and turned to face the congregation. For a long moment, she simply stood there, silent and still.

Then she began to speak.

Her voice was thin and rasping, like wind through dead leaves, but it carried through the cathedral with unnatural clarity. Every word reached Nero's ears as though she were standing beside him.

"A prayer to the grey clouds, that the grey crows do not consume us even in our rot..."

The congregation repeated the words in unison, their voices blending into a low rumble that shook the air.

Nero's lips moved as well, but the words held no meaning upon them.

"A prayer to the horned angel of the North, that its wings may shield us from the frigid winds of the Niel..."

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