Prologue

Prologue

The Pope sat in his gilded chair nervously, eying the tall figure that stalked about the room. The man was tall, taller than any man he had ever known, well over seven feet. The light from the braziers and torches along the walls cast flickering shadows over him, making his sure and calculated movements seem random and surreal. 

His garments were simple, yet flawless. That description went for everything about the man, though. A silver breastplate adorned his chest and golden tassets hung down to just above his knees. His calves were wrapped in worn leather straps, interlocking into the soles of his sandals. A thick, silky maroon cloak fell from his shoulders and swayed gently with his every gesture.

His black eyes flicked over to the Pope and his lip twitched into a humorless smirk. "You are doing well."

The Pope relaxed and smiled, nodding enthusiastically. The man's voice was smoother than honey, soothing him into immediate relaxation. "I am doing as you commanded, My Lord. It is all falling into place, exactly as you foretold."

"It always does." The man walked over to the window and gazed out over the city. "My brothers and I are pleased. Know this."

The Pope beamed.

"But..." the giant added, glancing over at the Pope with obvious contempt. "The heretics are still many. They must be converted or put to death."

"Yes, My Lord, of course. We are converting more and more to your Word every day. Hundreds flock to Sheerwind to hear me speak of it."

"Not my Word, Joseph. The Word of God."

"Y-yes. Of course."

The man sighed and shook his head, turning from the window to face the Pope fully. "Faster. More. The heretics must be stamped out with a brutal finality. Make harsh examples. The will of the Devil is strong and he works against us even now."

There was a flutter, like the ruffling of a thousand feathers, and another man stepped forth from the shadows. Just as tall, he wore an ornate golden helmet set with gemstones that glittered in otherworldly colors.

"Michael," the newcomer said with a nod.

"Brother," Michael replied, his expression bored.

"I have news I must share of my Crusade. Might I borrow you?"

Michael glanced over at the Pope, who watched with interest. "You may. Joseph, I expect you to heed my guidance."

"Of course, My Lord." Before the Pope had finished speaking the two men were simply gone. He took in a breath and stared into the fire of the nearest brazier. "Thy Will be done."