The gates of Oakhaven Manor groaned open, admitting a procession that smelled of incense, burning oil, and the terrifying certainty of moral absolutism.
Valeria stood in the center of the courtyard, her hands clasped before her in a posture of demure welcome that she had practiced in the mirror only minutes before. Behind her stood Ignis, now dressed in a plain brown scholar's robe, his monocle hidden, his posture stooped to disguise his height. Silas was nowhere to be seen, having been ordered to the kennels to play the part of a mundane guard dog.
The Church of the Eternal Flame did not march like an army. They flowed like a river of blood and silver. The soldiers wore polished plate armor engraved with weeping eyes and burning wheels, their faces hidden behind visors that showed no emotion. They formed a perimeter instantly, their movements synchronized, securing the gate and the walls with a quiet efficiency that made the Guild's mercenaries look like brawling children.
