Chapter 3

Light shone in to the chapel in great blankets, covering everything it touched, illuminating all within. The chapel was grand and ornate. Statues of various archbishops and eminent figures lined the walls. Above them, enormous windows told ancient stories with pictures made with chromatic colors and hues stained in to the glass. The ceilings were high, reaching towards the heavens. Towards God - and God reached back; back with light so bright it seemed that angels frolicked and played around the building.

Mass had ended a short time before and the great hall was vacant of all but one. A lone priestess kneeled before a statue, whispering hymns in a beautiful, melodic voice. She was shorter than most, but it wasn’t an unattractive feature. A silvery robe covered her like a wispy veil, fluttering at the slightest movement, giving her a picturesque and natural aesthetic. An aesthetic that was only exacerbated by her youth. Her face was soft, with smoothly contoured features. Her brown hair, falling just below her ears, reflected pockets of gold as the bright sun gracefully danced around her. She was a lighthearted child at heart. Always happy. Always with a smile on her face. She cared for others, and not just because she was a priestess. She had a heart. A heart that outshone even the most dazzling of the suns beams.

Her quiet lamentation ended, and she rose. She looked up, moving her gaze to the eyes of the statue before her. It was the tallest one. It was a statue of the Savior, a savior who had never come. Yet. She always believed he would come. She was told he would since the beginning of her childhood. For as long as she could remember she had heard the stories of the Savior who would come and bring light to a city of darkness and all would be well again. She was a realist, but she liked to believe that one day everything would be okay.

The far door, the single entrance to the chapel from the castle grounds, opened. Not in a grand fashion; the doors were opened in a subtle way that one would use when trying not to draw attention. She knew who it would be, and her face brightened at the thought - The Crusader.

The Crusader was a great man. A man much like the heroes of the Romantic and quixotic stories who would venture forth and rescue princesses and combat dragons and other forms of generic evil. The Crusader was as skilled in arms as he was devout. He was a priest. He was a warrior. But he wasn't torn between the two worlds; instead he was an amalgamation of both; employing righteousness in battle and conviction in worship. He bore gold plate armor. Walking down the aisle, he was like a majestic sun, treading with pride and light. On his back, a great mace ornamented with the sigils and crosses of their religion. It had seen few battles, but it was young, as was he, and it was no less intimidating than a bloodied axe. He, too, believed in the coming of the Savior.

But beneath the battle armor, beneath the macho exterior was a gentle man. A man who knew how to love. A man who knew how to give love and receive it. A man of kindness, of caring and of compassion. He used violence only when completely unavoidable. Formidable, yet gentle; he was a lover and a fighter; and she loved him for that. He smiled at the Priestess. It was a smile that spoke vows and promises. A smile which was worth more than treasures and wealth. It was a smile which would guarantee her happiness. It was love.

As he approached, she couldn’t help but be magnetized to him. She leapt in to his arms. Even through the steel, the Priestess could feel the warmth of his heart, the gentle touch of his hands on her back, the loving embrace he held her in. She looked up and saw the warm, caring smile on his face and she smiled back. After a few moments they loosened their embrace, if only to look at each other.

“You know you could die” the Priestess said sarcastically.

“I could die. Yes. Or, we could do something great. You and I both know that if this really is him, we could bring salvation to this city.”

“I understand. Salvation cannot come without cost. We cannot afford to be selfish.”

The Crusader gave her a nod, acknowledging her wisdom. “I shall leave soon. The King’s…” he paused. “…trial…should be ending in a few minutes. I’ll have to intercept the guards before they reach his cell. I have not the key, so I cannot allow them to lock him there.”

“What shall you do with the bodies?”

“Well, someone has to fill the cell” She giggled a little. “I just hope this works.”

“Just don’t get caught by the hundreds of soldiers and you’ll be fine.”

“You know the trouble maker I was. If I get caught, it’ll be the first time” She pulled him in, savoring one last embrace.

“Then I guess I need not tell you ‘good luck’”

“I don’t need luck. I’ve got skill”

“And a big mace”

“It does help”