“It is hard remembering you were such as these boys,” Pelarak said. “I’ve seen so many grow up and take their armor or their robes. Many aspire to greatness, but so few reach it.”
“I wonder which I will be,” said Ethric as he sat opposite him at the table.
“A dark paladin every pup of Ashhur learns to fear, if Karak is kind,” Pelarak said.
Children surrounded them, carrying bowls, spoons, and a large pot of soup. Once they were served, both bowed their heads and prayed silently for near a minute. Ethric dug in afterward with a healthy appetite, while Pelarak only sipped at it occasionally.
“I must confess, I come here with ulterior motives than just your warm words and food,” Ethric said when his bowl was half finished. “Though Karak knows I needed both. Haven’t had a solid meal since the Stronghold, and that feels like a thousand miles away after so many months of travel.”
“Did you encounter any trouble on the road?”
“A foolish pup thought he could slay me to earn admittance to the Citadel.” Ethric chuckled. “I’d hardly call that trouble, though. More of a nuisance. I was almost to Kinamn, where the pathway winds through all those rocky hills. Imbecile was hiding among the rocks shooting arrows whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. I’m sure he planned a more heroic tale when he brought my head to the Citadel doors.”
“At least he had more fight in him than Ashhur’s paladins have as of late,” Pelarak said, dropping his spoon. “Though I fear we have too much of that fight in our own ranks here in Veldaren.”
“Which is why I am here,” insisted Ethric. “You told Carden you were troubled. Tell me what it is so I may scorch it with fire and cut it with blade.”
“Do you know of the faceless?” asked Pelarak.
Ethric furrowed his brow as he thought.
“No,” he said. “I’ve not heard of them.”
“Come,” Pelarak said as he stood. “Let me show you.”
He led him into the deep recesses of the temple, down a flight of stairs, and into a large but cramped storage. Crates piled this way and that, huddled against the walls or the many pillars that supported the ceiling. Pelarak lifted his hand. Purple fire surrounded his fingers, giving them light.
“About two hundred years ago, the priests of Ashhur succeeded in a massive conversion of our brethren. It was then that our presence in Veldaren weakened, and our kind were banished from the city. We fought them bitterly, as you can imagine, and with heavy hearts. A score of priests repented, sneaking away from Ashhur’s temple and throwing themselves at our temple door in Kinamn.”
The whole time he talked, Pelarak led them through the maze of old armor, racks of swords, crates of cloth, and jars upon jars of food. He stopped, scratched his chin as he thought, then turned toward a stack of paintings propped against each other. Each of them was rectangular, the length of a man laying on his side.
“We tested their faith,” Pelarak said as he looked through the paintings. Even though his hand swirled with purple fire, it did not burn the material. “Those that lived were admitted into the priesthood, but not entirely. The high priest at the time was a brilliant man named Theron Gemcroft.”
“I know of him,” Ethric said, watching the elaborately framed paintings flip forward one after another. He saw mostly portraits of former high priests, though among them were scenes of warfare, battles between angels of Karak and Ashhur, and even serene depictions of nature. “Forfeited his fortune to devote his life to Karak? Carden was particularly fond of his sayings, and used them often in his sermons.”
“How is that old goat?” Pelarak asked.
“Hard as nails and brutal as a mailed fist,” Ethric said with a small smile. “What are we looking for here, my priest?”
“This,” Pelarak said as he lifted up one of the paintings. Ethric grabbed a corner to help. Together they held the picture and stared. It showed seven men and women, their bodies wrapped in black cloth. Only their eyes were visible through cuts in the wrapping. They held daggers, staves, and swords in hands hidden by waves of shadow that rolled off their bodies like smoke from a fire. At their feet lay over twenty dead paladins of Ashhur.
“Well painted, if a bit dramatic,” Ethric said.
“They are the faceless,” Pelarak said, his eyes going distant. “Theron knew that to welcome the traitors back