“Our Mother, who art in Heaven, hollowed be Thy name. Your kingdom come, Your will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses”
Solomon’s rough, calloused hands were clasped together in rayed as he stood before the altar of the Chief Goddess. The church was empty, except for him. He was dressed in a pure white hooded cloak and wore a blue tunic with black sleeved and trousers underneath his cloak, forgoing any armor. On his black leather belt was a beautiful longsword, it’s hilt decorated in the shape of the Order’s symbol. Around his neck was a cross necklace, blessed to keep him safe from corruption.
The church was empty aside from him as he prayed, his words echoing off of the smooth marble walls. Bathed in the light of the stain glass windows, he opened his brown eyes to behold the glory of his god, a small smiling sparing on his lips.
Then, the loud creak of the great doors opening caught his attention. Walking down the aisle between the wooden pews was an old man dressed in the white and blue robes of the church. He had weary, pale blue eyes and a small, well groomed mustache, completely grey like his thinning hairline.
“Holy Father”, Solomon said, bowing his head as the old man approached him. The old man took in a breath before speaking, his age causing a bit of strain on his voice.
“Tell me, Solomon”, the priest said, taking in another breath. “What is your favorite thing to do?”
Solomon raised his head, another grin spreading across his face. “To spread the word of the Chief Goddess to the many people’s of the world, teaching peace and love for all”.
The old priest smiled and chuckled a bit, expecting such and answer from a man as devout as Solomon, yet was not quite satisfied.
“And what about killing monsters?”, he asked, raising a grey eyebrow. Solomon’s grinned widened.
“Just try to stop me”, he stated.
The priest clasped his hands together and smiled eve wider. “You are truly a blessing, Solomon”, he said. He placed his wrinkly hand on Solomon’s shoulder and beckoned him to walk with him.
“I’ve sought you out because there is matter that requires the Order’s attention in the West”
“Are we finally going to retake Lescatie?”, Solomon asked.
“That’s what I love about you, my son. Your enthusiasm and drive to destroy the Demon Lord and her foul hordes… ah, but no. We’ve yet to gather enough of our forces in order to mount an effective attack”, the priest replied. He noticed Solomon frown a bit and patted his shoulder. “Take heat, my son, your efforts are invaluable”
“If you say so, Holy Father”, Solomon sighed.
“Indeed I do say so”, the priest said. They had neared the large, oaken door, the priest putting his hand on it. “There are reports of monster activity behind our lines. They’re most likely too cunning and powerful for our regular soldiers and knights if they’re able to slip by them”
“Or they’re just very stupid and lucky”, Solomon quipped. The priest chuckled again.
“Either way, I need you to find and deal with them. Good luck, Solomon. May the light of Heaven shine upon you”
“And you as well, Holy Father”, Solomon said.
Daylight illuminated the church as Solomon pushed open the heavy doors, the sight of the bustling city greeting him. The soldiers guarding the church saluted Solomon as he walked down the steps. The Church was in the heart of the city, surrounded by the market and houses of nobles. A spectacular sight of wealth, art and culture, this was not the majority of the city, however. A common feature amongst Order controlled territories was a large divide between the rich and poor. Indeed, the poor were the largest spectrum of the population, from farmers, to smiths, to beggars. It was a tenant of faith to help those less fortunate than yourself, human’s were often selective with whom they helped.
This was doubly true for those in power. While common folk would donate a coin or two to a vagrant or an orphanage, it was expected that most donations would go to the church. Most would gladly do so, believing their charity would go towards shelters for the poor and orphanages, much of it was actually spent on the war effort. Money changed hands from priests and nuns to arms merchants who grew fat off their profits. The same profits that they would “generously” donate to their local churches.
Solomon was aware of this, but reasoned that it was necessary in order to save humanity. He cast away his thoughts about politics and marched on through the cobblestone streets. The people of the city made way for him as he passed by, many looking up at him in awe. While the faithful always spoke highly of heroes, Solomon was heralded as one of the best. Fearless, determined, and loyal, he was indeed a paragon of the faith. Many said that he would be the one to slay the Demon Lord.
Of course, people say a lot of things.