William and Tilly's arrival at Casford had been a whirlwind; they'd managed to stir up trouble completely unintentionally, and seemed to have got on the bad side of the town guard as a result. He was expecting some sort of reaction to his Blessing, or rather his mark, after what he'd experienced in Axeby, but he could never have anticipated the crowd's reaction.

  The guardswoman that had taken them inside had made it clear that their presence was a nuisance, as far as he was concerned. She was a mean looking woman, and had the attitude to match. Her brown hair had been tied back so tightly that it somehow pulled her eyes into a permanent glare, and she'd held a sneer on her face the entire time they'd interacted.

  She'd gone out of her way to make them feel unwelcome from the start: refusing to acknowledge them, when they were at the window; making them wait around in a cramped room, until she finally decided to come back and lecture them; and she'd even lambasted another poor guard just to make a point, sending him running past them and into another room with tears in his eyes.

  "That wasn't a very warm welcome," William said, annoyed.

  Tilly shrugged. "Wasn't our fault, really."

  "She certainly seemed to think so," he replied, gesturing back towards the door. "I don't see why she had to be so rude."

  "She seems like the type to be rude to everyone, not just us."

  "I just don't understand people like that," he sighed, and pulled up the hood on the cloak he'd been given. "I suppose we should find the church - I'd rather not have to deal with her again, if at all possible. Shall we ask around?"

  Tilly laughed. "No need," she replied, and pointed behind him up into the sky.

  He turned, and saw that she was right: there really was no need. A large building of gleaming alabaster-like stone towered over the others, covered in stained glass windows that seemed a rich and tasteful blue from this distance; it was smaller than the walls of the town, but it drew ones eyes to it naturally through its sheer beauty and craftsmanship: the white stone had been carved meticulously into reliefs that spanned the entire structure. It was a work of art that instantly cemented itself into William's mind, and sparked inspiration for his own carving endeavours - albeit of a wooden, and much more amateur variety.

  "Incredible," he said with slack-jawed amazement. "It's beautiful."

  "It's alright. Let's get going, shall we?" Tilly began to walk before William had even voiced his assent, strolling casually with her hands in her pocket.

  It would not be a long journey, and would hopefully be free of trouble: the church seemed only a few streets a way, as best he could tell, and there was nobody else around.

  He caught up to walk alongside her. "Just alright? Come on," he said, in disbelief of her dismissal.

  "I don't know what you want me to say," she replied with a half-hearted laugh.

  "That you like it - or that you don't, even. It's art."

  "It's just a building."

  "Buildings can be art," he countered.

  She looked around and gestured to the buildings around them, in lieu of a real response. They were hovels, when compared to the church, but otherwise astoundingly mundane; rows and rows of identical white timber-framed terraces, dirtied from countless years of exposure, with protruding upper floors that made the backstreet far darker than one would expect.

  "Okay, they're not amazing, but you could still argue that they're art - what about the patterns of the timber frame, or the colours they chose for the walls?"

  "Oh, I'm sure," she said sarcastically.

  He responded with mock contempt. "Philistine."

  Tilly scrunched her face, seemingly annoyed.

  He decided to change the subject. "Have you been to this church before, when you were last in Casford?"

  Her face returned to normal, and she nodded her head. "Not for long, just a quick in and out prayer with my grandfather. Was never really into all the praying and stuff."

  Not into it? The words almost pained William to hear, coming from a fellow Blessed. "What do you mean?" he asked incredulously. "You're Blessed!"

  "It doesn't do anything. I never saw the point in it."

  There was a long silence as William's face contorted in confusion. She didn't sound as though she was lying, but all he'd ever heard was that only the most faithful were Blessed - a Blessing was a direct connection to the Seraph, after all. He was having a hard time making sense of it all. No; she has to be joking. There's no other way.

  "Good one," he replied, faking a small laugh. She gave him an odd look that contained a mixture of concern and amusement, worried that she had broken him somehow through simply telling the truth.

  They reached the end of the backstreet, and turned a corner. It led them out onto one that was much busier, though still relatively empty compared to the sea of people they'd seen at the gate. William pulled the hood of his cloak down further, and the two made their way into the stream of people as inconspicuously as they could. He was extra cautious of bumping into somebody accidentally - if a confrontation started, or they caught a glimpse of his mark, there could be trouble.

  Thankfully, they managed to reach the church without issue, much to their shared relief. They stood before it, in all its majesty; if the rest of its exterior had been art, then this was surely a masterpiece. Enormous, reinforced oak doors were set underneath a relief featuring odd looking grotesques: uncanny masked faces with strange proportions, in various states of emotion. Above that was a large and circular stained glass window that covered the entire width of the building, and gleamed beautifully in the light. It depicted the quintessential white four pointed star and its smaller companions, against a deep blue backdrop.

  "Do you see what I mean now?" William said, nudging Tilly.

  "Still just a building," she laughed.

  There was no procession nor even a general congregation at the church, for all its grandeur: there were a few robed men and women milling around its perimeter, walking slowly and chatting, but it was otherwise empty. William and Tilly made their way to its huge doors, and pushed one of them open; it was surprisingly easy, considering their size.

  The church's interior was less of a spectacle, though still impressive; it minimised extravagance to focus more on what was truly important: the Seraph. The stained glass windows refracted the natural light to deliberately converge above the pulpit, and coloured light danced on the white walls in a mesmerising display. Apart from that, it was the regular affair of the realm's churches: rowed seats, vaulted ceilings, and candelabras.

  William felt like he could sit within those hallowed halls for hours and never grow weary; he envied the people of Casford who could come here regularly. There were a few robed men inside the main hall, gathered around a lectern off to the side. With no alternative, William removed his hood and the two of them approached the group. The men were deep in conversation, and their discussion was loud enough to overhear as William got closer.

  "...not capable, I fear. Perhaps we- oh my!" one of the robed men said, startled upon noticing the two new arrivals. He laughed joyously before continuing, "The Seraph certainly does pick the most opportune moments! Welcome, Blessed ones! I am Brother Simon." He was a middle-aged, balding man, and his robes were a glorious and pristine white, trimmed with only a touch of gold. It was very different to the traditional, unadorned brown robes and cloaks worn by the other men.

  The other assembled men gave their enthusiastic introductions, and William and Tilly responded in kind.

  "Well, we mustn't keep the Seraph waiting - I would ask for your aid in a most serious matter," the white robed man said to the two of them.

  William certainly hadn't been expecting this, but he was happy to oblige, so long as it was reasonable. "What is it that you would have us do?"

  "Only if you help us with something after," Tilly added pointedly.

  One of the men scowled, but Brother Simon laughed. "I like this one! Very well," he proclaimed, then gestured for the two of them to approach closer to the lectern. The exalted scripture of the Order was laid open upon it, and he closed it with a loud thump before looking at Tilly. "Please, close your eyes and open the holy scripture at any page."

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  Tilly seemed oddly apprehensive, but eventually relented: with a small shrug, she closed her eyes and reached out toward the unassuming book. She ran a finger along its front edge, and opened it.

  "Good, good - keep your eyes closed. Please, point to a passage."

  She winced, and drew circles in the air above the book before driving her finger down hard onto a random portion of text.

  "Perfect! Which passage did you select?"

  Tilly opened her eyes, and her face looked worried. "What is this even for?"

  "We aim to divine the best course of action in a criminal matter," Brother Simon replied reverently, "by trusting the word of the Seraph."

  "A criminal matter? Should that not be handled by the town guard?" William asked.

  "The Order handles all criminal judgements, in Casford - a man can only truly be judged by the Seraph, after all."

  "Why did I have to pick one?" Tilly asked. She sounded agitated.

  "It requires the hand of a Blessed, to be truly accurate."

  "Well, I've picked one," she said angrily, scrunching her face. "Read it yourself - I'm not going to do everything for you." She tapped the passage in the book a few times to make her point, then removed it.

  "Very well," Brother Simon said. He leaned over the book, and William watched the man's eyes scan the page. His face grew more serious as he progressed, until he finally read the passage aloud with careful and precise enunciation. "'Suffer not the rot that would undo the work wrought with thine own hand. Cut it off, lest it spread.'"

  There was a small silence, before one of the brown-robed men spoke up. "The Seraph has made it clear, then - this thief must be apprehended."

  "Yes," Brother Simon agreed. He turned to his fellow priests. "Send word to the guard: if they apprehend this man, have him hanged." One of them nodded, and took their leave to deliver his instructions.

  William could not believe what he had heard; he stood in a state of complete shock. "What could they have stolen to justify such a harsh punishment?" It was a rhetorical question: in his mind, there was no possible answer.

  Yet, Brother Simon gave one. "This individual has been targeting the market for days, terrorising the vendors - a baker, in particular, has been placed into financial difficulty as a result."

  Anger swelled within him, and he straightened his back. "That is no answer! This is unjust - the Seraph would not want this!"

  Brother Simon sighed reluctantly, and held up his hands in an attempt to placate William. "It is regrettable, but the words of the Seraph were clear."

  "What a load of bollocks," Tilly said, to quite a few gasps of those assembled. "It was me that chose a page, not the Seraph. It was random - you can't go by that."

  "You were a conduit for the Seraph, the moment your hand touched the scripture," an old and rather sour looking man explained angrily, "it is a well established practice in Casford."

  "I didn't feel the Seraph at all - and I should know," Tilly said, punctuating her point with a flash of the mark on her hand.

  "That does not mean they were not present," the sour man man said, folding his arms.

  "I cannot stand idly by and let this take place," William said, flaring his defiance. "Is there no other way to handle this thief?"

  William's words angered the man even more than Tilly's, and he rose his voice to a shout. "And I will not stand to hear the Seraph questioned, Blessed or not! Simon, I ask that you remove this man at once!"

  "Now, now - let's calm this down," the white-robed man laughed, "I forget how spirited the youth can be! Brothers, would you kindly leave us?"

  "You can't be serious!" the angry man exclaimed. By the looks of things, he had no support from his fellows - they had the sense to heed Brother Simon's words, and were already walking away.

  Brother Simon dropped all pretence of friendliness at the insubordination. "You will not be told again. Leave."

  The last of the brown-robed men left with a grumble, and William had the feeling that the man wasn't the type to come to his senses once removed from a situation.

  "I apologise for Brother Philip's behaviour."

  "Forget Brother bloody Philip!" Tilly shouted. "You can't go doling out punishments based on random chance!"

  It irked William that she seemed to be having more of a problem with the way they'd come about their decision, rather than the decision itself. "It's not right for someone to hang for this, Brother Simon. Please, have some compassion."

  Tilly nodded, "Yeah." It didn't seem particularly heartfelt.

  Brother Simon exhaled loudly, contemplating their words. "If you are so against it, I feel as though I must give your opinions their due consideration, given your status."

  "Thank you, Brother Simon; I think it best if-"

  "We will take only a hand."

  "No!"

  "Then what would you have us do?" Brother Simon said, exasperated. "You leave us with no recourse!"

  "Let us help," William pleaded, "if we find this thief, perhaps we can help them. There must be a reason for the theft, if they are stealing food from a baker."

  Brother Simon gave pause for further thought, then responded softly. "Ah, to be so innocent. Perhaps it is for the best, for you to see the truth of villainy." He looked at William with eyes full of familiarity, as though he were talking to someone else entirely. "I will have the order rescinded for the hanging, and will ask for the town guard to include you in the investigation, so that you may learn a most valuable lesson."

  He didn't appreciate being talked down to, but he knew when to take the victory. "Thank you. Truly."

  "Yeah, thanks," Tilly said, not quite meaning it.

  "Now, to lighter matters; what brings you to the church? I believe you made mention of a request?"

  "Guardswoman asked us to come, said you'd help us cover up our marks. She had a right stick up her arse about it," Tilly said matter-of-factly.

  William gave her a thump on the arm for her choice of language in such a holy place.

  Brother Simon chuckled, and waved it off. "Yes, yes, that sounds like our captain. Come." He began wandering off further into the church, and the two followed him closely.

  He led them to a smaller room near the back of the building, through a long and dimly lit corridor. The side rooms had an eery feeling, compared to the rest of the church: they were cold, and uninviting. This one had been no exception, though it did at least have a window that let in ample light.

  Brother Simon opened a drawer, and took out a small box. "Your hand, please," he said to Tilly, and she obliged. He removed a brush from the box, wiped it a few times on the inside, then began brushing the back of her hand. It deposited a thin layer of what William could only describe as a dusty paste onto her hand, obscuring her mark. It was similar in colour to her skin, though clearly different, but it still did an excellent job at hiding the mark: a patch of discoloured skin was much less noticeable.

  "Is this just makeup? Surely that can't be it?" Tilly asked, unconvinced.

  Brother Simon smiled. "Not every problem requires a complicated solution," he replied sagely. William supposed that it was true enough - unless, of course, you were talking about killing a man for stealing bread.

  "Will it work for mine?"

  "Of course! Though you may still receive some odd looks - I'm afraid I don't have your tone." Brother Simon gestured for William to come over, now that he had finished covering Tilly's mark.

  Tilly stifled a laugh at William's pained expression as the priest brushed his face. "So how come we even need this?" she asked.

  "Casford has quite the relationship with Blessed," the man began. "We have had a great many troubles, in our past - more so than most towns: plagues, famines, even enemies at our gates. All cut short by those with marks such as yours."

  William wondered if it was just more exaggerated stories, but did not voice his doubts so blatantly; instead, he decided on something less abrasive. "Plenty of towns have such stories. What makes Casford's so different?" he asked through tight lips, voice partially obscured.

  "An excellent question! You see, Casford - unlike any other place in the realm, so far as we know - has never produced its own Blessed."

  "A city this big? Doesn't seem likely," Tilly questioned.

  "By the Seraph, I swear it," Brother Simon replied. Heavy words that dissuaded all doubt, given who had uttered them.

  "Our people have come to revere Blessed in a way other places in the realm do not, which can sometimes result in unfortunate circumstances, as you have witnessed first-hand."

  The priest's answer didn't seem to satisfy Tilly. "How can you defend the city without any Blessed? You're asking for trouble, there."

  "The Order itself garrisons the town, given our unique circumstances."

  "And all of the Blessed they provide do this?" William asked, gesturing to his face. "Even the knights?"

  "Indeed - even knights. Though, they seldom visit; our forces are mostly squires, and those who were never knighted."

  It was certainly an odd arrangement to be defended solely by knights in training and those who had failed to achieve knighthood, but they were still Blessed; it was not something that could be taken lightly.

  "There! All done," Brother Simon said proudly. "Take a look." The priest pointed toward a polished metal urn that sat alone on a nearby shelf.

  William walked over to it, and examined himself as best he could. The reflection was warped, and the metal was tarnished in places, but he could see the priest's handiwork clear enough: almost his entire cheek was considerably paler than the rest of his face, but his mark was nowhere to be seen.

  Brother Simon closed the box, and held it out toward Tilly. "Take this with you - if, by chance, you run out, you may return here for more."

  She nodded and took the box, slipping it into her bag.

  "May I ask where the two of you plan to stay?"

  William turned, and saw that Tilly was giving him the same vacant look that he was giving her. "We aim to find an inn, I think."

  "Nonsense! It would be our honour to host you, for as long as you are in Casford."

  He was surprised by Brother Simon's generous offer, given how the priest seemed to deal with other matters. I'm surprised he did not ask for another passage to be chosen, he thought jokingly. He was ready to voice his thanks, but Tilly responded first.

  "You sure you don't want me to pick another passage to see if we can stay or not?" Tilly asked, only half joking. It was like she was peering into his mind, and speaking his thoughts. It made him shiver.

  Brother Simon had a sense of humour at least, unlike the angry priest she had argued with earlier, and he laughed at her joke. "No, no, I don't think that will be necessary. Do you have plans for the remainder of your day?"

  "Need to deliver a letter at the merchants' guild," Tilly replied drily.

  "Ah, an easy destination. Head right upon your exit from the church, and you will eventually reach it. You cannot miss the sign." Brother Simon turned his attention to William, as Tilly gave her thanks. "While your friend is occupied, William, would you perhaps like to study some of the work of our fellow scholars? There are some interesting interpretations of the writings of Becker, written by my apprentice, that I think you would find most fascinating!"

  He didn't quite know how to respond to such a thing: he had no idea who this Becker person was, and he'd be lost with anything that wasn't a surface level interpretation of scripture. He laughed and responded awkwardly, "I appreciate the offer, but I am afraid I am no scholar."

  Something in Brother Simon's mind fizzled out, and he simply stared at the Blessed man in front of him for a few moments, eyes darting around. "Oh, I- I apologise, I assumed due to the nature of your blessing that you-"

  "You would not be the first to assume as much, don't worry."

  "Well," Brother Simon coughed, "Our doors are always open for your return - though keep in mind, we eat at sixth bell. There will be one of our Brothers or Sisters to lead you to your lodgings, no matter the time of day."

  "Thanks," Tilly said.

  "Yes - thank you, Brother Simon."

  William and Tilly exited the church, and stepped onto the street much more confidently than before. With their marks hidden, they were free to experience Casford and more importantly, get down to business.

  There were friends to find, and a letter to be delivered.