It felt like years since he last donned the blue robes of a Confessor of his rank, the Templar. Mercuxio Rastognlir wore the white blue, and gold trimmed robes over the heavy but maneuverable armor that had been fashioned just for him. Every sanctuary had a blacksmith, and every smith forged weapons and armor particular to the Confessor who ordered them. Blessings were later placed upon such items, to give them special strength and reinforcement where other weapons might be brittle and easily worn. Only in moonlight could the blessed runes be seen, in a half-light gleam as it ran across it.
Moonlight shone on them this night as the Confessors, Templar Merric and young Templar Kentamin, rode hard across the Valley on horseback, riding hard toward the city of Uthlyn, where the desecration of a chapel there had long since occurred. The months of his furlough had been all but forgotten and whatever connection he'd regained with his family was put in the back of his mind. The Order had sent them to the site of the desecration, and Mercuxio knew his duty came first before all else.
Merric did not speak to his apprentice more than he had to, for Kentamin was young and before him, there had been no one younger to achieve the rank of Templar so quickly, and despite his rank, which seemed to have been bought rather than earned, he still had much left to learn. Mercuxio was the ranking Confessor in this excursion and Kentamin would take orders from him, and his input would only be required when asked for. But the boy was eager to learn and he supposed there could be worse candidates for such a task.
Night had congealed around them by the time they had arrived into the gates of the city, and their robes were concealed by cloaks and Merric followed the directions given to him toward the burnt-down chapel. It was a horrid sight, but the inward disgust he was feeling was cleverly concealed by a stony face. Merric could only guess at the mindset of the perpetrators and what they would find within the ashes, that had since been rifled through by street rats.
He dismounted his black horse and motioned his apprentice to follow him. He said nothing still to him, stepping around the rubble, and he stepped back and peered back to Kentamin. "Tell me, what do you make of such a sight?" he asked at last.