[b][u][center] Adjutor Insula[/center][/u][/b]

[center][b]The Templar, Part 2[/b][/center]

"Thank you for seeing me, Lady Aticus," Templar Gombas said warmly, and with his semi-toothed smile. "I know these are hectic times, to say the least."

Gombas had found himself seated in a plush cushioned chair, situated on one of the Lord Defender's home's many balconies. He peered across at the ruins of Love, still smouldering from the raid more than a week ago, and it pained his heart to imagine such anguish afoot. In an attempt to refocus himself to the matter at hand, he switched his gaze to the "King's" queen apparant. 

Though what he found there, was equally troubling. She wore a thick purple shroud, covering her face, though the rest of her dress was what one would expect. Still, the shroud? It was not custom for women to hide their faces, even in times of mourning. Faranism had always preached equality among the sexes, though sometimes the God King's holy visions had fallen short of their aims. Not that it was ever the God King's fault, but that of his followers, whom sometimes mired in the backwards ways of the world. Still, Adjutor Insula was a global leader in such matters regardless, and Lady Aticus was not known as particualy shy, or concious of her image.

"The pleasure is all mine," she said at last. Something in her voice was off, as if his presence was testing her patience. "How can I help you, Lord Templar?" 

Gombas smiled again, trying his kindly charms to their fullest. He took a few seconds to glance around the balcony, and noted how austere everything seemed. It was true that the monks of Adjutor mimicked the poor of the world as best they could, but other Order branches, such as the Sighing Hand, had free reign over the finer things of life. No art work lined the walls, no vases the balcony's entrance. Just bland white stone, gleaming slightly in the sun. 

"I am concerned," his tongue soured quickly, "over the well being of our King. I've come to enquire about his happenings of late."

Lady Aticus did not stir, though Gombas felt her eyes searing through him. Searing with what though? Anger? 

Gombas cleared his throat, and approached from another angle. "The Crown he now wears carries a great deal of responsibility. He leads our nation into its first war in centuries, and I feel Faran-bound to ensure he is of... right mind. Not that I wish to assume the opposite of course, but he does seem... emotional?" 

"He's fine," she snapped, suddenly. She went to rise from her chair, but an invisible hand stole the strength from her dress-clad legs, and she fell back into it with a moan. 

The Templar took the oppurtunity to play the concerned neighbour, and moved over to help her. "My lady, are you alright?" 

"Yes," she said, struggling for a second time to stand. Two ladies-in-waiting materalised from inside the building, possibly after hearing their charge's moan, and held either arm. "I'm just a little unwell. Arthritis, the doctors tell me." 

Gombas raised an eye. "Lock-joint? But my lady, you are far too young for such an affliction. Come, let me have a look at you. Lock-joint is just one of my fields of experience." 

As the Templar went to seat Lady Aticus back into her chair, an Order Guard, all plate and grime, stumbled through the balcony doorway. Alcohol ran rich through his breath, and upon seeing the Templar, he sneered. "Get the fuck out of here, you old pervert!"

Gombas was a man of compassion, a saver of lives, and possessed endless patience. It was with these qualities in mind, that the Templar grabbed the Order Guard by his shoulder straps, and slammed him into a decorative stone pillar. "You're ill, my friend, take a rest will you?" The Order Guard slid down the pillar, and slumped lifelessly on the tiled flooring. 

Lady Aticus did not stir, but her ladies-in-waiting made to leave. Gombas did not stop them. If they wanted to alert the guard's comrades, then let them. He answered to a high power - himself. 

"My lady, why are you shrouded?" Gombas asked, edging towards the balcony to see what his men were up to. His eyes found them standing rigidly to attention around his carriage, as two Order Guards berrated them with some nonsense. 

"To hide my shame, Lord Templar," Lady Aticus replied suddenly. 

Gombas turned from the balcony, and walked over to her. Taking a knee, he held one of her soft porcelain palms in his wrinkled, leathery hands. "Shame, my lady?" 

Lady Aticus appeared to lose her voice once again, and Gombas felt prompted to push back her shroud. His eyes momentarily widened as they caught the sight of scorched skin, cracked and leaking puss. Eyes, one milky white, one sapphire, looked at him with questionable intent. A large and messy gash decorated what was once one of the finest pair of lips in Adjutor Insula. 

"By Faran," Gombas gasped. 

He needed not say more, and Lady Aticus needed not reply, though she did. "He said he wanted to make me strong." 

Her words trailed into a sigh, as Templar Gombas picked her up in his arms and made for the doorway. A commotion met him on the otherside, as three more of the "King's" suspiciously unprofessional Order Guard met him. "Put her back, Templar, before we gut you," one of them said, pausing to spit black slime onto the floor. "Wont ask twice, we wont."

"Lady Aticus is now in my care. By the Fifth Law of Faran, I am now her guardian. Come at me if you will, I imagine a Templar's murder will earn you all swift justice," he shot back, and made to walk through them, but they drew their swords.

"By King Marcus' first Royal Decree, the Adjutor Order is disbanded, and all able bodied members are to report to the mustering fields, down by the docks," the Order Guard said, removing his winged helm to reveal a face of broken bones and yellow teeth. "By King Marcus' second Royal Decree, all Order members who cannot bear arms, must report to their nearest Agricultural Centre for work orders." 

"He's disbanded the Order?" Gombas gasped, but his surprise soon turned to forbidden anger. "I'll neither join his army, nor shall I supply it. Stand aside, I do not recognise your authoritiy. I answer to Faran, and he tells me you are bad men."

The Order Guards looked at each other briefly, and started to laugh. Gombas said a silent prayer, and tried again to move through them. The tip of a short sword found its way into his gut in short order. His eyes bulged as the searing heat of the weapon's edge made for his internal organs. In a blind panic, he stepped back quicker than any old man should, with the Lady still in his arms, and made for the balcony. The Order Guards chased him, but he was already on the banister's edge and looking at the fifty foot drop below him. His guards at the carriage had stopped their quarrel with Marcus' house guards, and looked up at him with a mixture of shock and confusion. 

"Hold on tight, my lady," Gombas whisphered into the soft perfumed hair of his charge, and then jumped. 

The fall lasted a second, though to him it felt like years, and the entirety of his long mundane life flashed before him. When he hit the bottom, a bolt of lightning shot up his knees, and he collapsed to the floor. Lady Aticus sprawled from his arms, and he rolled to look up at the sun. Pain paralysed him, and his hip told him he'd probably seen his last. 

Within seconds, his men had circled him and were busy picking him - and the lady - up and carrying them off to the carriage. 

"What was that, Lord Templar?" Asked a young Captain, whose features had aged a decade in the last few seconds. 

"We must stop the King, take me to the docks, and ensure the Lady's safety. Take her to the Monastery of Regret, with any man good enough to still serve a holy purpose in this world," Gombas said weakly, trying to fight the pain and keep some length of sanity. "When the island goes dark, the Monastery will be the last to fall." 

"I do not understand, Lord Templar," the Captain replied, as he helped load the man into the carriage. 

"Much is a mystery in this world of ours, but if you truly love Faran, and all that he has tried to do for humanity, then follow my command to the letter, and stray not into the darkness," Gombas finished, as pain-induced hallucinations of blinding light took him to what might well be his last slumber. 

The Captain stared at the Lord Templar for some moments, unsure whether to follow orders that would be considered treason. He did not like the idea of a King, this much was true, but Lord Defender Marcus Aticus had many fine qualities, and Karkarth was on the verge of wiping the Insula off the map. To kidnap the King's wife, and stow her away in the fortress-come monastery of Regret would be the last of him. 

"What would Faran do?" The Captain mused, as a dozen Order Guard burst from the Lord Defender's home with swords gleaming.