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

[b][center]A Funeral[/center][/b]

The sky was fittingly overcast, and a light drizzle descended upon the thousand strong procession as they mourned brothers lost. 

Sending envoys to the Scorched King had proven disastrously unwise, and none of those sent returned. Well, save for their severed hands. Though all were old, and happy to pay the ultimate price in the name of progress, the monks of the nearby monasteries had turned out in droves to honour them. 

Upon a hastily errected wood stage, above deep holes filled with empty coffins, Guide Charity was helped to the fore by two of his attendants. Advanced age had taken the strength from his voice, and so it fell to Lord Defender Marcus Aticus to give his words volume. 

"Today," yelled Marcus, pausing to listen in to the ailing Guide. "We commit the memory of our beloved kin to the ground, from which they came. Bitter, is the nature of their demise, but glorious, was the nature of their lives. Look on them with pride and joy, for they truly gave all they could to [i]forge a better world[/i]. Let us not forget them." 

There was some open weeping in the procession, and many bowed their heads with sorrow. Each man lost to death was a brother known in life. 

"But in this time of grief," Marcus started again. "Let us not lose ourselves to the sin of revenge. Our neighbours from across the unfeeling ocean are twisted by such sin, and it is in them now to commit fire to the innocent and the needy. Let us not become their sorrow."

The service fell short, as the Guide's health failed briefly and he collapsed. He was helped away by his attendants, leaving a sodden Marcus, glittering in heavy plate, to face the mass of mourners. 

"Flesh to earth, earth to flesh, t'is the way of the world," Marcus continued, unaided. "Remember them. Keep them alive in your memory, but do not dwell on this butchery." 

The last of his words startled some of the senior priests gathered on the stage, but he was already descending the steps, and mounting his destrier before they could up condemnation with him.

[b][center]Religion, Treason and Plot[/center][/b]

"Fuck this," Marcus yelled, as he entered the elaborate structure he called home. "The world commits itself to murder and genocide, and we sit back, saying kind words when we should be the ones leading the charge. Fuck this." 

Yulona had come running feverishly to greet her husband, but was halted in her tracks by his tirade. "My love," she gasped, "what are you talking about?"

"We're fools, Yulona," Marcus spat, as his hands worked frustratedly at the buckles on his armour. "How we've made it this far, is beyond my understanding. I don't recognise my own fucking country any more."

Yulona remained motionless, her eyes wide half in fear, and half in shock. It was unlike Marcus to come to her in such a manner. "I don't unde-"

"Six good men, all dead. They gave their lives for this fucking island, and now they're dead. I hope if I die in the same manner, flying the same cause, the Guide gives me more than soft worded, weak willed obituary." 

Suddenly she was coming to understand her husband, though after five years of marriage, one would have thought she'd known by now. "It is our way, Marcus, our way my love. We must not strike first, nor strike back. The world will destro-"

"Oh spare me, you stupid woman," Marcus roared suddenly. 

Two Sword Brothers materialised from the Dining Hall in short order, having heard their Lord's raised tone. He dismissed them with angry glances, and then they were gone. 

Yulona was stunned into silence by her husband's sudden insult. She did not understand him after all, did not know him. Like many things in Adjutor Insula, their marriage had been arranged for [i]the greater good[/i]. 

"Don't look at me like that," he growled, and stormed over to her with his armour falling about him onto the floor in loud clutters. "You're just like him."

"Like who?" the petrified mumble escaped her trembling lips.

Marcus struck her then, for the first time since their marriage those five years ago. She fell with a scream, collapsing on the floor. One of the Sword Brothers peeked in from the Dining Hall doors, but quickly retreated.

"Like that snivelling old fool, who calls himself a Guide. A Piper, more like, leading us all into oblivion with his stupid songs."

"You hit me," Yulona sobbed, trying to pick herself back up. "You have gone to madness, you need help, Marcus, my love, you need help."

Marcus looked down at her, disgusted. He didn't need help; it was she and everyone else on the island that needed their minds checked. He saw the world for what it was, and he was not about to sit by and become another victim of it, not when he had a shot to play the game of thrones. He launched his mailed boot into Yulona's face, sending her sliding across the marble floor. 

"Disgusting," he said at her weeping, defeated form. "You're no wife of mine..." he paused, looking at her with primal savagery. "Still, even you have a purpose in this country's future."

With that, he grabbed the thick of her hair, and dragged her kicking and screaming down the hallways towards their bedchamber. 

-----------------------------------------------------

"How many will follow us?" asked First Captain Henrick.

"Enough," grinned Horse Master Jacobs. "Not that it matters. The Lord Defender will do what is needed."

"You think he can?" Henrick mused aloud. "He's a good fighter, of that there is no question. The Sanctum is one of the world's finest fortresses, if ever I knew. I don't see how he plans to do what must be done." 

"He's Lord Defender," chuckled Jacobs. "He'll come through for us, for the island. He has to. Just do your job, and wait for the signal." 

"Do you think our cause is just, brother?" Henrick asked suddenly. "My heart, and conscience trembles."

"Careful, old friend. More talk like that will land you in the cold of the sea, and that's your only warning," said Jacobs, his friendly face suddenly descending into a primal hatred. "If we don't pull this off, everything will be lost. How long do you think it'll be before the Scorched King comes this way?"

"I..." Henrick fell silent at that. The Horse Master was right. The island needed strength, not compassion. The world beyond was changing for the worse, and war was the talk of the town. If it didn't live up to the challenges ahead, then it would not survive. Guide Charity always had a hard time of understand this much.