[center][h2]The Holy Territories of Edoniras (The HTE)[/h2]

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[justify]With the final chime of the great bell the figures lined up amongst the pews slowly filed their way towards the great open doors at the entrance to the Cathedral. The sweet, angelic, faces of the statues and imagery gleamed down upon the worshippers as they went back to their earthly lives and left the sanctity and tranquillity of mass. At the head of the great room Pope Invictus XI stood tall, beaming a white toothed smile at all the people even as he adjusted some notes in front of him. They were his children, his flock, and he would guide them to safety. When the final person left, his body sagged slightly, the rigour holding him a moment ago fading as he sucked in a deep breath and the cracking facade was allowed to slip. Breathing once. Twice. Muttering a brief prayer under his breath, the most holy man alive restored his portrait of calm, collected, leadership. Adjusting the large mantle of the pontiff which sat upon him like a moral crown of infallibility, Invictus XI stepped in a collected manner towards the small alcove which obscured the wooden door that led into the more labyrinthine complex of the Serene Palace proper. 

Orderlies bowed their heads, muttering their greetings in reverence, as he passed before rushing off to continue their duties. Taking a relatively unused passage and then turning into a locked room, of which he held one of the five keys, the Pope entered the Chamber of the Tetrarchs. Inside, four man of varying age - including Tetrarch Marcellus - sat in small plinths around a grandiose and arcane room designed to appear like the inside of a small shack from aeons ago. If, of course, that small shack as built of gold leaf, marble and fine lacquered woods. "Sit." The Pope commanded as each man rose in greeting, cut of before they had time to utter the same duplicitous openings they always made. Each man in that room was a wolf hungry for the title Invictus XI held.

And he would not allow them to have it.

"So, gentlemen, I have honoured this call for a meeting. I assume there is a matter you wish to discuss with me?" He asked, tone betraying a hint of the terseness he felt deep in his core. At first the men looked between each other, conferring with subtle shifts of bushy brows and odd twists of the lips. This men must be damn lizard people, the Pope thought. 

"Most Holy-" Charles de Friere began. "A number of us have only arrived in the Palace recently, honouring this call for celebration you have made, and so are not quite up to speed on exactly what it is you are doing with these Holy Territories. Perhaps you can enlighten us?" The Tetrarch for the Protection of the Herd lent back, folding delicate and incredibly thin fingers in front of him like a spider weaving a web. The Pope responded in the same short manner he had first greeted the Tetrarchs.

"Charles, I am leading the territories as I deem most able. There is war afoot, economic tribulation and the state of our orders sanctity and assurances in this life as well as the next." Invictus turned his nose up slightly. "I cannot afford the comforts of the Tetrarchy anymore and instead busy myself acting and not just debating." A flush of red blossomed on the features of the Attolian.

"Your Holiness, you wound me. I was not assuming you were not doing good work, I merely wished to have the purpose and over arching illuminated to this most sacred of conclaves." Silence, was all that was returned to the Tetrarch. "Holiness, as much as we have no legislative power over you - nay, no moral authority over you either - we are not weak individuals in this faith and our cooperation would be a great benefit." The man smiled with viperous venom.

"Charles, we have worked together many years and I've seen that sharp tongue at work more often than I care to admit. I appreciated it when I convinced you to support my ascension, do not now make me cut it out for trying to use it against me. You have all busied yourself in your own colleges since these crises happened, only arriving when I had to call the entirety of our faith. I am not convinced any of you wish to help, I believe you wish to hide and then jump upon me if this crisis goes south and take the Papacy for yourself. Do I know all of you are capable? yes. Do I trust you? No." A brief pause as the Pope looked down and unlocked the case atop his own position. Inside were the notes he had had placed earlier. Lifting one sheet out and closed the case and locked it again before speaking once more. "So, men of the cloth, I offer you this. Stay, support my position and I will give you the place of close advisers as you all know the posts are meant to grant you. Or, do your duty and attend the festival and then leave, knowing that it will burn the very last bridge you have to this office."

It was not long before each of the Tetrarchs swore the same vow. To support their faith and their Pope. Before long each had his own directions and started calling in favours as they prepared the ground for the upcoming change.[/justify]