Much like Victorine, Horacio was glad to have left the stuffy city. Nasty buggers, the people there. He expected to find better souls rurally, although of course there was the issue of the Saint who could prove to not be quite so saintly but he did not let that spoil his time. On the trip to Sarton the Confessors remained quiet, not having anything to remark and deciding to not waste his breath or time on mindless chit-chat when this was the ideal time for quiet introspection and freshening of the lungs. Emperor knew what his body had gone through in all the industrial dystopias and cramped vessel quarters he spent most of his life in. But he wasn't ungrateful, no, for without hardship one could not know respite, without suffering one could not know joy. 

But it seemed there was not a consensus on this. Lisbeth and Alexa seemed to buzz on some nonsense, nonsense that Horacio most certainly did not approve of. A bushy eyebrow was raised and an undignified mustache furrowed. He silently came from behind the two of them, about to give the chastising of their lifetimes but alas, it would not be. He grunted in slight annoyance as it seemed that some smoke had distracted the group, until the full gravity of the situation dawned upon him. "Bloody hell...." He muttered, raising his shotgun. It really wasn't something good in combat, but it was something useful for morale and general appearances that the Confessor kept the first shell of his shotgun unchambered. It thus meant it wasn't wasted when he pumped the weapon meaningfully, and pointed towards the village with his power-maul. 

"See the perfidy of the enemy!" he bellowed, making sure that the men that accompanied the Ecclessiarchy's representatives heard his cries even as they left to encircle the place as ordered. "[b]A village serene is burned by them, a place of innocent men and women working devoutly is razed to the ground. See their lies when they claim they fight for the common man, see the so truth of their claims to being warriors in the name of just society. They are the very perpetuators of the same villainy they may claim to fight! The enemy will kill all and provide no reward save inflicting more suffering. Those we fell today will learn this lesson, but far, far too late! They did not listen when a man as myself spake to them Holy words, and so you see the wisdom in hearing all that men of the faith say. But a single missed lesson will degrade you to the degenerates that we slay today, but a single impure thought unrepented will bring a man to such lows that he will have no escape save the Emperor's peace![/b]" 

Horacio paused, both for breath and to examine what he had just roared for accuracy. Satisfied for now, he continued. "[b]For even proximity to such villainy entices one to it, as degeneracy begets degeneracy! Depravity births depravity! The cycle must break and the breaking of the cycle begins with each man and woman present. Steel your hearts my Brothers, let Holy Zeal guide your hand my Sisters! Fear not the bullets of the impure, cast aside their blades for they are naught but another test for the completion of all will feel their blessed reward! I say, who among us will be found wanting for vengeance upon the heretic? Who will be found with a clean blade? None, for it is a holy united front we present, the skill of and arms of any individual of them naught before the united zeal of us all. Let them know fear, let them tremble and coil as retribution comes for them, let this be a lesson to all who stand before the will of the Emperor! Emperor, guide our hands.[/b]"

The Confessor originally wanted to end with a "charge!", or a "forwards!", but this wasn't a Frateris Militia and having everyone rush mindlessly at the foe wasn't what the Sisters did... or well, sometimes it wasn't what they did. Thus, he simply made sure to make a firebrand sermon of this event and do his best to make blood boil for battle before leaving the tactical nitty gritty to Victorine. All he needed was a direction to shoot.