The immediate aftermath of the battle eventually transitioned into the general state of post battle and with the flight of time slowly just became an unpleasant memory. When the moment presented he took the confessions of the soldiers present, which - to be frank - he didn't very much like. Yes, it was a very necessary part of any Preacher's service, and the thought he disdained this duty when his title was quite literally that Confessor gave him a vile ache in the heart. But really he suffered hearing all the sins that these men he would have easily mistaken for model citizens of the Imperium had done. Really, it was just another sign that he was getting old further demonstrated by his reluctance to hand out some of the penances that he did. Cekrov was not the type of place he could really with good consciousness recommend a man pay off his service to the Emperor by donating to the government either, which limited the amount of things he could tell a person to do for salvation. Still, he managed to get through with it until dire news came; the capitol itself was under attack. A very nasty thought came to the Confessor, but he had to give it some consideration before he voiced it lest he be dismissed as a bumbling old fool. 

[hr]

The streets of the capitol were quite, and if the Confessor hadn't been privy to things that obliterated the minds of many he'd have used adjectives like "eerie" to describe them. Often enforcers and other paramilitaries got paradoxically lazy during a curfew. Even though at such times it was their duty to be twice as on guard, many found the fact nobody was out and about as meaning that there wouldn't be any trouble. He didn't like this, and in some sentries he was looking upon this was more than evident. At the same time, he knew it was hopeless trying to go to every man and tell him to stand up straight and not wipe his nose with his sleeve. 

At last the quartet reached the palace, greeting the guards and vice versa. What they were informed of was simple enough by itself, but given all that had happened prior.... When Victorine turned to the squad asking what they desired to do, Horacio made a polite motion for he Sisters to follow him away from earshot of ne'erdowells. There were two thoughts occupying his mind, and he knew that by their vile implications it was rather unlikely the Sisters would be happy to hear them, even if well meaning once someone swept away emotion blocking reason. Of course, he wouldn't blame them for angered reactions, he knew if he heard someone say the same thing he'd likely give them a strong clipping around the ear. 

"My Sisters... I am not entirely sure yet, but I believe we may have been made fools of. The Saint... well, I am having a vile feeling the entire story was fabricated for the mere sake of prompting our arrival and the taking of you for... some purpose, I do not know. But the governor must somehow be rescued. Obviously giving in to the demands of the heretics is unthinkable, the very words hurting my tongue. However, there is an old saying I am sure you are acquainted with: fight fire with fire. We have been tricked, and with trickery we may respond. You armour is your main identifier, I very much doubt they know you by face. I am sure it would not be difficult to take three peasant girls and put them in it before passing them off as you. Of course they will discover our treachery very fast, but I do not think we will need much time once the governor is secure. But...." Horacio trailed off momentarily. "I'm but a humble Preacher with a fancy title, fundamentally a man of words. You on the other hand are warriors, and I am sure can prepare a better plan to wrest the governor from the vile hands of the eternal enemy."