The clamor of the peasantry quieted down to a low murmur as their lord made his appearance. The man was clearly not the Duke, but Orion knew there were various smaller counts, barons, and baronets under his dominion. What matter was that he was obviously of a more noble standing than Orion, and so the Knight knelt before the aristocrat. "My lord, forgive the uproar." He said, head bowed. He indicated the others should do as well. 

"I am Orion Pentecost, a vassal of Baron Clement Hawkwood. I've been sent here to quell the rebellion on your eastern woodlands. My Confessor and I had our transport destroyed enroute and we landed on your western border in the pines. There are a great many Vuldrok's there and they will attack at dawn, if they are not already ransacking these weary peasant's homes." 

"How do you know of this?" The noble barked, trying to keep a semblance of authority even in his nightshirt and robe. His guards did well to keep that air of power with their automatic weapons trained on the crowd. 

"I have... captured a Vuldrok." He said, and indicated to Ragnar, who looked up curiously before Annika pushed his head down again. "He owes his life to me for sparing him, and my Confessor has searched his mind and deemed the attack plans of the enemy." 

"Well this is all well and good, Sir Pentecost, if this truly be who you are. But why have you uprooted my serfs from their homes?" He asked, bewildered. The torches of the peasants illuminated every frightened and angered face among them. A silence followed as Orion searched for what to respond with. 

"My lord...these people were to be killed by the foul pagans. I wished to bring them to safety..." 

"I am Baron Frederick Hawkwood, and my serfs are to be uprooted from their lands only by me. We protect our own and keep them protected." 

"Your stand in your nightshirt, Baron, as they were about to be slaughtered. Was there a convoy of soldiers on the way we did not see?" 

The silence was deafening, and Orion cursed himself and his stupid tongue. He could feel the eyes of the Baron boring down upon him, and after a moment he responded. But he did not respond to Orion. "Captain! Take these three...The Knight and his retainers and bring them to the Holy Bethel. Keep them under guard until the Duke sees fit to release them." 

"And you!" He called to the serfs. "You are under no penalty, as you have followed this one's call. You may stay as well within the Chapel, but you will buy your own food and find your own water until this threat is quelled. Now move or be thrown to the wolves!" 

Orion and Annika found themselves entering the inner walls among six guards, with Ragnar now bound within force-clasps behind his back. A shout erupted from behind them, ordering the serfs in line. That was the last Orion heard from them once he entered the Chapel. The guards shoved Ragnar unceremonious, and were scant more gentle with Orion and Sister Annika. He had to keep his anger in check seeing his companion mistreated, but even the Sister was not above noble authority, at least for the moment.

The chapel was a solemn place of purple gloom among firelight. Rows upon rows of pews covered a vast distance and chalices hung from the shadow of the ceiling, sparkling as small starlight pinpoints in the dark. Hooded figures sang dirges of the lost and hymns of the Pancreator as they walked the rows. 
[@Penny]