The young Paladin and the older Priestess walked side-by-side through the luxurious halls of the temple. The Priestess' cane clacked against the floor as they walked.

"Pray tell, who is this Athiest? It is no deity that I've ever heard of," said the Priestess. Though her manner was courteous, her question was not asked in good faith. The newcomers had been causing a ruckus around town, and she'd be damned if she'd allow her own deity to be upstaged. This was, for her, an exercise in factfinding.

"No, my lady, I apologize for any miscommunication," said the Paladin, giving the Priestess a slight bow in courtesy, "I mean to say that I am an Atheist. That means that I personally don't believe the Gods truly exist. Though I respect that you may feel differently, being a Priestess and all."

"I don't understand," said the Priestess, any plans to thwart the newcomer momentarily forgotten in sheer shock, "You wield the power of the Light, do you not? That power must come from somewhere - some divine entity."

The Paladin shook her head, a loose wisp of hair brushing against the burned left side of her face, "No, I don't believe that it does. No divine entity has ever presented itself to me, and I have been provided with no conclusive evidence that they exist. In my youth I made prayers to whatever beings would listen, but never received any response."

The Priestess' demeanour was beginning to slip, "You're not supposed to receive a response, young Paladin. As a wielder of the Light, you're supposed to act in faith, and if you do, you will be rewarded by the higher powers. Failure to live by the tenets of your faith leads to consequences - to banishment from your faith. Surely you know this?"

"And yet, I do not, and the power is mine regardless," said the Paladin, whose patience with the Priestess suggested that they'd had this conversation before, "With no assumption of reward or punishment, the facts become all the more clearer to me. It would explain how the Fallen still wield power, despite renouncing their oaths. It explains how wrongdoing still happens in the world using divine magics. I myself have no formal tenets, and yet I continue to use my powers daily."

"You mean to say that you have no oath? No vow?" said the Priestess, venom creeping into her voice, "You have never had to make penance, or pay a tithe to a Priest or Priestess to cleanse your sins?"

The Paladin shook her head, "No, I have no tenets beyond a desire to do right by my fellows. My own powers are a mystery to me - I know not from where they originate, but I do not think they originate from Gods."

"They are of divine import!" said the Priestess, "No lowly peasant can wield the powers of the Gods. It isn't possible. Only those chosen by the faith!"

"I was once, as you so nicely put it, a peasant," said the Paladin, "Everything since then, I have learned. My powers are no weaker for my lack of reliance upon tradition or faith-based discipline."

The Priestess blinked, and spun on her heel, now directly facing the Paladin. She tapped her cane against the stone floor, as the revelation hit her, "Oh, I see! If you were of humble origins, it is possible that your patron is simply choosing not to make themselves known to you! How exciting - no doubt they will visit you, when they feel that you are sufficiently humble and willing to listen. Surely, that must be the case. Yes - the Light will reveal all in time."

"I doubt that," said the Paladin, "For even if the Gods do exist, I have cursed them many a time."

"You have blasphemed? Cursed the very Gods themselves? Why would you do this? To admit this to a Priestess of the faith, why I could have you interred! Are you some kind of heathen?" questioned the Priestess.

"No, my lady, I would not say I am an adherent of a so-called heathen faith - in fact, I have made it quite clear that I have no faith at all."

"Then, why?" asked the Priestess, whose voice was raising in anger - an insult against her faith had been made, and this 'Paladin' was only building her case for heresy for her. She would go straight to the guards afterwards. Or to the head Priest - perhaps an example could be made.

The Paladin sighed, "I have seen sights which quite plainly prove to me that there are no Gods, or - in the unlikely event that they are real, that they are cruel or indifferent. Tell me, have you ever been north, my lady - outside of the capital?"

The Priestess was guarded now, but saw no harm in responding. "No, my duties do not permit it."

There was a flash of light suddenly as the very world seemed to gleam with intensity. The Priestess suddenly found herself blinded and nauseous, blinking spots from her eyes.

"Ah," said the Paladin, "My ward wasn't triggered by your own beliefs, but that one was a lie - or more accurately, a statement which you truly believe to be a lie."

The Priestess hissed, "A Truthsayer's Ward? What authority have you to invoke this magic?"

"Only my own," replied the Paladin, "And I was reluctant to lay such a potent ward here, but I am glad my information was correct. You have been north, a rarity among your kind. To a little village called Crag's End, isn't that right?"

The Priestess stumbled and rubbed her eyes. The aftereffect of the magic had staggered her, sapped her strength momentarily. Now it was starting to come back - she had only to stall for a moment to call her own power. "Fine, I may have left the capital once or twice. What of it?"

"One of those times was eight years ago, was it not?" said the Paladin, whose back was now turned to the Priestess, expression inscrutable.

The Priestess did not reply.

"Your evasive tongue has clearly escaped you for a moment, so I'll answer truthfully for you," said the Paladin, "You did go north, eight years ago. You paid a visit to a village called Crag's End, on a mission of great importance to your faith. You walked with a cane then, too - though one a little less ornate than the one you currently use."

The Priestess' sight was coming back, and she gripped her own cane tightly. The Paladin was right - her current cane was much newer - and a far more potent focus for her magics. Perhaps it was time to show the Paladin just how much more potent. She pulled the staff back in her hands, and it swelled with energy. She lashed out with the implement, bathing the Paladin in a torrent of holy fire which caused the pews of the temple to blister and crack in the heat. She smiled - the Paladin had been a fool to turn her back on her.

_

Part two below!

The man watched his prey intently. Tonight, he would kill again. This wasn't his first hunt, no. No this had happened before, and it would happen again, and again.

He had spent his day living the quiet life of a farmer, tending his crops, settling down. He even had a child.

Bandits, none had ever seen them so close to the city before, that was the reason he made his living so close to the walls of Artas, but none the less, misfortune had seen fit to visit him one fateful night. after visiting the market to sell his excess produce and meat, he thought he'd head to the local pub, spend some of his spare coin on booze, game, and song.

When he got home, it took his rum-soaked brain some time to comprehend the fire in the distance. He knew he should have turned around, sought the safety of the city walls... But instead all he could think of was his family.

He found their bodies, charred in the ruins of his home.

This was the moment he knew, there was no god, none worth prayer. None he could count on. It would take less than a week for him to find the bandits that slew his family, and though he charged in, his hands trembling with rage, he expected to kill maybe ,1 or 2 of the camp of dozens. When the sun rose it shone over a pile of bodies with a single surviving wounded man, covered in their lifeblood.

Little did he know that a spirit of revenge guided his hand. Invisible to even him, she helped guide him toward those deserving of punishment.

Unable to see them, he never knew his sudden combat prowess was the result of his bride ensuring he wouldn't suffer as he sought to smite evil. His daughter would mend his wounds in his sleep, as she lay her hands on any cut or broken bone they would mend at her touch.

But soon those responsible for his misery were slain, and he still felt unending anguish. He turned his blade on all those who had caused such pain.

And so it was that he found himself at the home of a wealthy businessman, standing outside his door ready to kill him. He knew not his name, he only knew his sin. He could sense the evil radiating off him, smell it in the air wherever he went. The very sight of him sickened him when he got visions of his horrible deeds

The children in his mines would be freed next, but first, he needed to execute the man.

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