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You join the crowd of Baphomets hurrying to the Temple. You note it's a varied one; higher class and lower class intermingle without any care towards rank or Trade. Religion is the great leveler of differences between the goatmen.
When you realize that, you think it is a damn shame that the Rightful King Society appears to be in full control of the faith! The Society believes that Arthur will return and rule Camelot as the <span class="mu-s">True King</span>, they just need to wait and endure other Pretender Kings until that day.
The idea of Baphomets openly wishing your overthrow for their preferred ruler through the guise of religion is enraging. Those damn priests! <span class="mu-r">Will no one rid me of these turbulent Priests?</span> You don't dare say this sentiment out in the open because virtually every Baphomet is religious and holds the clergy in high regard. And who knows how many Baphomets share the same belief that you're a seatwarmer for the real guy to come back into power?
The Temple still skews crazily to the side, but there are wooden beams propping up the stone walls and even scaffolding over another section. The shortened work hours granted to Baphomets due to the new labor laws mean that there is some time for leisure. It is clear that for some, they dedicate those extra hours to projects near and dear to their hearts, like repairing the Temple. You enter the sacred building, whereupon every Baphomet rises from their seat and does their obeisance to pay respect. After doing that, the crowd moves out of the way so you can reach the front. There's an exclusive seat reserved only for Kings, a brocade coverlet draped over it. When you take your seat at last, the Baphomets sit down for the ceremony to begin. They bring in a white sheep and lead it up to the altar where the Priests await and offer prayers to the round red stone known as Stane O Scone. In the flickering light of the braziers, the redness almost glows.
The animal so docile it doesn't even baa in distress despite hundreds of eyes watching it. It tamely walks up and onto the Stane O Scone where it curiously sniffs about. The Head Priest gives the signal and the ceremony begins. First is a powerful strike to the head of the animal with a golden hammer, and then a silver sickle blade crosses the neck to bleed it out. There wasn't any time for the creature to panic or bleat, it slumps as scarlet blood splashes over crimson rock.
