>>5410031The warm, golden finger of the Living Triptych rests beneath your chin, tilting your face up into the light. The Violet Light arcs through your body, electrifying but painless.
“But Her Mercy is infinite.”
Your face is ruddy and paunchy from years of drinking too much wine. Your grooming has slipped. You are not the bastion of knighthood you were once well known as.
“Sir Ambrose, thy sin shall be forgiven. For the death of Sir Jacques, a proud warrior, thou shalt do the good work of a knight in wretched lands, where thy arms and thy lead art needed most.”
The Living Triptych swivels to address the gallery, black and silver robes swishing.
“Devout witnesses! Her Mercy is extended to Sir Ambrose Carouliti. His sentence is <span class="mu-s">Penitence.</span> Sir Ambrose is banished from the estate of his family, and shall instead reign over a manor in the <span class="mu-s">Charnel Lands of The World Father.</span> To repay his debt to Our Weeping Lady, he shall run goodly his new demesne, and he shall use his skill at arms to retrieve relics and put down the threats of that land, in the shadow of the <span class="mu-s">Abominable Monument.</span> Through Suffering our fallen comrade shall be reforged into the great knight once known wide and far, and The New Goddess shall be with him.”
“Great is Her Mercy!” cries the gallery.
“Great is Her Mercy,” intones the Living Triptych.
“Great is Her Mercy,” you echo through a painfully tight throat.