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<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Þeir eiga bara einn guð?! Hvað varð um hina? ”</span></span> Redhair exclaims, looking at your party incredulously. Finally his shrugs and slaps a meaty hand on the trembling slaveboy, shoving him in your direction. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Allt í lagi, drengur. Hlustaðu vel. Ekki hleypa þessu úr augsýn þinni fyrr en hann samþykkir að berjast við mig. ”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Þú? Af hverju bara þú? Mér leiðist líka.”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Fínt, fínt. Við munum rúlla beinum fyrir það. Svo lengi sem Hálfdan svindlar ekki aftur...”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Ég svindli ekki.”</span></span> The black-haired one mutters as he brushes past you, the pilgrims stepping out of his way. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Ég veit bara hvenær ég mun velja mig.”</span></span>
Brother Rousseau gives you a sidelong glance as the Norsikaans part ways, and you are forced to agree with the sentiment in his expression. Maybe you are a magnet for trouble, but in those deadly warriors you saw a means to test your mettle. You and the pilgrims have been held up long enough as it is, so you decide to press on without further delay. Behind you the blood-soaked slave boy and your squire stand next to each other, both looking equally at a loss as to what exactly they’re supposed to do. As for you, your eyes are on the building ahead.
The Church of the Holy Juvenescence, the order chapter house for those Knights Comitas based in Cathagi. Supposedly, it built upon the very same site where the original home of the brothers Adam and Cain were raised by the mother, Salve Reginae. 800 years is a long time for any historical certainty on the part of the scholars, who knows how much the city had changed between the beginning of the Brother’s exodus and the time when the foundations of this holy site were first laid. Certainly it is where the victorious warriors of the Crusades Adamant believed it to be, their puritan and militaristic touch is evident in the functional architechture much at odds with some of the more majestic examples in the City. The Church of Juvenescence is nowhere near as mighty and imposing as the Church of Adam’s Martydom in Aubrey, nor so beautiful and extravagant as the Cathedral of the Brother’s Landing in Port Bounty. But it is defensible, a low wall about twice the height of a man surrounds the compound where pilgrims sleep and shriven themselves before commencing the final vigil.
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