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[2/2]
This early in the day the streets are, for the most part, bare of other traffic. But those few local eyes that are present to see rarely look upon the pilgrim and their chorus of psalms with kind stares. Hostility, or at best apathy, from the well of citizens and shopkeeps that have cause to be out this early. Confusion, or sometimes a description that might be called yearning, in the downcast eyes of the masters less fortunate slaves and bondsmen.
As the walk proceeds along its circuitous route throughout the heart of the city to the southern gate, the sun begins to rise proper and the crowds in the streets begin to grow. Most have no choice but to give way to your parties size and determined path forward, . Most step aside with little fuss, some offered muttered curses as they do so. A few, and you are surprised to see both masters and meek alike act as such, spit in the path in front of you or worse.
The vigilant presence of the Knights Comitas precludes any physical confrontation thus far, but they are spread thin. You are not blind to the occasional Stratiokas sentry keeping watch on the sides of the street or the roofs above the predetermined path ahead, but they make no move to halt the abusive words or offensive objects thrown in your path.
You are shocked the first time a Cathagi dumps his trash in front of you. Rotten food, nightsoil and Almighty knows what else, the act was directly in your path and clearly intention. You look up at the wrongdoer, a brown-skinned local of some middling import, likely a shopkeep or something of that nature. The Stratiokas sentry directly behind him watches on, but does nothing. The shopkeeper offers you a wicked smile, waiting to see how you’ll react.
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>You ignore the man, tilting your head up with righteous pride as your step over his filth. He is lost, and you are saved. Better than saved, you are a soldier in the Kingdom of Heaven. This taunting is beneath your attention. [Haughty]
> You glare at the offender defiantly as you sidestep the refuse, raising your voice at the next psalm in solidarity with the pilgrims. You cannot avoid every such mess, but you’ll be damned before you give any slaver scum the satisfaction of seeing you or your brothers lose heart. [Hearty]
> “Almighty bless you, brother.” You smile at the antagonist as you step through the muck, mustering up every scrap of sincerity you can. None are outside of Salve Reginae’s grace, not even he. But Cain on the Cross, forgiveness isn't easy. [Idealist]
