Grand Saint Alloy

Tristan hummed away for the next two hours. People ran back and forth on the other side of the door, but other than a brief knock on the door no one attempted to come in. Evidently, a young woman barring herself in her room was a good plan when someone like Tristan showed up. He was surprised she did not rat him out, but the acolyte who checked in sounded young, so he supposed she did not want him harmed.

Once his kern was topped back up and the burns were mostly gone, Tristan stood and unbarred the door, “Have a good day random acolyte.”

She did not answer. When he stepped outside, he heard the bar slide into place behind him. Another pair of white-robed acolytes ran past, not giving Tristan a second glance. Both of them held staves and he was tempted to take the reservoirs, however, he had made a promise for some obvious information.

The throne room. It was not far from where he currently was and was slightly misnamed. It was a dining hall with a raised platform at one end where Elder Forrest would keep his large wooden chair. When he was holding meetings the tables would be pushed against the walls and the chairs would be lined up in rows before him. Now that Tristan thought about it, that was similar to the Temple pulpit and pews.

He left the wing dedicated to bedrooms and entered the public wing again. There was a small crowd of acolytes being held back by a guard. They were surrounding the doorway to the body Tristan had left behind. He shook his head as he passed, these people had never really seen anything like this. No one dared to mess with the Temple, so they had lived easy lives and the horrifying was also fascinating.

It was fine, so long as Daphan was not in the group, he would leave them to their staring. When he entered the throne room he was startled, there were another thirty acolytes in there. Where did the temple keep all these people? With the people inside this room and the acolytes he had seen and heard, their numbers were around one hundred. It may not sound like much, but it meant that acolyte was the second most common profession behind farming.

The tables were pushed up against the walls and the chairs were lined up, but no one was sitting. Most of the people here were middle-aged and older, all of them wanted to get their say and created chaos simultaneously.

One of them looked over as Tristan entered. Seeing the robes he turned back to his heated argument. Tristan scanned the room and found Guider Daphan. There was just one giant problem. Regis was standing right beside him. Tristan frowned, Regis would be a problem, he was better at fighting and farther into tier four. He also had that necklace that gave a pool of essence twice as large as what he started with.

Tristan had held his own back at the mine. Sort of. He had been blasted around the mine shaft, but he did think it was possible to win this time. First off, they were in the same tier, second, Regis was not wearing tower plate. The armor he was wearing was mythical beast leather, but it was a vest, grieves, and bracers. Tristan could work around that. He was also not sure if decay alloy would work on it, but he saw no reason for it not to. Even mythical leather was made of organic material.

There was also no reason to announce himself before striking. Regis believed him to be dead and it was possible that Tristan could walk up and smack him with Vulcan. Giving Regis a concussion before the fight started would be preferable, but breaking a knee, or collarbone would suffice.

The man in the nearest gaggle of acolytes kept glancing back at Tristan. He ignored the man, trying to get him to stop looking would invariably draw more attention than it deflected. Moving smoothly through the crowd, Tristan made his way towards where Guider Daphan and Regis were speaking to a man in formal dress. A member of one of the prominent families? Tristan did not know, but the aristocrat had a tier three light artifact with him.

Several people complained as he pushed passed them. The disturbance drew a glance from Regis, but except for a raised eyebrow, he did nothing. Half the people here had black hair, and Regis was at a bad angle to see Tristan’s eyes. Both times Regis had met him prior, Tristan had been wearing padded armor, making it nearly impossible that he would be recognized in acolyte garb. That did not mean that Regis would not recognize him as a threat, just not as one worth his time.

The sound of the door on the far side of the room slammed open, causing everyone to turn towards the intruder. It was Baldy, breathing heavily and wearing a shiny woman’s bathrobe. He was breathing heavily and glaring around the room. Tristan ducked to avoid his line of sight.

Baldy opened his mouth to speak, but one of the other acolytes spoke first, “Why are you wearing my daughter’s bathrobe!”

“It was an emergency, now listen to me,” Baldy said.

“No, what were you doing with my daughter?” The girl's father demanded, “You beast, she’s a married woman!”

Tristan took advantage of the distraction and moved towards the raised platform. He decided on a direct route, it was in Regis’s line of sight, but Tristan only had until the two squabbling acolytes made piece. The stage was only about two feet tall, not tall enough to be a barrier, but still tall enough to make the average person visible from anywhere in the room.

“Enough!” Regis yelled, “I have not called you all together to hear you squabble, I called you to ask a question.”

Everyone froze, turning to the ex-civil protector. Even Baldy settled down. Tristan wondered if Guider Daphan was the head of the temple in the Forrest Caldera, they seemed to pay much more difference to Regis.

“Shadow Fist asked me this question,” Regis looked around, “Why is the Temple necessary when a champion of the gods is present and makes himself available?”

There was some mumbling, but Guider Daphan spoke up, “You ask why a god or his chosen would need us? The answer is they don’t, we serve at their whim. They decreed this structure, Temples, offerings, and even the clothing we wear are all because they commanded it. If they had ordered something else we would be doing that instead.”

That did not seem to be the answer Regis expected. Most people would defend themselves in the face of Regis’s veiled insult. He had told them they were useless, and Daphan had chosen to sidestep the whole confrontation. He had done so while also forcing Regis to agree or take a stance against the gods he was so fanatical about.

Regis took a moment to think of a response, “Lord Ajax has ordered all men capable of combat to join the draft, are you not capable?”

He narrowed his eyes at the guider. The moment his attire attention was on the man, Tristan summoned Vulcan and smashed the metal pole across Regis’s knees. It happened so fast that the man could not react, he was swept off his feet, spinning far enough to land on his neck. Tristan was on the stage before the acolyte’s shock could turn to action.

He punched down at Regis’s face, intending to infuse decay alloy directly into his brain. Regis was not an elite among civil protectors for no reason. Instantly reading the situation, he caught the punch with his bracers. The punch left a grey fist-shaped film on the crimson leather. Decay did eat into leather, though it would run out of power before it made it through the armor.

It took a moment for Regis to realize who was attacking him, “How are you alive?”

Tristan answered by kicking the man in the ribs. Without his tower armor, Tristan felt a bone crack. Fire kerns did not do much for someone’s mass, so Tristan’s kick launched him across the stage where he crashed into the back wall.

“That’s him!” Baldy yelled.

Tristan ignored him and sprinted at Regis like a bull. He could not let the civil protector regain his feet. Regis also knew this. He managed to get his sword out in time to receive a swing from the lamppost. Tristan put his substantial body weight into the swing smashing the blade so hard that its reverse edge pushed back into Regis’s shoulder. The civil protector’s eyes widened as he saw the edge of his sword chip under the impact of a far superior artifact.

“You’ve grown, little demon,” Regis muttered, before creating a ring of blinding white flames that tossed Tristan backward. He fell off the stage and into the crowd of acolytes, knocking several over like cheap toys. Tristan had reinforced himself, so he would not break anything, but that had resulted in other people breaking their bones instead.

Tristan managed to land on his feet where he slid a few feet on the tile floor. Standing he looked up at the stage where Regis had also gotten back up. Flames dripped off his sword igniting the stage. He left burnt footprints on the wooden surface of the stage, his clothes were somehow unharmed by the fire.

“How did you do it?” Regis answered,” How did you survive and where did you get that weapon?”

Tristan inspected the shimmer coming off Regis’s body, the man was not using a large amount of essence, but it should be outpacing his regeneration. Regis had a large essence pool due to the reservoir around his neck, Tristan inspected the necklace. He needed to get rid of it, once it was gone his chances would be much better.