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Pelgran Abbey became known for the many members of the church they produced, and of the quality of said members. Nuns and priests, inquisitors, knights, and more. The kingdom benefits from the abbey's housing of those less fortunate. It is from an early age that many find their way to the abbey. Wards and abandoned babes, strays, and victims of unrest. They are all welcomed into the abbey and given the opportunity to grow, and many choose to follow the abbey's path serving God. They are fed, they are clothed, and they are taught all they need to know. How to defend themselves in this world, how to read and write, and even the basic sciences. Even the matter of temptation is discussed as sin is something natural and must be learned to be avoided. It is this policy of teaching temptation that breeds the most devout as they know what to temper and how, and yet, that is never quite the substitute for encountering it out in the wild. All children of the abbey only come with their first names as they have no family, but upon taking a vocation they are given the abbey's name to connect them to their roots, and to God. Aldwen Pelgran had been one of many children taken in from the streets. His life among the cobbles did not prevent him from studying law, from applying himself beneath the grace of God to become more than an urchin, and now he had achieved more than any of his peers could have imagined. He was a russet-furred feline of some sort with a small scar under his lips and amber eyes that seemed to spark with little cinders behind them. He wore what appeared to be a priest's habit with black gloves to match. On closer inspection, what he wore was a long cloak fashioned to look like a priest's habit. A bit easier to travel with, and a bit easier to hide away in. Aldwen passed fingers along the woodwork of a table in his old room. A single window had served as his personal chapel where he prayed every night, where he asked for strength to continue on his journey. It felt strange to be here again, though, with a bigger bed given to him for his accommodations. Many years had passed since his last visit but it always seemed to stay the same. He could almost hear the days of old. The children in the halls outside of his door, the Abbot's voice soon following along with the cry of mischief. Those halcyon days before his claws had become stained.

"Lord Inquisitor?" Came a gentle voice from the doorway.

Aldwen turned and saw the round figure of the Abbot watching him with a little smile. He stepped away from the desk and said quietly, "Please, Abbot. I ask that you call me Aldwen. Whatever my station, I will always be a child of the abbey."

The old goat clapped his cloven hands together and chuckled, "What a devout and fantastic man we've raised, humble too. Your authority affords you much and yet, you choose to remain our lamb even after all this time. Ah, but tearing up like a sentimental fool isn't why I am here. The escort is here to take you to the mountains."

His ears perked at the news, his hands held together behind his back as he stepped to the doorway and hummed, "Very well. Thank you for letting me stay here and reminisce while the arrangements were being prepared."

"Bah." Said the Abbot while brushing off his words, "None of that. My lambs will always be welcome back even when I am in the embrace of our lord. Now, I only ask that you take care. I've heard strange things about the mountains. Heretics and oddities, strangers that look at the signs of God with disdain."

Aldwen touched the cross beneath his habit near his chest and muttered, "I'll be fine. I travel under the protection of our lord, and what I go is not to war, but to scout."

"Yes, but surely you can find others to do the scouting for you?" Said the Abbot quietly.

A small smile touched his features and he sighed, "That is true but the abbey was on the way and I wanted an excuse to visit."

The abbot shook his head, "If that were not so warming then I would warn you of the sin of pride, but you are a studied man and you know of these things. Your work is great and you yourself are a grand agent. You must care for your life."

"My work, is nowhere near as precious as yours. What I do, cannot compare to what you have done. And that is in part why I wished to come here. To thank you." Aldwen said while bowing his head.

For a moment, his words left the Abbot stunned before he muttered, "Please, I am simply a simple man who provides succor to those who need it. I am nothing compared to what you have become."

He raised his head and approached the Abbot to place a hand on his shoulder. Aldwen squeezed tenderly before walking around the man without a word. He stepped through the doorway and headed down the halls of the abbey with the old Abbot in tow. They walked in relative silence as the wide yawning windows gave way to the light. In truth, there were inquisitors that had been sent out to report on the various rumors surrounding the mountains, and yet, none had come back. Losing one man was a failure, losing two was an affront to God that he would pray for forgiveness for years to come. He had personally seen to the families and taken their anger onto himself, and now he had ordered all other inquisitors to stay their hands. It was his turn to bloody his hands. Much of what his work entailed as Lord Inquisitor had been less taxing than being a regular member of the order. Paperwork became more common and the need to delegate seemed to be a regularity as all in his attendance would faint should he even get a papercut. Even if the other half of his work was messy, even if he could still feel warm life on his fingers; Aldwen needed to keep up appearances. Which was why he needed an escort. It would make him seem closer to divinity than others to need an escort, as if he were above it all. The thought made him frown a bit, one ear twitching as he thought of that. He had grown to understand that appearances were a necessity to maintain control and that he needed to carry a particular image to facilitate the right thoughts from the public. At the same time, it felt tiring. None could know how cruel his work could be, how cold and shaky his hands had grown, how sore they were from holding various tools of war and savagery. Many praised him and said that one day he would be beyond the gates of paradise in the embrace of the Lord himself, but Aldwen believed that hell's gates and denizens would welcome him with open arms. He would always think that the Abbot was the right way to do things. To provide haven and love. What he had become was not a shepherd, but a butcher.

The smile returned to his face as he continued throughout the abbey. They were followed by young lambs he had never seen before. Children of the abbey who would one day inherit the name. Most of them were shooed away as soon as they came but a few had managed to sneak flowers into the pockets of his habit along with hurried questions that were left unanswered as the Abbot firmly but with love told them to mind their manners. A place like this was where the lord existed. A home for the needy with a warm man at the head. The Abbot never laid a hand on the children that he took in and the people under his employ were of the same nature. Even the sternest matron only gave an earful rather than a cuff about the head. Many would say that it was the grace of God and his teachings that urged the children here to serve the church, but it was seeing a man like the good Abbot Pelgran that made them wish to follow in his footsteps. It was certainly the reason that he had taken this path, and he would do it again despite knowing where it led.

Aldwen found true peace in the trek to their destination. The hallways surrounded a central courtyard that could be seen if you took a look to your right, and through those windows, you could see a single grand tree surrounded by flowers. Many of those flowers and plants had been sowed by the youth of the abbey as a way to get them to interact with nature and give back to the earth. He could see his own flower among the many; vibrant red petals with yellow near the center. It had always been one of his favorite blossoms, and flowers in general reminded him of the sweetness of his youth, and the thanks he should give the Lord and the Abbot for the life that he led. The urchin that had stolen for the scant years he had lived on the streets had been brought into warmth early enough that he had not been broken by the cruelty of this world.

Their destination was the abbey gates where his escort awaited. He plucked a few stray flowers from his pockets to let them flutter down to the floor while the Abbot hurried along his side and muttered quickly, "Now, I must warn you that the escort we found is not necessarily orthodox. You see, he's a believer in truth and a knight but we found him to be a bit odd. He's a local, and comes recommended for his woodcraft as well but well-- The Lord makes many sorts on this earth and he is quite pleasant to be around for the most part but perhaps you should know--"

When the Abbot hesitated, Aldwen chuckled for the first time, "Come now, you speak as though he's a strange creature and not simply someone like you or I. As you said, the Lord makes many sorts, and who are we to judge one or two that might seem a little odd?"

"Well! If it isn't the budding flower I'm supposed to be guarding, and what a beautiful one it is!" Came a sharp voice that made one of his ears fall flat.

He turned slowly to see a rodent of sorts standing there with a big grin flashing an impressive set of fangs for his stature. His escort was a jerboa perhaps, or some other type of field mouse with a long thin tail tipped at the end with a brush. His fur was mostly cream with darker tongs here and there. There was a strength to his build, one that seemed to be a bit rounded out in places but what struck him most were those azure eyes that felt so bright, that it felt as though he were staring into the infinite sky. He also couldn't help but notice that one of those sharp ears was notched as if cut by a blade. In fact, the more he looked past the grin and the bright eyes, the more he saw a proper knight. A sword hooked at the belt, leather covering most of his body, gloves adorning his hands weathered by time and use. He looked lightly armored, but it made sense considering where they would be going.

Remembering to keep his image and remain polite, he inclined his head and spoke plainly, "I am Aldwen Pelgran, Lord Inquisitor. I thank you for taking the time to guide me through the pass and into the mountains."

The knight grabbed his hand and squeezed while shaking, causing him to blink and his cheeks to grow oddly warm from the contact as the man introduced himself, "Pascual Jaspermill. Just Pascual, Pas, or Pasc works if you please. Nice to meet one of the tops of the cross. Never thought I'd be shaking hands with you, or knocking boots. If you'll excuse the euphemism."

"Ser! I beg of you to remember your station and to whom you are speaking! This is the Lord Inquisitor!" The Abbot said with a huff.

Pascual blinked before letting go and taking a deep bow, "Apologies, I just get excited to meet new folk is all."

Aldwen felt his nose twitch as he slowly returned to a neutral position and asked, "Ah, knocking boots? That is a euphemism I should be aware of?"

The Abbot opened his mouth and waved his hands, but Pascual laughed aloud and stood up straight, "Well, I mostly meant we'll be walking the same path but some use it for a more intimate manner. You know, in bed and whatnot. Boots knocked off for the night or kept on depending."

A few moments passed of Aldwen twitching his fingers and connecting the dots in his mind before his face warmed further and he coughed, "I see. I'd appreciate you keeping such comments to yourself but again, I am in your debt. I know that this cannot be a simple task."

"It'll be simple enough unless we run into trouble. We could hitch a ride with a caravan as merchants make their way through the pass all the time but you want to stop at the settlements. Of course, I'll be expecting you to watch my back." Pascual said with a big smile.

There was something strange about the mouse. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but he found it difficult to be annoyed at Pascual. Aldwen had been disrespected and made aware of a rather carnal statement, and yet, he could only find himself smiling a bit beneath the glow of that gaze. That gaze like the sky darkened by gentle clouds. Those lips a black line across a dark-cream field. The beauty of nature and God planted on the man's face. The thoughts were out before he could control them and he found himself blinking. He slowly looked away and placed a hand on his chin, pinching just a bit while reminding himself that men of the cloth did not have those thoughts. In particular about other men.

Finally, he collected himself and held his hands behind him as he breathed out, "I will be certain to do so, Ser Jaspermill. Now, let us be off."

It was best to be off before his mind could wander any further, but he couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at the prospect of being alone with this other man. Just to get to know him, of course. The Abbot saw them off with a little wave. They were to travel light with the necessities of their journey packed away between them. Ser Jaspermill carried most of what they needed with him. Aldwen offered to buy a beast of burden for them to bring along, but Pascual waved him off and said it would be easier this way. So they walked along the road quietly and quickly, the occasional caravan passing them by in either direction. Everyone could recognize what he was by what he wore so most that went by gave a quiet prayer, but some stopped to ask for worldly advice. He had not been a common minister for years but that did not stop him from hearing the troubles of those that walked by. There were those that were uncertain of their faith and were ready to throw themselves down on his mercy, those that simply had a hard time and asked for some sort of direction. He did not fault any for their lack of faith and instead gave them what succor he could provide. Most left with light in their eyes again.

When they were alone on the road again, Pascual spoke up, "You know, even a priest back home would have growled at a man professing a loss of faith. Since you're Lord Inquisitor, shouldn't you be putting them in irons?"

Aldwen closed his eyes and steepled his hands while sighing, "Perhaps. Doubt is not heresy. Doubt is a natural thing and in particular under duress. If I saw them clinging to sigils and periapts of false gods then perhaps I would have questioned them, but instead, I gave them what peace I could to soothe their doubts."

"Huh, guess you really are the Lord Inquisitor. If they were heretics, would you have bled them?" Asked Pascual

He opened his eyes to look at Pascual and he answered without hesitation, "Yes. Without a doubt. Would you have not done the same?"

Surprisingly, Pascual chuckled and sighed, "Nah, not at all. People just living their lives aren't much of a threat to me, so what they do with that life is none of my business."

Aldwen felt one of his ears twitch as he sniffed, "Most would not be so ready to admit those words to the Lord Inquisitor of all people. Would you like to tell me more of your sin?"

Pascual laughed, causing his fingers to twitch as the mouse answered while shaking his head, "No, I'm not looking to confess and don't need to clear the guilt from my soul or whatever. I'm just making conversation and answering your question. I am not the Lord Inquisitor. I am just a base knight with base needs and desires. And last time I checked, sinning wasn't against the rules."

He frowned a bit at that and muttered, "Well, yes but you shouldn't. It is unbecoming of people of our station. You are a knight given blade and authority by both God and the King. As well, you should care more about heretics."

"But that'd be too much for my little heart. A heart like mine is meant for love and warmth, not putting random people to the blade. When I picked up the sword myself, it was because I wanted to help. That's why I've acted like more of a hedge knight and wandered." The mouse with a bright smile.

Aldwen felt a lecture at the tip of his tongue about morality and their faith, but he found himself transfixed by that smile. Warmth radiated from the mouse like a strange miasma wrapping around his neck keeping the words from flowing. Eventually, he managed to sound out the words, "It is good, that you wish to help others but see that it does not get in the way of your faith."

Pascual snickered, "Wise words, your lordship. Now, how about you? Got any sins you'd like to confess? Any vices that hold you tight at night?"

He would have snapped at anyone who would have said such a thing but again that smile, that damnable smirk and demeanor. Aldwen looked forward and his ears slowly pinned back as he cleared his throat with a fist near his mouth, "I suppose, drink."

"Come again?" Pascual asked.

Aldwen shrugged, "I am weak to the tastes of spirits. Cheap or fine, I enjoy the flavor and sensation."

He would have thought that the knight would have jumped at the opportunity to make a comment, that there would be words to spare to jab into his side, but strangely, Ser Jaspermill was quiet. When he looked to the side he saw that Pascual was grinning from ear to ear with head tilted as if pointing down toward what was in one of his hands. He held a leather flask and shook it a few times just to make sure Aldwen knew that there was something sloshing about in there. One side of his lips lifted to show teeth in an irritated expression that had little to no effect on the sinful knight. This staredown continued until he found something tickling within him. The smirk, the wag of the brow, the proffered sack of liquid sin. He couldn't help it, he blew out and chuckled while shuddering before throwing his head back to laugh. How ridiculous that this one man could bring him so much mirth, how odd that he felt the presence of God more in the smile of this knight rather than his own holy work. He supposed that he would have to add this indulgence to the list of things he needed to later confess and atone for. Quietly, he reached for the wineskin and took it gingerly with a little nod. It was just a second, but their fingers touched, and though there were layers between them as they both wore gloves, he still felt a spot of warmth trail up his arm and down into his heart. The first drink he took, in part because of that touch, was a rather deep one.

They continued their journey through the roads heading to the mountain pass. Trees rose on either side of the road with hardy foliage hued by deep greens. The land rose and fell, the road leading on a downward trend toward their destination where the mountain range could be seen with a clear split where the pass began. The plan was to stop at the base of the mountain and make camp but their pace had slowed a bit, well, perhaps more than just a bit. Aldwen thought that the man would only be so bold as to offer one skin of mead or wine and that was it, but as it turned out, the knight had a neat little assortment carried with him in one of their packs. He chuckled and snickered, making the excuse that some nights could only be so warm with a bit of something to drink but then with a sobering clarity he added something else that made much more sense to him.

"At times, there are those that you meet who are frightened of the armor, or the sword. They see you as a threat and they ready themselves to fight because of it. A smile and a shared drink can go a long way to avoid useless bloodshed." Pascual said before taking a sip of his own skin.

Aldwen nodded slowly while muttering, "Sensible. More sensible than I thought you'd be considering you're a knight so willing to be so frustratingly flippant when faced with devotion and duty."

Pascual shrugged, "I have my duty and I do it well, I don't need to be a stuffed shirt about it. That's just not where I'm from or will ever be from."

"Where are you from?" Aldwen asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

"Oh? Interested in me now?" Pascual asked with a little smile. When Aldwen went to rescind his curiosity, Pascual shrugged, "I'm from a small town not too far from here. Tucked against the mountain. Most work the mills or the mines and as it turned out, I could read and could use a sword without maiming myself. The old fellow taking care of me was a retired knight and saw something in me. Filled my head with stories of helping others and eventually urged me to join up. So here I am. Not quite the knightly knight, but I enjoy what I do. Making sure that no wild beasts get too close to small villages. Making sure that people can defend themselves, and clearing roads. Most knights loathe that sort of thing, they'd prefer working in a nice castle or with a set caravan."

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps he meant it, regardless Aldwen let the words slip from his mouth without thinking, "You are quite admirable."

"Huh? Is that the kind of thing any man of the faith should be saying?" Pascual said with a snicker before shrugging, "I've already tempted a man of your caliber to sin with a little drink, so perhaps you should be saving your admiration for someone else."

Aldwen sniffed, "I think that I can say whatever I want, and your sins are not what I find admirable. No, I find you quite annoying, to be honest, and this insistence on pressing my buttons whether intentioned or not, also annoying. What I meant, is that I admire your devotion to others. I should be saying that your devotion would be better spent on God but even I find that the divinity I seek is often in the simple works. People such as the Abbot have the love of God in them, whereas my work will most likely welcome me to oblivion."

A hum escaped Pascual, a slow and gentle sound said as he raised his eyes to the sky, "Like you said, everyone has doubts. Didn't think that you'd have any but it sounds like you're not in love with what you do. So why not do it differently?"

"Because it is my duty." Aldwen said without pause, "I am the Lord Inquisitor. The church is the hand of God, and I am an implement, a tool. So I work and toil with the instructions that have been given to me. Besides, these hands of mine have already been stained, dear knight."

Pascual snorted, "We're all a bit stained, aren't we? I told you I sin all the time but I get that's not what you mean." The mouse then set his hand on the pommel of his sword while shutting his eyes, reciting suddenly as if from scripture, "But my child, if it is true that you feel such a weight on your shoulders, then I would be happy to serve as your ear. Ease yourself by telling me of your sin and know that God forgives all who are repentant."

To be told such a thing by a vagabond knight of all people. Aldwen couldn't help but blow out a breath at first, a huff between lips that turned into full laughter echoing through the trees before he shook his head and sighed, "You know, I've never truly talked about the guilt I feel, so perhaps if your offer is not entirely a joke, then I would be glad to take it."

The knight opened an eye toward him while his mouth lifted in a little smirk, "Already got you to drink, might as well take responsibility for loose lips. So go ahead and spill all you'd like, oh Lord Inquisitor."

And so he confessed. He held a hand to his chest while speaking as if he were standing in a booth with a priest on the other side despite knowing that who he was confessing to wasn't anyone holy. It had been a long time since he had spoken about his doubts with a priest, but even longer since he had spoken to someone that he might consider a friend. His drive to rise among the ranks had left him with little room for companionship, and now if it weren't for the alcohol then perhaps his lips would not be so loose. Aldwen spoke of his work, spoke of the things that he needed to do. He was an inquisitor and many thought that it meant that he dealt in intelligence and law. In truth, it was much more than just that. Aldwen apprehended individuals suspected of heresy, and at times these individuals were already on a list that was given to him. He was expected to investigate rumors of heretics and weed them out himself, culling them should it become necessary in order to maintain a land devoted to only God. Quieter, he spoke of his other duties. Executioner and torturer. Bleed those who harbor false ideals and worship false gods. Do so with fervor and bring the heavy blade down on their necks. Criminals were subjected to this as well but he suspected that there were many innocent people who had fallen to his hand. Still, it was not his place to question his station. Not his place to question the church.

"And so you see, without a doubt what awaits me after death is hell itself." Aldwen finished with a sigh.

Their pace had continued throughout his confession without pause. And it was only after that statement that Pascual finally asked quietly, "Ever thought about quitting?"

"I'm not old enough to think about retirement." He said with a sneer, "Leave too soon and I might as well court my own excommunication. And you see, the church has given me everything. The good Abbot is an extension of that church, and my education, my entire life is owed to them. Besides, the blood will be spilled regardless. I have come to accept my role."

Pascual shook his head, "Yeah, but you don't have to." The mouse then tilted his head, "I guess, maybe I've got no right to say that considering the knights are an arm of the church as well."

Quietly, Aldwen added, "But I should be more like you, you see. I should be more liberated in my privacy at the very least, I should attempt to help more people quietly from the position I'm in. My life should be spent undermining the church in every little way while I atone for the blood that I've spilled. I'm old enough to have so many regrets, but not old enough to be finished quite yet." He then scoffed, "But what am I saying? Undermining the church from my position simply would mean an early grave and I don't know if I'd even have the heart to do it."

"Hm, well, old man--"

The quip stopped there, the mouse's ears rising and his grip on his sword tightening. He drew the sword before the brush began to part to reveal hooded folk holding knives, a few of them with swords of their own. His fur bristled at the sight. Bandits, or were they? None of them made a move to speak, to make their intent known. Instead, they made a small formation in front of them. Threatening figures in hoods with sharp and nasty weapons poised toward them, but one look and he could see that these people were not professionals. A few of them twitched in odd ways, and some of them had their bodies positioned in a manner that spoke of a lack of training. Highwaymen did not bother with theatrics, and those enacting a toll would speak up immediately. Still, the number alone was daunting considering he only had one escort.

"Stay behind me." Pascual hissed.

Aldwen ignored him and stepped forward while letting his voice project, the light buzz of alcohol thankfully not enough to affect his motor functions, "If it is drink that you seek, then my companion here has wet my lips, but not enough that his skins are empty. If it is coin, then it is immaterial and I would be glad to give you your fill. Food? We have much in the way of supplies and though I doubt my companion knows it, I am a fair hunter when the need arises."

The group seemed to recoil as one but the hooded figure at the head spoke aloud, "Your coin, your food; we don't want any of it. Just leave, we know who you are, butcher."

He was almost tempted to comply. It always came down to bloodshed. It always was on him to stain his hands, and he didn't want Pascual to see that, but he also didn't want Pascual to hurt his own heart. His hands moved between the folds of his cloak to open it and reveal a sword he had kept hidden over his shoulder. The steel slid from the scabbard and he turned it over before stabbing it into the ground. Both of his hands rested on the pommel as he said aloud, "Dear lord. Forgive me for spilling the blood of your lambs. Though lost they might be, they are still of your flesh, still of your breath. I ask that you forgive them, but I beg none of that forgiveness for myself."

All who stood watch shuddered, and he wished he had not taken the chance to peer toward Pascual. Eyes not full of fear, but of concern and what felt like pity. It had just been a flash but it had been enough to harden his expression. Their assailants seemed to see his hardening features as a readiness for blood, many of them turning to one another to whisper in hushed tones, more of them turning tail to flee immediately simply from the sight of his blade and prayer. The bravest stood at the front holding his sword without running. He did not even curse when his companions ran.

Quietly he commanded, "Leave." And then softer still, "Please."

The hooded figure holding the sword reared back before rushing forward with his blade at the ready. Solemnly, Aldwen yanked his blade from the earth and stepped to the side forcing his opponent to follow along. His sword came up to bat aside a thrust, and he had to commend his assailant for managing to avoid getting his hands bloodied by a stray counter. The fight always filled him with some measure of adrenaline, an incidental excitement that he did not push away, just as he did not push away the disgust. Metal struck metal time and time again. Swords swiping in small arcs, in compact manners that made him wonder if this hooded figure had been pretending to not know how to hold his own. There was a strength and a wild quickness to the assailant's movements, one that had him needing to move back lest he be swallowed by the man's tempo. Still, there was a lack of experience. Their blades came clashing and snagged together, steel biting steel like rabid beasts, he raised his blade to break out of the lock aiming for the face, and the hooded figure fell to their rear while jolting back. He lunged forward and easily batted aside the sloppy swing that came toward him from the ground, but instead of ending them, he planted a boot into their arm holding the sword, and kept it pinned to the ground to make sure a retaliation could not come. He held his sword to kill the one who had attacked him but he made a mistake. Aldwen saw his eyes. Gentle green reflected the forest around them, a soft panicked green on the face of a young fellow. Not too young to hold a sword, but far younger than he was. Old enough to fight, but not old enough to steel his expression in the face of danger. His flower would have been beautiful if he had planted it back at the abbey. What type of blossom would this lad have chosen? He took his boot off the boy's arm and stepped back.

Again he commanded, "Leave, and live to come for my head again. Whoever you are, whatever you are and be thankful that I've indulged in my own sin of drinking or else I'd clap you in chains and ask you slowly why you've attacked me."

The boy took his sword and went running while holding onto his wounded arm. When the boy was out of sight, Pascual stepped by his side and spoke quietly, "Are you okay?"

He closed his eyes and breathed out, "Physically, yes." He then opened them to look toward Pascual, "And you?"

Pascual touched his own chest and patted himself down as if searching for a wound before he shook his head, "Afraid I'm all okay. Nothing for you to check and minister to, as much as I know you were looking forward to touching my body."

Aldwen smiled a bit as he sheathed his sword and muttered, "Pascual...I am far too tired to fight your jests, and I'm sure I could bind you and ask you what makes you think that you can flirt with someone from the church in my position, in particular, another man as well."

"At that point, you'd just be doing your job, right?" Said the mouse with a wink.

Too tired to fight. Too tired to pretend that his victory had not felt hollow. Trouble awaited them ahead and they weren't even at the base of the mountain. Heretics awaited them and there had been a clear warning that danger awaited should they move ahead with this plan. When his sword clicked into place and he put it over his shoulder again beneath his cloak, he sighed and felt his shoulders sag. He didn't want to continue, and he wasn't quite sure what to make of Pascual's blatant flirting. Even though he had avoided spilling blood he could see that his hands were shaking. The gloves could only do so much to hide that, but what he saw as well were both of Pascual's hands clasping onto his. He looked into Pascual's eyes and he found warmth sprouting in his chest.

"You should not grace me with your touch, dear knight." Aldwen said while looking away.

Pascual chuckled, "All I did was watch while you fought, so at least let me help you now. Let's find a quiet place to camp for the night. We'll make it to the pass tomorrow."

When he faced the mouse again to give his answer, Pascual leaned up and their mouths met. It was just for a few seconds. A few charged seconds, but what he felt in those seconds was both beautiful and terrifying all at once. An elation and excitement more pure than any joy he had experienced, a terror thicker than any fight had given him. He clung to both that terror and elation at the same time and freed one of his hands to cup Pascual's cheek to return the kiss. This kiss lasted a bit longer, their mouths melding together, his exhaustion pushing aside any reservations that he might have.

When they parted, Pascual asked with a small smirk, "So what say you?"

He answered while placing his head to Pascual's, while his fingers slid along the back of the man's neck, "In you, I have found God more than any work I have done. Let me cast aside this cloak of mine for just a moment so that I may experience paradise." A small tired smile etched itself onto his features as he added with a sigh, "And perhaps a little more drink to keep the nerves away."

Pascual returned his reply with a peck on the cheek before dragging him along to find a place to camp for the evening. The night's sky was touched by starlight, the moon hanging high above them serving as a pale beacon. They choose a small place against the gnarled roots of an old tree surrounded by cover. A piece of flat ground served as the place where their rolls to sleep, no tent needed for this gentle night. A warm firepit would keep the beasts at bay, and one of them would remain at the watch while the other slept. The light of the fire gave them a bit of light, and perhaps they would have thought to light a lantern as well if it weren't for glowing wisps trailing through the air like embers rising from the flame. For now, they pushed their rolls together and began to set aside their burdens. Gloves and cloaks, shirts and worries. The adrenaline still pumped through him and all he would accept was a bit of water before they laid together. The orange light of the flame revealed two men stricken by battles. Little marks here and there on each of their bodies, his a bit leaner than the mouse's, while the mouse's form seemed to be a bit stouter, a bit stronger in places. A hand was set against his chest, bare fingers and claws brushing through the fur.

Quietly, Pascual asked, "Tell me about some of these."

A touch along a particular spot caused him to smile and shut his eyes as he recalled quietly, "Along the side, I have an old nick there from one of my most foolish mistakes. Eager as I was to prove myself, I managed to hurt myself on the instructor's blade by charging forward. He had not expected me to be so eager but still managed to keep me from impaling myself. It wouldn't be the first time I embarrassed myself either." A finger passed along the small one under his lip and he said with a snort, "A reminder not to provoke others and not expect a punch. I'd rather not go through every embarrassing memory of my youth." When he heard quiet snickers from his companion, he half-opened his eyes to peer at Pascual's half-nude form while muttering, "Go ahead and laugh, I don't mind."

As Pascual shook his head, Aldwen reached forward to press a thumb firmly against his shoulder, claw tracing a mark he saw, "Your turn."

Was it his firm touch, or was it the suddenness of it? Regardless, Pascual stopped chuckling and he swore he spotted a touch of pink beneath the moonlight on those cheeks. Pascual then sniffed, "A wild beast got hold of my shoulder and wouldn't let go. It was a botched hunt from the start, but I suppose what truly sealed the deal was that I thought that I could talk to the beast and lure it away from the village. As it turns out, sweet words do not often work on wild creatures."

Aldwen held his laughter as he hummed, "Quite the lucky youth to get out of that alive."

Pascual sighed, "Aldwen, it was a month or so ago."

And there his laughter slipped, hand over his mouth as he tried to save some grace. A playful push struck his chest, and he looked down at the fingers pushing through the fur before he found his own hand drifting to Pascual's wrist. He grasped gingerly and brought him forward into a kiss of his own volition. The laughter continued in small touches, in little chuckles that faded into sighs as their lips melded again. They parted to continue their conversation but remained inches away. Words and little stories were interrupted by kisses, interrupted by shuddering pauses as fingers trailed in all the right places. He had forgotten about the drink, forgotten about his duty, and was now simply allowing whatever happened to progress. One hand rested on his lap, fingers trailing over a bulge that had been forming as his excitement rose.

Again their lips drifted apart, a purr escaping him as Pascual muttered, "Another step, would you like to take it with me? To sin and beyond?"

Aldwen breathed out, "My dear knight, I have already stepped into that valley and do not plan on letting go anytime soon. So, yes. Let's take that step."

Yes. That's what he had said so confidently. Even without the buzz of alcohol at the back of his head, Aldwen couldn't think of a better way to spend his evening. He had already fallen for this man and that alone would be considered something detestable by the church, and so he would do anything to cling closer to this feeling of warmth and love that he had never felt in all his time serving the church. It wasn't that he had no faith, wasn't that he hated God, but if this bliss was truly a sin then he would ask for forgiveness later as the joy it brought him was too much to cast aside.

More beautiful than a dream, more gentle than the little sounds of nature surrounding him. Everything felt ever more sensitive as time passed. Kisses became heated spots on his mouth, lips passing along his neck and chest leaving their marks as well. Bodies separated for a moment to let them both disrobe fully and come back to their places to lie down against one another. Lips got back to work, knees were drawn against thighs, and that most sensitive spot crossed his own. A jest of crossed swords was made whispered into his ear as if it were the most romantic thing and he snorted while resisting the urge to pinch his lover. While he chuckled at the joke, that tiny expression of humor soon faded away as he felt gentle fingers loop around his shaft and start stroking. There was more to do to prepare for this type of thing, questions on his mind of what would happen but those soft fingers around his shaft kept him from saying anything at all. Unholy bliss flowed through him from that loving touch, from the lips against his still filling his mind with such warmth and desire. Doubts and anxiety crept at the edge of his mind waiting for an opening to wriggle through. The gentle smack of lip on lip, the sighs shared between their mouths, and the hands moving along cheeks to keep them cupped together. These along with the loving touch below his waist pushed aside those concerns. How could he consider this unholy for even a second? What he had referred to as unholy bliss could not be as such. This was nothing but the beauty of life itself.

The fingers on his member moved up to touch his chest, to urge him onto his back while Pascual breathed out, "If we had a better place to be then I'd be the one burying myself inside of you, but seeing as this is your first and I'm the one with a bit more experience, I figure I should take it easy on you for now. So relax."

Aldwen found his ears pinning back as he muttered in response to such sweetness, "I'll have you know that I can handle more than you think. I don't know what you mean by burying yourself in me, but I doubt that you need to pamper me so much."

"Sex." Pascual said with a grin while getting up, "My tool here sliding up your rear, grinding until pleasure gives way to something beautiful. Surely you've at least heard of how men go at it?"

Aldwen's ears raised high now, his cheeks burning as he cleared his throat, "Sodomy, yes. I've heard a bit about it. I know the general gist as well but I suppose, I'm not really well-versed in the topic."

"Ever had a tender moment with a woman?" Pascual asked as he fished through a pack.

The answer came quietly, "Once. Long ago when I was still young and green. I was accepted despite the sin, so I suppose it shouldn't matter if I fall a bit further."

Pascual returned to him holding a glass vial. Their lips met again for a tender kiss as the mouse popped the top of the fixture. He didn't have time to focus on the liquid swirling through the vial, didn't have time to think about it at all with those lovely lips returning to his. The kiss was enough to keep him placated for now. He was surprised to feel the other straddle his lap, and curious to know why his hands were behind him at the moment. It was hard to pay attention to anything but the kiss, anything to the thing causing him to purr with such delight. His eyes widened then as he felt slick liquid trailing down his shaft followed by sticky digits. At such a strange sensation he might've asked what was happening, but again the kiss had him transfixed, the parting of lips broken by his mouth following and his hands clasping onto Pascual's cheeks. The kiss splintered and stopped on occasion due to Pascual's chuckles and sighs, but he welcomed these little sounds as they filled him with a sort of glee that he could not describe. No church prayer, no choir full of practiced voices could compare to the beauty he heard in a simple expression of joy given to him by the man on his lap.

Pascual bumped their heads together and quietly he muttered, "Stay still for a little bit. Let me show you something truly fantastic."

"But you already have." He responded quietly.

It seemed to him, that he could see a small flush forming on the mouse's cheeks in the dim light but he could not say for sure. Regardless, he stayed his lips and moved his hands to touch the man's sides instead, to press and feel in various places while Pascual moved. The mouse's hips rose, his fingers easing Aldwen's shaft into position. He wanted to ask what fantastic thing was about to happen, but he realized quickly enough that the question was being answered. It was rather obvious, right? Two men beneath the stars. Nude and grinding together. Lips locked and hearts melting ever closer. Sex was what Pascual meant, and what he soon felt enveloping his shaft. It was a heat that he had not expected, a tightness that caused his entire form to shudder. Pascual uttered a little curse of delight to his ear. He felt the need to remind him to not use such strong language in such a tender moment but what came out was a gasp as Pascual bolted his hips downward taking every inch within him.

He watched as Pascual leaned back with his knees to the ground near his hips, fingers pushing against his abdomen as the mouse breathed into the air between them, "And here you are. Inside of me about to spill your precious seed. Wasting it beneath the moon, beneath God's vigil."

Despite the irritation that sparked from the back of his mind, he could feel his arousal twitching at the attention, his reply sounding less sharp than he wanted, "I don't know why you see the need to point this out when you'll be in the same position."

A digit moved from his abdomen up to the tip of his own shaft, the mouse winking at him as he chuckled, "Because I've done this before. This is your first, so let it all go. Let me have all of your sin."

The little smirk, the curl of the tail so the tip was pointed at him. Everything made him feel like the mouse was waiting for his next move. Would he snap and bite? Would he call the man a heathen and defend himself? No, there was no point in doing that considering where he was. Still, his fangs dripped with irritation and indignation, his claws out as he grasped onto Pascual's hips and bucked his own upward. Pascual began to bounce on his lap, rocking back and forth while their lips met in a crash of heat. One of his hands moved up to graze against the mouse's cheek, trailing up to grasp onto the base of the ear gingerly as he felt the kindled passion inside of him growing more intense. It was hard to hold onto that irritation when Pascual was so...was so himself. Every little snicker, every little sigh, and moan that escaped the air between them sent shivers down his spine. Even as he put his teeth to the mouse's shoulder and clung on just a bit tighter, he found the tenseness in his body relaxing. The pistoning rhythm he had started with to thrust inside of the man clumsily had slowed to a gentle rocking that mimicked the movement of the mouse atop of him. While he wrestled with one emotion or another, Pascual simply drank it all in and let out his pleasure into the air. Gentle fingers moved through the fur of his back, lovely little touches racing up to the back of his head while whispers curled in the air asking him to move a bit more. He became transfixed by that voice, transfixed by the warmth surrounding his member. Of course he would listen.

Pascual's instructions were whispered in gentle tones. It was as if he could feel them as mist curling around his ears begging him to pay heed. His hips rocked and moved around in the ways he was led, his body trembling anytime he was told how good of a job he was doing. This praise and love he was receiving could be described as nothing but euphoric, and he wanted more of it. Aldwen couldn't help himself. He had just come to know the man and had found him entirely irritating, but there was something so beautiful about his body and soul. Every moment was a joy. Even his irritation could not last in the face of something so divine.

Aldwen peered into those eyes full of mirth and mischief, and he found himself uttering quietly, "I love you."

The words were returned between a kiss, a gentle blow of breath on lips uttered with such intense warmth, "And I love you as well."

Too soon to say for certain. Too soon to speak such words and promises but still his heart burned to hear more as he continued to grind himself inside of the other man. He could feel his own shaft throbbing a bit more violently, his body shaking as he clung close to Pascual and continued their kiss in earnest. One more thrust and he felt it now, he felt his orgasm coursing out of his member directly into the mouse's rear. Spilled seed. Wasted seed. Except, he could never consider it wasted. It was a mark signifying his love, a mark that signified the joy he felt.

Of course, such an event could not be a quiet one. Pascual interrupted the haze of his bliss in order to hum, "Goodness me, I'll be pregnant before long. Hope you'll be taking responsibility for that one."

He shut his eyes and sucked in a breath before muttering, "I think I should take back what I said."

When he opened one eye, Pascual was looking at him with a stupid grin, one that he found entirely too infectious even as he tried to look away. Pascual then pushed his head against Aldwen's chest while laughing, "You're adorable when you're annoyed, you know that?"

While rolling his eyes and still looking away, he reached between them to let his fingers trail over the man's shaft. At first, Pascual only shifted a bit, but the mouse soon leaned back to let him start stroking gingerly. He wasn't experienced but he figured a gentle touch would work. Pascual's voice beckoned his eyes forward and down where he could see every inch of the man's member twitching. He pumped a bit faster and tightened his grip a bit more when told. The sighs and moans returned again, the sounds of a sweet song that encouraged him to do this task well. This was more beautiful than prayer, but a mess would be made at this point, would it not?

Quietly he said, "I've known that there are some that pleasure others with their mouth. Would that suffice for tonight?"

"My? Asking for me to grace your holy lips with my sin? I must be dreaming. Never thought that you'd ask for such--"

"Pascual." He spat, "I have my limits, dear knight." Aldwen then breathed out while his cheeks burned, "But yes, I would gladly drink down your sin."

Pascual spared him the comment as the knight got off of his and moved up to settle on his chest. He had never looked at another man's tool so closely and even now he found his cheeks warming further and further until it felt like his head would burst into flames. Aldwen did not question whether he would or would not do this because he had already stated that he would. Doing something halfway simply wasn't the way he liked to do things. Direct and honest as much as he could manage, and this was quite simple. When Pascual pointed his girth at Aldwen's lips, Aldwen's ears pinned back but his lips parted to let his tongue drag along the head. A flavor of gentle salt with a hue of bitterness, but it wasn't bothersome, not at all. What he enjoyed more, however, was the heat that he felt gracing his tongue as he began to pass his mouth over the tip. He began to bob his head up and down with Pascual's hand guiding him. Though he was inexperienced, he found himself strangely accustomed to the practice. Pushing forward would bring him closer to the man's crotch, and bring more of that thick thing inside of his maw until he could feel it at his throat. He coughed a bit, and his eyes strained, but that did not stop him from continuing. It felt as though he were at worship, as though he were giving this man his devotion. A wash of embarrassment clung to him as he continued with that thought. He tried to focus on other things, but it was rather difficult with his face so near the man's crotch. He could catch the scent of the day's work on the man; earth, and something floral stronger than what he caught when they were simply around one another along with hints of sweat. And yet, that belonged to the man he loved so of course he was happy to experience it, of course, he was happy to worship all that Pascual was.

While he was lost and addled in his state of bodily worship, Pascual muttered, "Won't last too long now." He blinked and did not take the hint to brace for what came next. A load of cum hit the back of his throat taking him by surprise, another few hitting his tongue as he coughed. He managed to take every drop onto his tongue while pulling away and Pascual touched his head gently, "Hey, let me get you something to drink. Spit if you need to."

Salt and saliva filled his senses, his mind practically drained of sense as he laid on his side. He then eased himself up on one arm while Pascual knelt next to him. Instead of spitting, he drank down every drop and cleared his throat afterward, "And your sin is now mine, I suppose."

Pascual and Aldwen shared a look before they chuckled. They laid together for the rest of the evening until their eyes closed and the world of dreams beckoned them away before guilt could try to reach him. It felt too good to be guilty. If he had any of those feelings still when he woke up, then he'd deal with them at that time. For now, he rested with the knowledge that he was nestled against a man he loved, and one that loved him in return. The next morning came with the sound of birds chirping in the trees, wildlife rustling here and there in the brush nearby. Both of them got up feeling stiff but Aldwen could not find it in himself not to smile. He felt good, if not a bit sore. It was a little strange that Pascual did not say anything, not even a tease as they dusted themselves off and cleaned as best as they could before preparing for the day. A simple meal and something to drink. Something that would keep them on the road for a while, and still Pascual did not speak.

It was only when the mouse buckled his sword while turned away did his voice bless him, "So, today we make for the mountain pass to search for heretics."

He nodded slowly, "Yes, that is my duty."

Pascual breathed out and turned around slowly, "If we find a village of them, if we find a settlement somewhere, would we have to bleed them? Would we have to ruin their lives?"

Taken aback by the sudden question, he found himself hesitating before he faced the truth, "Yes."

"And you hate it. I can see that you hate it, and what's more, Aldwen. At some point, this would have to end between us. As much as I want to follow you, you know as well that this isn't the type of thing I want to do." Pascual said with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed.

Aldwen swallowed and shook his head, "Pas, I would not make you follow me back, and you needn't raise your blade for me."

Pascual's frown deepened, "But what about you? You were passionate last night, you were beautiful last night but when you talked about your work you seemed so sad, so distant. There's more to this life than the church and your faith. I was, I was up for quite some time thinking about this while lying against you and I wasn't sure how to bring this up to you but I'm too stupid to be subtle, too stupid to play games."

He approached Aldwen and took his hand gingerly in his own, "Then what would you have me do?"

"I don't want to make you do anything." Pascual said while looking away but then he breathed, "But I want to offer you something. A chance. Let's go to that mountain pass. Let's find a settlement but not to find heretics, but to find supplies and a caravan leading out of the kingdom."

The blood drained from his face as he whispered, "You'd have the Lord Inquisitor abandon his duty?"

Pascual looked toward him with a little smile, "I'd have Aldwen travel at my side and be my companion. I'd have you come with me to see new places, to help people as we see fit rather than by doctrine. Would you do that? Would you come with me?"

Aldwen swallowed hard and rubbed his neck while looking up as if he could see God, as if he could beg for some sort of advice before he spoke his heart, "Pascual. If there truly is a heaven then I do not think I belong there. Not for what we have done, but for what I have done in the name of the church and God. If you are offering me a chance at a new life, then how could I say no after last night?" He then looked at Pascual while feeling the sting at the corner of his eyes, "How could I not want to try something new even with you as simply my friend?"

He felt nearly crushed as Pascual embraced him with such vigor that he stumbled back. Aldwen returned that embrace just as hard as the mouse muttered, "I'll keep asking you until we've left the kingdom. I'll want to make sure that you're sure about this."

Quietly, he cupped the man's cheek and brought their gazes into a lock as he whispered with half-mooned eyes, "I am still a child of God, and the most holy place I have ever been is in your embrace. I will never be fully certain of this path, but my heart would decay if I remained as a butcher."

With that said, their lips met once again. They tore down the campsite while making sure not to leave a trace. The fire was put out. The embers stamped out, and together they set out while Pascual made a little jest about his rear hurting. They traveled shoulder to shoulder, a small smile on their faces as they headed out with a purpose that was different than intended. There had to be more to this than Pascual was saying. Was it Pascual's faith? Was it something else boiling in his heart? Whatever it was, whatever he suspected; Aldwen didn't care. He simply knew that he could not return to the way things were after experiencing this love.