Hushed voices whisper, trying to be both heard and unheard by those present:

“There’s a Rayner with them.”

“I’ve heard that Rayners can summon demons from the pits of the underworld.”

“Frightful!”

The sweet scent of frankincense lingers in the air from the morning’s service. And just as if they were receiving communion, lines of people stand in the center aisle of the church to walk up to the altar where Alan examines them. Gilbert sits beside Mr. Barnes and an ivory-keyed typewriter. He busies himself with reading over the ledgers and town records.

I see a variety of faces but there seems to be an alarming surplus of women and children lining up. Perhaps the effects of the rebellions in the East have made its mark on this small village already. There are few men of age for military service.

“Haven’t you heard about the massacre at Tiennes?"

The townsfolk make no mystery of their suspicions of us. This isn't anything new, but part of our responsibility to the public is to not have them fear us, but respect us.

On that vein, dispelling rumors while not compromising our effectiveness is key.

"Creche Children were sent-”

I target the source of lowered chatter and make my way towards it. The conversations end abruptly.

The wooden pews of this church are widely spaced and worn from years of use. It’s walls are nearly bare save for the brass symbol of Cerna, a ten-pointed star, at its altar. This humble church differs from the cathedrals in the Capital and even the chapel at the Creche, which are laid with gilded molding, jewels, and bright frescos of Cerna.

I lean by a line of women.

“Please don’t stop your conversation on my account, Ma’ams.”

The women clutch their beaded prayer necklaces, startled by my presence. The youngest woman glances to the others before speaking up.

“We heard, Commander, about Tiennes.”

“And what about Tiennes?”

“That the Creche was sent, and, well…”

An older woman shuffles and places herself in front of the younger lady. Her eyes look up at me with hands on her hips, finishing the sentence with certainty.

“The Creche Children were called to hunt both manners of man and beast. All souls from that town were taken that day.”

I take a moment to assess their knowledge. A town in too much fear can be dangerous, but one that spreads harmful rumors can be more so.

“It is indeed true that many people were affected by the Tiennes incident. There was a quarantine, and unfortunately, the Fiends took so much that the town could not stand with its surviving people.”

"Have you read about Biev? On how it grew almost overnight?”

The women nod their heads, with one murmuring:

“It was in the papers for a while.”

“The Creche was sent to escort the remaining citizens of Tiennes to a refugee camp in Biev: the closest village south of its river.”

The women cover their mouths in realization.

“It’s true that all souls were taken from Tiennes, just not in a manner that would be interesting and worth gossip.”

”The truth is that us Creche Children aren’t any more dangerous than your child’s best nightmare. It's a happy disappointment, I'm glad to say.”

The women, stunned and silenced, lower their faces in slight embarrassment at their ignorance. It seems that I have successfully diverted their fears, or at the very least stopped them from spreading untruths.

I continue my patrol down the church aisle and catch more murmurings by Thomas. As he moves, masses of people shift and ripple away like water from stone. He makes his way towards a small concentration of children.

The children appear to be under the care of a broad-shouldered full-bosomed governess. He extends out his gloved hand, peculiarly styled with its last two fingers cut off. He points.

“You there.”

Mouths drop open as the people look to one another. Their bodies stiffen.

“Come here.”

A raggedy girl is instantly shoved forward by her caretaker. The girl’s face sallows and her bruised knees buckle. She looks up at Thomas and her large eyes beg for mercy.

Thomas reaches in his breast pocket and extends his hand to her. The little girl hesitates to hold out her shaking palms.

“A little treat to calm the nerves.”

A few pieces of foil-wrapped caramels are placed within the girl’s hands. She retreats back into the full skirt of her caretaker and the other children surround and goad her. I look away, trying to erase my distaste at how she was thrown to the lion and will now be pressured to share her treasures.

Thomas shifts his gray eyes to me and I already know what he’s thinking. We need to be mindful. Fearful townsfolk could complicate matters.

As we continue on, Gilbert is now standing, bending slightly over the mayor’s table at the altar. His eyes dart, reading the neat handwriting from a thick leather-bound journal. He looks up to Alan, seated across a townswoman.

“We’re nearly all through and no sign at all?”

Alan stares into the eyes of an old woman, hands on her wrinkled and dry face.

“Patience, Gil, Fiends rarely arrive at our parties on time.”

Alan drops his hands and gestures for the old woman to stand.

“Clear, Ma’am.“

Alan is on his next examination when a line of about ten children, all in worn, oversized clothes, shuffle forward from outside the church.

The town priest, Father Jonas, shepherds them in. A pair of religious sisters, dressed in the Imperial blue and gold habit of their order, pin themselves to his elbows while he steps to the altar at a snail’s pace. The Father is ancient, blind, and likely deaf.

The children crowd around the venerable Father Jonas and receive his blessing before being guided towards Alan.

“Mr. Barnes.”

The mayor looks up from his writing. I stand before him near the altar.

“The church’s charges…are they all children?”

Mr. Barnes shuffles through the many-paged volume before using his index finger to trace a number.

“Why, yes. A dozen of them. Recorded last week.”

My mouth parts for a moment as I formulate my next question.

“And what about other individuals on charity? Such as those who are elderly or touched?”

The mayor stutters.

“W-we have no one of that sort in our town.”

I exchange glances with Gilbert. His dark eyes reflect knowledge and insight, most of all suspicion. I nod back to him.

The mayor bites his lower lip. He hurriedly adds.

“Our past winter was harsh.”

“Then there would be records of their passing?”

“Absolutely! The records from the coroners are here.”

The mayor points to a few lines on his large volume. Gilbert looks up before digging a glare into Mr. Barnes. His voice is flat and hard.

“Twenty-four. You've had twenty-four cases.”

“Yes. They were all of venerable age, and-well, most people with weak constitutions pass in the cold of-”

Gilbert reads aloud.

“Mr. Edward Branston, twenty-two years-old, emotional disturbance? Miss Mary Newsom, thirty-one years-old, deaf? Then there is-”

The mayor interjects.

"You are forgetting Mr. Jaxson Crans, eighty-seven years-old, pneumonia. It was an especially harsh winter."

I hold back my tongue and look over to Alan, who pulls up his goggles. Thomas turns from his position by the pews. My three covey brothers and I all share the same expression of disbelief.

This is not unusual. The rich trample on the poor. The strong breaks the weak. In lean times the most vulnerable of citizens would be fed to the maws of death first, it was simply the survival of the fittest.

But here was someone who was blatantly taking us for fools. I could not have had any stronger suspicions.

"You are aware of how this paints your town, Mr. Barnes? Should we presume that this is simply poor bookkeeping?”

The mayor struggles to maintain a calm demeanor. His whole body is tense but his lower lip is quaking with emotion.

”Do you have others that we have missed in this examination?”

The mayor’s face drains of any color. Gilbert eyes him like a boar about to charge.

“H-he’s not part of our town’s registry, as he’s-”

I shake my head.

“Did I not say everyone, Mr. Barnes?”

I rush down the aisle but keep my movements neutral of any fuss in order to avoid suspicion from the townsfolk.

“Thomas, take command and continue the examinations with Alan.”

“Understood. Will you need assistance later?”

I nod and I motion to the tallest man in the church.

“Gilbert, come with me.”

“Commander.”

As we move our equipment jingles like the keys of a jailer. Gilbert joins me as we exit the church doors to the town’s entrance.