It was just before midnight when the riders crossed into town. There were six of them, clad in polished golden armor too well made for common mercenaries. Behind her helm, Laoise stewed quietly at the front of the formation. It had been a hard day's ride with little to show for it. The negotiations had gone worse than expected and she knew Drummond wouldn’t be happy with the news. The anticipation of his whining further souring her mood.

As they approached the center of town the riders slowed. They had expected to find  the streets empty at such a late hour and were surprised to see a large mass gathered outside the local temple. A man stood on the building's steps above the crowd, preaching loudly to the tired and clearly intoxicated congregation. He regarded the group as they approached but continued his sermon without pause. Curious, the woman stopped to listen, sending the rest of the riders to wait outside of town. 

Whoever the preacher was he was decent, stoking the crowd to passion then submission in a smooth ebb and flow. The words themselves did little for the warrior but the tone brought to mind the rallying speeches from her former life. For a moment she lived in that nostalgia until her mind drifted to her father and she forced herself back to the moment. 

The man dismissed the crowd a short while later, the parishioners dispersing through the dark streets. Stepping down from his stage with a satisfied expression the preacher approached the mounted warrior.  

“Late hour for a sermon, I thought the brightseekers chose to worship with the sun.” Laoise said taking the initiative in the conversation. 

“The light of the warden shows best in the dark,” he responded, stopping to look up at the warrior.  “You’re a woman?”

“I am,” Laoise said, raising her visor to show the man her face. “Is that a problem?” 

The man shrugged, “Possibly but you’re not under my command.”

“No I am not,” she said brusquely. “Seem’s you have plenty who follow your word. Curious you would have your sermon outside rather than in your temple. It is your temple isn’t it?”

“The temple belongs to all who follow the warden's light,” he said. “Though it seems the local priestess chooses to lock out seekers in their darkest hours.”

“Or perhaps she would rather not have the place ransacked,” Laoise countered. She had no passion in how the temple was run but found satisfaction in taunting the man. 

Having no retort the man moved past the comment. “Whatever the case, I will be here to provide the light wherever it may be missing.”

“Well it’s quite the congregation you’ve built, judging by their eyes I’d say half of them were lit by other spirits before you found them,” Laoise said the man not seeming to notice her aggressive tone.

“They had been drawn in by that den of sin that lords over us.” As he spoke he pointed to a faint light at the top of a nearby hill. “It’s appalling that a brothel stands above the temple of the warden.”

“Maybe you could convince them to pull double duty. Seeing as you have some degree of familiarity.”

The man again didn’t seem to notice the jab. He was now caught up in examining the woman's attire. As he did Laoise could see what she thought was recognition in his eyes. Her hand began to itch slightly as she readied to strike him down. 

Luckily for the man’s neck he said nothing, his eyes moving over the large sword at her hip then to the pistol stuck into her belt. Its silver finish and haphazard location stood out against her otherwise organized attire. 

“On your way to some kind of battle?” The man asked, unaware of how close he treaded to death.

“Just seeking some rest after a long ride,"  Laoise said, her hand still aching to feel the weight of the sword. 

The man’s face tightened a bit and he looked back towards the top of the hill. “Well I hope you don’t intend to seek it amongst those interbreeders and heretics,” he said. 

Laoise followed his eyes, staring up at the faint light of the brothel, “Hadn’t intended on it.”

“Good,” the man said, spitting as he did. “Names Malcomb Graylight,” he added, offering his hand seemingly oblivious to the woman's lack of interest. Still Laoise took it and was relieved when the man didn’t ask for her name in return. “I’ll send a call to the warden to guide your path.”

Laoise fought the urge to roll her eyes and instead thanked the man before lowering her visor and riding off down the dark street. The rest of her band was waiting at the crossroads and silently fell into formation as she spurred on quickly back to camp.