Cardinal Lucian Graves kept his reaction neutral upon the arrival of Alexander Anderson.
He tried not to think about how this man killed the last cardinal that was his boss.
"Good evening, Father Anderson. It's a delight to have you join our holy cause." Lucian spoke politely.
Despite his entrance, Father Anderson wasn't impatient or hurried. He silently evaluated the man in front of him slowly.
"Good evening to you as well, Your Eminence." Father Anderson responded politely.
It was an odd contrast for Lucian to relate the polite and amicable Father Anderson to the monster killer that smiles happily while soaked in the blood of heretics.
However, he was also happy that his new recruit wasn't completely insane.
"I apologize, Father Anderson, but there are no monsters or heretics for you to slay just yet. However, if you're willing to wait, perhaps a Fallen Angel or two may conveniently place themselves at your mercy to be returned to the Lord's Embrace."
Part of what he said was meant to keep the peace; the other part was to gauge his reaction to 'Fallen Angels.'
Lucian wanted to know the extent of knowledge that Father Anderson possessed on his 'summoning.' He wasn't quite sure about the mechanics, as this was the first person he had summoned to his side.
But from a logical perspective, it would be odd if they were just dropped into his lap without any context.
To him, the concept of a 'fallen angel' would be foreign and certainly elicit an emotional reaction if said so bluntly like this.
However, to Lucian's relief, Father Anderson barely bats an eye.
There was a small hint of a grin, but that was it.
Perhaps excitement was the most pronounced emotion.
It was both troublesome and somewhat of a relief.
"Do you have any questions about your sudden appearance here, Father Anderson?" Lucian asked him.
Anderson had been scanning the surroundings. Lucian knew that if anything sudden happened, loads of blessed and purified bayonets would go soaring through the air to impale the source, so he was careful with his own movements.
Finally, his eyes landed back on Lucian. "And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose."
"Ah, Romans 8:28." Lucian nodded, having his quote answer the question.
At this point, Lucian was more than familiar with the Bible. He had a quest over a year ago to read the entire Bible from front to back a hundred times.
Father Anderson's expression changed; his widening smile carried more than just a barely hidden bloodlust this time. Like a genuine note of happiness that Lucian recognized his quote.
"I am here to serve, Cardinal." Anderson said politely. "Please direct me to the enemies of the Lord when needed."
He was much more accommodating than Lucian had feared.
But he supposed that even Father Anderson wasn't a crazy monster hunter in all facets of his life. If he recalled, Father Anderson was in fact a proper priest and even acted as the head of an orphanage with everything that entailed.
"Very well, let us return to our headquarters. There is more that needs to be discussed in due time." Lucian waved his hand as he turned to walk away.
Father Anderson watched his back for a few moments, his fingers twitched, and ever so slightly a sheen could be seen, reflecting the moonlight between his fingers.
The razor-sharp edge of a bladed weapon that barely peeked out from beneath his sleeve.
Anderson held there for a long moment before the blades retracted back into his sleeves and he started following along.
[Line Break]
Father Anderson followed the Cardinal to their underground headquarters on the outskirts of the Vatican.
He wasn't put off by the state of their little bunker.
He'd worked with much less in the past, and he could see the potential.
The good Father didn't ask questions, merely silently evaluating everything he saw as it entered his gaze.
What many didn't know is that Father Anderson is a very patient man.
Oddly contradictory to the man who would happily charge headfirst into a nest of vampires and slaughter them all without a second thought.
You had to be exceedingly patient to run an orphanage.
The Young Cardinal was…somewhat of an enigma so far to Father Anderson. He wasn't quite sure what to think of him just yet.
Yet, memories of his previous superior came to his mind. Both his life and his death, his death at Father Anderson's very hands.
Father Anderson briefly wondered if history would be repeating itself soon.
As they got a little further inside, Anderson stopped and looked up at the major threshold to the bunker that had delicate words carved upon the marbled scaffold.
Cast in the Name of God.
Ye Not Guilty.
Anderson smiled faintly.
If nothing else, he felt rather nostalgic as he reminisced about the Iscariot Organization he worked for previously.
He could also clearly see that much of this place was still disorganized and unclean. The markings of the first attempts at emptying out the clutter and preparing it could be seen.
"Let's see, where did I put the keys to the other offices?"
Anderson tilted his head as he watched Lucian opening and shutting drawers in haste.
Instead of asking anything, he continued to inspect closely, absentmindedly running a gloved finger across the dusty window of a locked room.
He peeked inside to see various documents piled up that hadn't appeared to have seen the light of day in decades.
"Ah, I left it in the back. One moment, let me go get the keys." He snapped his fingers and disappeared further into the depths of their underground lair.
Anderson watched him disappear, then he moved into the man's office, unceremoniously opening his desk drawers and looking over what he had inside.
Father Anderson furrowed his brow as the first thing he discovered was donation papers. Documents that kept track of where and how much of the donations had been given. They appeared more like documents meant for tax purposes.
Then he found a commendation for exemplary service in the name of the Lord. He briefly read over the attached papers, summarizing that the Young Cardinal had played a large role in the defense of a small town from a werewolf attack.
He then found, in the bottom drawer, a handwritten letter.
This piqued Father Anderon's interest more than the other stuff.
The writing to him indicated a feminine hand, and Father Anderson had a strange twinge in his chest as he read it. Not from a sort of emotional response, but something deeper, like the writing contained some sort of holy essence behind it.
It was scolding the young cardinal without mentioning anything in particular. Telling him to behave, and that she'll be keeping a watchful eye over him. And that she will be upset if he does anything bad.
It ended with a frowny face at the bottom, but no signature.
He put it back away as his ears twitched at the sound of footsteps coming from down the hallway. Not the hallway that the Cardinal disappeared down, but the opposite direction, towards the entrance.
In fact, Anderson recognized the sound of heels.
He casually got up and leaned against the threshold of the door as the silhouette came into view, acting nonchalant despite the fact that he had been snooping a moment prior, not that anyone knew.
Griselda had returned to the bunker, and to her surprise someone else was there waiting for her.
The two experienced warriors of God silently stared at one another.
For Griselda, it was because he was a newcomer.
For Father Anderson, it was because she was nearly nude. Still walking around in just her undergarments and her nun headpiece along with stockings and heels.
"...well, this is awkward. I didn't expect anyone here just yet…." Griselda, despite saying that, showed no embarrassed reaction.
"Sister." Father Anderson greeted her politely despite her current. "You appear to be in a state of undress."
"Yes."
"....."
"Should I have a wee chat with the Cardinal?" Father Anderson said evenly, but there was an underlining threat in her tone. His mind immediately jumped to Lucian being the perpetrator.
Griselda's expression faltered slightly. "There's no need."
"I see." Father Anderson, admittedly, didn't know what to say in this particular instance.
This wasn't his area of expertise.
The awkward moment stretched in silence again.
"Griselda Quarta, Church Exorcist." She introduced herself. "I presume you're our newest member? I'm the one holding the good Cardinal's leash."
Father Anderson raised an eyebrow. "By the Lord's grace, I pray that your words are metaphorical. Father Alexander Anderson."
Griselda's lips twitched slightly, and Father Anderson's stoic face threatened to finally break free from its forced indifference.
"Would you like a proper explanation?"
"Aye." Father Anderson nodded, not wanting to make assumptions about his fellow faithful.
"I was chosen to hold his metaphorical leash by other Cardinals. Cardinal Graves was under the belief that he could coax my...resignation through embarrassment. I found his attempts to be…cute."
Father Anderson's smile slowly grew.
He was an adult; he wouldn't make a fuss about some skin showing in a situation like this, especially knowing that it didn't carry sinful notions.
And, personally, Father Anderson fully understood the desire to get under the skin of their fellow higher-ups.
He just nodded. "As long as you have not walked the wrong path, sister. And the good Cardinal keeps his hands to himself."
Father Anderson got her measure immediately.
He was more than aware that she could break the good Cardinal's legs without much issue, but there were sometimes other factors that constituted forceful situations.
Griselda's own lips curled up into a warm smile. "Don't worry, his attempts to not stare at my chest are amusing."
It was all that needed to be said—that he was harmless—and Father Anderson didn't dwell on it.
A nun who didn't fall to temptation but was just messing with her superior? Well, that registered so far down on Anderson's list that it may as well not even exist.
If a pious and devout nun wanted to walk around in her undergarments, he barely wanted to give it consideration.
They both heard the footsteps of Lucian returning.
He stopped, pausing as he looked at both Father Anderson and Sister Griselda, the latter of whom was still wearing very little.
"...here are the keys; pick out any office you want and clear it out. We're going to be leaving tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I'll set up living quarters in the back for temporary measures for now." He tossed the keys to Anderson, who caught them, and he disappeared back into the depths of the bunker.
Both the older members of the Church watched him leave.
"Aye, it is amusing." Father Anderson grinned.
[Line Break]
Lucian held his not-lightsaber in hand, swinging it around casually.
Training with his Holy Power had been an interesting experience.
Holy Power from Azeroth and Holy Power from Earth.
It had the same name, it had basically the same principles and effects, but the way they utilized it on Azeroth was so much more adept and intricate.
He also somewhat connected it with the game mechanics he was familiar with, as odd as that was.
Paladins were trained to create sorts of pools of Holy Power inside themselves. This led to a more meticulous and refined usage of the energies.
Whereas on Earth, it seemed like everyone brute-forced their use of Holy Power.
One of the most widespread weapons for exorcists was the use of holy guns and holy bullets to accompany them. Mostly because the vast majority of exorcists didn't have enough holy power to use the same brute force methods that some of their peers used.
Ironically, the method of utilizing Holy Power wasn't dissimilar to how Mages utilized their Mana on Azeroth as well.
That isn't to say that there aren't drawbacks to Azeroth's method in comparison, though. If you do have insane reserves of Holy Power, you can just flare it nonstop and not have to worry about it running out in long fights.
Xenobia would probably be somewhat of an example of it, maybe Griselda too. Lucian wasn't exactly sure how much Holy Power Griselda had, but he knew it must be a lot for her to reach her current status.
In comparison, paladins from Azeroth can and usually will run out of Holy Power. That doesn't make them glass cannons by any means; it just means part of training is knowing when and how to use various Holy Spells and abilities so as not to be wasteful.
Likewise, the brute force methods of Earth don't lend themselves well to the intricate Holy Spells and Abilities of Paladins.
Granted, he didn't know how the real monstrous Paladins of Azeroth utilized their abilities in comparison. What knowledge he had was basically from the perspective of an average paladin.
Overall, it was the difference between filling up buckets of water for later use and just leaving the tap on with a stream of water coming continuously.
All in all, Lucian believed that the method of a paladin is much better.
"Crusader Strike!" He yelled as his Holy Sword burst out with even more light, and he swung it horizontally through the air.
He felt a portion of his 'Holy Power Pool' dip as he used it.
He had spent the last four hours creating his first Pool of Holy Power. Granted, technically they weren't called 'pools'; it was just what he was mentally calling them because in Azeroth it was simply called Holy Power, whereas the generalized energy was called The Light.
Crusader Strike also wasn't something you spammed either, like in a game. It was a sort of…martial arts technique? That was the closest approximation that Lucian could make to how it operated.
It was a technique, not a spell.
It was the most basic technique for Paladins as well.
A slash infused with Holy Power.
A few things differed from what he knew as well. Paladins generally acclimated their individual 'pools' to certain abilities for faster 'casting.' This limited their breadth of abilities in combat in scope, but it also specialized them and made them much better at what they wanted.
Lucian believed this is where the concept of 'specs' correlated to.
Granted, he knew that the real Paladin powerhouses weren't constrained to this concept, able to utilize all spells and abilities across the Paladin tree with ease from their years of experience.
But it was a favorable method for beginners even through higher levels of various Paladin Orders. Especially for those who didn't have as much Holy Power to utilize.
The system was honestly leagues ahead of what most in the Church used right now, the patented—unga bunga—Holy Power smash.
He worked on acclimating himself to the three most basic abilities that his new memories recommended.
Crusader Strike—a basic slash imbued with holy power.
Holy Light—A Basic Healing Spell.
Judgment—A basic holy spell that judges the person it's cast on and deals damage to them based on the judgment rendered.
Those would suffice for now to get him started before he began training the more advanced stuff. He looked forward to when he could use Holy Spells like Avenging Wrath.
Unfortunately, his Light Sword didn't lend itself well to Crusader Strike. It was better used with a much weightier weapon, which is why most Paladins used a two-handed Sword, Hammer, or Axe.
However, it would do the job for now until he could get something more appropriate.
A knock on the door broke Lucian from his internal thoughts.
He walked over, hefting up a large metal bracing that acted as a lock from the inside. The door groaned and screeched; several inches of steel gave way as it slowly opened.
"Sister Griselda." Lucian greeted her.
"Cardinal Graves." She replied.
Lucian noted that this time, she was fully dressed.
He didn't say anything.
He knew that she wanted him to say something.
Her nose twitched a little, and she glanced around the room that had been dubbed the 'training room' for how well fortified and spacious it was.
"There's a lot of Holy Power in the air; were you training?" She asked curiously.
Lucian smiled. "Idle hands are the Devil's playthings, Sister. To make use of my time wisely is important."
Griselda blinked. "We usually say that to children to stop them from masturbating."
Lucian nearly choked.
He cleared his throat. "You need not worry, Sister. My focus is entirely on my duties."
"Oh, don't let me stop you. If it helps you relieve your stress." She said evenly, as if she wasn't discussing a rather taboo topic.
It was Lucian's turn to blink in confusion for a moment.
He knew she was teasing him, without real meaning behind it. But likewise, it was rather blunt, more so than her usual way of doing so from their short interactions so far.
Griselda tilted her head, and it seemed like realization. "Oh my, you don't know, do you? I suppose it makes sense; you skipped quite a bit of the Exorcist culture and jumped right to your current position."
"Dare I ask what I don't know?"
Her smile grew, a hint of smugness and something else.
He saw that same way her eyes seemed to smile despite her expression not being overtly expressive.
"The Church allows—even encourages—certain physical relations in the line of duty for exorcists..." The way she said it, she punctuated it intentionally. "Of course, they prefer a proper Holy Union. But…" She leaned in slightly.
She gently reached up and grabbed at Lucian's collar, gently, albeit assertively, fixing it from his training a few minutes ago.
"They're more than happy to facilitate the conception of children amongst their members in hopes of more children being born with Holy Power." She said softly before pulling back.
A beat passed, and as if nothing just happened, her tone returned to normal. "The private jet you requested is ready, Cardinal."
Lucian was standing there wondering what had just happened.
"...right." He absentmindedly followed Griselda out of the room.
Father Anderson was standing there waiting stoically.
Lucian shook his head and put his game face on.
It was time for their first mission.
[Line Break]
A/N
Father Anderson joins the ranks, and he's not quite ready to pledge allegiance just yet and even has his own silent reservations about Lucian.
Paladin Class training starts, and they get to do their first mission.
If you want to support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m / astoryforone
I also have a boosty under the same name.