Meanwhile, in the small chapel inside the inner palace…
Abel was standing in front of the altar, staring at the golden cross mounted behind the altar and onto the wall. Unlike the strong scent of blood pervading the air of the capital, along with the pungent smell of thick smoke, the chapel's air was riched with the scent of flowers blooming in spring.
Everyone inside and outside the imperial palace was covered with blood and sweat from all that fighting, but he was wearing a clean white suit. Not a sweat in sight. His hair was brushed neatly to his back, a flower peeking out in the chest pocket of his well-ironed suit.
From afar, one would wonder if he was a Reverend, who would sermon the sacredness of purity. Others might have a different perception of him as a statue of an angel morphed into a man.
