An eerie silence spread across the Holy Seat as its inhabitants felt the urge to hide away. The older folk however didn't find anything eerie about the atmosphere, instead a strange nostalgia. Memories of the purge Samuel caused resurfaced and those who remembered all those years back silently prayed to Sol, not knowing if they would escape the second round.
Micheal stood in the armory with the majority of the inquisition in the Holy Seat. They silently prepared their gear not uttering a word. They knew what they had to do, what they were ordered. It didn't matter how they felt anymore, they took an oath to Sol, to follow the orders of the Pope unquestioning without wavering.
They all knew something like this was a possibility, the history of the Holy Seat was coated in blood. Micheal looked out at the grime faces. He took to the head of the room flanked by his most trusted templars.
