White silk cloth loomed on the marble tile floor. Golden sporadic engravings adorn its cuffs. It flowed down upon the man who wore this light, very breathable robe. It was layered elegantly. The man's hair was a light grey with darker tones mixed into the roots. His eyes were brown with a slight golden color and were fixed on a bright red apple, held in his right hand, that slightly glistened by sunlight through the arched window he stood at.
His neck was slightly drawn forward from a golden necklace that held a heavy golden cross at his chest. His dried lips frowned. His unkempt eyebrows were slightly turned up as he thought. The robe had long sleeves that were very loose on the man's thinner body. The right sleeve was at his elbow draping down showing a tighter long sleeve underneath. His neck was covered by the same type of cloth that ended in a circle around his lowered shoulders.
His eyes, still fixed, narrowed. The stone arch of the window was designed as if stone flowers grew from it. The glass of the window was slightly dirty looking upon the city he once loved in flames. The sky was darkened with a red hue. Smoke could be seen rising from the narrow streets of the city and stone buildings.
The doorknob to the priest's office turned as a young man entered the room. "Sir, the people are frightened, there is chaos in the streets, what should we do?" The priest's young Acolyte's voice shivered slightly as he spoke. The worry held his voice in a tight grip. The priest continued to stare at the apple in his right hand. He shook his head slightly, "Give up," he spoke sternly and slightly defeated.
His Acolyte's worry grew, "W-What! Sir! The People!" His voice cracked and squeaked. The priest moved his gaze to beyond the window at the city, lowering the apple, "We can not save the people, young James. You may try but it shall be fatal." James, the Acolyte, lowered his head. He started shaking his head, "B-but!" "There are no ways out of this, young James, this plague of death shall overcome the city." The priest cut off James in a calm tone.
The priest sighed, taking in the air around him for a moment. James looked at the marble-tiled floor and thought. His eyebrows furrowed. His eyes narrowed with a spark of determination igniting a fire in them. His hands gripped into a fist. "No!" James declared. He raised his head. he looked around and saw a sword left by a knight of the church. he grabbed it fumbling with it. It was heavy and cold.
James gripped the sword's handle tight and held it up, "I, JAMES CATIC, WILL SLAY THE WINGED BEAST AND HELP THE CITY OF BALINA! ON MY WORDS I WILL PREVAIL OR DIE TRYING!" He screamed loudly with determination and confidence. The priest started at him and slightly smiled. James took a deep breath then ran out of the very door he came from. the priest waited a bit then looked out the window fixated on the fires. He took a deep breath and sighed accepting his, soon to be, fate
