A pastor gave a sermon in a dark, cold church in a quiet village, hidden away by great gray mountains it found itself at the foot of, tucked away in the vast taiga of its surrounding regions. Within, a prayer to a great Emperor had begun, a gentle song carried amongst the bitter air which engulfed the decrepit building, their only solace being the gently flickering candles of the place of worship and the powerful aura of their almighty ruler as they continued their adoration.
This all suddenly ceased when a man fell out of the ceiling with a flash of green, breaking an empty pew in half. The humble citizena leaped in terror, as the pastor hid behind the communion table. As they settled down, they had a good look at the man. He had odd clothes made of fine blue silk, and a dirty blonde hair with cold green eyes. Atop his head, a now slightly battered crown stood.
Leon stood himself up from the pew with a grunt, snapping some of his back into place as he checked for his belongings.
"Is.. is it him?" Asked a villager to another. "Is he the Emperor?"
"Who else could use magic so potent to materialize in front of us?! Of course its him!" Snapped another. "Bow, bow, lest he smites us all!"
And so the people obeyed, bowing subserviently as Leon looked with mild confusion at the citizens. But it suddenly dawned him; the Chronolapillus! It worked!
"Um.. greetings, noble citizenry! I am not the Emperor! Nay, I desire to meet him in fact!"
"He must be Iesus then! He has returned from the cross to be at the Emperor's side!" Cried out another peasant. "Praise be he!"
"Praise be he!" Cried out the citizens unanimously, returning to their bow.
Leon seized the opportunity, silently shuffling out of the church as quietly as possible with his heavy sabatons, making sure not to step on anyone. His luck however soon ran out as the pastor finished consulting his holy book.
"Nay, my children!" Then cried out the pastor. "Nay! Iesus wears no crown and no silk robes! This man is clearly a heretic king, and a warlock!"
"A heretic? A warlock?!"
"We must burn him!"
"To arms! Burn the heretic!"
Leon managed to escape out the church door from a frenzy of candles thrown by the now enraged churchgoers. All he could do was break into a sprint as an alarm bell begun to ring.
He managed to make it down an alley, escaping the gaze of onlookers as a battlecry rose up, with the clanging of metal tools and the fire of torches.
"Warlock! Heretic! Burn him!"
A sabaton had to be trown at the incoming mob as he continued away from the city center, followed by another as he ran faster towards the woods, the raging sea of peasants of all trades chasing quickly after him with all forms of tools in hand, alongside torches and rocks, which were thrown at him.
The situation was becoming immensely desperate as more of the local farmers joined in the fray. Winded from such a fast sprint and aknowledging he would never outrun the crowd at this pace, Leon did what he must.
"Farewell, old friend." He whispered with a final goodbye as he chucked his crown at the crowd, its promise of riches luring them away from his gaze long enough for him to dive into the forest brush.
