Chapter 2: Select
The queue shuffles along towards the tall opening of the main room at the end. Just before that though are three churchmen in military robes.
The biggest of them, a huge man, dangles a small object on a chain over the children's heads. Beside him stands a bald and stocky military churchman, reading from a thin, open book. The third, perched on a chair against the wall, is an an elderly churchman, hunched forward, carefully observing the faces of the children.
Through the exit behind them I see a reception. Happy kids stand around trestle tables laden with bread cakes and tin cups.
The drink in particular interests me. It might pair well with this melon.
I look at the boy in front of me. "Hey," I whisper coarsely through a mouthful of melon, "What's in those cups?"
"Huh?" says the boy, frowning back. "It's sweetwater, like they said." He thinks for a moment and then his eyes widen, "Do you think it's just plain water? Is this a scam?" He then frowns distractedly at my pants.
"Hardly," I say. I feel the Holy War Church is well beyond deceiving little kids over sweetwater.
From the quality of the kids' clothes I decide that this is some kind of charity event. Then there should be some wealthy parents around. I begin to form a plan to ingratiate myself with some wealthy marks.
"See?" I comfort the frowning boy, "the lads drinking look pretty happy. You deserve it too."
We're quickly closing in on the three military churchmen and their small, dangling box.
More raucous sounds erupt from the gathering in the reception area, momentarily drowning out the bald churchman's dull chant. I notice the space around the box seems... brighter?
The brightness doesn't seem right. I feel a little afraid now. I don't actually belong here. Am I about to be found out? I look around and am shocked to see the peace guard has been quietly following us. Luckily, he still looks bored.
I'm very close to the three military churchmen now. It is too late to run. The bald man with the book is droning a chant in a language I don't recognize. I look aside at the elderly man on the chair. His gaze moves up to me as the box holder lifts the rod a little higher over my head. There is the sound of water and a throb of light.
What?
The elderly man half falls and half jumps out of his chair and points at me.
"HIM!" he shouts hoarsely, wide-eyed. He staggers back to grasp hold of the wall. "IT'S HIM!"
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone