Brother Antony looked off the pier of the shelter and crossed himself quietly as he thought about what would have to be done. He impulsively looked upwards and began to pray. He loved prayer. It was the only time he ever truly felt confident - in himself, in God, in his companions, and in his master. "Repugnans tibi, ausus sum quaerere quidquid doctius mihi fide, certius spe, aut dulcius caritate visum esset. Quis itaque stultior me?* he asked as his eyes were transfixed on the stars above - or maybe something beyond them.

As he finished the prayer, the grip he held on his cross loosened and his usual frantic manner returned in a wave. He quickly put the cross back around his waist. He'd been given 'normal clothes' by the company, but he'd almost immediately redonned his usual uniform - the clothing of a Swiss Guardsman. He was not about to compromise his beliefs for these hunters - even if they were good souls underneath. And he knew they were. Something in him told him that - he could only hope that his master felt the same way.

That isn't to say that they didn't have a thing or two to learn from Sir Brightglory.

The Vatican had more experience hunting these creatures than any of the smaller hunting organizations. What was the Inquisiton, after all? Elizabeth and her cronies had worked hard to defame the work of the inquisitors during the Dark Ages, when faeries, demons, and vampires had ruled over the weak-willed and strong alike, when the only light that shone was in the hearts of man. But no longer. No, that had been replaced with reason and logic and science. All meaningless and faceless things. Not like Faith. Faith was more powerful than the three of those put together. Faith was what gave the Vatican and the Catholic Church its edge. It was what made the monsters truly fear them. And fear them they should. For while the kingdoms of Man have fallen over the centuries, rising and falling like the dunes of the Sahara, the kingdom of God still stands. And it will continue to stand.

His thoughts turned to more immediate matters as his eyes darted around the roof and examined it. He had to wonder if they nuns at St. Anthony's would mind - most of the Church, after all, knew little of the mission of the Inquisition, if anything. But there was usually at least one member in every Parish, be he or she a priest, nun, layman, or deacon. If he remembered correctly, a Bishop in Ireland was still an active member of the Inquisition. They'd be able to clear things up, although that was the worst case scenario. Then he saw a well-built man and decided to walk over to him.

The fellow up on the roof with them, Ballog, looked rather... well, he looked like the person who would sit in class and throw rocks at the Brother Teacher and then blame it on a weak and impressionable young fellow like Antony. Spare the lash, spoil the child. He had hated that particular part of the Bible. Still, Antony decided it would be best if he made some kind of conversation with the man. They might be up there for a while, after all. How to approach him, though? He was always terrible with these sorts of things. Perhaps he'd make a humorous remark based on their surroundings that would break the ice. Or perhaps he'd speak about his past. Yes, there were millions of options available to young Antony.

"Hi."