Velixar crossed his arms. His ever-changing face scowled at the many other priests who gathered about. By the way they surrounded him he could tell they believed him their leader.

“Karak whispers to me as well,” Velixar said. “As he always has. Yet I hear not your name, Preston, nor of any new high priest.”

Preston turned his palms upward. Qurrah frowned at the fake humility on the pudgy man’s face. His cheeks sagged as if he had once been very heavy but lost much of it at a rapid pace. He was bald, and he wore no jewelry or any open sigils to Karak.

“I do not claim to know Karak’s methods,” Preston said. “But I know he works in mysterious ways. Do you doubt my faith, or the vote of the other priests, hand of Karak? Do you doubt Karak himself, or are you in such a high position that our god must reveal every decision to you for permission?”

The red in Velixar’s eyes flared bright.

“You talk dangerously,” he said, his voice deepening. “I will not have Karak’s victory put at risk. Remember that, for I will be watching you.”

“Karak watches us both,” Preston said. “And I hold faith in his judgment.”

Velixar turned away, Qurrah and Tessanna trailing after. Once out of earshot, he began cursing long and loud.

“That fool,” Velixar said. “I knew I should have killed him while he was still a pup in training.”

“You still can,” Qurrah said. “He cannot match your power.”

“The priests would protect him,” Tessanna said. “Though I do not understand why.”

“Because he has them fooled with his humility and twisted words,” Velixar said. A trio of orcs marching down the street dared pass too near, and Velixar struck them dead with bolts of fire.

“He speaks half-truths and delusions,” the man in black said, staring at the burning corpses. “All he wants is power. He treats his faith to Karak as a tool. And that name! Only Karak has the authority to give such a name.”