"Cerys," Sir Cynwrig said quietly, his voice tight with barely controlled frustration. "These are matters for the Church to decide, not for us. We aren't priests. No matter how close we might be to the Church, no matter how devoutly we follow the teachings of the Holy Lord of Light, the only duty we have is to care for our people in this life. To protect and shelter them, yes, but not to shepherd them to the Heavenly Shores in this life or any other," he said, clenching his fist as he spoke.
Cerys hadn't always been so devout. Pious, yes, as any good woman should be, but no more so than any other. But ever since her younger brother donned the robes of the Inquisition, she'd spent more and more time visiting him in Maeril.
