The shrine took my breath away. Not because it was big, though it was that. Not because it was carefully inlaid with precious stones and highly polished gold and silver, though it was. It quite knocked the breath from my lungs because the symbol on the great shrine was an A. I don’t mean it was an Amatharian A. It was an honest to god, Greco-Roman, American English, Times font type A!
“That’s an A!” I shouted.
The entire population of the hall turned and looked at us.
“That’s an A.” I said.
“Show some respect, knight,” growled Vena Remontar. “Keep your voice down.”
“That’s an A,” I whispered.
“You are correct, knight.” A voice came from behind us.
We turned to see an older Amatharian man dressed in the brown robes of the templars, and wearing a large silver medallion with the letter A on it. Vena Remontar bowed low, and I followed suit.
“I am Kurar Ka Remiant Oldon Domintus,” said the man, identifying himself as an overlord.
“I am the High Templar.”
“It is an honor to meet you, I’m sure,” I said. “That is an A?”
“Yes, you are quite correct. That is an A.”
“Well. How did it get here?”
“Before we answer any of your questions,” the Overlord said. “you have a great many things to do for us.”
Oldon Domintus turned and led the two of us across the great hall to a doorway opposite that through which we had come. Beyond the chamber was a great long corridor. This hallway was lined with pictures painted in the bright colors: pictures of Amatharian knights engaged in battles, pictures of templars performing rituals in the great plaza, pictures of great buildings being constructed in Amathar. The High Templar maintained the image of a man showing friends around his home.
“Has Vena Remontar told you about our temple?”
“I’m afraid she has not yet had time.”
“This temple was built three hundred generations ago. Construction was begun under the direction of Amath himself. He envisioned a monument to his people where they could look for guidance. It was built here beside the Garden of Souls, so that those feeling the draw of their souls, could reflect.
“You felt no need to reflect before entering the garden?” he asked me.
“I’ve always been a pretty spontaneous fellow,” I replied.
“So it seems,”