'If a beast takes on the memories of a human, is it still just a beast, or is it now human?'
From the ashes of slaves condemned as kindling rose a shadow chancellor, the one who steered the Carrelle nobles toward reform. Upon achieving victory, he turned to the Tempus Church, ascending through the ranks to become Bell Ringer No. II—Agares Brennholt. Tales of his eccentric feats and enigmatic persona drifted across the cities of the continent, carried like the scent of wine through back alleys and crowded squares.
Yet despite these rumors, few have ever seen the man himself. Perhaps his power was so absolute that all who beheld him were reduced to ash. Or perhaps he simply preferred to remain idle, tucked away in seclusion, gazing past even the great Cathedral.
Except this time.
Vice-Commander Nefertari voiced her doubt, why now, of all times, had Lord Brennholt chosen to preside over this heretic's trial himself?
'One must stir from time to time. Lest they wither into dry kindling, unfit to bear witness to the grace of Aeon.'