Sir Beathan moved first.
He had been standing a half-pace behind the kneeling Abbot for most of the proceedings with his hand resting easily on the pommel of his sword and his eyes growing darker and darker the more he learned about the truth underneath the mask of the frontier's Inquisitors. Percivus's actions against Lady Jocelynn had already shaken the faith of the Blackwell Templar, but Recared's nearly extinguished it.
Only now, as he stood on the cusp of breaking his vows as a Templar to pledge his sword to the Blackwell sisters, he saw something even more unbelievable… One of the ladies he'd been preparing to serve, burning with the brilliance of the sun and a flaming sword of justice in her hand.
So when Lady Ashlynn asked him to seize Abbot Recared, Beathan moved without so much as a heartbeat of hesitation, and his grip on the Abbot's arm as he dragged him to his feet was as solid and sure as a blacksmith's vice.
