"Because there is only one Conqueror," Olus said.
"His age has passed," Quintus spoke, "I saw it with my own eyes."
"Now it is but a lingering reflection in the water of the Black Iron Age, the afterglow of a setting sun," Marcus added.
He unsheathed the Golden Sword with a clang.
"The Holy Knights guarded at the behest of All Gods, we took oaths right where you stand," Philip drew his sword as well.
"Holy Knights hold fast to their vows, do not step into the Holy Temple!" the youngest Maegor also spoke.
"Otherwise, half of you will die..."
Several hundred Witches stood before the wide great hall, all looking at the radiating gold light from the five Holy Knights forming a wall of light.
That thin, short wall of light appeared like an insurmountable mountain.
And behind them, more and more Holy Temple Knights and Holy City Guards were gathering.
"If you do not tread into the Holy Temple, we will not strike, I swear," the eldest, Olus, made no move.
