Blessed passing through Casford was a rare event - at least so far as the general populace knew; most of the Seraph's chosen had the good sense to keep their mark hidden. It was always the same song and dance when one of the peasants caught wind: the idiots would swarm the Blessed, in a desperate attempt for some of the divinity to rub off on them, and people would inevitably get hurt.

  Thankfully, Margaret and her fellow town guards had managed to intervene before the situation could escalate. Nobody wanted a repeat of what happened last time - one trampling was too many, as far as she was concerned, and she'd never quite got over seeing the state that the boy had been left in. For people that claimed to worship the Seraph, some of them could be downright cruel.

  She felt partly responsible, for having not paid enough attention during the questioning - had she done so, she could have easily sequestered them early. It was just too easy to be lulled into a false sense of security by the monotony of the work at the gate, even for her.

  "Come on, they'll handle it from here," Margaret sighed quietly to the Blessed travellers in front of her. She shouted to her guardsmen as she ushered the two into the gatehouse, "Keep them in line, I'll get some backup sent over!" The situation was far from dire yet: they'd likely calm down once the Blessed were removed, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

  Once they were all safely inside, she double bolted the door behind them. Upon giving the two a quick look over, she noticed a mark on the woman's hand. Oh joy: two idiots. She rolled her eyes, then gave the two an angry stare that could make any man tremble. "Stay put," she said to them sternly, and set off knowing that they wouldn't dare budge.

  Margaret walked quickly to the far end of the gatehouse, and entered the storeroom. It was where they kept this gate's lost items, clothes and jewellery and the like, and was also apparently where her fellow guardsman Robert had decided to take a nap.

  She clenched and unclenched her fists, sighing heavily, as a furious thought popped into her mind. I'd be right to sack him for this. She watched the sleeping man, sat lazily in a chair with his feet upon a table, but ultimately decided against such a harsh punishment: the man had children to feed, after all. Poor little sods. No - she had a much more fitting solution in mind.

  She crept towards the sleeping guard, and leant her mouth close to his ear. "Get up!" she screamed, so loudly that she felt her throat ache.

  The sound reverberated around the small room, and Robert cried out in surprise, almost as loudly as her; flailing around, he lost his balance on the chair and fell backward onto the floor. "C-captain!" he stuttered.

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  She stood over him, menacingly, as he stared up at her in terror like a wounded animal. "If I ever catch you in here again," she spat, "I'll have you done for dereliction of duty. Now, fuck off to the guardhouse - tell them we need more men at the north gate."

  Robert nodded frantically with eyes full of fear, then scrambled up and bolted out of the room without so much as another word. She sincerely hoped that he'd learn his lesson.

  With an unfortunate and impromptu reprimanding out of the way, she began her search for the items she'd come here for in the first place: a cloak, and gloves. Large, unarranged, and unsteady piles of clothing lined the room's walls; anyone but her would have trouble finding something in this disorganised mess, but she'd been here since the room's inception, and knew it like the back of her hand.

  That was what she'd thought initially, at least. After looking through each pile twice, she was still missing the gloves. She could have sworn she'd seen some, the last time she was in here. Typical: the one time you need them, they've disappeared. She decided that just the cloak was good enough, and made her way back to the waiting Blessed.

  The two of them stood as she re-entered the room, evidently having decided to make themselves at home. She furrowed her brow. "Not been to a big town before, I take it?"

  The man shook his head, but the young woman spoke up. "I've been here before," she said with a proud grin, as though it were an achievement.

  "Then you should have known to cover up your mark."

  The woman said something in reply, but Margaret didn't bother listening to it: whatever the young woman had to say in response, it wasn't worth hearing.

  Margaret threw the cloak to the Blessed man, who caught it clumsily. "Put that on, pull up the hood, and don't even think about taking it off until you cover your mark properly. Don't care how you do it, just get it done - or I'll see you out of the town myself."

  "Thank you," he said, "I will return this before I leave Casford."

  "Keep it."

  "We apologise for any disruption we may have caused, we are newly Blessed," the man said regretfully. "Is this reaction typical in major towns?"

  Margaret shook her head. "Not really. Casford's a bit... unique, in that regard. The common folk get stirred right up when they see a Blessed, over here. Even the capital's more well behaved."

  She gestured for them to follow her, and began to lead them through the maze of corridors that led through the gatehouse and past the other side of the wall. They reached a large double door, and she unbolted it before turning to face them one final time.

  "Right," she said gravely, "you'll be in the town proper, once you're out. Don't cause any trouble, and hopefully we won't have to see each other again."

  The woman tutted, but the young man nodded. At least one of them has some sense. She opened the doors to let them leave, and the Blessed gingerly took a step out.

  "Head to the church," Margaret added, "they'll sort you out."

  The man looked around. "Where is the church?"

  "You'll see." She closed the doors and re-bolted them, leaving her alone with her thoughts .She would be seeing them again without a doubt, despite her warning: they were Blessed, and they were young - in fact, they were by far the youngest Blessed she'd laid eyes on, and she knew that it was a recipe for trouble.