Why, oh why has this silly story gotten lodged in my head? Yet another snip from another unnamed snapshot in my head:
A tiny glint of gold caught the Castellan's eye. Amongst the knives, grenades, and various bits of soldierly hardware he could just make out a crucifix, blackened with paint that had begun to scrape away at the edges. Dimitri looked up at the soldier, a question on the tip of his tongue.
The look of quiet amusement on the soldier's face surprised him into silence. A black gloved finger slipped up to the crucifix and gently traced it.
"What better god for a soldier," the Hunter asked, "than the God of sacrifice and redemption?"
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