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Fleeing under the cover of night was not a feasible option considering the fact that The Order Of Blades attacked the safe house during the morning. Rather than rely on stealth or subterfuge, Wiesen elected the much more direct route of losing any followers: pure and unadulterated use of speed. He smiled to himself as he sat at his work desk, remembering fondly the scream that emerged from Sada who, apparently, was not used to a steam transport.

Unlike most of the horseless carriages found among the higher class citizens of Lehsunia, Weisen's was not crafted by the Motorized Transportation Union... in fact, most of the components within it were in direct opposition to the regulations with which the MTU constructed their carriages-- just one of the benefits of creating it in his own workshop. The exact specifications of Wiesen's custom carriage were known to nobody other than himself... which was precisely how he preferred it.

Once his traveling companion's initial surprise at the get-up-and-go of their mode of travel had passed, she began issuing directions to the dragon on where and how to get to the safest place for the group to recover. It was not an easy path to follow, especially because they were forced to reroute more than once due to the carriage's size-- some alleys just couldn't accommodate it. The otter did go as far as to subtly comment about how she never seemed to have this trouble with other men's carriages, to which the dragon offered with just as much subtlety that he always seemed to have exactly this much trouble with most women's alleys.

They did get there, ultimately, and Wiesen was very pleased with the spot she had chosen. The entrance to the structure involved dropping below street level into what appeared to be a modified section of unused sewer beneath Newport. In addition to having more than enough space to store his transport, the large, hall-like open spaces provided ample arrangements to care for the ailing members of the party. Not only that, but the base of operations came fully stocked with support... from a rather unexpected source: priests. Still, they had been among the clergy for three days, and were welcome.

It felt strange to be back within the confines of a church, even if it wasn't THE Church, but he had to admit that it was a far cry from the Cathedral where he once held sway as a Templar. Stranger still, of course, was the fact that holy site where they hid was entirely underground... an enigma among an organization which prided itself on making its presence obvious. That too, however, was explained by Sada.

The caretakers, as it turned out, were fine, God-loving people. They were pious, and well-meaning, and eagerly aided the injured party without a second thought. Sada spent her time speaking with the man and woman to whom Weisen assumed everyone else reported. Within a matter of hours the dragon had to admit that the place, despite the secrecy of its hidden location, did have the expected feel of the Church. He found out not long thereafter that, oddly enough, all the people present were being hunted by the Church... the very institution they had all served. The parallels were not lost to the Dragon.

The hosts did a fine job of making him feel welcome, and it was obvious that they already knew Sada. According to the otter, she and the underground community took turns caring for one another; she assisted them with funding and they kept an eye on her. They didn't berate her for her occupation and she weathered through most of their sermons and hymns; in fact, according to one of the underground church's brothers, they even managed to get her to join in on one or two. It was an imperfect union for an imperfect world... which made it a perfect fit. The thought made Weisen smile.

The dragon sat up in his chair, taking a break from his work as he thought back over the past few days. He let out a deep breath and he slowly raised the magnification goggles up from his eyes to rest around his head, secured with the elastic band that held them to his face. Weisen rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders as his talons located the long, jagged scars over either shoulder blade. It had been nearly ten years since he received them, but they had yet to feel better... physically OR emotionally.

Most of the Wisen's scars were never seen, thanks to the Templar armor he was almost always wearing but, during the moments when he chose to work on devices, he found that the heavy plate hampered his ability with the finer instruments... and it was during that time when he finally began to feel his age. Although the majority of scars adorning his body were visible, the vast majority were superficial... except for those where his wings had once been... but he continued to remind himself that it had been necessary.

Shaking the cobwebs of his past out of his head like the strain he shook from his arms, the dragon focused back on his work. Weisen lowered the goggles over his eyes again and picked up the minute instruments he'd need to finish up the work on the fine mechanisms of his project. His work was interrupted by the soft rap of knuckles on the workroom's open door.

"I didn't even know the priests had place for tinkering set up back here." Sada's voice was a mix of curiosity carefully hidden within pleasant chit-chat.

Weisen stood and turned to face the otter; despite his work, he was a gentleman, and a gentleman did not ignore a lady, "They did not." the dragon announced, making certain he was facing her head-on-- in addition to being a gentleman, he didn't want Sada asking any questions about his scars; the wrong questions could become dangerous, "I brought all of this with me and the Brothers were kind enough to let me set up shop."

"Not precisely the Church you're used to, Templar?" her tone was playfully chiding, and without accusation.

"It was always said that the First Herald was the greatest among them." Weisen announced, paraphrasing the scriptures so often spoken at the Church functions, "But the Dragon was not the only one."

Sada smiled, taking a seat on a stool by the door, crossing her legs, "Each exemplifying a divine trait found among good men, if I remember the teachings correctly." she leaned forward, placing her elbow on her top knee, showing (most likely on purpose) a fair amount of cleavage thanks to the low cut of her gown, "I forget... which did Vigo the Dragon preach?"

Weisen let out a sigh, fighting to keep from rolling his eyes, as he had an idea where the otter was going with the line of questioning. It wasn't hard to tell that she already knew the answer, "Pride."

"Also known as Vanity... which..." she tapped the end of her muzzle in theatrical show of deep thought, "...is also..." she raised an eyebrow, "...a sin?"

The dragon nodded, "Which would be considered highly circumspect, until you realize that, according to scripture, Dragons may be Prideful without being Vain." he let his scaled lips part in a smirk, "So, it becomes as clear as mud that we Dragons are NOT preaching hypocrisy, but, rather, are merely the most perfect race in the kingdoms."

"And that served Mehnzil so well during the great war." Sada's grin widened.

"As equally well as convincing me to remain in their service." Weisen's smile disappeared, "Though they fared much better at becoming the defining religious power."

"They DID manage to eliminate almost every other order, didn't they?" the otter's pleasant mood likewise dissolved. It was evident that their conversation of the Church had come to an end. To replace it, her small ears perked up and she craned her neck, "What is it you're working on, by the way?" she inquired.

"Just a project." the dragon spoke, still facing the otter and using his body to block the work bench, "Surely you must be aware that an artist does not like his work seen before it is complete?"

Sada did not appear to be an otter that took false pretenses to heart but, for whatever reason, she seemed inclined to humor him, "Well then, Mister Artist... do not keep a lady waiting... that is ALSO bad form." and, with little more to be said, she showed herself out. Weisen did not for one moment think that she wouldn't return.

* * * * * *

It was another three days, and five visits from Sada before Weisen would focus on anything beside his special project. In that time most of the group of scholars he'd run into at the apartment had come to. The priests of the underground church knew the art of healing and, the dragon was pleased to see, also supplemented it with elements of herbalism, alchemy, and even chemistry. He was further astounded when he found out that several of the brothers had learned the craft from the University of Progressive Though, which was, to Weisen, quite surprising.

Joshew was the first to awaken, having been least harmed. The priests caring for him were concerned that he was blind, but, once he found out that they were servants of God, the scholar was quick to shrug them off and tell them that the Church might have been able to do something about it once, but that time had long since passed. All in all the human was nowhere close to thankful for their assistance and seemed, by all accounts, to be as warm with them as a frozen-over pond.

Shortly after he regained the ability to move on his own, Joshew demanded to be shown to where Roland was located. The Wolf-Dog had yet to regain consciousness, but the human scholar had stayed by his side the whole time, refusing to let the priests provide any aid to him beside fetching things he required. Wiesen admired the human's dedication to his friend, but he found the distrust and dislike of those willing and eager to help to be most off-putting. Although Roland was still alive, he had yet to regain consciousness, and the Priests had grown increasingly concerned that his injuries may have been the most severe out of everyone.

Alvis was the next to recover, and had made quite a fuss about being surrounded by so many people when he first came to. All but one of the priests had left, and the young coyote had spent hours calming and reassuring the on-edge mongrel. Since that time, the youthful priest had barely left the scholar's side... which was a good thing in Wiesen's mind since Alvis seemed to be the kind of Dog that really needed a babysitter.

Inigo had spent nearly four days under the care of the priests, and another two recovering enough that he could stand. Unlike Joshew, the bat was quite grateful for their aid... perhaps a little TOO grateful, and he made excellent inroads toward earning his independence with offers for 'repayment'. The bat, like Joshew, had someone to take care of once his own wounds were treated. When he was given leave to be up and about, Inigo had spent his time by Alarice's side up to and including that very morning, when she had finally awakened.

Alarice had introduced herself as Patricia Arnhart... one of many names, the Dragon would have assumed. It was obvious based on initial observations (not to mention the snippets of conversation Weisen had overheard) that the woman was not 'with' the scholars, per se, which left her as much of an enigma as if they had been a cohesive group, if not more so. What Weisen COULDN'T fully comprehend was why UPU scholars of fine moral compass would be cavorting around with a woman of likely dubious origin. The explanation in part, he'd guess, would have something to do with the explosion in Newport the day before he'd run into the motley crew.

That quandary, he realized, would have to wait for the right time to be answered... not only because he didn't have enough information, but because his project was FINALLY ready to be completed. Pulling his goggles off and setting them down on the work bench, Weisen took a deep breath, feeling accomplished as he gazed upon his almost-finished creation. Although it wasn't his finest, or most complicated, it was made in less-than-ideal conditions, and it was still finely crafted.

Seated on the work bench, as if perched, was a delicate talon-crafted dragonfly. The tiny piece of art was scarcely larger than the dragon's thumb-claw, but still contained such detail as to be nearly indistinguishable at any distance from a living one. The wings, he had crafted from thinly shaven crystal, supported by gossamer-like strands of silver wire. The metallic insect's body was formed of reconstituted opal powder, providing it with an organic-like incadescent shimmer. Throughout the entire construct were infinitely tiny gears, crafted with the greatest of care, and possible only thanks to Weisen's magnification goggles.

"Well... as fantastic as I had imagined." the dragon crooned softly to his creation, picking up a tiny silver key, barely the thickness of a toothpick. He lowered it down, placing it securely in the carefully hidden keyhole positioned between the insect's body segments and, with as much care as when he had crafted it, Weisen gently turned the key one complete rotation... and then drew it out.

The moment the dragon stroked a finger across the dragonfly's multifaceted emerald eye, it began ticking ever-so-faintly; the construct's wings began vibrating so quickly that the buzz drowned it out. Weisen wasn't content until the clockwork insect rose into the air, hovering in front of him. His attention, however, didn't remain on the dragonfly for long.

"You have an amazing gift." a voice spoke from the doorway to the workshop, forcing the dragon to swivel around on his stool. Standing just within the room was Alvis, still patched up, bandages wrapped around his forehead, abdomen, and right arm.

Alternating between being pleased at the opportunity to show off his work and frustrated that he was being spied upon, Weisen held his talon up; the dragonfly landed in it obediently. "Are you feeling better?" the dragon asked.

"The... the men outside..."

"The priests?" Weisen questioned.

The mongrel was apparently disinclined to refer to them by their profession, "They said you... you're a Templar..." he took a step closer, "Is that true?"

"It was." the dragon confirmed.

"Did..." again the young dog paused, "...your back..."

"What about it?" the tinkerer questioned flatly.

"All the Church dragons I've ever seen have had... uh..."

"Wings?" despite Weisen's wish to avoid coming across as hostile, the word still fell from his maw with all the acidity of a cauldron of lye.

Alvis recoiled at the growled word, "I... just..." and he quickly showed himself out.

The dragon let out a deep breath, gazing down at the dragonfly in his grasp. He opened his talon, and the clockwork insect rose into the air once again. All of the questions that the people he brought to the underground church were not to his advantage. Everything he went through for the sake of the Church had meant nothing when it had really counted, and yet he still couldn't come to surrender his deepest secrets.

Gazing up at the hovering dragonfly, Weisen swallowed the taste of ozone that had been gathering in his throat. So many people beyond the Church knew of the fire the holiest of Dragons were capable of producing in what was called God's Breath... but they didn't understand the real truth... not all of it. Reaching up for the dragonfly, he let it land on his index finger, crystalline wings flexing and relaxing as it balanced comfortably there. Most people would say God's Breath was fire... but that was because even fewer Dragons ever gained anything more than that. Weisen had God's Breath... but he did not breathe fire.

A soft, roiling fog began to pour out between Weisen's teeth, and he tried to fight it back but, in the end, he was unsuccessful. Closing his eyes, the Dragon felt the pain inside manifest as his body did what it willed, and he exhaled a roiling mass of vapor, glowing softly as it surrounded the clockwork dragonfly. As if being inhaled, the mists seeped into the mechanism and, moments later, the insect took off, flying of its own volition, and no longer a toy for him to control.

The dragon lowered his head, raising his talon to his face as he wiped his eyes dry. He had been a tool of the Church for decades, doing their bidding, and sacrificing to maintain the secrecy of what he could do from anyone outside the divine walls. Weisen had built for the Church, and he had destroyed for the Church. He had made, and he had unmade. The Dragon had been a Templar but, ultimately, he was little more than a tool... no different to them than the fantastic things he could make with his talons... or his breath.

Weisen was done with that life, but that life was not done with him. He could feel no remorse for the life he had lived, but still felt sorrow for the one that could have been his. Refusing to let more tears form, the dragon stood, and held out a talon; the dragonfly returned to him. It was not truly alive, but it was still far more than what it had been... and it would remain loyal even if it was its own being. Tucking his creation into a satchel, the dragon made for the exit to the workshop.

The Church of Mehnzil had failed on many levels, and if he had been responsible for any of that then it would only be proper if he helped make things right. He had come to Newport for a reason, and, even though he was required to take a detour, he could not avoid his path forever. Approaching the nearest member of the clergy, he bowed his head to the nun, "Sister... I am in need of aid."

"Of course, Brother." the sheep rested a hand on his arm, "How may I help?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Then I will help if I can." she smiled reassuringly, "Who are you seeking?"

Weisen took a breath, having feared speaking to anyone about it for the longest time... but, among the people of THIS church, he felt that he could, "A dragon... red scales... his name is Kesst."

"And why do you seek him, Brother?" the ewe inquired.

That question took some time for the white dragon to answer... when he finally did, it was in a quiet tone-- almost a whisper, "He is my son."