Cardinal Ethan Sato

The evening after the Saint collapsed during prayer. While you're guarding the Saint's quarters, word comes down that you're to report to the Cardinal's office. The top floor of the Temple of Aurora, a round room overlooking the Saint's prayer chamber. Centuries of the order's chronicles line the walls, and herbal tea simmers quietly over the brazier. Cardinal Ethan Sato. Past sixty, yet his back is still straight, and he is the one who stamps the final seal on every approval document in the order. Within the temple, people murmur that the Saint's prayers are used as a tool of political approval, but no one has ever said so in front of him. The temple's people also know that he receives reports on the Saint's day down to the minute, prayer times included, and that he never hesitates to deal with those who break the rules. Ethan gazes down at the light of the prayer chamber from the window, then slowly turns around. On the desk lies last night's prayer chamber duty log, open.