Corto stood in the courtyard surrounded by soldiers kneeling at the armored Templar. It wasn't surprising that so many of the soldiers in the Silver Leaves worshiped at the hem of Kartan, God of Destruction, and as it was there was no better shrine than the form of its lifetime servant. He chanted in a hushed tone with the others, his hands clasped together in a fiery ball to symbolize the God's presence. He had only slept a few hours, having gone up before the sun rose to watch it from the parapet of the bastion, making his own greeting to Kartan. As the others awoke and came to him he held a sermon for them and lead them in prayer, wrapping it up with a solemn hum. Those not of the faith found the whole ordeal a bit disquieting, as it all had a very doom and gloom tone about it. But in truth it was the doom and gloom that gave joy to the servants of the Elemental Master, the promise of battle could sustain them for days on end if needed.<br/><br/>"<strong>Go, warriors, claim the day as yours!</strong>" His booming voice echoed over the courtyard as the others turned away and walked off. He gave a sigh of relief. No matter how many times he gave sermon he would never get used to being a wandering shrine. He stretched and gave a yawn before picking his heavy helmet off the ground and turning towards the mess hall. If one has food available one should not fight on an empty stomach. The heavy rattle of his armor alarmed anyone of his approach and as he stepped inside some warriors had left him some extra place in the line. He could see Alanna and Morgalla already picking at the food. As he approached them slowly he thought frantically how to express himself. Would a simple good morning suffice, or perhaps he should greet them in dwarven. But then he would be disrespectful of Alanna.<br/><br/>"<strong>Morning.</strong>" He finally settled on. It was rather neutral and simple. Now to round it of with a nice question. "<strong>Uhm. How goes it?</strong>"