"Huh?" The priest froze for a moment, his hand-pulling motion halted. Then he realized what those words meant and struggled backward, trying to break free.
But he didn't succeed. The grip clamping down on his hand was as steady as cast iron, and swiftly twisted his joint the wrong way, forcing him around with a cry of pain. Then a kick to the back of his knee sent him down onto the floor.
Kraft gave him no time to react. He pinned the priest's other hand behind his back, making sure the man who'd been so easily caught out wouldn't get the chance to pull any tricks. Before the first scream had even ended, his target was immobilized.
"Get me some rope!" Kraft held the priest down and added an elbow for good measure, keeping him flat on the floor.
They really had come to the right place. The local Church was always the most sensitive to Heterodoxy, since it directly affected its prestige and income. Conversely, if Heterodoxy was definitely present but no word had reached them, something had clearly gone wrong with the Church's duties.
Now he had a firsthand understanding of what "good at disguising themselves" meant. The man had preached openly onstage, and the crowd of laypeople below hadn't heard a thing amiss.
Even with his face pressed to the floor, the priest still tried to lift his head and make one last stand. "You can't treat a servant of God like this! I haven't done anything against the law. Not even the lord has the right to do this!"
"Fine, then tell us about your clerical credentials. Which Theology School did you graduate from? Who can vouch for where you came from?" Martin drew his dagger and pressed it to the priest's throat. The protests