Amen.

[Miliardo Red]

This was a distinctly uncomfortable building to look at. Flying buttresses crowded monstrous icons gave the impression that this church was steeped in some kind of pagan lore, something re-purposed by the Church rather than built for them. Not that Miliardo would know much about their ways. He'd spent a lot of time avoiding the Church; they would know he's a magi, and would be hostile.

The Good Doctor had to be left out front, of course. Neutral ground in the war could not be risked by having one's Servants walk into the Church with you, and you had to visit at least once to hope to take advantage of the neutral ground in the future. Miliardo, more than anyone, understood the importance of having an out, a way to exit the situation. Neutral ground meant someplace for defeated masters to get out of the way, a place to sit that says "We're not playing anymore, you don't have to kill us", and the Church was the only organization that could enforce that without risking bias. Not that it hadn't been a problem in the past wars, of course, but Miliardo wouldn't know about those circumstances. Very little of those events had reached his ears.

But this visit had a little bit more of a point than merely "registering" an escape. The Church was also in charge of hiding the War from the public eye, and master/servant pairs that acted in an unnecessarily destructive manner would quickly find the Church's deadly eye turned against them. Things like, say, blowing up warehouses may get their attentions.

A-ha. Ahahaha.

Miliardo had his most common face on, the face of "Miliardo Red," the face he wore for general public affairs, as he walked into the Church. No sense in giving them the wrong impression about how he 'looked'. If he came here in more dire circumstances, he'd need a face that could be recognized, not just any random disguise.
Not that "Miliardo" is any less of a lie.
The arbiters of the Church would know Miliardo, so he could escape, and they would know about the Rider and his Mistress Bastillo and what they've done. What they did with that information would be up to them, of course. He could not simply ask them to kill a Master for him, but he could make his... worries clear. Obviously she had no sense of subtlety, and the War required the participants to keep their carnage to a dull roar, not to blow up chunks of the city willy-nilly. If they decided to take take of the problem she posed, then nobody could fault them.
Coward.
Of course, as a Master of Assassin, he would know all about low profiles. His hands were clean. Assassins don't blow up city blocks, they slit your throat while you sleep. The Church could not lay any of this at his feet, particularly not the wild fight on the previous evening. The fact that it had gone wildly out of control was hardly his fault, those other Servants clearly did not know how to control themselves. The Rider was there, it was quite likely the apartment building was his fault. Another gross affair to lay at the feet of Mistress Bastillo.
They'll see through you like glass.
Yes, the Church would be told all about the girl, and she can reap the consequences of her actions. Let the Church know.

[Amadeo Giudotti]

"The LORD is my shepherd. I shall not be in want." For the LORD provideth all battles according to your needs.

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters." For green pastures and still waters are battlefields waiting to be used.

"He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake." For the path of righteousness is one laid with the corpses of the fallen.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me." For in thy comforting, I become more terrifying than anything else in the valley.

"Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over." For mine enemies will be cut to pieces on that table, and their blood poured into my cup.

"Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever. EHHHMEN."

There finished the priest, with his head bowed and hands folded, kneeling before the altar beneath a stained glass window depicting the LORD and all his radiance. Morning Mass wasn't in a few more hours, and as usual, it was his shift, waiting for any Masters that might seek counsel.

Of course, it was only the third day of the War, and it would be sorely disappointing if someone already came here not to report, but to hide. The LORD would not approve of such a horrifyingly bad effort at War. After all, during the Crusades, many warriors fought valiantly to the last, and certainly took longer than a simple three days.

That could always be attributed to magi being more of researchers than warriors, of course. Only a rare few had the skill and ability to truly master the art of commanding forces and winning battles. These select few were called the Wizard Marshals. Barthomeloi. Schweinorg. The likes of whom were so few, that the Association held them in high regard.

This War was different from the typical squabbles most magi fought. The priest could attest to that. He was, once upon a time, part of such struggles as well. But five generations was such that things worked out their own course. No matter how long you lived, you were still stuck with your circuits and crest.

Eventually, this was what led to his loss in a duel that seemed just like yesterday.

But that was another story for another time.

The priest stood up as he heard the doors open. Yes, this had happened the other day as well. Someone visited who was too early for morning mass. This someone also happened to be a magus, and, as expected, a Master in the War. Perhaps one of the first to register, the Son of.... Ath-something. He wasn't really good with such details.

They say 10 percent of your neurons are what you use up in your lifetime. The priest has lived through more than four. The priest was not senile. But he did condition his brain to carefully segregate between useless information and important information. Eternity is a long time.

The priest faced the entrance, and the oncoming Master. Or at least, what he figured was a Master, anyway. Early morning sunlight passed through the stained glass behind the priest, bathing him in what seemed to be otherworldly light. Surely, to the magi, the Church was another world entirely. "It is a fine morning to visit the House of God, my son. What brings you here to this hallowed ground?"

If it weren't for the fact that he was facing away from the light, his big, toothy grin would have blinded whoever that was. And yet, despite that fact, his glasses did in fact glare, for some reason, which apparently violated physical laws. Did he have flashlights behind those?

That was also another mystery for another time.

[Miliardo Red]

Holy fuck that man is huge.
The man was huge.

Miliardo managed to clamp his jaw shut almost as quickly as it had dropped on meeting the priest. He seemed perfectly at home in this church, an otherworldly presence in an otherworldly building. He seemed wreathed in darkness, except for the parts of his face that positively glowed. He smiled like a big, happy boogeyman, standing before a delicious-looking child, and even his teeth seemed to gleam despite the fact that the his face was shadowed.

Last week Miliardo would have happily smiled back, excused himself, and sauntered away to switch faces and vanish. The man was terrifying. But after three days with The Good Doctor, seeing someone half covered in shadows that wasn't so much smiling as baring his teeth was practically normal now. The similarity between the priest and Doctor Heller was startling, but wasn't enough to do much else but just surprise the magus.
Just keep telling yourself that.
To business, then. Miliardo mentally arrayed the points he needed to bring up here, so that he could be done with this task quickly.

"Hello, father. I am Miliardo Red, Master of Assassin. I'm here to make my presence known, as is proper, and to discuss some of the last few days' less... subtle events. I've been witness to a few of them."
He's going to see right through your bullshit.
The pale-skinned magus crossed his arms, looking around the room. It was empty, but very public. Also quite dark, and had the same unsettling iconography that adorned the exterior. The entire chamber seemed less about inspiring reverence for the Lord and more about inspiring fear that an all-powerful being would do terrible things to you.

"Is this room really all that private? It's very early, but it wouldn't be good for one of your flock to wander in mid-conversation. I'm a little more interested in keeping our affairs out of the eyes of the public than some of my peers." Miliardo uncrossed his arms, waving a little to the side. "Perhaps you have an office we could take this discussion to?"