Redeeming Cain

By Kaj-Nrig

Notes/Disclaimer: Final Fantasy VII is the sole property of Square Enix Co., Ltd. I claim none of its characters, scenarios, or affiliations as my own.

Chapter 2: Priest of Broken Faith

The walk to the clinic was mostly silent; the initial shock and attraction he had felt for his new client was now almost completely gone, and with it went his unusually talkative demeanor. She had sensed this and, after asking only a few questions, conceded to the silence. Outside the main bustle of the village, small and simple houses peppered the gently sloping landscape; each was constructed of durable wood or brick, and interconnecting every other pair of houses or so was a moderately sized chunk of farmland. He noticed with mild interest that the fields were filled with a variety of grapes, from clusters of the small, sweet variety to the gargantuan melon-sized fruit. Apparently this place specialized in wines.

The young woman named Lucrecia led him only a short distance from the town square before stopping at the largest building of the area. This one was a rarity in that it was constructed almost completely out of some sort of metal or plastic. It easily covered the area of two or three houses, and Vincent could only attribute that to the extra room needed to host storage and examination rooms. There was a wooden fence surrounding this one, as well, though its waist height was obviously only intended to keep animals away. Still, a fair share of crosses was strewn along its surface, as well.

Once inside, he immediately knew that the doctor was a well-respected one in town. The clinic was incredibly well-kept for such a large building, and everything was well-organized. The main desk greeted the visitors, and from there a large hallway led to the center of the building, which in turn branched off to the other wings of the clinic. Light wasn't provided by candle or kerosene lamp but by a completely windowed roof that allowed sunlight to pour in all day. Light bulbs were also fixed to the walls, which indicated that there was an electric generator somewhere nearby, possibly a water-powered mill by the Gongaga River or some sort of natural gas source. Regardless, the fact that only this clinic was allowed to use it meant that the doctor was, on top of being respected, also extremely rich.

A young man greeted them hastily after they rang the bell at the main desk and, immediately recognizing Lucrecia, led them to the emergency room, where Father Hebner was strapped onto an elongated operating table. Sunlight shone in from overhead, and the doctor was probing his horribly burnt flesh as well as the two puncture wounds on his neck. Lucrecia paled slightly at the sight, but gingerly spoke up, "Doctor Fisher, is he going to be alright?"

Her request was met with a quick shushing hand as he continued to examine the priest. As he worked, he told her offhandedly, "Well, my dear..." He grabbed a swab from a nearby tray. "...his wounds are like nothing I've ever dealt with before." With a gentle touch, he dabbed at the edges of the bite wounds, collecting holy water, blood, and hopefully some spittle from the wraith. "I've never heard of a priest..." Groping around for some sort of tube, he grasped it and placed the swabs into it. "...whose belief was so strong in the faith. I heard that he fought the curse until he passed out." Retrieving a thin rod and some small puffs of cotton, he proceeded to wrap the wispy material around the rod. "Father Hebner truly is a man of the Lord. It's very much a shame that he will have to die." Without warning, Doctor Fisher jabbed the rod into Father Hebner's neck and twisted.

"Doctor, what do you think you're doing!?" Almost immediately, he wrenched the rod back out, the cotton now stained a deep vermilion. Grimacing at the gore on it, he quickly flicked it into another small tube and apologized absentmindedly to Lucrecia.

"I should have been more prudent; that certainly isn't a sight a young lady would like to see." He said it with a calm indifference, though; he hadn't so much as looked in their direction, and before the last syllable was spoken, he was already once again examining the priest's scorched body, this time scrutinizing his hands. Nodding to himself, he reached for a pad of paper and began jotting down notes.

Vincent glanced cursorily at Lucrecia, to gauge her reaction. She, for her part, seemed relatively composed, though somewhat in shock from what she had just seen. "Hm... yes, yes, of course... oh, how interesting..." the doctor mumbled to himself, turning the burnt hand this way and that, switching glances from limb to face. His callous apathy only seemed to further confound Lucrecia; she seemed on the verge of speaking, but held her tongue in expectation of an explanation. Without a word, Vincent grated the fingers of his left hand together, and the rusty grate of metal on metal urged Doctor Fisher to recall their presence. "Oh, I thought you had already departed. What is it?" Again, he kept his back to them, focusing on his duty.

Prick. It was an unusually base thought for him, but he named the doctor as the fault. Or it could've been the demons inside his head.

"Um..." she began, obviously flustered. "W-why did you just... do that, Doctor?"

"I wanted to get some blood samples directly from the point of contact."

"I... I understand, Doctor, but..."

"Do not worry about it, my dear... oh, how curious... I did not harm him in any way." As if this were explanation enough, he kept quiet once again. Lucrecia turned to Vincent, obviously wanting to know more.

With a harsh scrape of his metal-plated boot against the floor, Vincent made his presence known. "She wants to know if he will survive."

At the command, Doctor Fisher made an about-face. Obviously startled, he answered, "O-oh, my apologies, sir. I didn't know you were here as well, you were so quiet." After quickly scanning him up and down, though, the doctor returned just as nonchalantly to the holy man on the table. "I should think there's a..." He turned his attention to the left hand and immediately began to remove the melted cross metal from his palm. "...a rather apparent answer to that. He will change." Having said that, he finally turned to place his full attention on them.

He was a somewhat tall, gaunt man, with a mess of brown hair and little in terms of muscles. His long, corpse-like frame was encased in a tight shell of skin; the acne-ridden flesh pulled taut against the contours of his face, and his lips were nearly the same shade of earth-flaked tan as his skin. All in all, he seemed to be the type of person that would be more comfortable around books than surgery utensils.

"But... isn't there anything you can do, Doctor?" demanded Lucrecia desperately, tears brimming in her eyes and her hand clutched to her chest like it would burst open.

Doctor Fisher laughed heartily, pounding the long, delicate fingers of his right hand against his quadriceps, imitating a dancing skeleton. "Do? Certainly, there are things I can DO, Miss..."

"Crescent, Doctor. Lucrecia Crescent."

"Ah, so YOU'RE Miss Crescent, eh? You're just as beautiful as they say. So tell me," he asked, leaning forward in abject anticipation, like a child listening to a fairy tale, "how did your sister, ah, ah... Melantha, how did she turn?" His eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets, a startling feature stressed by the shadows that formed from his deeply-inset eyelids.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"When did you realize she was turning? Was she acting abnormally at all, preferring raw meat over cooked, developing sensitive skin, such things as that?"

Lucrecia fell back in shock and horror. "Doctor!" she yelled, startled and hurt. "My sister is dead! That's hardly appropriate!"

He nodded absently, waving her to calm down. "Yes, yes, I apologize. I was simply asking for the sake of scientific research."

"When will he wake up?" asked Vincent curtly, causing the doctor to once again flinch at his icy tone. "I would like to speak to him."

"Ah, yes, sir, well... I'm afraid I can't answer that question, as I've never dealt with a vampire victim before. I'm sure you know more about them than I do, Mister..." He ignored the question and made his way to the table, much to the chagrin of Doctor Fisher. "Sir! You can't just waltz up to a patient whenever you feel so inclined!"

"And you have the right to poke and prod him like a piece of cattle." Stopping by the priest's head, Vincent rudely pushed the doctor out of the way and crossed himself once before reaching for his cross. "Blessed Father, Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come. Thy Will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give Your son this day his daily bread, and forgive him his trespasses, as he forgives those who trespass against him. Lead him not into temptation, but deliver him from evil. Amen." He kissed the cross and pressed it to Father Hebner's forehead. There was a small hiss of singeing flesh, and when he pulled away, a crucifix was burned into the priest's skin. Turning to the doctor, he stated in a cool, serious tone, "He will awaken in three hours. Be finished with your 'observations' by then, Doctor." Passing one last glare at him, Vincent returned to his position beside Lucrecia.

"O-of course, of course! My skills are of the highest caliber in all of the Outer Plate!" Without Vincent invading his space, the doctor returned to his scrutiny, almost immediately disregarding the two visitors yet again.

"Uh... well, I suppose we should get going, then. Th-thank you, Doctor," Lucrecia announced and hastily made for the large double doors.

He followed quickly and quietly after, and as they exited the operating room, they heard Doctor Fisher say, "Oh, if you would, the boy up front will be taking payment for the Father's basic operating fees."

------

Hardly anyone lived out on the Outer Plate, and of those that did, none chose to venture more than an hour's walk from the heavily-gated walls of the local town center. With looming walls of granite and marble, the circular expanse was etched with massive crosses and prayers were painted onto its surface with holy water. At every nook and cranny were found slips of paper with prayers written upon them; upon touching the wall, monsters and beasts would ignite these blessed sheets and holy fire would burst forth instantly.

Outside the walls, life was much harsher, and only the truly brave or truly impoverished found themselves fending for their lives in these vast, endless fields. Many tried to provoke the same sense of security that those in the inner cities were privy to, constructing shams of fences with wholly decorative wooden crosses that couldn't ward off even the most meager of animals. Those who either chose or were forced to live furthest from civilization often ended up dead or otherwise damned, and they were often referred to as "the devil's supper" by those that lived under God's protective walls.

Of course, that wasn't to say that everything beyond the town walls was desolate. On the contrary, the seldom-farmed soil of the Outer Plate was rich with nutrients, and farming almost any sort of crop in almost any part of the Outer Plate proved to be easy and feasible. If someone were lucky enough to survive the five-month farm season, he would have more than his fair share of wealth upon the cultivation and selling of his produce. And with the slow advance of mankind and its knowledge of the world, this hazardous lifestyle was slowly becoming easier and easier to withstand.

Gazing into the lip of that dark forest, though, the residents of Asgard wouldn't have believed such a thing.

------

They made it to Lucrecia's home in only a few short minutes; the large property was located alarmingly close to the foreboding forest, and Vincent found it strange that Lucrecia and her sister had chosen to live in such an ominous estate. As they crested the final gentle slope, though, the evidence laid itself before him: massive herds of cattle roamed the rolling hills, fenced into a not-too-small area which also contained moderately-sized buildings. The fencing enclosed at least ten acres of the lush, fertile Outer Plate grass, and the sizable beasts grazed it with carefree abandon. "You're a cattle rancher," he asked out loud.

"No," she corrected. "None of them are mine. They belong to those in town, mainly to Mayor Foulke. I give them a place to stay, that's all." As they reached the gate, he noticed the curious lack of holy protection along the wood and chicken wire perimeter. Noticing the path of his eyes, she commented, "When Melantha was attacked, the vampire tore all the crosses down. I haven't put them back up since, because I thought it would only make it come back sooner."

"Hm." As they passed through it, he felt a cold chill spread through his limbs like a quick, blazing flare of ice. Frowning as the feeling suckled on his nerves, Vincent removed the small crucifix from his breast pocket and touched it to the wood. Instantly, the day suddenly seemed to brighten and the smell of farm and country returned. He was shocked. A curse was laid on this house, and I didn't detect it... Something lingered in the air, though, something... peculiar. Earthy and irritating, maybe even acrid.

"Don't mind the farm smell," Lucrecia replied, leading him up the dirt path to the main house. "Stay a few days, and you'll get used to it." Almost immediately, a look of concern showed on her face and she quickly stammered, "I-I mean... I'm sorry, that was rude of me."

"No worries. Why work as a cattle keeper?"

She was happy to change the subject, and her happiness was very contagious; he found himself pleased, uncustomary as it was. She's just a woman, he chided. Still, she was very tempting. Before, he wouldn't have hesitated to visit her bedroom and-

"...that I have an ability to keep them under control." She paused. "Of course, they're only dumb animals. I'm sure you could handle them with much more ease."

He shook his head, for some reason desperate to please this beautiful woman. "In my previous life, I ran away from home because I didn't enjoy herding cattle." Falling hard, he was. Falling hard and he'd just met the poor woman. Wait 'til she realizes what I really am, that ever-present demon whispered to him.

"Oh? And what else did you do in your previous life, Vincent?" The way his name fell from her lips sounded like divine justice. He suddenly wanted her to say it again. To scream it. Again and again.

But he stayed silent, and she nodded in understanding. "This is the main house," she said, pointing to the small, single-level house. It was built almost exactly like every other house that dotted the surrounding hills – a squat, long house made of clay and wood, with a front window and a thatched, triangular roof. "That," she continued, pointing to the right of the house in the direction of a large, sheet-metal building, "is where we... where I feed the cows their medicine. They're smart enough to know when to come get it themselves. We- I mean I just have to worry about refilling the troughs every other day. The medicine," she said, swinging her long, graceful finger to acknowledge a large silo directly behind the house, "is located in that silo." The brief tour finished, she stepped up to the front door and unlocked it, beckoning him inside.

Inside, the walls of the main hallway were adorned with very little, a pure off-white. To the immediate right of the entrance, which Vincent blessed quietly as he entered, lay the living room. In it were two small couches, one facing the window and the other on the wall facing them. Pictures of men and women – he recognized Melantha's face in one of them, and assumed the others were either deceased or long-gone relatives – hung in this room in scarce but evenly-spaced positions. "This is the living room," she announced, shyly sweeping to encompass it, before continuing on. The end of the hallway teed off, the right leading to a cozy kitchen, complete with small kitchen table, and the left leading to another passage with three rooms. "To the right's the kitchen. I'll get to work on getting you something to eat in a bit," she commented, winking lightheartedly at him (and oh, how he wanted to take her then) and led him down the second hallway, "but let's finish the tour first. This is my room." Saying this, she almost blushed. Cute. After a quick survey, though – there was only one window, and it was small enough that the most dangerous of predators couldn't get in – they moved on. The second room was the lavatory.

"This..." she said quietly as they reached the final door. "This is... Melantha's old room. It- excuse me." She turned away for a moment and composed herself; Vincent felt compelled to wrap her in his arms and comfort her for all eternity. After a moment or two of reconstitution, she continued, "It's yours to use during your stay here. It's well-furbished, and although she was bitten here-"

Vincent immediately shook his head. "This room is cursed with the vampire's aura. No one will find rest in there except the one that was bitten. Especially not one like me; hunters that sleep in a vampire victim's room have constant nightmares throughout the night, and even when they leave, the vampire's curse will stay with them, and unless they are strong in spirit, they will lose their soul to the curse. I'll sleep in the living room."

When he looked at the young, brown-haired woman, he felt sick to his stomach at himself at seeing the look of restrained horror on her face. "R-really... I-I'm sorry, I should've known..." Don't be sorry. You're too beautiful to be sorry.

"Don't be sorry, Ms. Crescent. You had no reason to know." As an afterthought, he added, "Is the tour over, then?"

"Oh! Yes, Vincent, yes. Please, make yourself at- By the way, where WILL you sleep, then?"

"The living room is fine."

"Oh... okay, then. If you're sure..."

"I'm sure."

She smiled, and it seemed to him like he could die at that moment and regret nothing he'd ever done... none of it. "In that case, I'll get right on your meal."

--------

They had just finished eating when Sheriff Weston knocked on Lucrecia's door. "Excuse me," she said before heading to answer the door. Vincent took in another small forkful of the light salad, his plate still nearly full. He still hadn't fully accustomed himself to eating again; he had to constantly remind himself to finish his meals or risk the danger of starvation. When you go so long without requiring it, I suppose it does start to rust a bit.

Thrumming the fingers of his golden claw lightly against the tabletop, Vincent listened intently to the conversation in the other room. Want to talk to me, do you? He noted dryly that it shouldn't have come as any sort of surprise. It wasn't every day that a vampire hunter was required in a village. It was even less often that a vampire hunter was available. And it was even less often than that that a vampire hunter had his unique... Traits. He got up and went to meet this Sheriff Weston.

"I understand what you're saying, Lucrecia, but I still have to talk to him. The whole town's grateful for his help, there's no doubt about that, but that doesn't mean we can't be a bit suspicious. After all, how often do hunters come here? The last time-" Sheriff Weston's words trailed off to deaf ears. He locked eyes with the large sheriff as he made his way to the door. Lucrecia followed the sheriff's eyes and turned around, surprised to see Vincent so close to her.

"Vincent! Um, th-this is-" she began, but he simply came up next to her and kept his gaze on the gun-toting constable.

"Would you like to talk outside, Sheriff?" Sheriff Weston nodded grimly, tipping his hat to Lucrecia before backing from the door. "Excuse me, Ms. Crescent." When she protested, he calmly responded, "He's only here to talk. He won't try to force me to leave."

"Why? How do you know that, Vincent?" The twinge of panic in her voice made him ache. Again, the way she said his name...

"Because the townspeople wouldn't appreciate losing a hunter at a time like this." After a short break, she nodded and he made his way outside. In the yard, Sheriff Weston kept his right hand rested precariously on the top of his magnum, the holster unbuttoned. "I won't bite," Vincent said dryly, but that only made the Sheriff press that much more tightly against the side of the revolver grip.

"They don't look it now, but I saw your eyes glow inside. What's your explanation for that, Sir hunter?" The beefy man rested his back on the wooden fence, deceptively casual.

"Birth defect."

"Bullshit. Only vampires have eyes that glow like yours do. A hunter with hunted eyes? Seems awfully convenient to me."

"Have you seen a vampire, then?" There was silence, and he could see the man's anger steadily building. "Why did you come?"

The sheriff shifted uneasily, then sighed and finally released his death hold on the firearm. "I came to ask you about the incident this afternoon."

"You were there."

"But I didn't see the damn thing happen, okay!?" he shouted, then forcibly calmed himself again. "Forgive me, Sir hunter. I want to thank you for saving us from that creature. If you're willing, I'd like to know what you saw happened."

"I arrived in town, the vampire escaped, I killed it. The Father had been bitten." This last statement made Sheriff Weston look up, almost as if he were alarmed. Then he nodded again, sadly, remorsefully. Father Hebner's ill fate apparently had yet to fully strike the man.

"...is that it?" He nodded affirmative. "Okay, then. Again, thank you. I didn't mean to antagonize you."

"No worries."

--------

They visited Doctor Fisher's clinic a few hours later, with the sun just shy of striking the Nibel mountains to the west, the jagged mountain range that separated the Plates from the Midgar Ocean – complete with teeth-like mountain peaks that covered the entire western coast like the jaw of some monstrous predator. As Vincent had promised, Father Hebner was now fully conscious, though sedated and wracked with agony. Bandages covered much of his arms and torso, and a soft fabric was wound around his neck. The entire right side of his face was viciously burned, but it seemed to have healed rather well in the four-hour time span, now only a disfigured purple hue.

"Father! Oh, Father Hebner, you're alive!" Lucrecia exclaimed as she rushed into the room and threw herself on top of the hurting priest. He welcomed her with undiluted joy through pained groans and yelps as she brushed up against the most sensitive of his injuries. She apologized profusely and took the chair next to him, tears falling unabated down her cheeks. "I was so worried about you! I knew I shouldn't have asked you to do so much for me!" Vincent took his own seat by the door, biding his time patiently.

"Rest easy, Lucrecia, dear," he responded in an old, somewhat raspy voice. "If this physical pain is all that I suffer in order to serve God's will, then it is truly such a small price to pay. Is it not, Lucrecia?" She nodded and nodded as she wept and pressed her forehead to his left hand. "Do not weep, child. Here, let us recite the twenty-third Psalm, and let God lead us." And both began:

"The Lord is my shepherd;

I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

He leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul;

He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness

For His name's sake.

Yea, for though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I shall fear no evil;

For Thou art with me;

Thy rod and Thy staff, they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of my enemies;

Thou anointest my head with oil;

My cup runs over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me

All the day of my life;

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord

Forever."

As they finished, Vincent crossed himself and placed his lips to his cross before making his way up to Father Hebner's bed. "Father," he stated curtly. Both Father and Parish looked up curiously at him, momentarily surprised.

"You..." The old priest stammered, his eyes gazing thoughtfully into Vincent's. "You were the one at the church. So... I assume you're under young Lucrecia's employment now?" He nodded silently. She can employ me to do anything. "Not a man of very many words, is he, Lucrecia?"

"No, Father. Not too many," she answered with something not unlike a twinge of laughter. Father Hebner shared in her merriment until a harsh bout of liquid-filled coughing forced him to cease.

"Ah," he sighed at last, settling back into the white-sheeted bed. "Lucrecia, dear, would you be so kind as to leave us for a moment? I would like to speak to..."

"Vincent."

"...to Vincent alone."

"Of course, Father." She nodded and left, offering a shy, sensual, lascivious, infinitely tempting smile to him as she passed him. He watched her smooth, beautiful hips sway ever so slightly as she exited the room, watched her firm buttocks with restrained lust.

"She's quite a sight to behold, isn't she?" Vincent caught himself and immediately turned to face the elderly priest.

"My apologies, Father-"

"No need to apologize, Mr. Vincent. She gets more than her fair share of envious glances each day. From women as well as men. But, be it far from me to waste your precious time." Father Hebner strained to raise himself to a half-sitting position, and Vincent rushed over to help the old man up. Nodding to him, the Father noted, "Thank you, thank you. Now, please, sit down." Vincent did as such. "So..."

The silence lasted for a few pensive moments. Vincent waited, patient, as the Father passed a hand back and forth across the two distinct indentations on his neck. Back and forth. Back and forth. It must be hard. At least he, Vincent, had had the luxury of being a follower and not a leader.

Finally, Father Hebner asked, "What happened to Melantha?" His voice cracked at the last syllable, and though the priest fought hard to hide it, Vincent could see it, see it so clearly because he had once dealt it. The Father had been tempted, seduced by the most powerful of all dark creatures, and he had found himself powerless to fight back. Even with all his faith, all his holiness, he hadn't been able to resist temptation. He had tasted of the darkness, and to his shame, he had enjoyed it.

"She was buried earlier. Her body will return to the Lifestream." There was no need to speak of where her soul would go.

"I... I will change, won't I?" There it was, the inevitable question. He nodded passively, though he felt a pang of empathy for the old man. "I see." He suddenly began to weep, quietly but woefully, his depression at its fullest, his curse gorging itself on him. "All of my life... All of my life, I have worked diligently to please God, to live out His vision. When I took up the task of returning her to dust, I believed it was a test He was putting me through. But..." He shook his head. "...but I was powerless to stop her. In all my faith, all my diligence, my Father saw fit to turn away in my most trying time. Have I..." Another quiet sob broke out, but he was too distraught to even close his eyes, much less wipe the tears away, and the salty trickles flowed freely down his cheeks. "Have I been wrong all along?"

"...Father, you prayed with Ms. Crescent. 'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil; for Thou art with me.' Correct?"

"Yes, yes, but that was just a sham. My dear Lucrecia is a faithful member of my parish; I cannot simply disillusion her-"

"When I found you, Father, you were burning yourself with holy water. The holy cross was etched into your palm. I have never, in all my life, seen anyone fight the curse as you did." Father Hebner finally looked deeply at him, and he finally saw the shimmering ruby colors of Vincent's eyes, their hauntingly beautiful colors, and realization began to dawn on him. I have never seen anyone fight the curse as you did. And I have lived a very long time. "You are still in the valley, Father. This is not death. God has not forsaken you just yet."

"...you... you managed to... you somehow..."

"If one such as I could walk through the valley for as long as I have and still returned, I don't doubt that your faith will guide you even further, Father."

Chapter 2: Priest of Broken Faith END

A/N: This story's a very fun one to write. Aside from being entertaining for me, it also provides me with great incentive to learn more about Christianity and Christian myths. Anyway, review, criticize, curse me to hell and back, but whatever you do, have fun doing it. Oh, and some changes have been made to Chapter 1.

Ciao, and thanks for reading this far.

Notes:

Doctor Justinian Fisher – Justinian comes from the Roman emperor. Fisher comes from Fisher Price. Courtesy of a friend.

"Blessed Father, Who art in heaven … deliver him from evil. Amen." – The Lord's Prayer, a common Christian (and particularly Catholic) prayer. The way Vincent recites it is actually incorrect – all instances of "he/his/him" [in reference to Father Hebner are customarily recited as "we/our/us," as this prayer is more commonly a group prayer.

"With looming walls … slips of paper with prayers…" – A reference to the Western Wall (the "Wailing" Wall) in Jerusalem. The Western Wall is the last known remnant of the Second Temple, sometimes called Solomon's Temple, which was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE/AD (what appears to be part of an "Eastern Wall" of this temple was discovered just recently, on August 30, 2007). Jews that travel to this wall traditionally place papers with prayers and wishes written on them in the cracks and crevices of the Western Wall.

(Subnote - BC stands for "Before Christ," which is common knowledge. However, not many people know that AD does NOT stand for "After Death" (as in the death of Jesus Christ), but "Anno Domini," meaning "year of our Lord." "Anno" is the Latin root for the word "annual." "Domini" means "ruler, king, lord, etc.," and it's where we get "domination, dominion, etc." Furthermore, "BCE/CE" has been popping up recently, and it means "Before Common Era/Common Era." It's identical in every sense to the BC/AD calendar, and I'm fairly sure it was only developed as a way of being more politically correct.)

Asgard – The town in which this story takes place, named after the mythical realm of the gods in Norse mythology. (In comparison, Midgard is the realm of mortals.)