The rustling of the leaves was driving him crazy. Alaric imagined the growling of demons, the howling of hounds, the giggling of succubi. He held his breath and shook his head, his straight blond hair disheveled and a little dirty. He didn't believe what had happened, but with his own eyes he saw Holy Queen не Isabel turn into a fiend of hell, and demons crawl out of the ground. He ran away from the Flammschrein with all his might, along with the meager remnants of his army.

Alaric slowly began to go mad from the realization that all this time he punished the innocent and served demons. He was so blind. So stupid. He needed to confess... Somehow make amends for his guilt before Elrath. Before the Griffin Empire. He went to kill demons, but the orcs from the eastern lands defeated his army, and the few that remained fled from the mad archbishop, no longer wanting to serve him.

"Oh, protect me, Elrath..." — Alaric groans in a quiet plea and giggles nervously. He shudders, turning his head to the side and tightly clutching the inquisitor's mace in one hand and the cross in the other. — "Who's there! Demon!? Don't come near me, creation of Urgash!"