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Honorifics clatter off and away from Colvoy. His stole parts and puddles; his scapular just disappears.

“The names you fouled are stricken from you herewith,” says the new primate sadly. She doesn’t have to be loud. “Francis. Peacemaker. James. Oath-borne. Father. Brother. Petitioner of the Order of Souls Aspirant.”

Colvoy’s still clothed, but feels naked anyway. He’s strangely excited and his pulse is quick as a child’s. He shivers. There is a strange freedom in this: he didn’t know his glories were so heavy.

The primate pauses, turning back a page, and he can just hear the susurration of bells unringing.