Once a rising Inquisitor of the Ducado de Torres who said dangerous things at parties, God's church is for all, until the Inquisition staged an assassination of its own Cardenal specifically to put a stray ball in him. He survived the theater, was carried to a cliff monastery, and was slow-poisoned so he would die a hero of his wounds.
The company took him out through a hidden stair under alarm bells. What saved his life afterward was rarer than the rescue: a fae cure worked by a fellow Inquisitor with hooves under his robes, paid for with a midnight root that suffers no liar's touch.
God's church is for all.
(Said aloud, in that room, at that ball. It is the sentence that nearly killed him.)
He has since left the church entirely. Fugitive, marked, and invaluable: the resistance's expert in the Inquisition's own bureaucracy. He knows how the machine files things, moves things, hides things. He owes the company his life and pays in exactly that currency.