Chapter 228

[Volume 3: Harvest Truth]

They walked down the final slope of the hill and approached the main gates. The portcullis was a colossal grate of sharpened iron, standing open and inviting. Two guards in gleaming silver armor flanked the entrance, their poleaxes resting on shoulders, eyes scanning the incoming travelers with boredom.

As Lyssandra and Miriel passed under the shadow of the gatehouse, the air changed. Smell of dust and open road was replaced by the city's unique perfume: roasting meat from food stalls, tang of horse manure, scent of leather from a tanner's shop, and the faint, clean aroma of running water. The noise was overwhelming at first, a chaotic symphony that took a moment to decipher.

The guards who had been slouching, straightened up almost imperceptibly when a tall, cloaked figure approached. It wasn't just her height but the sheer presence radiating out.

"Halt!" one of the guards called out, his voice loud and official. He held up a gauntleted hand "State your name and explain your purpose in the city of Agos."

Lyssandra came to a stop, hands resting on hips. She looked the guard dead in the eye. Before she could speak, Miriel stepped forward, pushing back the hood of her cloak. She gave the guards a disarming, gentle smile.

"Good day, gentlemen," she said, her voice soft and soothing "She is my friend, and we are just on our way to the Church of Caelus. Could you please let us pass?"

The guard, sizing up the intimidating figure, blinked. Then he looked closer at the smiling girl. His eyes widened in recognition.

The civilians around them had already begun to murmur.

"It's… it's her!" someone whispered.

"The Saintess… the girl who walks with Caelus!" another voice said, full of awe.

The name rippled through small crowd gathered near the gate. A woman in peasant's rags pushed her way forward, her son in arms.

"Please!" she begged, tears welling in her eyes. "Saintess Miriel! Please, can you bless my child?"

She shoved the small boy forward, almost into Miriel's arms.

The guards froze, their authoritative stance collapsing into awkward respect. The sudden attention caught Lyssandra completely off guard. One moment, she was facing down city guards, the next, she had become an afterthought in the wake of a minor celebrity.

'She wasn't kidding about being the Saintess.'

Miriel, however, was unperturbed. Her smile didn't falter, but a deep, profound calm settled over her. She gently reached out and took the peasant woman's hand.

"Caelus bless you, good mother," she said, her voice carrying the same ethereal, weightless quality it had when she prayed. "Your son is already touched by his mother's love. That is a power greater than any Gods can give."

The woman wept openly and nodded. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

Miriel turned to the guards. "I am sorry for the interruption, sirs. As you can see, my presence can sometimes cause a bit of a stir. I assure you, my friend and I mean the city no harm. We are here just to return to the Church."

The guard cleared his throat, shuffling his feet. The hard line of his duty was now blurred by deference. "Of course. My apologies. Please… please, go right in."

He bowed his head slightly, stepping aside and gesturing for them to enter.

The civilians bowed as well, parting like a sea to make way for them.

"Thank you," Miriel said with a final, gentle nod.

She glanced back at her friend and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible wink before walking onward into the city, head held high.

Lyssandra followed, a bemused smile playing on her lips.

The crowds, which had parted for their idol, now saw only a small girl in a traveler's cloak walking beside a very imposing one. They quickly lost interest and went back to their business. The anonymity of the bustling city streets returned.

Lyssandra fell into step beside Miriel, her long limbs easily matching the girl's pace. She leaned down slightly, her voice a conspiratorial whisper.

"So… 'Saintess'," Lyssandra teased, the word rolling off her tongue with a hint and a whole lot of amusement. "You were holding out on me. You didn't just 'pray a bit,' did you? You're a local hero!"

Miriel's cheeks turned a light shade of pink. She pulled the hood of her cloak up a little further, trying to hide.

"It's not like that," she muttered. "It was… an accident. I was praying in the old chapel, and a beam of light just… came down. And people saw. And… well, the name just sort of stuck."

"An accident, huh?" Lyssandra chuckled. "An accident that gets you past city guards and has peasants weeping at your feet? Some accident. Remind me to have an 'accident' like that one of these days."

Miriel giggled. "It's really not a big deal. Mostly I just help Father Matthiel with healing the sick, and sometimes I give sermons. They just like to listen."

"I bet they do," Lyssandra said, her gaze lingering on Miriel's back. "You have a way about you. Very calming. Even I feel it, and I'm about the furthest thing from calm there is." She nudged the shorter girl playfully with the elbow. "Maybe you should start blessing people for a fee. We could make a fortune."

Miriel swatted at her arm. "Hush! That's not funny. That's sacred."

"Everything has a price, little mouse," Lyssandra purred, her eyes glinting. "Even sanctity. Especially purity."

They walked through a maze of cobblestone streets, noise of the marketplace and smells of the city swirling around. After about ten minutes of navigating the crowds, they turned a corner, and the Temple of Caelus came into full view.

Up close, it was even more magnificent. The white marble seemed to glow, and the golden dome on the central spire caught the afternoon sun, blinding in its brilliance.

"Anyway," Miriel said, her voice filled with pride. She stopped and gestured with her hand. "We're here. Welcome to the Church of Caelus."

The huge wooden doors, inlaid with gold filigree, stood open. Worshipers flowed in and out like a tide. Lyssandra looked up at the immense structure, sizing up the grandeur of the building.

"Impressive," she had to admit. "Your people has good taste."

Miriel gave a small, respectful nod towards the open doors then started walking up the grand marble steps. "Come, I will lead you to the guest quarter, and you can stay there for the time being. For my part, I need to report my quest and then I will be back."

"Sure, lead the way," Lyssandra said, following her up.

They stepped into the narthex, and the world of the city faded away, replaced by profound silence. The air inside was cool and smelled of incense, old parchment, and melting wax. Sunlight streamed through big stained-glass windows, casting jeweled patches of red, blue, and green light across polished floor.

Vaulted ceiling soared high above, supported by pillars carved with the likenesses of saints and angels. The only sounds were soft, reverent footfalls of the faithful, the distant, melodic chanting of a choir practicing, and the gentle echo of whispered prayers.

Miriel moved with familiarity through the sacred space, her boots making surprisingly soft sounds on stone, as if even the building respected her and tempered its own acoustics for that.

They passed the main nave, where a few scattered figures knelt in prayer before a colossal golden altar, and turned down a side corridor. The walls here were lined with tapestries depicting scenes from scripture, the colors were vibrant and their threads impossibly fine.

Finally, Miriel stopped at a simple, yet ornate, oak door. She pushed it open to reveal a clean, well-kept suite with a bed, a desk, and a small window looked out onto a private courtyard.

"You can rest here," Miriel said softly. "No one will disturb you."

As soon as the door clicked shut, Lyssandra's posture relaxed. The facade of the imposing traveler melted away. She strode over to the sturdy bed and plopped down onto it, the mattress groaning in protest.

With a sigh, she reached up and pulled the black mask off.

"It felt good to breathe freely." She rubbed her temples, the stress of the journey and the sudden, unexpected celebrity of Miriel finally catching up.

'I will rest for a bit before going out, any place you want to go?' she thought to her pet.

'I will rest with you, Master,' Luna's replied instantly. 'I don't know where I want to go. Being with you is enough for me.'

Lyssandra smiled. It was a simple answer, but a deeply touching one. Her mind, however, was already thinking ahead, a whirlwind of strategy and planning. She lay back, her hands clasped behind her head.

"Have to remember the purpose of this trip first," she mumbled to the ceiling. "Library of the church… Grand Archives of the Institute of Virtue… Royal Academy… I can check the church's library while I'm here. The Grand Archives… I don't know yet. And the Royal Academy…"

She paused, a smirk touching her lips. "… I can ask my little princess a favor. And Miriel knows people. She's a Saintess after all. If anyone can get me an introduction, it's her."

Her gaze hardened with resolve. "Everything I need to develop my dungeon, to uncover the mysteriously disappearance of the dungeon boss… I will need to know and I will find it." She sat up, fatigue leaving her eyes, replaced by familiar, sharp gleam. "But first… a bath."