"A coin for mum and a coin for dad. Share a coin 'tween sis' and the lad. Food for the day and light for the night. A bit o' firewood to fight off the fright."

"They could have afforded us one day alone," Elin mumbled as she tossed on her tunic.

Walter buckled up his gambeson. When he rushed, he fumbled and restarted to get it right.

Elin's annoyed expression disappeared after opening the front door and looking at Sister Lora. The nun donned darkly-stained leather armor, and, the first time seen for Elin, she carried weapons, a shortsword, and a dagger. While aware of Sister Lora's past, Elin never expected to encounter it so starkly. The ex-paladin recognized the hardened look in the ex-assassin's eyes. It was the look of someone prepared to kill outside of honorable combat.

Laira looked at Elin, but remained silent, no doubt instructed to let Sister Lora do the talking.

Sister Lora was as calm as a grim reaper, "Might we impose?"

Elin figured Sister Lora wouldn't dare attack her or Walter, both for personal reasons and tactical. Not only would it be suicide, but she would fail and waste the effort. However, Elin's paranoia mounted. There were methods of killing which didn't involve fighting. She didn't want to turn away Laira, but she refused to risk Walter, and she didn't care how much she trusted Sister Lora.

After eyeing Sister Lora's belt, the nun unbuckled it with her free hand and passed it, with the attached weapons, to Elin.

"By all means, come in." Elin held the door open.

"Walter!" Laira cried out, "Walter, Walter, Walter!" She reached and leaned out of Sister Lora's counterbalancing grasp, the well-behaved discipline of the child flash-evaporated upon entering the house. Like a monkey, she jumped from Sister Lora's arms to his.

"Did you miss me?" Walter asked.

"Yes!" Laira said.

"Are you practicing what I taught you?"

"Uh-huh! It helps a lot!"

When Walter's eyes drifted from Laira to the belt of weapons in Elin's hand, he cleared his throat, and distracted the little girl, "Let's go warm up by the fire?"

"Okay!"

Once out of earshot and alone, Elin asked Sister Lora, "To what do we owe the pleasure?" Elin's tone remained flat. "Where is Priestess Evelyn?"

"We seek protection. Priestess Evelyn was summoned to the Temple of the Witness. She's being interrogated by the acolytes."

Elin's fist tightened and creaked.

----------------------------------------

The moment Priestess Evelyn crossed the threshold, moving through the large double-doors of the Temple of the Witness, the black-robed acolytes set upon her. One on each side snatched her wrists. They dragged her, forcefully enough she couldn't stay on her feet, passed the pews, in front of the abruptly halted choir and praying worshippers.

The colored lights from the stained glass depiction of Idrun faded behind her. The back of the church was dim, and the last room was dark. The acolytes shoved her in and slammed the door. The heavy lock clacked as they turned the key, Priestess Evelyn was trapped.

The acolytes identified immoral members and expelled them. Like all powerful institutions that dwelled in the dirt, it filled with worms.

Being taken into custody wasn't outside her calculations; the room they imprisoned her in was unexpected.

This is where they kept Laira.

Her fingernails dug into the stone floor, anger swelled in her stomach, and rage-induced vomit threatened to choke up. This was not a holy room; it was a room of claustrophobia. Slow breaths brought her back under control.

Priestess Evelyn rose, fluttered her garbs free of dust, and smoothed her hair. Her customary angelic expression, ever-patient, ever-forgiving, slipped over her face. Artists carved the statues of angels from stone, as was her will.

An hour elapsed before the presentation started. Black-robed acolytes carried in a long table and several chairs, unintended for her use. They planted a heavy book on the table, the Lineage Testimony, with a collection of documents and candles. Soon, they left her alone with the evidence. If secretly watched, cheating was additional evidence, so she experienced no temptation.

Minutes later, five men entered.

First was, presumably, the acolyte responsible for the inquisition. He sat in the middle chair. Predictably, he smelled of the pink scar. His smug self-assuredness exposed him as a novice.

Next was the head priest, Jacob Dalewyn, in charge of the Temple of the Witness. Unlike the acolyte, he smelled clean, as he always did. His morality only extended to the personal level, since he lacked the ambition to stamp out the impious. While still strong, his advanced age sapped his stamina. According to the rumors, he knocked out Elin's bear-of-a-brother, Favian, when he rampaged to cover Laira's escape.

Thirdly, Lord Remont Manticore entered, and he took an unusual side-seat. Priestess Evelyn covered her nose from the assaulting stench and pretended to scratch an itch. He smelled of blood, both old and new, and it overpowered all other smells but one. Priestess Evelyn detected the second scent as a buzzing of gnats and flies, something she never encountered before. She despised it.

The last two men obscured their faces and stood on opposite sides of the door. They were guards.

Their order struck Priestess Evelyn as odd because the highest-ranking official spearheaded inquiries. That meant the head priest or the governor should take the center seat. Yet, both declined to a nobody. So, Priestess Evelyn's confidence increased: if the inquiry was mishandled, then the official could suffer consequences. She had some leeway, perhaps.

After rifling the documents before him, the acolyte said, "Are you Priestess Evelyn, the acting-celebrant for Camp Wolf?"

"I am," Priestess Evelyn said.

The acolyte leaned back, like a rat enjoying a piece of cheese. "Were you once the caretaker of Lady Elin Folcey, the Rose of the Rapier, and the mother of Laira, the oracle abducted from the temple's care?"

You weren't caring for her. You kidnapped and imprisoned her.

"I am," she said.

Head Priest Dalewyn raised his eyebrows, his eyes sliding to the side, but he did not interrupt.

The acolyte continued, "You admit it openly?"

Priestess Evelyn tilted her head, "Regarding?"

"Your affair with Lord Richard Folcey, to being the homewrecker responsible for Lady Agi's suicide?"

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

How can this man be in charge? He's too simple-minded. No one would bring this up, even with due consideration. Is it on purpose? What's the game?

Her response lacked hesitation. "I'll make no excuses for it."

The acolyte snickered. "So, you undermined the very marriage you arranged, then?"

The head priest let out a long sigh, "That matter," he started, his voice sounding like a jab to the nose, "Was complex and cannot be simplified. It was settled long ago, and not related to the subject at hand. Multiple officials in the church made their rulings, myself included. It's unanimously agreed no one will bring it up. Move on."

The acolyte's voice raised in pitch, "Head priest, I feel--"

"I said," the head priest's voice dropped an octave, "Move on."

The acolyte blinked a few times. He continued, "Do you know who I am, priestess?"

Is it really this easy to get out of this? This man is unstable. If I tilt him enough, the head priest will stop this inquiry on the spot. I see no reason not to try, I suppose.

Priestess Evelyn eyed Lord Remont. The sensation of flies buzzing disturbed her.

What is his role? Will he allow it?

"I should think not. Are you important?"

The acolyte hissed through his teeth, "My name is Rout. I am the man that decides your fate today, show more respect!"

Fate? The church has influence, but not that much.

"You're named after one of the honorable heroes of the Bloody Crusade?" Serenity masked Priestess Evelyn's face, "Surely, you must be a good man. I apologize, Lord Rout."

Rout's mouth dropped open, and he closed it a few times.

Head Priest Dalewyn shook his head, "He has no title. It's just Rout."

"Oh, of course," Priestess Evelyn bowed her head, "Thank you for the correction, head priest. I might not have guessed."

Rout's teeth audibly grit. Finally, he gave a sinister smile. "Then, shall we discuss the night of the Hero's Summoning?"

"Very well," Priestess Evelyn nodded, "Though I did supply a detailed report."

"Oh, yes, you did," Rout grinned, holding up the letter she sent to the church, "In summation, 'No hero summoned.' How very strange that, barely a season later, your adopted daughter obtains tremendous strength? Do you have an explanation for that?"

"I do believe it's a matter of public record that Lady Elin was born in this world, and not summoned to it."

"Oh," Rout feigned confusion, "Oh, yes, of course, the Lineage Testimony declares her birth." He flipped open the book of recorded births and family trees with a loud slap, "Let's see... Elin Folcey, daughter of Richard Folcey, paladin, and Jeanne Agi, valkyrie. Fair of hair, and light of eyes. Crystal blue, in fact. Interesting that the book defines her as beautiful, I should like to talk with her in private to confirm the record. Professionally, of course."

Priestess Evelyn bristled without answering.

"You don't approve? Forgive me. Merely a distraction," Rout continued his self-gratifying grin, as he read, "Ah, yes. The revision before the failed summoning: 'Presents no inherited abilities from her mother or father.' After, she fully manifests from both parents, which is unheard of. One would say impossible if you include her meteoric rise in levels. Do you, perhaps, have a witty explanation for such a thing?"

"I can't offer one."

"Of course you won't," Rout snickered, "So what changed for Lady Elin? Scholars would love to know. Let's continue. Then, without initial approval from the church, you give emergency sinecure to Lady Elin and redirect her, a vital military resource, to Letun. Indeed, you ordered her to escort a single man. They roomed together at the Pilgrim's Folly. You arranged this. Any defense?"

This is bad.

Priestess Evelyn opened her hands, diplomatically. "Emergency sinecure is not unheard of. No defense is needed. Lady Elin was growing battle shy. Her post at Camp Wolf extended several times over the normal tour, and she witnessed the death of several peers. She needed a break."

Rout shrugged, as if on stage, "She seemed fine slaughtering the Pale Troll? Perhaps you raised her wrong?"

Wait. Did Walter's importance go unnoticed? Is he distracted by Elin to the point of not recognizing the man she's with? I'll have to sacrifice for this, but one more push.

Priestess Evelyn's eyes flashed. "What would a man as weak as you, hiding in a temple dedicated to motherhood, understand about power? Go pay for more companionship, you cretin."

"How dare you!" Rout screeched, "Bring me a flogger! I'll force a confession out of you!"

"Acolyte," the head priest whispered, "This isn't the firewood district. Keep it in your pants and control yourself, or this is over."

"I, too, demand you show restraint," Lord Remont said.

"But she--" Rout started to say.

Head Priest Dalewyn slammed his fist into the table. Even Priestess Evelyn, accustomed to the rough behavior of soldiers, flinched at the sight of the usually passive man burning with fury.

Dalewyn's voice echoed off the stone walls. "One more screw up is all you get, and this farce is over. You keep sparking a response, and you get pissy when she gives you one. Anyone worth their salt would have finished this by now. You try that with me, and I'll throw you out myself! Give me an excuse!"

"Yes, head priest," Rout muttered.

Someone knocked at the door, "Head priest?"

"What?" he bellowed.

"Your presence is required. There's an emergency."

"Of all the damn times," the head priest grumbled. When he stood, his chair screeched across the stone. He barked at the guards to move, and they shuffled aside before he stomped out of the room.

Lord Remont slowly stood up.

"What about the inquiry, Lord?" Rout asked.

Walking backward long enough to shrug at Rout, Lord Remont left the room.

"This can't be!" Rout pointed at Priestess Evelyn, "You! This is your fault! I was supposed to establish myself from this!"

Priestess Evelyn raised an eyebrow.

"I can," Rout pushed himself out of the seat, "I can still get a confession out of you yet! Hold her!"

The acolytes dashed forward and grabbed her wrists. Soon, they hard her arms stretched apart, but it took a great deal of effort on their part. They were clergymen, and she participated at Camp Wolf. Despite this, natural strength eventually overpowered her.

"You will tell me what happened with that paladin!" Rout screeched as he picked up a candlestick. "Fire to fire, as they say!"

Rout walked behind her, grabbed the top of her garbs, and yanked. The material held until the third attempt, and the thread at the seams ripped. With her skin exposed, he intended to beat her or burn her. Instead, the candlestick rattled on the ground, and the two guards let her go.

Priestess Evelyn said, her voice drifting over the room like a blizzard, "Do you see something that displeases you?"

Scars covered her back and shoulders, an assortment of bite marks and slashes from claws. Their smooth grooves cut deep into the skin, long healed, but forever present. When she let the scraps slip further down, it only revealed more scars. This was the price she paid for her parent's foolishness years ago, surviving only by self-healing and playing dead. No amount of pain Rout could play at inflicting could ever measure up, so she did not fear him.

Only one man ever saw her naked and didn't turn away, and, in youthful desperation, she threw herself at him.

When the head priest returned to fetch Priestess Evelyn and saw the ripped and disheveled clothes, he broke Rout's jaw and a few bones for the others.

----------------------------------------

Head Priest Dalewyn led Priestess Evelyn out of the chamber after she arranged her clothes to cover up. His voice was grim, "I apologize. I shouldn't have left you alone, but I didn't think the rat would have the balls."

"It's not your fault, though I wish you'd take a stronger stance," Priestess Evelyn said, clasping the torn cloth over her chest, "This is your domain, and you should protect the pious within."

The head priest nodded, "You won't see any acolytes in the temple after this. Please visit more often."

"Am I no longer banished, head priest?"

"Not after today's visitor."

Priestess Evelyn tilted her head.

Who would possibly come to my aid at this moment? I have no more allies.

Priestess Evelyn closed her eyes and pulled in a long breath to dry her tears before they fell. When she could maintain her composure, she opened them again.

Elin, dressed in her armor and her sword at her side, kneeled before the statue of Mother Gaia and prayed with clasped hands, waiting for a priestess to deliver a rite.

Priestess Evelyn moved forward, "You requested me, child?"

Elin glanced up and breathed a sigh of relief. She worked a jaw a moment, then said, "Yes, priestess. I require someone to lead me through the rites."

"Have you rescinded your decision to renounce Gaia?"

Elin shook her head. After a stretch of silence, she said, "I don't know how I feel about it yet."

Priestess Evelyn knelt. She stroked Elin's hair with her fingers. "There is no reason to worry. The mother is patient, she'll wait."

"Walter said," Elin leaned forward and put her hands on Priestess Evelyn's thighs for support, "That I couldn't leave you here, alone."

"I see," Priestess Evelyn said, "It's good that you listened."

"He told me, 'Don't just barge in there swinging your sword. They'll listen to you faster if you pray.' I didn't know what he meant, I thought he was jesting." Priestess Evelyn could feel Elin's hands tremble. "He was right. Are you hurt?"

"I'm unharmed. You have a--" Priestess Evelyn searched for the words, "--dutiful squire. I was wrong. Perhaps he has his uses, after all."

Elin nodded.

"You can't cry, you're a heroine now."

Elin nodded again, hiding her face.

"Shall we begin?"