The rain continued to fall relentlessly, and the boys stuck close to Horatio as he led them back through the city’s crowded streets. The three massive towers of the Cathedral loomed up ahead and they appeared to be heading right towards it. Idly, Tim wondered if they could afford a detour to take a look inside.

“I could get used to this,” Eric said, having to raise his voice to be heard over the sound of the rain. Tim hated how easily Eric was swaying along with the horse, and how effortless he made riding look despite being a novice.

“Get used to what?” Tim grunted. He felt himself slip and grabbed onto the saddle’s pommel to steady himself.

“Riding instead of walking,” Eric replied. “This is great. I can see why the nobles prefer it.”

“Weren’t you the one who was in tears because your hips were on fire after the first day?” Tim remarked sourly.

Eric shrugged. “I’ve grown as a person since then.”

“You’ve grown a big head is what you’ve grown,” Tim muttered.

“Eh, what was that?” Eric asked as he put his hand to his ear.

Tim was about to repeat his retort louder when he heard shouting from up ahead. Tim looked up to see a man in the middle of a small square. He was standing on something so he could stand above surrounding people who were shouting angrily at him.

“Open your heart to the word of the Goddess,” The man’s heavily accented voice was rich and deep and cut through the rain like a razor sharp scythe through grass. He wore a simple white robe, and his accent was like Horatio’s only thicker. He raised a white ash staff in one hand and Tim froze. The top of the staff was carved into a bust of the Goddess, and her eyes seemed to be staring right at him. “She will provide humanity with salvation. Do not listen to the lies of the Order!”

“Take your heresy somewhere else, Enrisian!” someone in the crowd roared before flinging a potato at the man.

“The Order has filled your heart with intolerance and hate,” the man cried serenely as the potato came within a hairsbreadth of striking him on the cheek. “The Order has sown discord between the faithful turning brother against brother. Listen to the teachings of the Goddess and know compassion!”

“Get the heretic!” someone in the crowd shouted.

“Just ignore him,” another protested feebly. “He’s Enrisian and protected by royal decree.”

“That doesn’t give him the right to spread this filth!” someone else cried.

“What is that maniac doing?” Huntsman muttered as he looked at the man in horror.

“He’s about to get himself killed,” Horatio replied, echoing Huntsman’s concern.

“Come on, help me make some room,” Huntsman growled.

Horatio and the boys nudged their horses through the crowd which was growing increasingly belligerent with every word coming out of the man’s mouth. When they had almost reached the man, Huntsman muttered, “Get ready to make a run for it.”

Before Tim could ask where they were supposed to run to, Huntsman darted through the crowd and hauled the man down.

“Come with me before they tear you apart,” Tim heard Huntsman hiss in the man’s ear. Tim looked at the gaunt faced man, dumbfounded. He hadn’t spoken in Velosian, which was the language used throughout the lands of the faithful. Velosian was the only language Tim spoke as far as he knew, but somehow, he understood what had been said.

Horatio helped the man up onto his horse while Huntsman clambered up behind Eric and shouted in Velosian, “Get us out of here!”

Horatio led the way, guiding his horse swiftly through the crowd. An arm reached up and attempted to pull the white robed man down from his horse, but Horatio managed to kick him away and get clear of the crowd. Tim spotted a few members of the mob attempting to chase them on foot and whipped his horse, urging it forward through the crowd. He followed Horatio and Eric around a corner and down a narrow alleyway. They turned three more times and when Horatio finally brought them to a stop, Tim was thoroughly lost.

“There, I think we lost them,” Horatio said in Velosian. He looked around warily before climbing down from his horse.

“You did a foolish thing there, friend,” he continued in the foreign language.

With Horatio’s help, the man climbed down from the horse and looked at Horatio and Huntsman in turn before breaking into a broad smile. “Ah, brothers from across the Frigid Sea. The Goddess has sent you to me…”

“Let me just stop you right there,” Huntsman snapped. “We are no worshippers of the Goddess. We just intervened because we didn’t want to see someone from the old hometown get chopped up by an angry mob.”

The man’s smile broadened. “Well, whatever the reason, I am glad to see you. My name is Peter Seer.”

“What are you doing in Carthus, Peter Seer?” Huntsman asked.

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“Why, spreading the word of the Goddess, of course,” he beamed before bowing his head and muttering a strange prayer.

“How long have you been doing this?” Huntsman asked.

The man pulled the hood of his head back to reveal a bald head with an eye tattooed on the back. His skin had an unnaturally pale pallor to it, and his eyes were as black as coals. “Oh, around twenty years.”

Huntsman raised an eyebrow. “It’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.”

Peter clapped his hand together and laughed. “Divine Providence is what it is, for I am on a Holy Mission.”

“Well it ends now,” Huntsman growled. “I’m sending you back to the homeland on the next ship I can find.”

To Tim’s surprise, the bald man nodded. “Yes, I was beginning to think I had overstayed my welcome. I have been converting small towns up until now, and my attempts to spread the word in the cities and towns have been contentious, to say the least.”

Huntsman opened his mouth to speak then looked at Tim and narrowed his eyes. “You understood every word we’ve said.”

Tim shook his head slowly and then realized that Huntsman was still speaking in the foreign language. Huntsman’s eyes flicked over to Horatio and switched to Velosian. “Did you teach him Enrisian?”

“No, why would I?” Horatio replied in the same language as he looked at Tim curiously. “Did you understand what we were saying?”

Tim nodded slowly and flinched as Peter took his hand in his and spoke in heavily accented Velosian. “Ah, I sense the Goddess’ touch on you. She has a plan for you.”

“No She doesn’t,” Eric snapped. “Tim’s a devout worshipper of the Three, aren’t you, Tim?”

“Your eyes will be open in time,” Peter said, as he clung to Tim’s hand. “Yes, things are moving according to Her plan.”

“That’s enough of that out of you,” Huntsman snapped. “We need to figure out what we’re going to do with you.”

“And discuss how Tim can understand your gobbledygook,” Eric added.

Just then, Peter’s stomach rumbled, and an awkward silence descended over the group. The bald man smiled sheepishly. “I apologize, it’s been days since I’ve eaten. The Carthuns have not been very generous in giving alms…”

“We can continue this discussion at the Riverside,” Huntsman said sourly and handed Peter his cloak. “Here, you better put this on. You stand out like a sore thumb in those clothes.”

“These are the vestments of Her clergy,” Peter pointed out.

Huntsman raised an eyebrow. “Listen, there’s a mob out for your blood, so it’s in your interest to keep a low profile.”

“I suppose I can see your point,” Peter conceded after a moment’s thought. The bald man pulled the cloak over his robes and sighed. “The Goddess did say to be pragmatic when necessary.”

“How come you can understand their language?” Eric demanded as they set off down the alleyway.

“I have no idea,” Tim replied. “I’d never even heard it spoken before today.”

“As I said, the Goddess has touched you,” Peter beamed. “It is only natural that She grant you the knowledge of Her holy tongue.”

“That’s nonsense,” Horatio scoffed.

“Do you have any other explanation?” Peter ventured.

Horatio did not reply as he led them onto one of the main roads. The boys followed Horatio in silence, fearful that they might attract attention to the bald man. Fortunately, the people who passed them by were focused on getting to their destinations quickly so they could get out of the rain.

Soon, they emerged onto a busy road that ran along the riverbank. Numerous boats lined the stone quay and men were hard at work transferring cargo between waiting wagons and the boats. As they rode past, Tim caught shouts in Enrisian and looked up in surprise.

“Many of these boats are crewed by Enrisian traders who sailed them down the Filo River all the way from Gosport,” Horatio explained. “The Riverside is a popular haunt for them.”

Horatio dismounted in front of a large tavern fronting the quay and tied his horse to a hitching post. Tim and Eric did the same and followed the others inside where they were greeted by the smell of boiled cabbage and fried pork. The patrons largely spoke Enrisian and many bowed their heads politely when they noticed the white robe under Peter’s borrowed cloak.

“What do we do now?” Peter asked once they had found a quiet table in a corner of the tavern. “Or rather, after we’ve eaten.”

Huntsman eyed the bald man for a moment and grunted. “Someone here will be willing to take you to Gosport. From there, you’ll get on a ship back to Enris, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll never set foot on Carthun soil again.”

Peter nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose I have done all I can here. Perhaps our encounter was a sign that it’s time to go home and work on uniting the kingdoms.”

Huntsman smiled wryly. “You will go down in history if you manage that. The first in history to unite the kingdoms.”

Peter mirrored Huntsman’s smile. “What if I told you I was chosen by the Goddess to do just such a thing?”

“I’d question why you were wasting your time here,” Huntsman replied flatly.

“I got careless and things became heated in Enris, so I had to flee for a while,” Peter replied evenly. “My sons have carried my banner in my absence. I pray they have done well.”

“You do know you sound like a complete lunatic, don’t you?” Huntsman asked bluntly.

Peter’s smile broadened. “Prophets are often regarded that way by their contemporaries. Don’t worry, I have learned to take it in stride.”

“I’m not worried about hurting your feelings,” Huntsman scoffed. He stopped as Horatio approached the table.

“I’ve placed ordered food and drink for the two of you,” he began.

“Oh, aren’t we staying for lunch?” Eric blurted. “I’m starving.”

“I’m afraid we have a prior appointment and we’re already late,” Horatio said with a shake of his head.

“Ooh, I’d get a move on,” Huntsman grinned. “Old Drogan hates being kept waiting.”

Peter grabbed Tim’s arm as he and Eric got up to leave. “Open your heart to the Goddess. She will need the help of Her faithful when the time comes.”

Tim looked at the man blankly before pulling his arm away. Eric glared at the bald man and Tim had to drag him away from the table before he started a brawl.

“What was that about?” Eric asked once they were outside.

“The depraved ravings of a man obsessed by the divine,” Horatio replied absently. “I wouldn’t give his words a second thought. There are many would-be prophets like him back in Enris.”

“I didn’t think Huntsman was the type to stick his neck out for someone else,” Eric remarked.

Horatio stroked his beard thoughtfully. “We endured a lot of persecution when we first landed in Carthus, so he has a bit of a soft spot for people from back home.”

“Are you a worshipper of the Goddess?” Eric asked softly.

Horatio shook his head. “Huntsman and I don’t believe in the Gods.”

Eric’s jaw dropped and Horatio smiled faintly. “That’s not to say I don’t believe that there are all powerful beings. It’s just that when you’ve seen the horrors I have, it becomes hard to believe in their benevolence.”

“Well, I hope the Three will guide you back to the path of the faithful,” Eric remarked.

“Perhaps one day they will,” Horatio said and blinked. “Now, all this talk of heresy has distracted us from what is supposed to be a happy day. Let’s get going, we shouldn’t keep him waiting.”

“Who?” Eric asked.

Horatio climbed back onto his horse and winked. “You’ll see.”