The horse from the clergy stopped outside the 'North Weave' street. The pure white horse slightly lifted it's head up and began munching on the overgrown on the walls and felt bored. Atop the white horse, the middle-aged woman's emotion was not as calm as the horse beneath her. She whispered to herself, "Why did they come here?" 

She had visited this street a few times before and was somewhat aware of the secrets it possesses. Although everything in this street seemed abandoned, she didn't dare navigate her horse through the narrow streets.

Inside that clean and ordinary building was a person that even the pope from the north dare not neglect. She was unknown to any ordinary mortal but was extremely famous among the small number of saints that live in this world. 

---

Typically, only hospitiums housed courtyards, cauponae usually did not possess such luxuries, especially those who receive no patrons. 

Ovid walked past a lake. He looked at the uniformly cut grass and had nothing to say. The area of this establishment from a glance seemed even greater than the 'Central Plaza'. The place must have an extremely long history... but why did it lack trace of humans.

The water in the lake was flowing silently. The buildings were old and no one was here. 

Ovid had many questions, but he followed the old path and walked into the depth of the cauponae. He headed for the rather well-preserved building that stood in the centre.

The building was built with bricks and concrete and was around a dozen meters tall. The paint of the walls and window were all quite fresh, making it look extremely proper. There was a label resting next to the door, though it was faded and took Ovid quite a long time to recognize the relative meaning of it. He later determined it was probably the main building.

He walked towards the windows and looked into the building. Although the lights were a little dim, he could still see the image inside clearly. There were rows and rows of tables lined neatly, and there wasn't any sign of deterioration. Ovid was a little surprised as he saw no one attending to the front desk, which would reasonably be the place the owner would usually be at.

Still, he walked to the front door and twisted the bronze knob. The knob turned slightly and smoothly and Ovid entered. 

He looked at the front desk and grew shocked and cautious. The originally empty front desk now have a person attending to it. Could she have sensed him peering through the window and took her position there between the short time Ovid took to walk to the front door?

The woman was wearing an ordinary tunic. She also looked ordinary, other than a few wrinkles at the corner of her eyes, her skin was smooth and tender. There were traces of white in her free-flowing hair, but if one looks closely, they would discover youth in her black hair. One could not gauge her age, and one could not say if she was young or old.

She had an apple in her hand that was perfectly round and seemed irresistible.

She seemed to be waiting for Ovid to step forward. Taking a bite of the apple as she grew bored.

The woman seemed not of this world. Ovid could see the age and coldness in her eyes. It was as if she saw everything in life and was tired of this world, thusly, grew indifferent to it.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

If any ordinary person looked at her, they would undoubtedly be in a state of awe. Ovid was not an ordinary person, so after a while, he recovered and calmed down. He lowered his head and asked, "How much for a room?"

The woman answered, "Two hyperpyrons for a week."

Even in the 'Central Plaza', one hyperpyron could guarantee the best room for almost a month. However, Ovid did not protest, not because he didn't understand the value of money, but because the woman's voice was old to the extreme.

Anna would surely recognise this type of voice - it was old to the extreme, the same type of voice Julia has. When air passed through her vocal cords, it sounded as if ancient, rusty bronzed needles were rubbed against each other. Even if the dust had been wiped off, the rust would still remain.

Ovid seemed to have not been affected, he asked, "Can I bring my companion in first?"   

The owner looked at Ovid and said in a chime-like voice, "Of course that's fine." 

Although her voice was melodious, it carried with it the touch of ancient tombs.

After a while, the wooden door opened once more, revealing the figure of both Ovid and Anna. 

The owner lifted her chin and smiled at Anna, she said, "Please come inside." 

Anna looked at the owner calmly, her eyes still the same ones full of curiosity. She walked up to the woman and placed twenty hyperpyrons on the table she said, "One room please."

The spring breeze blew through the door. The candle on the table flickered. The owner was a little surprised, and then, her expression turned into one of delight. She looked at the two and stretched her left hand to her waist. She took out an old bronze key and placed it before Anna. 

During this time, Anna felt this woman was somewhat familiar, studying the owner's ordinary features, Anna searched for a long time yet could not find anything. In the end, she asked, "Are you a saint, like Julia is?"

The woman looked at her and calmly said without a hint of turbulence in her voice, "I am as feeble as an ordinary person." 

Anna truly could not recall why she felt acquainted with this ancient creature and thus, accepted the owner's explanation without too much suspicion. She picked up the bronze key from the table and walked upstairs.

Ovid was still in the room.

---

"They actually went into her place?" 

"Yes... after arriving at that street, I no longer followed him." 

Catherine's resting room inside the cathedral soon fell silent after the short exchange.

Zoe's face was full of worry as she looked at the relatively calmer Catherine. "We cannot influence her, then let's not worry about this for now." 

Catherine wrinkled her eyebrows and unexpectantly said, "Is she really that strong?"

Zoe shook her head and answered, "She is nearly as old as the empress herself. No one had seen her fight before because no one dares challenge her. Attaining sainthood is all about living longer, and she has lived longer than anyone of us. Although she always says she is an ordinary person, everyone who knows her understands that she is not a mortal like you and me."

"There had also been rumours that she is an excellent seamstress, and the Pope from the northern kingdoms would visit her every year to have her tailor his cassock." 

Hearing this, Catherine was quite afraid, she walked Zoe to the door and stayed silent.

---

The 'North Weave' sounded extremely strange, and not many would take it seriously. Many would simply assume that the cauponae was merely named after the street. However, the opposite was actually true, the street was rather called 'North Weave' because of the establishment. 

With this fact, one can assume how popular this inn had been in the past, but now it had been forgotten by everyone. The reason was quite simple, it was just a byproduct of the passage of time. As the city grew, the significance of the area surrounding 'North Weave' waned, and though its' owner has transcended time, the establishment could not. 

The receptionist did not finish the apple but had rather reached down the front desk and took out a wine jug. Pouring two cups, she tapped the ancient wooden table with her index finger and indicated Ovid to sit down.

Ovid was a respectful person, so he sat across the owner but did not drink. His mother had forbidden him from drinking until now, and he still kept the rule in his mind. 

The owner asked him curiously, "Not going to drink?" 

"No," Ovid replied, "I've never drunk before."

The owner laughed and remarked, "Drinking is one of the few pleasures in this world. It's a matter of respect and courtesy to someone of the younger generation such as you and is impossible to avoid in front of me. It is better to get used to it early with this mellow wine."

Ovid then said, "But it is bad for the liver to drink too much."

The owner found these words very interesting, but she pushed the cup closer to Ovid. "All things bad if taken in excess. It's about how much your body can tolerate... Similarly, you can be deficient of it. Since wine makes one happy, why not drink a little?"

"Being overly scrupulous is also indulgent." 

Ovid turned his head towards the woman answered, "One should live properly while he is alive."

The owner waved her hand as if she was driving off the words from the building, with a sigh, she said, "Isn't it tiring to have such a serious attitude toward life. You are not an ascetic monk, who raised you to be so boring? You can't even have a proper conversation being so witless." 

Ovid frowned unhappily. He was fine with mothers criticising him but held his mother to the highest pedestal, he said, "I don't think my character is flawed. For what I want to do, I think it is enough."

The owner looked at him and said, "I don't think there is anything wrong with your character." 

Ovid nodded his head and said calmly, "It is good that you understand."

The owner sneered and continued, "There's something wrong with your brain."