Chapter 231

The hallway was silent and empty while Lyssandra walked back toward the guest quarters. Reaching the door of her bedroom, she instinctively glanced at her mini-map. It's overlay showed two clear blips inside.

One was a stable, steady blue dot – the color for an allied, non-hostile entity. The other was a bobbing yellow dot.

"Blue is for ally, red is for enemy, what in the world does the yellow one mean?" she muttered, trying to recall the system's documentation. "Neutral? NPC? An objective?"

Opening the door, she was met by the sight of Miriel, her hands clasped in lap. Sitting opposite her in one of the chairs was a man who perfectly fit the yellow blip description.

He was in his late forties or early fifties, dressed in the black cassock, though the buttons of his vestments strained to contain a significant paunch. He had kind, ruddy face with smile lines crinkling around his eyes, and thinning, mousy brown hair which was slightly disheveled. His presence wasn't hostile. In fact, he had an easy, affable air about him.

"Oh, you're back!" Miriel said, standing up and crossing the small space to take Lyssandra's arm, pulling her inside. "I'm so sorry to intrude without notifying you beforehand. I just… I wanted you to meet someone."

The man stood up as well, offering Lyssandra a pudgy but warm handshake.

"Ah, so you must be the lady traveler our Saintess was telling me about!" he said, his voice jolly and booming. "It is a true pleasure! A genuine pleasure! The Saintess speaks of you with such passion."

He gave Miriel a warm, paternal look that bordered on adoration. "Please, forgive the intrusion. We were just having a lovely chat."

"That's alright," Lyssandra said cautiously, shaking the offered hand. It was a bit sweaty. The yellow dot on her map pulsed faintly. It didn't feel dangerous, but wasn't exactly welcoming either. She needed to figure out what it represented.

"Please, let me introduce," Miriel said, beaming with genuine fondness. "This is Father Matthiel. I've told you about him before. He is the reason I am the way I am."

"And this is Lyssandra," Miriel said, her gaze soft. "The one I told you about. Who helped me."

"Thank you," he said. "Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for taking care of my dear girl. She is… well, she's like my own daughter. I was so worried about her when she went on that quest. But to have her return safely, and with you…" He clasped Lyssandra's hand inside both of his. "It is a blessing."

"It's… no problem," Lyssandra said, a bit taken aback by the man's intense sincerity. She shrugged nonchalantly. "I like her anyway. She's a good girl. Stubborn, but a good girl."

Father Matthiel's eyes twinkled behind his glasses. The cheerful, curious light in them sharpened, gleaming with mischief and an almost primal urge to gather information.

"You like her?" he asked, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. His eyes darted between Lyssandra and Miriel. "Like… in like like?"

Miriel's face, which had been pink, exploded into fierce, cherry-red blush. "Wh-what? No! It's not… it's not like that! We're friends! Companions! I… we…" she sputtered, waving her hands in frantic denial, completely flustered.

Father Matthiel let out a jolly chuckle. "Of course, of course! Friends!" His eyes twinkled even more brightly, a knowing, teasing smile spreading across his face. He had definitely heard the juiciest information he was going to get all day.

Lyssandra found herself hiding a smirk, watching Miriel's cute panic and the fat, cheerful man's shameless delight in it all.

Father Matthiel couldn't contain his mirth, letting out a series of hearty chuckles. "Oh, the blush on our little Saintess's face!" he crowed, absolutely delighted by the scene. "I haven't seen her look this lively… since I taught her how to properly gut a fish!"

He adjusted his glasses, peering at the guest. "You must have a very dynamic 'friendship'!"

Miriel looked like she wanted to sink into the floorboards. "It's not dynamic! And we didn't gut fish!"

"Yes, well, whatever it is, it's wonderful," the priest declared, patting his hands together. "Truly wonderful. Isn't it? She's much happier now, isn't she?" He nudged Miriel by the elbow.

Lyssandra leaned into it, a naughty spark in her eyes. "She does seem to blush a lot more than she used to." She looked at Miriel, her expression deadpan but her gaze teasing. "Though I have no idea why. Must be the holy fervor. Gets the blood pumping."

That earned her a desperate, pleading look from Miriel, which only made it more fun.

"Blood pumping! I love it! Passion! That is what makes the world go 'round, my dear!" Father Matthiel thoroughly enjoyed the exchange. He patted his round belly. "It's the most natural thing in the world! It is why a good sermon has some fire in it! And I can see you two have fire! Buckets and buckets of glorious, embarrassing, holy void!"

He threw his head back and laughed, his voice filling the room. Miriel just covered her face with her hands, completely and utterly defeated.

After another bout of his loud laughter, Father Matthiel finally settled down, wiping a tear of joy. He clapped his hands together, expression shifting back to a more professional, yet still warm.

"Well! Now that my curiosity has been somewhat sated," he winked at still-blushing Miriel, "Let's return to the main topic. Tell me, Lyssandra, are you planning on staying in our lovely city for long? Not that I don't want you to! Far from it. Miriel's friends are, by Caelus's own decree, friends of the church!" He looked genuinely pleased at the idea.

Lyssandra crossed her arms, considering. "I… actually need to do something in the city. Bringing Miriel back was a convenient, a helpful way to return her to her home."

She fumbled the words, chiding herself. 'Damn, almost sounded like I'm just using her. Which I am. But I need them to think otherwise.' A contradictory swirl of thoughts crashed in her head. 'Let's just keep the 'noble traveler' facade up. It's safer.'

"Oh! Can you tell me if you don't mind? I am ever so curious!" the cheerful high priest implored.

Lyssandra nodded. "It was nothing. I just need to conduct research on a project. It relates to the geography of this land and the surrounding territories, but I guess the church library doesn't have anything related to that."

"You should try the Grand Archives at the Institute of Virtue," Miriel, having finally recovered, interjected. "Or the Royal Academy. They might have what you're looking for that we talked about."

"Yes, yes, those are your two best shots!" Father Matthiel added enthusiastically. "Excellent scholars at both. Very clever!" He tapped a finger against his lips, his gaze turning distant, a faint furrow in his brow.

"There are rumors… you know. Old, dusty tales." He waved a dismissive hand. "Whispers of a secret archive, forbidden knowledge, that kind of nonsense. Probably just stories to make the old maps seem more valuable. But you never know! The world is a mysterious place, is it not?"

A heavy, pregnant silence descended upon the room following Father Matthiel's musings on secret archives. The spell was broken by a panicked cry from the hallway.

"Saintess Miriel, are you here? The orphanage needs you! Some of the children were climbing the old oak tree, and there was an accident! Your healing is needed at once!"

"The kids!" Miriel gasped, color draining from her face. All embarrassment forgotten, she was a woman of action. "I have to go! You two… continue talking! But please," she said, her voice low and urgent, pointing a finger at them both when she hurried to the door, "please don't say anything embarrassing about me while I'm gone! And try not to scandalize the Father, Lyssandra!" And with that, she was gone, the click of door echoing in her wake.

Another beat of silence passed. Then Father Matthiel looked at Lyssandra, a thoughtful, searching expression on his face.

The high priest stood up from the chair and walked toward her, his movements slower than before. "It appears we are now alone," he said, his voice softening from its boisterous jollity. "And since we are alone, would you do me the honor?"

He gestured to the mask. "Can you remove it, and let me finally see the face of the formidable lady who has done so much for our Saintess? Who stands so boldly and speaks with such fire?"

"Sorry," Lyssandra said, her voice gentle but firm. "I can't do that. Once you see it, your life as a simple priest will likely end at that moment." She offered a light, enigmatic chuckle. "You'd definitely fall in love with me, I assure you."