The City of Brindon was an impressive sight, to say the least. The city was built at the confluence of the Gorasi River which we had been traveling on, and the Lesser Montauk River, which joined together to form the Greater Montauk River, which flowed south and formed the border between Brindon, Polnia, and Veluca. This was also where the great Brindon Canal started, which flowed East to the Blackmouth river, which formed the only aquatic connection that Brindon had to the sea within its own borders. The Castle, as well as the aristocratic section of the city, were built into the triangle formed by the confluence of the two rivers, where I later learned the city had begun during the Old Empires rule, however all of the surrounding areas on all the banks had been built up over time. Dozens of small canals filled the city as an impromptu road network, with hundreds of bridges large and small crossing these waterways. It wasn't exactly Venice, but it wasn't far off. More Saint Petersburg.

This being the case, we soon guided the barge into one of these small canals in the market district, Joseph wanted it brought to one of the squares so that he could offload his goods, which we were willing to help with after he had been so decent on the trip south.

“Easy there Karsten, don't drop it on me.”

“Eh, you'd just heal yourself anyhow Abbott. What's even in this thing anyway? Feels light.”

“Ah, thar's probly the crate of bloodhawk feathers. Wit te border fightin goin on I ken they'd be needin fletching.” Joseph chuckled as I placed it down on the dockside. “Thar’s enough lad, here's yer pay.” the man dropped a series of coins into my hand, which I swiftly pocketed. I felt as though I had earned them after the work I had put in coming down river, though I wasn't sure how much they were worth. Not much use for currency on the mountain and father had like fifteen different types of coin in his chest though I hadn't taken any. I was fairly financially illiterate in regards to specific countries monetary systems.

Once Mary and Karsten had received their pay as well, we walked on across the market square which was just beginning to open up in the early morning. Everywhere more people than I had seen before in this life were setting up stalls, talking and generally making a hubbub. It would have been a beautiful urban panorama if not for the smell. This many people and animals in a city without modern hygiene and a lot of standing water made for a very thick stench that seemed to hang over this part of the city like a fog. It took me a few minutes to get used to it. Before deciding to start a conversation rather than just watch Karsten and Mary make doe eyes.

“Bloodhawks, aren't those the birds that eat people?” I asked curiously, I had read about them as a potential threat before heading out into Kelmo, but I hadn't seen any. “They're useful for fletching?”

“Yeah, they're fairly famous actually. The thought is that they make the anyhow more bloodthirsty. I saw some jobs around for hunting them in riverbelly.” Mary chimed in. “I considered it myself but I don't want to tangle with them alone.”

“Huh.” I suppose the idea of using monster parts in weapons was already commonplace enough here. It made sense since monsters had their own magic to them. “So you've been to Brindon before right? Where should we go to turn in the eye?”

“Mmm. It didn't specify on the bounty notice.” Mary admitted lightly, shrugging her shoulders, “but it was a church bounty, so if we head over to Saint Altair’s in the ground district we should be able to find out who posted it. It's the cathedral with the four bell-towers on the west side of the river.”

Glancing up past the market square buildings I could indeed spot the structure, four square bell towers surrounding a tall stone building in the distance which stood above the rest. The only taller building in the whole city was the castle which sat on a hill above the confluence of the two rivers. The subtle power-dynamic at play in that fact was not lost on me.

“It's a bit of a walk though.”

“I can see that,” I grumbled, my short little legs would inevitably slow us down as well. Still, it was a cathedral of God, and as such, I should certainly visit while I was in the city. “Let's get moving then.” I just hoped we'd get there before nightfall.

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The Old man squinted through the haze of pipe and candle smoke that obscured the low room, the chatter of the patrons echoing around the wooden box sunken slightly into the ground. Even this early in the day, the dingey ale-house was mildly crowded, but then, this wasn't precisely a normal ale-house. For one thing one could see many more holstered weapons here than any normal establishment would possess, and that didn't even speak to the higher than a typical number of women present here, though they were still a minority. No, anyone who took a close look at the Rusty Hammer would know that it was a tavern that catered to a very specific kind of folk, sellswords some called them, adventurers others. He liked to think of them as problem solvers when dealing with them, though some had delusions of grandeur.

They ranged from the dregs of society to disowned sons and daughters of lower nobility, but despite their eclectic nature, they formed an essential part of the economy in Brindon and indeed in other nations, for they specialized in tasks that were too difficult for the militia, but too small for the army. Their jobs, like their status, we're eclectic. Some were warriors, too wild to be called soldiers. Some were wizards and other spellcasters, seeking to use their magic in the field and learn from the experience. Almost all were monster hunters in some capacity or another, or at least they were willing to serve that role. It was the most common work for them since they were generally much better trained for large or strange creatures than a militiaman would be. He wasn't here for anything so plain however, he had received strict orders on the type of help he was supposed to call upon, and it was a rather urgent issue.

He reached the counter, tapping his finger impatiently as he waited for the barkeep, a retired half-orc warrior named William to greet him.

“Ah, Gunter yes? What can I do for you today?”

“I'd like a pint and a Grey candle.”

The half-orc raised his eyebrow but said nothing, sliding the candle to him after pulling it from under the bar. A few of the other patrons narrowed their eyes or looked on in interest. “I'll have Katya carry the drink out to you in a moment.”

He nodded, grabbing the candle and setting it unlit at his table as he sat down.

“You looking to hire?”

He didn't even see the man sit down across from him, or the non-man more accurately, given the pointed ears that poked up just above the pale figures face mask.

He nodded gently. “Pay is 1000 Denos, plus something extra.”

The elf, for it was most likely an elf, stared at him for a moment, before glancing at the candle.

He directed his own eyes up to Katya who was fast approaching. She was an odd blend, her parents both being different varieties of half-human, but she was cheerful enough. This tavern and the adventurer's academy were probably the only places in the city that she wouldn't be harassed though, what with her green speckled skin.

“Yer drink sir,” she said, gently placing the beer in front of him, while he took out a match.

“Thank you, Katya, that'll be all.”

“Yer welcome Mr. Gunter.” the girl smiled and nodded, before moving off to serve some other table.

Lighting the Grey candle, a thick noise and sight obscuring fog began to swirl around the table, leaving only himself and the elven thief able to see or hear each other.

“Tell me, what have you heard of the eyes of the Ape king?”

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Saint Altair’s cathedral was a sight to behold. It stood prominently at the center of the land district, on the west side of the city where there were no canals, and it stood above an enormous stone-paved square with a large fountain which sent spires of water cascading into the air in the center. It was the first time I had seen such a large paved area in this world, though the city streets, in general, had cobblestones.

The Cathedral itself was an impressive structure. The four towers surrounded the central dome of the cathedral, reminding me of the Hagia Sophia, though the towers more closely resembled those of Notre-Dame or Lincoln Cathedral. The sense of purity and light in the air was palpable to me at least, and the strong smell of the city was gone. With my senses I could actually feel the essence of the merciful light emanating from the stones themselves, likely enchanted. They formed spiraling concentric patterns leading to the door in what might well be a large spell circle.

It was like walking into Disneyland, complete with the whining children whose mothers stood patiently in line before the cathedral doors, though a higher fraction of the people standing in line was sick or injured than one would expect at a theme park.

“Maybe I should have thought this through. I don't like the look of that line.” Mary groaned lightly, but I shook my head. Her line of reasoning didn't make sense, at least to me.

“No, we aren't here to ask for healing, in fact, I may volunteer to help with it.” I glanced around looking for a side door. “They will have a different point of entrance for those who do not come asking for God's blessings.”

“I hope you're right, Father.”

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“Karimos rtiscal.” Sister Henrietta pressed her old, if unwrinkled hand against the head of the baby, the merciful light spreading out from the holy water on her hand into the babies body as she smiled down at it. The pallor of its skin rapidly began to improve and the pain left its face.

It gurgled happily as she handed the child back to his mother.

“Here, he should be alright now. Please make sure to keep him warm for the rest of the day, and change his bedclothes frequently.”

The woman, a young maid from the farms outside of the city by her looks, nodded and thanked her before going on her way, and she waited for the next sick person to be brought into the halls of healing. It was her shift for another hour, though she was already starting to feel the strain of all the magic she was using. The halls of healing were always most full during the morning when those who had woken up sick overnight tended to visit.

Strangely, however, when she checked the chamber she found that no line had formed outside of her door. Curious she moved towards the entrance hall, wondering where on earth they all had gone. When she reached the cathedral's door, however, while the doors were open to the noonday sun, as usual, she only saw a single child sitting on one of the waiting benches, laying against his backpack seemingly asleep. A gaggle of pigeons seemed to be nodding off against the backpack as well.

“Excuse me… uh.” Turning towards the child, she realized that he was wearing priests garments himself, though comically small to suit his figure. They were not of a style she recognized, though she thought he was likely an adventurer by the look of his mail.

“Yeah?” The child sat up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes, which she saw were a bright blue like clear water. His long hair a pale blond that framed his face. “Ah, are you looking for the sick people?”

“Yes, did something happen that they left?” she nodded, curious as to why the child was present.

“Yeah I cured them, they were all fairly minor diseases, though one guy had a broken finger.”

“Ah…” She stared on a bit before looking out the door and back to the child. “Did you really do that?” the idea was a bit silly, but adventurers tended to be strange folk, and this child seemed stranger than most, Smaller too.

“Yep.” The child nodded energetically, waking up the pigeons, who cooed at him. He patted their heads as he continued to explain. “I may not look it, but I'm fifteen, I simply began studying the light very early as a child, so it's preservative effects have kept me very young. I received my consecration in the light of God ten years ago.”

“At five? My gracious that's young.” It was a bit of an understatement actually. A five-year-old priest was actually absolutely ridiculous. Still, it seemed to be the truth by his robes and the aura of light that he put out, tingling on the end of her senses.

“Yep.” the kid beamed a broad smile her way. “I cast my first spell just after I learned to talk from what my father told me. I can't remember it that well.” the child stroked one of the pigeons next to him, which cooed happily, and as she pulsed her magic she realized that indeed, he was consecrated in the light of God to the degree of a full priest. “I've traveled here from Riverbelly in Kelmo because my friends needed to deliver a magic item to the archbishop, but I decided to come down here and help out with the sick instead.” The child smiled cherubically even as the pigeons clustered about him.

“Ah… er.” the thought of a priest quite that young was a bit strange, but she supposed that the world was large enough and the will of God strange. Still, she knew well enough how to deal with children or teenagers for that matter. “Will you tell me about your travels then?”

The child-priest nodded emphatically, obviously happy to have some company. “Absolutely, we got chased by orcs, it was awesome. Hey find somewhere else to sit so that the sister can sit with us guys.” the child waved his hand at the pigeons, who immediately took off with a flapping of wings only to land immediately and sit on top of him. They began cooing at him as they covered his knees and curled into his hair, prompting him to pout. “Very funny,” he grumbled, but despite his strange avian affinity he still waved her over to sit down.

She couldn't help herself, she burst into laughter at his display, it was simply so odd.

“What's your name brother? I am Henrietta.”

“I'm Abbot,” the child replied cheerfully as the birds pecked at his vestments playfully. “Nice to meet you.”

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If there was one thing she had learned from her mentor it was that it was all well and good to daydream and be casual when wandering around towns, or chatting with friends and family, but when you were meeting with a client you had to be sharp as a knife. She had told Karsten ahead of time, but he had still been hilariously surprised when she had shifted into her game-face, her whole demeanor changing to match. It had been funny seeing his reaction but it wasn't something she could focus on right now.

When they reached the upper deck of the cathedral, they were greeted by a tall man wearing brown robes, like those of a monk, but not bearing the religious iconography that they normally would.“Hello, I am Archibald, I heard you are here to see the Archbishop. Please wait here for a moment.” the man paused for a moment, as if struck by something, his eyes flashed with a slight bit of magic. Then he smiled.

“Actually, the Archbishop will see you now.” the man, who must have been a secretary for the archbishop, guided a distinctly uncomfortable Mary and a nonchalant Karsten through the halls of the upper Cathedral. The big churches always freaked her out a little, especially the statues carved into all the walls and stonework.

‘I didn't realize it was the archbishop who put out the bounty.’ Mary groaned internally while trying to keep a straight face. This was the type of thing that would get you involved in Brindon’s internal politics. ‘Nothing for it now I guess. We’ll be leaving the city soon enough if Abbot intends to wander.’ She sent a glance over at Karsten, the young man who was courting her as of yesterday. ‘At least I'm not going it alone.’ she reached out gently, squeezing his hand and giving him a smile, a gesture that he reciprocated.

They parted hands as they were led into an opulent if somewhat spartan office, bearing only a desk, a large chair, and a Symbol of God upon the wall. The back wall on the opposite side from the door was one of the enormous stained glass windows that decorated the outside of the building. This one depicting the sacrifice of Saint Cletus. As they stepped in the chair turned around and they were greeted with the sight of a clean and young looking man, brown hair framed a face with green eyes. He was perhaps in his early twenties physically, though the warmth in his eyes spoke of a much older man.

“Come in, come in. I hear that you have managed to secure the eye of the ape king?” the man's miter rested easily on his head, and he seemed cheerful enough. “I must thank you for removing it from the hands of that orc Shaman, who knows what he might have done with it.”

“There were some close calls, but we were ultimately successful.” after consulting with Abbot she had decided to share the credit for it since they would be traveling in a group anyway. He hadn't felt it appropriate but had conceded that it might make things easier in the future. “Here it is.”

She withdrew her purse, taking the heavy gemstone and placing it down on the desk. As it clanked down the Bishop almost immediately recoiled back slightly from it, his calm smile morphing into a sneer for but a moment. “Guards, get this cursed stone into the reliquary at once.” immediately a pair of guards she hadn't even seen rushed into the room, wrapping the stone in a cloth quite deftly. They swiftly carried it out of the room. The bishop wiped his forehead with a handkerchief and took a few heavy breaths before continuing. “My apologies. The stone has some rather distressing properties that I could feel. I have grown perhaps too sensitive in my age. Again, my apologies.”

“S’no trouble,” Karsten said, and while she had been a bit surprised by it, Mary found herself nodding in agreement. A bishop reacting that way to a dark artifact was fairly natural all things considered.

“Ah, you two must want for payment? Should I make it out to a group or to individuals.” The Archbishop reached into his desk, withdrawing a small letter and beginning to write.

“Make it out to Mary. Mary Golwin.” Karsten gave her a sidelong glance since it wasn't her real name, but the Holy Man simply wrote out his note before stamping it with a wax seal. It was the name she had used in Brindon before, and she didn't plan on changing it now.

“Bring this to the Recllussary Bank on Silver Street and they'll deliver the promised bounty. I thank you again for your heroic efforts defying the powers of evil.” the bishop smiled as she took the letter, and she nodded to Karsten as they both bowed, leaving the archbishop beyond.

They were greeted at the door by the spindly figure of Archibald, who gestured towards the stairs with his hands. “I will show you out.”

“Thank you.” She cut in before Karsten could say something snarky, and they soon made their way down to the front doorway of the Cathedral.

There, somehow, once again, Abbot was sitting covered in animals telling stories to a crowd of children, parents, choir boys, and a nun. His loud storytelling and the laughter of the children mixing with the sounds cooing pigeons and echoing about the cathedral antechamber.

Their guide, Archibald stared questioning at the sight for a moment, raising an eyebrow before turning back and retreating upstairs, apparently unbothered by the odd sight.

She and Karsten matched pained gazes, realizing that this was most likely going to happen every single time they stopped traveling for more than an hour.

“So, uh, wanna go pick up your money before we get him?” Karsten asked, scratching the back of his head.

Mary took one more look at the impromptu saga being retold by the priestly child.

“Yeah, Maybe some food too.”

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