The diocese audience chamber was thick with the scent of beeswax candles and old vellum.
Bishop Jorvia Elina Sancta sat on the bishop's throne with an impassive expression, while successive groups of petitioners entered the chamber.
A procession of clergy, a town magistrate, and a cluster of lesser nobles.
She was currently on duty - anyone with grievances could speak.
Of course, anyone who held a suitable social standing.
The clergy came first - it was a group of three priests in starched robes, with solemn faces.
"Your Grace, we come with heavy hearts." the eldest began,
"The recent pamphlets attacking the Church… the whispers of corruption… they gained traction.
Sister Fanática, beloved by the Goddess though she is, does not aid our image.
Her… interventions draw undue scrutiny from the people.
We humbly suggest a pilgrimage - somewhere far - to allow tempers to cool."
Jorvia's eyes narrowed, but she nodded once.
Next was the magistrate. A stout man with a ledger under his arm, who looked more like a merchant than civil servant.
"Your Grace, since the golden saint made this town her base, trade has plummeted.
Caravans detour. Tourists flee.
Business owners fear she'll exorcise their livelihoods on a whim.
Reign her in, or send her far.
For the town's sake."
Jorvia tapped her fingers on the armrests of the throne.
Finally came a group of lesser nobles - barons, baronets and knights.
One man stepped forward. "She forced me to apologize for 'encouraging' my serfs - as if honest work is sin!"
An old knight with a long mustache stepped up next, "My hunting pack turned pacifist after she 'calmed' them for chasing village children. The dogs are useless now!"
The young scion of a good family blushed. "She interrupted… my private meeting with a certain lady. She made us kneel while she stood in the bushes preaching a sermon about adultery! It was humiliating!"
After a moment's thought, he added: "It was a business meeting, a business meeting! I swear on my family's honor!"
They chorused: "Punish her. Or exile her far."
The number of people gathering in the chamber was only growing.
Jorvia sighed deeply.
It's not like she had choice in the matter.
Perhaps if that young nun had been more... disciplined.
Now she understood why old Bishop Aldric had shaken her hands so gratefully when he set out with his small entourage for the wild, pagan-infested borderlands.
It seemed as though the old man had been given a second lease on life:
"Let those pagans just cross the border, and I'll break their bones in the name of the Goddess!"
I feel as if I've been rejuvenated by thirty years!"
He marched out briskly, waving his bishop's crozier like a sword.
The younger clergy bowed deeply to Jorvia and ran after their superior.
---
"Summon Sister Fanática," she commanded when the last petitioner left the chamber.
Faná arrived promptly, wearing a curious expression.
Jorvia explained the concerns - gently, but firmly.
"The diocese needs calm. I suggest a pilgrimage, like Saint Durmond - the errant knight who spread the faith in wilder days.
Journey like him through the four corners of the kingdom. Share the Goddess's word. Reflect on your actions."
Faná hesitated.
"But… Your Grace, there are innocent and needy people here in town." she said meekly.
She recalled the number of quests the guild had posted that morning. There were far more than usual.
Jorvia nodded patiently.
"Yes, child. And there are also innocent and needy people in every corner of the kingdom."
Faná blinked.
Then her eyes suddenly lit up.
"A holy pilgrimage it is then! Yes, Your Grace! The Goddess calls me to wander!"
Jorvia blinked. "…Good. Depart soon."
Jorvia allowed herself the faintest sigh of relief.
The kingdom as a whole, she suspected, might not share her enthusiasm.
---
Back at the inn, Faná burst in beaming.
"My dear companions! Her Grace said that we're going on pilgrimage! Like Saint Durmond himself. To the southern shrines and western reaches! To the battlefields and dragon caves!"
Gorzod set down his ale. "That's exile, lass. They're shipping you off."
Thrain nodded. "Aye. 'Pilgrimage' is polite for get lost."
Liora shrugged. "Minimum effort. New scenery."
Erian looked worried. "But… the bishop ordered it. We have to go."
Faná clasped her hands. "It's a divine opportunity! The Goddess works through all things."
First, they set off southward - to the shrine built on the spot where the Goddess had appeared to Saint Durmond.
---
A few days later, deep in the borderlands, they entered a quiet roadside inn.
The road south had been strangely quiet. Too quiet for a major trade route.
Its common room was utterly empty.
The innkeeper - a fat woman around forty-five, cheeks rosy, apron stained - lit up at the sight of customers.
"Travelers! Blessed day! Rooms? Ale? Not many pass through lately."
At the mere mention of the word "Ale" Gorzod and Thrain's faces lit up.
"Two... no, three serving for me, lass!" cried Thrain.
Barbarian smirked, "Four servings for me!"
Dwarf replied "This is just an appetizer."
The Innkeeper eyed Gorzod appreciatively, batting lashes.
"You remind me of my late husband, big fella. Strong as an ox, and twice as handsome."
Gorzod shifted uneasily under her gaze.
It looked strange, to say the least.
The dwarf laughed loudly and slapped the barbarian on the back.
Well, somewhere around his kidneys, anyway. "Your moment of popularity has begun!"
He turned to the innkeeper: "Just ale and rooms, lass."
She winked, undeterred. "Coming right up, little fella."
The flirting was one-way - she leaned in while serving Gorzod, laughing at his grunts.
He endured it with grim silence.
The rest of the party was just happy to have warm food and a bed.
They slept like logs.
Next morning, as they ate breakfast, another traveler sat at a far table: a young dark elf girl - silver hair, amber eyes, barefoot in what looked like a traditional dark elves attire.
Faná and Erian both blushed slightly just from looking.
The nun looked at Liora and Thrain.
Before she could ask the question that was forming in her mind, Liora replied, "Dark Elves do not believe in the Goddess. And yes, this is their traditional clothing."
Thrain nodded and added, "And if you want to lecture her about her clothing, it would be a severe violation of her cultural heritage."
She slumped dejectedly in her chair.
The holy books said nothing about cultural heritage.
---
Her party was readying themselves outside, when the girl waved subtly to Faná.
Faná approached curiously.
The girl's expression remained impassive. "Your fame precedes you."
Faná smiled. "The Goddess is gracious to allow me to do good in her name."
Dark elf tilted her head. "I do not advise going west."
Faná blinked. "Why?"
She thought about the answer for a moment. Or perhaps she simply savored the look of confusion on the nun's face.
"If you're who I think you are… you'll see for yourself."
"What does it even mean?" Faná asked.
Then, the party called her from outside. The girl stayed silent.
Her group called her again, much louder than before.
"Lass, come, there is a long way before we reach the shrine. We don't have the whole day."
Elf girl looked at Saintess, "Your party calls for you."
Faná hurried out, turning just once to wave.
The girl nodded faintly in response.
Outside, Erian asked curiously: "Something happened?"
Faná shrugged happily. "Nothing. Met a new friend. Maybe?"
Then they moved on.
The innkeeper lady watched them go, her smile fading.
She took a small silver medallion from under her shirt and opened it.
Inside was a drawing of a man who bore absolutely no resemblance to Gorzod.