The carriage rattled over the uneven cobblestones, moving further away from the walled village and into the wilder, grayer outskirts of the territory. It had been a three-hour ride, the landscape shifting from golden fields to jagged cliffs and dense, suffocating pine forests.
Inside the cabin, the mood was quiet, but not despairing. Rose sat across from me, her hands folded neatly in her lap. When she looked at me, her eyes didn't hold the sadness of exile, but a glimmer of hope. She was relieved that I hadn't abandoned the territory entirely. To her, my acceptance of her proposal meant I wasn't running away; it meant there was still a chance to save her village, even from the outskirts.
She was naive, but she was useful.
In truth, this was all within my calculation. If Pearl's intuition was correct, the culprit—the one responsible for summoning that Construct—was hiding within the Sanctuary. I was moving to kill two birds with one stone. First, the orphanage provided a fresh, malleable flock to convert, allowing me to rebuild my influence from the bottom up. Second, I would hunt down the shadow hiding in this sect, the true fanatic of the God of War.
Rose called this place a Sanctuary. But as I looked out at the approaching walls, I knew better. This wasn't a refuge. This was the new Front Line.
"We are here, Master," Gaston's voice called out.
The carriage groaned to a halt.
I stepped out. The air was thin and smelled of cold stone and pine needles. Before us stood the Sanctuary of Silent Stone. It was a grim fortress of gray granite, with high walls and small, barred windows. It looked less like a home for children and more like a prison designed to keep desires locked away.
"Fortress?," Pearl whispered beside me, clutching her side under her cloak.
"More like a barracks," I corrected, my eyes gleaming.
The heavy iron gates creaked open. We didn't even have to knock. A swarm of noise erupted from the courtyard.
Children. Dozens of them, dressed in drab gray tunics that were two sizes too big. They looked bored, their energy suppressed—until they saw me.
The afternoon sun hit my hair. My white locks, humming with the residual mana of the Void and the Solar Flame, caught the light and split it into a prism.
"Whoa..."
"Look at him!"
"It's a rainbow!"
The gloom vanished. The children rushed the gate, their little faces lighting up with awe.
"Are you a wizard?" a boy with a missing front tooth asked. He tugged at my pristine robes with dirty fingers.
"Better," I crouched down, flashing a charismatic grin that made the older girls blush. "I am a storyteller."
"I'm Lila!" a girl with pigtails squeaked. "Can I touch your hair?"
"Only if you promise to—"
"Silence!"
The voice was deep, authoritative, and instantly killed the joy in the courtyard. The children scattered like roaches, forming perfectly straight lines, heads bowed in submission.
I stood up slowly, smoothing my robes.
Four women emerged from the main keep. They were dressed in heavy, slate-gray robes that covered them from neck to toe, designed to hide the female form. But to eyes like mine—eyes that had seduced gods—fabric was just a suggestion.
They all had long hair. It seemed cutting it was the ultimate sin here.
"Rose," the leader spoke. "You bring a man in a robe to the house of the god of war."
Rose stepped forward, bowing respectfully. "Abby Matilde. This is the Priest I sent word about. He seeks sanctuary."
Abby Matilde.
A tower of a woman, she was imposing, with a face seemingly carved from granite. Her jet black hair, streaked with iron gray, was so long it flowed behind her on the cobblestones like a dark river. She radiated a mature energy, perhaps late 30s or early 40s, yet showed no signs of decline. She was built thick—strong legs beneath her skirt, wide hips, and a chest that strained against the heavy wool. She exuded the aura of a strict disciplinarian, untouched by men—a repressed dominant who likely enjoyed the sound of a cane striking flesh.
Flanking her were three others. Rose started the introduction.
To her left was Sister Sarah. She was the intellectual type. Dark blue hair that fell to her ankles, wire-rimmed glasses perched on a sharp nose. She held a ledger against her chest. She looked frigid, but I noted the way she bit her lip as she looked at me. The tight, angry ones were always the loudest screamers when they broke. She had a slender, flexible waist under that robe.
To her right was Sister Clara. Rose's age. Black hair to her knees. She looked tired, her shoulders slumped, her eyes darting nervously. A submissive. A follower. She had the soft, doughy look of someone who needed to be told what to do—and who to serve.
And hiding behind them... the prize.
Novice Elaine.
She couldn't be more than sixteen. Her hair was spun gold, a stark contrast to the gray stone, braided intricately down to her calves. She had the bloom of youth—flush cheeks, full lips, and a body that was just filling out, bursting with potential. She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes, then quickly looked down, blushing.
"A Priest?" Matilde scoffed, her dark eyes raking over me. "He looks like a harlot. 'Rainbow hair.' Vanity is the first step to damnation."
"It is merely the vessel the Goddess provided, Mother," I replied smoothly. I bowed low—a performance of submission—but kept my eyes locked on Matilde's. It was a silent challenge. An alpha wolf testing the pack leader. "I seek only shelter. I will work. I am... very good with my hands."
Matilde narrowed her eyes. She sensed it—the stale, rotting flavor of the "faith" in this place was being challenged by my presence. I was a splash of color in her gray world, and she hated it.
"We have no need of pretty men, nor of false idols corrupting our novices," Sister Sarah interjected, pushing her wire-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of her nose. She looked at me with intellectual disdain. "Whom do you serve, stranger?"
I straightened up, letting a fraction of my aura leak out.
"I serve the Goddess of Life, Light... and Desire. The Lady Lunaria."
Matilde let out a dry, rasping laugh. It sounded like dead leaves scraping together. "A forgotten goddess. A relic trying to crawl back out of the dust to find relevance. You waste your breath here."
"Please, Abbess," Rose interceded, stepping forward desperately. "He healed the sick in the village! He is a good man. And look..." She gestured to the children behind the gate, who were still peeking at me with wide, adoring eyes.
Matilde paused. Her gaze didn't linger on the children, nor on Rose. Her eyes flicked to the heavy coin purse hanging from Gaston's belt—the bait I had planted before we left the Villa.
A flicker of avarice passed through her eyes. It was faint, buried under layers of piety, but to me, it shone like a beacon in the night. Even holy women needed to eat. Even wardens needed gold to maintain their prisons.
It didn't escape my senses.
"Faith provides for the spirit, Abbess," I said softly, reaching into the deep folds of my robe. "But I understand that stone and bread require something more substantial."
I pulled out a small, ornate chest. It was made of dark wood, smelling faintly of brine and deep-sea currents.
CLICK.
I flipped the latch and opened it.
The gray courtyard was suddenly illuminated by a golden glow. Inside, it wasn't just common currency. It was filled with gold coins, iridescent pearls the size of grapes, and gemstones that shimmered like the ocean surface.
Matilde's eyes widened. The reflection of the gold danced in her pupils. She looked as if she had been blinded by a holy light, but it was just greed.
"Our faith is generous," I whispered, stepping closer so only she could smell the scent of the ocean on me. "I would not dream of staying for free. Allow this small token as a gift for the orphanage."
I snapped the chest shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot.
"And," I added, leaning in with a devil's smile, "if by grace I am still welcome here by next month... I will double the contents."
Matilde swallowed hard. The rejection died on her lips. She looked at the chest, then at me, then at the chest again.
The trap was set. And she had just stepped right into it.
"Very well," Matilde decided, her voice husky. "He may stay. But the rules are absolute. No preaching without my oversight. No nightime campaign on the sanctuary food is serve together with the children. And no spreading of your faith here.." She let the threat hang.
"I am in your hands," I lied, my mind already undressing them. "I have no such desires."
"Sister Clara, show them to the attic," Matilde commanded. "The guest rooms are full."
"The attic?" Rose frowned. "But it is dusty and cold."
Attic is good rose i cut in
"It keeps the blood cool," Matilde said sharply. She grabbed the chest in my hands and then turned, her massive train of black hair swishing hypnotically as she marched back inside. Her hips sways as if she receive the best treat in her life
We followed Sister Clara up the winding stone stairs. The view from behind was educational. Even through the heavy robes, I could see the sway of her hips. The color of her underwear its– white
We reached the top floor. The room was small, with a sloped ceiling and two narrow cots.
"I am sorry," Sister Clara whispered, blushing as she looked at me. "Mother Abby... she doesn't like men."
"It is perfect," I said.
"I will prepare a separate room for you and your companion," Clara said.
"No," I cut in smoothly. "Pearl is injured. She requires my... constant, hands-on treatment during the night. We will share this room."
Clara's eyes went wide. "But... a man and a woman? Alone?"
"Would you have me take a bed from an orphan?" I asked, stepping closer to her. I smelled her—soap and suppressed longing. "We will sacrifice our dignity for the children."
Clara turned bright red. " You are... very holy, Priest-sama. I will leave you."
She fled.
As soon as the door closed, I walked to the window. It overlooked the courtyard.
"This place is a prison," Pearl whispered, sitting on the cot. "And Matilde is the warden."
"A warden who needs a new master," I corrected.
I turned to Rose, who was unpacking.
"Rose," I said. "I cannot stay tonight."
Rose dropped a shirt. "What? But we just arrived!"
"I came unprepared," I said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I have no herbs for medicine. I need to procure supplies if I am to be useful here. I need to go back to the village market before the Soldier locks it down."
I looked deep into her eyes. "I need you to come with me. You know the merchants. You can help me bargain. And... I enjoy your company."
Rose flushed pink. "Oh! Well... if it is for the supplies. And if you need me..."
"I do," I smiled.
I turned to Pearl. She looked at me, confusion in her eyes.
I leaned down, whispering so only she could hear.
"This is your hunting ground," I murmured. "The Construct didn't appear by magic. Someone here summoned it. Matilde is too obvious. Watch the intellectual, Sarah. Watch the golden child, Elaine. Find the rat."
Pearl nodded, her expression hardening. "And you?"
"I am taking Rose away to keep her safe... and to give you room to work," I said.
I straightened up. "Come, Rose. Gaston is waiting. We will return before dawn with gifts for the children."
I led Rose out of the attic. As we walked down the hall, I passed Novice Elaine carrying a bucket of water. She gasped and pressed herself against the wall to let me pass, her chest heaving.
I winked at her. She dropped the bucket.
I smiled.
Yes. This will be a very fun playground.