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  CHAPTER NINE

  An Offer too Good to Refuse

  Bram and Rowan accepted Adrian’s invitation to resume their conversation within the temple’s walls.

  Instead of heretics, they were welcomed as guests, and, as they crossed through those open doors—intricately carved with images of the sun god’s many accolades—the crowd that had witnessed young Lena’s shameful treatment finally dispersed, with many of them looking thrilled by the action they’d witnessed. So very few of the faithful seemed remorseful for what had happened to that poor girl.

  The players were gone too.

  Bram assumed they’d gone to the garden in the middle of campus grounds to save their adventure at the waypoint and then traveled back to their world for the planned hour of debriefing.

  Of course, he didn’t have time to think about them. Not now that he’d entered what might as well be hostile territory.

  “‘Tis a gaudy display of wealth,” Rowan remarked.

  Hers was an apt description for the temple’s entry hall because its many fixtures were gilded in golden filigree. Even the bas relief that lined the walls were made from plated gold.

  “This much wealth could feed the town for months,” she added.

  It was a cutting remark meant for the high cleric who led them further in. For though Reise fared better than most villages in Central Lotharin, there were still noticeable signs of the kingdom’s decline within the town’s four walls. One could see it in the chipping paint of houses, or the missing stones of Reise’s lone cobblestone street, and in the number of less fortunate lined up outside the Journey’s Respite in the early mornings when Madam Bertha distributed food to those desperate enough to ask for it.

  “If I could pry these artifacts from these walls and share them with those in need, I would.” Despite Rowan’s jab, Adrian spoke in a calm voice. “But these treasures don’t belong to us. They belong to Phoebus, and only the sun god may choose to be generous with them.”

  “I won’t hold my breath then,” Rowan replied.

  Bram reflexively shut his eyes.

  Bloody hell…

  Rowan had just clearly insulted the sun god, and Bram doubted the clerics would take that lying down.

  We may have to fight after all…

  Surprisingly, the clerics who flanked them said not a word. They kept their faces impassive while refusing to look Rowan’s way.

  Bram guessed she’d made an impression earlier, and they still hadn’t shrugged off the fear of her killing intent.

  The high cleric was different.

  He chuckled just as he glanced over his shoulder to reply to her.

  “Our god is quite generous.” Adrian grinned. “He didn’t smite you just now, did he?”

  Rowan flashed him an impish smile. “Rather than generosity, one might assume that he couldn’t do anything. From what I’ve heard, the gods only move through their champions.”

  She stared pointedly at him as if daring him to defend Phoebus’ honor. He in turn gazed at her curiously, perhaps wondering how a mortal could sound so brazen inside a god’s temple.

  They glared at each other for another long moment, and it was Adrian who turned away first.

  He chuckled. “You are formidable, Ser Rowan. Good. We’ll be needing that.”

  Adrian limped onward, leading Bram and Rowan through another set of double doors and into the temple’s main hall.

  While Phoebus’ temple had a rectangular exterior, its main hall was the typical nave of worship common among the gods’ temples. Here was a wide spiral chamber with cloisters set in the walls for each cardinal direction. Statues lined these walls, each one a solid gold depiction of Phoebus’ many victories—his so-called thirteen labors.

  Bram’s gaze gravitated to one statue off to the right: the one of a muscular Phoebus lancing a giant wolf in its belly.

  “I know this one,” he whispered.

  “Phoebus conquering the wolf that tricked the world into rebelling against the gods… It was his final labor,” Adrian answered.

  Surprisingly, despite being counted among the famous ‘Thirteen Labors’ that had elevated Phoebus to the highest throne of the High Heavens, the ‘Thirteenth Labor’ had been shrouded in mystery. Indeed, even Bram, who’d scoured the Imperium for obscure knowledge, barely found any information related to this particular story.

  “A trickster…” Bram repeated.

  Even gilded in gold, the wolf that lay broken beneath Phoebus’ feet was a monstrous thing. Large and mangy and savage with three sets of eyes glaring up at the god who drove his ‘Ray of Sunshine’ into the beast’s belly.

  Bram couldn’t’ help glancing sideways at the woman who was the actual rebel trickster of legend.

  He pointed. “Bad wolf.”

  “Monstrous,” she giggled.

  Adrian watched their exchange with a curious look.

  “Shall we move on?” he suggested.

  At the heart of this temple was a raised dais, but there was no godly symbol on it like the old hearth they found at the Red Ruin. Instead, the ceiling directly underneath the dais had a hole in it so that light could filter in during the day and give off the illusion that a pillar of sunlight was descending into the temple's heart. This is where the high cleric brought his guests.

  “Thank you, Brothers. We’ll be fine here.”

  Adrian shooed away his fellow clerics just as he took his seat by the front pew.

  “Wouldn’t we be more comfortable in your office?” Bram asked.

  “I don’t have one.” Adrian answered.

  Seeing Bram’s eyebrow rising, he clarified. “I have no need of one.”

  He gestured to the empty hall.

  “This is my office.”

  He patted the wood underneath him.

  “All my work is here right where God can see me.”

  “I see…”

  Stolen story; please report.

  He’d thought it when he first saw the man outside the temple’s front steps, but this high cleric was a strange one. This observation wasn’t necessarily a bad thing though.

  “No tea?” Rowan asked as she sat on the pew behind Adrian’s.

  “Would you drink it if I offered?”

  “Of course. Tea is never a bad thing.”

  “I’ll remember that for next time.”

  “You assume there will be a next time.”

  “Assuming you survive my request, then yes. How else can I reward you?”

  His answer piqued the prince’s interest, and so he took his seat next to the high cleric’s.

  “I guess that’s not entirely true. You would be rewarded just by fulfilling the task I have for you.”

  Now Bram was certain.

  “Earlier, you mentioned you wanted our help purifying a cursed land. You were talking about Bloodhaven, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  Adrian’s gaze drifted toward Rowan.

  “According to the census, you would’ve been twelve when your house fell…”

  Rowan shook her head. “I was thirteen.”

  Adrian scrutinized her for a long second before smiling satisfactorily.

  “Yes, you were.”

  He sounded confident, suggesting that he’d been testing her.

  “Do you remember what happened?”

  Rowan shook her head again.

  “My memories of that night are clouded. I recall bits and pieces, but nothing that would make sense to you…”

  Bram was nodding as if in support of her.

  This was the preplanned speech Rowan was meant to give in case someone ever asked her about that night. Of course, he didn’t think she would improvise afterward, but she did.

  “I recall the forest… Running. Lost. Tired… Red pines wet from the rain.” Her face turned wistful, almost as if she were actually recalling a memory. “I remember screaming into the dark, crying out for help — wishing to be saved by anyone…anything.”

  To Bram who heard this tale for the first time, it almost sounded like Rowan had actually been there, though he knew this couldn’t be so. She wasn’t the real daughter of House Wolfe. That girl was dead.

  “And were you?” Adrian asked.

  Rowan flashed him an impish grin.

  “In a way.”

  She crossed her legs and lay her hands over her knee.

  “So, I’ve answered your questions. Now, tell me, what business does the sun god’s temple have with my old home…?”

  “Must we have an ulterior motive besides wanting to save a blighted land…?”

  For an answer, Rowan glanced around, her gaze pointedly lingering on all the gold on display.

  Adrian sighed, but didn’t deny it.

  “Very well.”

  He glanced left and then right, ensuring that there was no one around to hear what he had to say before sharing his secret.

  “The battle of succession is beginning,” he began.

  But Bram cut in with, “It’s already begun.”

  “Yes,” he nodded, “I’ve heard of the recent attempts on your life, Your Highness. You have my sympathies…”

  Bram nodded.

  “But what does the royal succession have to do with—”

  Bram stopped.

  The cogs of his brained turned quickly, and he already knew what the high cleric was getting at.

  “The temples are choosing sides…”

  It wasn’t such an uncommon event. There had been many battles of succession where the gods’ temples helped to decide the outcome. Indeed, Bram’s great grandfather, Evander, was both the Sovereign and First Cleric of the Warsong Sect, the cult that served Alcaeus, God of War and Strength. It was written in the history books that Evander had won the throne over his more capable siblings thanks to the Warbringer’s blessings.

  There were thirteen gods in High Heaven’s ruling pantheon, and there were twelve royals that could benefit from their sponsorship. Even the ones who’d yet to come of age were candidates.

  “Historically, June’s Church of Life gives their support to the governor of Thessalia,” Bram began.

  “That would be your younger sister, Asteria, who will come of age in a few months,” Adrian finished for Bram.

  The prince’s fist clenched.

  It was well known that Bram and Asteria had the kind of rivalry that came with being so close in age. But things weren’t so clear-cut.

  While Bram struggled to achieve anything of note, Asteria excelled in whatever she took to task. While he was ridiculed for his failings, she was praised for her many successes. Asteria was the antithesis to Bram…and he’d always felt inferior when it came to her.

  “If June’s clerics offers Asteria their support…”

  Adrian left that thought dangling in the air.

  It was irrational of Bram to feel anxious, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Even with the great undertaking well underway and showing results, Asteria’s coming-of-age made him uneasy.

  A thought flashed on the prince’s mind.

  “Has the Temple of Light made its choice…?”

  It wasn’t unheard of for a royal to be sponsored by more than one temple, and if Phoebus’ temple chose Asteria too, then…

  Fortunately for Bram, Adrian shook his head.

  “We haven’t…”

  “Why?” This time, Rowan asked the question. “To tarry now will only give your rivals an advantage.”

  The high priest sighed.

  “Because we can’t choose…we lack that which will allow us a choice.”

  Bram’s eyes widened with realization.

  “The lantern…”

  It was a story he’d heard a while back during his quest to scour the Imperium of hidden knowledge. He’d heard it from another bard who’d heard it from a cleric of the sun god’s temple, the tale of Phoebus’ Lantern of Joy and how its light guided the will of the Temple of Light.

  “I didn’t think it was true…” Bram mused aloud. “That the temple’s decisions were based on a relic’s powers…”

  “‘Tis the nature of mortals to leave their most important decisions to the whim of the gods,” Rowan said, giggling afterward.

  “You speak as if you aren’t one, Ser Rowan.”

  “Did I?” Rowan feigned innocence. “You must have misheard me then.”

  They continued to banter, but Bram wasn’t paying attention anymore. There were other things on his mind.

  His gaze drifted up to the hole in the ceiling. How oppressive it seemed to him now, this portal to Phoebus’ light…a symbol of the gods’ dominance over their creations.

  He frowned.

  “Why would the lantern be in Bloodhaven?”

  It had been five years since Rhein Shire was lost. The relic couldn’t be in Bloodhaven unless…

  “The lantern’s been missing for that long,” Rowan finished Bram’s thought.

  Her impish smile appeared again.

  “And you’ve been hiding its loss from everyone. Even your fellow clerics.”

  Again, Adrian’s gaze drifted left and then right. When he was certain no one was nearby to eavesdrop, only then did he confirm the lantern’s loss.

  “About six years ago, our temple’s First Cleric received a letter from the Robber Hood claiming he or she would steal the lantern from under our noses,” he began.

  ‘The Robber Hood’ was an infamous name, one belonging to a thief who was said to be able to walk into any locked door or vault and steal whatever he wanted. More than simply stealing priceless artifacts, griffins, and the occassional maiden’s heart, however, the ‘Robber Hood’ was also known for only stealing from the rich nobles and giving part of what he stole to the poor commoners…

  “Sending a letter before committing the crime, this thief is a daring one,” Rowan mused.

  “Or a noble one,” Bram countered.

  Both Rowan and Adrian eyed him curiously.

  “Or so some would claim,” Bram muttered.

  A moment of awkward silence filled the space.

  “In any case,” Adrian continued, “to counter the Robber Hood’s threat, the First Cleric sent the relic away to one of three likely locations, and the only ones who knew which location the true one was were the three temple knights who’d been sworn to take the relic and its copies to their destinations.”

  “Then why not ask them?” Rowan suggested.

  “We can’t. They’re gone,” Adrian answered.

  According to the temple’s reports that Adrian shared with Bram and Rowan, one of the temple knights went missing right after they’d left the capital. Another one died in a recent conflict against heretics in the south. As for the third…

  “What became of him, that’s what I want you to discover.”

  The third temple knight’s destination was Phoebus’ temple in Rhein Shire, which five years ago was the largest of the sun god’s temples in Lotharin.

  “Such a temple would have been in the city of Rhein whose ruins would be at the heart of Bloodhaven,” Bram deduced.

  His fingers tapped against the wood of his seat.

  “But one doesn’t just simply walk into Bloodhaven…” He shook his head. “Its cursed borders are guarded by more than just corrupted beasts…”

  His gaze fixed once more on the hole in the ceiling.

  “There is evil there that doesn’t sleep…the kind that’s constantly on watch for intruders…”

  He sighed.

  “It’s a barren wasteland riddled with fire and death… It would be folly to go there…”

  “So,” Rowan’s hand patted Bram’s arm, “just like usual…?”

  She wasn’t wrong.

  They’d gone through something similar in the Red Forest, though Bloodhaven would surely be a few levels higher in the danger scale.

  Rowan smiled at Bram, and he couldn’t help smiling back.

  “Exactly.”

  “We may need the team.”

  “We’ll need more than just the team.”

  Already, the cogs in Bram’s mind were turning. He’d call on the players for help. Make it a quest.

  “Not just them,” he mused aloud.

  Bram thought he might need a bigger force this time…a proper expedition.

  “The mercenaries were helpful earlier. They might become helpful again if we can offer them enough griffins to risk their lives in a cursed land,” Rowan suggested.

  Bram nodded.

  The mercenaries of Reise had proven their grit earlier. They would be useful in Bloodhaven, assuming there were enough griffins to spare to recruit them, because the price of such a risky endeavor would be steep.

  “We’ll also need thieves.”

  “Whatever for?”

  “Well, if we’re stealing a relic from a dangerous place, don’t we need experts to get it done?”

  Fortunately, Bram already had a few thieves in mind who’d be perfect for the job. Assuming they were willing to risk their lives for more bonuses, of course.

  “Wait,” Adrian interrupted, “does this mean you’ll do it…?”

  He couldn’t hide the hope appearing on his face…and that’s when Bram’s grin turned mischievous. There was nothing better in negotiations than a desperate man.

  “Well, that depends on you, High Cleric…” Bram wrapped an arm around the older man’s shoulder. “Such a dangerous task requires an equivalent reward…”

  With his arm securing Adrian in his seat, Bram’s mischievous grin widened. He wasn’t about to let go of this big catch who’d foolishly stumbled into his embrace.

  “Tell me, what will the sun god’s temple give in exchange for us to retrieve their holy relic…?”

  For the first time since they’re meeting, Adrian’s smile finally faltered. He saw it now too, the fact that Bram intended to bleed him dry in this bargain…and he would.

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