Epilogue

Jorgen entered a chamber within the Holy Light Cathedral. He had become increasingly familiar with this grand and intricate building that resembled a labyrinth on the inside.

Seated behind a stone table at the center of the chamber was Archbishop Benedictus. Jorgen paused about ten paces away from the table, and behind him, two paladins closed the heavy doors.

"I have gone through your report," Benedictus said. "It's quite comprehensive. Based on the information you've provided, I must reconsider whether Nehari should be listed as the next candidate for Archbishop. What are your thoughts?"

"I'm not even a follower of the Light, so I wouldn't know what kind of person is suitable for an Archbishop."

"Your usual stance, Jorgen. Nonetheless, it's probably for the best. It's hard for devout followers of the Light to impartially assess a bishop. Perhaps in a few days, I will personally inspect the Plaguelands. I have prepared the information that Lord Shawl requested. Here."

Jorgen walked up to the stone table and received a stack of documents from Benedictus.

"Aren't you going to take a look?"

"Lord Shawl requested a personal review. I'll look into cases of overstepping authority first."

"Fair enough. You may go."

Jorgen turned around and took a few steps before Benedictus spoke again.

"Wait."

"Is there something else?"

"During your time in the Plaguelands, did you come across any leads on Bossia?"

"No."

"Absolutely nothing? Not even rumors?"

"Unfortunately, nothing."

Benedictus nodded, leaning back in his chair.

"Over these three years, my remorse has only deepened. My actions, betraying the convictions I once swore to uphold at any cost... I apologize for burdening you with these words again. But there are only a few to whom I can speak so candidly."

"It's alright, Archbishop Benedictus. If there's any further news about Bossia, I will inform you immediately."

"If you need any resources or assistance, don't hesitate to ask."

"I understand."

"May the Light watch over you, Jorgen. Trustworthy individuals are becoming scarce..."

Jorgen exited the room, declining the assistance of the priests as usual and making his way back to the surface on his own. It happened to be the time of the Wine Festival, and even the Cathedral Square was bustling with crowds reveling among colorful balloons and beer hops. He avoided the throngs of people and took a side path towards the Old Town district.

Though it had been nearly two years since Jorgen had become a direct agent, working to reconcile with the aging Benedictus, he still harbored doubts about the Archbishop's "penance" approach. After his adopted daughter's disappearance, Benedictus had gradually returned to a more austere way of life—cutting back on budgets, doubling down on work—as if striving to reintegrate the fervent priest from his youth, the one who sought nothing but to spread the true faith of the Light. Was such an Archbishop truly trustworthy? To make that judgment required more time and information than he had. So, Jorgen kept the information about Bossia that he'd learned from Renner to himself. He would rely on his own resources to verify these claims.

He recalled Nehari's warning, "The waters run deep." Now, as a critical informant in the alliance between the old man and the Archbishop, Nehari's words might have understated the gravity. It wasn't that he was merely wading into deep waters; he was about to transform into the unfathomable lake itself.

Jorgen believed it was all worth it.