Who's Arthur?

Karl instinctively covered Lyriel's visage with his robes and pulled her head close to his chest.

"Indeed, Inquisitor," Karl replied. "Not much of a drinker, really. I'll have to retire for the night—are you heading out as well?"

"Not yet. I'll accompany the lord," Boyko said. Then, his gaze fell upon the figure hidden beneath Karl's robes. Karl noticed the inquisitor's scrutinizing look.

"Prostitute," Karl blurted in panic.

"Argh," he hissed as he felt a sharp pain on his side.

Boyko's brows knitted together in a mix of anger and confusion.

"Easy, darling, don't eat me up yet—we have a spectator," Karl said with an awkward smile.

Another sharp jab.

"Glutton, aye?" Karl winced, looking toward the inquisitor. "And an amateur—Argh! Ouch!"

"Ahem." Boyko cleared his throat, clearly unimpressed by the 'indecent act' unfolding before him.

"We should go, Inquisitor. Have a fine evening," Karl said, forcing another awkward smile. "I'll pray later."

"Hmph." Boyko sighed in utter disgust and turned away. However, just as he was about to leave, something crossed his mind, and he glanced back.

"I heard reports of an attack in Taman. A church was burned—dozens of inquisitors dead." He paused. "A witch escaped, aided by a band of sellswords."

Karl's expression darkened, but he did not turn to face the inquisitor. "My condolences, Inquisitor."

As he was about to walk away, Boyko stopped him with another inquiry. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about it, would you? After all, you received your relic from the bishop of Taman."

"Blonde hair," Karl muttered.

"Excuse me?" Boyko asked.

"Blonde hair, green eyes," Karl said, finally turning to face the inquisitor, his expression unreadable. "The witch I handed over."

"It was," Boyko replied, his previous anger now replaced by a cold, unreadable gaze.

Karl turned away again, still shielding Lyriel. "May God's justice rain upon the villains," he said as he walked off.

Boyko watched Karl's retreating figure. Once he was gone, the inquisitor reached into his robes and retrieved a wooden, pointy hat. He examined it for a moment before concealing it once more.

 

Once Karl was sure no one else was around, he freed Lyriel from his concealment. Shrugging off his robes, he immediately felt the sharp bite of the early winter air and handed the garment to Lyriel.

'Seriously, she bathed in the lake in this cold?' he thought. More than that, something about Lyriel felt different. She was noticeably less grumpy and pinchy than before.

"Not much further now. And keep your hair hidden," Karl reminded her.

Lyriel simply nodded, catching a strange odor from the robe. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed softly. "Smells... dungy," she noted, looking at Karl.

"Well, you know, it's kind of humid this time of year."

"But it's winter."

"Early winter. Not full winter—just early winter."

"....."

The silence between them grew awkward. After a few minutes of walking, Karl couldn't take it anymore and struck up a conversation. "So, after your audience with the duke, where are you headed?"

After some contemplation, Lyriel finally responded. "I am looking for someone."

Karl's ears perked up. "A sweetheart?" he teased.

"No," Lyriel replied flatly. "Someone important."

"Important?" Karl repeated before gasping dramatically. "Could it be? A lover? A classic tale, really. A forbidden romance between two young lovers—one banished from the kingdom, the other scouring the land to reunite with their true love. Only this time, it's the princess seeking the exiled prince."

He continued his exaggerated monologue until—

"Ow!" Karl yelped, clutching his side. "Seriously, lady! With such delicate hands, you pinch harder than a giant crab."

Scratching the sore spot, he glanced at her smugly. "What?" Lyriel asked, noticing his expression.

"Nothing," Karl replied. "So, why are you single?"

Lyriel's cheeks reddened. "It's by choice," she said.

"Sure, if you say so," Karl teased. "But haven't I proven you can trust me? Look at all the trouble I went through for you—eating, drinking, and indulging in all sorts of glorious debauchery."

Lyriel was momentarily stunned by his shameless bragging. Then, after a long pause, she finally spoke. "I'm an angel," she admitted, stopping in her tracks.

Karl's eyes widened. He stepped closer to her. "You are?"

"Yes," Lyriel replied solemnly.

Karl's expression grew serious as he gazed into her eyes. He moved even closer, gripping her shoulders.

"Then I must confess something as well." His grip tightened. "I am... the Pope himself."

"....."

Karl let go and continued walking. "Alright, keep your secrets, lady. But maybe I can help you find this person you're looking for. Makes searching a lot easier."

Lyriel, still processing his absurd response, hurried after him. "But I am!" she protested.

"I get it, lady. I won't ask anymore."

"But I really am!"

"Yeah, sure."

Their bickering continued until they reached the inn. It was still a few hours until dawn. Before Karl could knock on the door, it swung open.

"Ah, Fox!" Bozebor greeted. He glanced at the hooded woman beside Karl. "And this must be her. Come inside." Before shutting the door, he surveyed the surroundings cautiously.

The two sat near the bar table. Bozebor poured hot water into two small wooden cups.

"Smells amazing," Karl remarked, peering into the cup. "What is it?"

"Bought it from an eastern trader," Bozebor said, puffing his pipe. "It's called tea." He then noticed Lyriel skillfully sipping hers. "You seem familiar with it, young lady."

"Lyriel," she introduced herself. "Yes, it's common in the East."

"Lyriel, eh?" Bozebor mused. "I can only imagine what civilizations lie beyond Europe, beyond the known world."

He leaned forward. "Tell me, what is it like—to live in a different world?"

Lyriel gazed into her tea, her reflection rippling in the liquid. "Same as any place, I suppose. People wear different clothes, eat different food, speak different languages. But they all have one thing in common."

"And that is?" Bozebor asked.

"No matter how much you try to fit in, you'll never truly belong."

Bozebor exhaled a long puff of smoke then laughed. "I suppose that's true."

He then turned to Karl. "When I heard about the celebration, I feared the worst. Haven't slept since." A smirk formed on his lips. "You really are as cunning as a fox as they say." He then held his nose "And smell of one too"

Karl laughed, then his face grew serious. "We'll leave before first light." He glanced at Lyriel before turning back to Bozebor. "That inquisitor suspects something."

"About the young lady?"

"Possibly. But it's not about her—it's Taman."

"That's impossible. No one survived that massacre."

"Apparently, someone did."

Bozebor scratched his chin as if thinking of something "I heard rumors of a mad inquisitor taken to a monastery near Volga River and which exact monastery it is I do not know, but the closest one is near Velikovskiy's domain"

Karl's eyes widen in surprise "You know something Karl?" Bozebor asked

Karl then called Lyriel "Did it say in your letter who the physician was for?" he asked Lyriel

"No" she replied "But he said he was looking specifically for me but no mention of a patient"

"She knows of Velikovskiy?" Bozebor interjected.

"No, I haven't met him before," Lyriel replied.

"But he was looking specifically for you. Strange, isn't it?" Karl said.

"That's too much of a coincidence. My gut tells me there's something more to it," Bozebor mused. "Tell me, why accept this offer, Miss?"

"I was offered a huge sum of coin." Lyriel handed them the contract she received. After examining the paper, Bozebor and Karl's faces were agape.

After discussing the matter further, Bozebor made a suggestion.

"How about hiring Karl as your guard and guide, Missy? He's the most reliable man I know."

"Now hang on a bit, I'm not going back west, old man. I might consider it for thirty coins, but—"

Before he could finish, Lyriel stood up. "Alright," she said. "We'll travel together."

Karl was perplexed. His reluctance to accept was just an act to raise his price. Thirty coins was an absurd amount for a guide, normally paid around twenty coins a day.

"Sixty," Karl tried his luck again.

Bozebor's mouth dropped in disbelief at this shameless act.

"Deal," Lyriel said instantly.

Lyriel retrieved a parchment from her satchel and formally wrote a contract. Bozebor shook his head as he watched Karl's victorious smirk. Karl also suggested that he will accompany her even after meeting the duke, until she found the person she was searching for.

After a few minutes of writing, Lyriel poured a drop of wax onto the parchment and pressed her seal onto it. Then, she poured wax on the other side and beckoned Karl to do the same. Bozebor also signed as a witness, solidifying the contract's legitimacy.

Karl excitedly grabbed the parchment and examined its contents, particularly the sixty-coin daily payment. But as he read further, he noticed something odd.

"Who's Arthur?" he asked.