Lunch with the Holy Lady

Wafula barely had the chance to enjoy his well-earned sleep before someone shook him awake.

At first, his instincts kicked in, and he jerked upright, eyes darting toward the door.

He had already sensed someone approaching before the knock had even landed. After everything that had happened, his body had developed a new kind of awareness—one that kept him alert, even when he was exhausted.

But it wasn't danger this time.

Instead, a young hotel waiter stood there, looking slightly nervous but professional.

"Sir, you've been called for lunch," the man said, bowing his head slightly. "Your group is waiting downstairs."

Wafula sighed, rubbing his face. He was still tired, but he had already been up for a while after coming out of the white intrusive space, just enjoying the kind of sleep that didn't involve visions of magical relics and ancient rulers.

He figured Heinrich had sent the waiter. That man had a way of making sure everyone was on schedule.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming," Wafula muttered, waving the waiter off.

Dragging himself up, he splashed cold water on his face, stretched his sore muscles, and threw on a fresh shirt.

---

As expected, when Wafula arrived at the hotel restaurant, he found Heinrich and the young woman already having their meal.

The three bodyguards were scattered across the room, each occupying separate tables, casually eating while keeping watch.

It was strange, really.

"Who the hell are these people afraid of?" Wafula thought as he sat down. It was like they were living in constant paranoia.

But before he could dwell on that, Heinrich spoke up.

"What happened?"

Wafula had barely taken a sip of his juice before the question hit him.

But what really caught his attention was the young woman finally looking at him.

For the first time since this whole trip started, she actually acknowledged his existence.

She had piercing blue eyes, a delicate but sharp face, and an air of someone used to being respected.

She glanced at him, just once, before going back to eating as if he was a mere servant.

Wafula smirked internally.

"Rich people."

Still, he wasn't going to give Heinrich a real answer, so instead, he leaned back and said:

"Boss, you won't believe it… but I had to take a leak."

Heinrich frowned. "And?"

Wafula leaned forward dramatically, lowering his voice like he was revealing a great secret.

"So there I was, in the bushes, handling business, when BANG! Gunshots! I panicked! And boss… you won't believe this, but I tripped and rolled straight into a ditch! I swear, my soul left my body for a moment!"

Heinrich stared at him.

The young woman didn't even blink.

Then, suddenly

Heinrich chuckled.

With just a small, amused smile.

It was the first time Wafula had seen him relax even slightly after their escapade.

It was clear now, Heinrich had been on edge, suspicious of Wafula. But after hearing him talk like an absolute fool, he had decided

that he was just a clueless driver.

Perfect.

Let him think that.

---

Wafula was just about to dig into his food when a group of newcomers entered the restaurant.

He noticed immediately they weren't ordinary guests.

There was something different about them.

They were diverse, for one. Wafula counted at least five different ethnicities; Middle Eastern, Asian, African, and even a tall, blonde European man with an air of military authority.

They didn't hesitate.

Instead of finding their own seats, they walked straight to Heinrich's table.

Wafula tensed.

This was not a casual visit.

As soon as they reached the table, the tall blonde man spoke but not to Heinrich.

Instead, he looked at the young woman.

"Lady Eleanor, it is good to see you again."

Wafula froze mid-bite.

Lady Eleanor?

The name alone was fancy enough.

But what really caught his attention was what followed.

Another man, a stocky Middle Eastern figure, bowed his head slightly and said:

"It is an honor to be in the presence of the Holy Lady."

Holy Lady?

Wafula nearly choked on his food.

What in the soap-opera nonsense was this?!

He cast a side glance at Eleanor.

She barely reacted. She just gave a slight nod and continued eating.

As if this kind of thing happened to her all the time.

Wafula was dying to know more, but the conversation was not for him.

Before he could pick up more details, one of the bodyguards gave him a subtle nod a clear "you're excused" gesture.

Damn.

Wafula stood up, pretending to be uninterested, and walked away.

But inside, his mind was racing.

Who exactly was this girl?

And more importantly what the hell had he gotten himself into?

---

Back in his hotel room, Wafula sat on his bed, staring at his hands.

The chalice had disappeared into him back at the river.

And yet…

He felt nothing.

No divine power.

No strange abilities.

Nothing.

Curiosity got the better of him.

Could he heal himself?

He pinched his arm—HARD.

"OW!"

Nope.

It still hurt.

He sighed. "Well, there goes that idea."

If this thing had powers, it clearly wasn't going to hand them over for free.

---

With nothing better to do, Wafula did what any responsible businessman would

He checked on his work.

He pulled out his phone and called the employee he had left in charge.

"Musa, how's everything going?"

Musa's voice came through loud and clear.

"Boss, everything is moving well… except…"

Wafula sat up. "Except what?"

Musa hesitated before saying, "The new guy you hired? He tried to install a plain tee fitting in reverse way, against the flow of the water."

Wafula closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"You're joking."

"I wish I was, boss. I really do."

Wafula groaned.

He was halfway across the continent, dealing with mystical nonsense, and somehow, this was still happening?

"I swear," Wafula muttered to himself, "I'd rather deal with magic chalices than incompetent plumbers."

Musa chuckled. "So when are you coming back, boss?"

Wafula glanced at his hotel window.

Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows over the distant hills.

He had no idea when he was going back.