The door to the High Priest's bedroom closed shut. To avoid the prying eyes of the imperial knights, Cherion and Zarius had been forced to navigate the sprawling hallways with absolute precision.
Fortunately, a scheduled guard rotation had provided the perfect window. Moving like shadows, they had slipped past the clanking armor of the patrol units, guided entirely by the High Priest's silent, knowing hand.
Within the private chamber, Cherion and Zarius sat opposite the High Priest.
Instead of displaying the tense urgency one would expect after everything that had happened, the old man simply clasped his hands together, his face a mask of composure. He turned his gaze toward Cherion, his eyes warm and remarkably gentle.
"How have you been doing, Lord Cherion?" the High Priest asked, his voice remained smooth and composed, entirely out of place given the midnight crisis. "I trust your health has been well since your arrival in the capital?"
