I rose before the light fully reached the windows. I had a long day ahead of me.

  I slipped my old habit over my head and fastened it.

  It felt comfortable. Familiar. Lumiere had helped me mend it more times than I could count.

  But today I wasn't wearing it for nostalgia. Today I was wearing it as camoufge.

  In a town where the Church was the only institution allowed to stand, a nun could walk almost anywhere without suspicion.

  I stepped out into the hallway.

  The smell of stale ale hit me before I saw them.

  Doug was slumped against the wall, helmet on the floor beside him, eyes squeezed shut in what looked like physical pain. Dougs was sitting on the carpet with his back to a door, arms wrapped around his knees, breathing through his mouth like he was trying not to die.

  Between them, Evelyn leaned against the opposite wall, arms folded, posture rexed in a way that was purely functional. She didn't look tired or even drunk. She looked like someone who had just finished a job.

  "You two alive?" I asked.

  Doug groaned.

  Dougs raised a hand weakly.

  Evelyn smirked faintly. "They tried to keep up."

  I did not bother to ask how that had gone.

  She pushed off the wall and stepped closer, keeping her voice low. "These boys haven't got a brain cell to share between them, but they've got a knack for loosening lips. I thought you might appreciate a bit of gossip for breakfast."

  "Indeed." I lifted my chin. "I'd be blessed to hear it."

  "Those bandits. They're not just hanging around," she whispered. "They're dug in. Staying in spare rooms. Being fed by shopkeepers. Just about every family in this town has one or two of them staying under their roof."

  "It's not just banditry," I said. "It's occupation."

  "Yes." Her mouth tightened. "I've learned the names of a few of their leaders, but to be frank, there are too many groups trying to carve out territory here. There's no central point of weakness."

  "Then they can't be excised."

  "Not cleanly," she replied. "You'd have to burn half the town to get them all. And you'd still miss some."

  I nodded. I'd expected as much.

  "Thank you, Evelyn. That's useful."

  She pced a hand on my shoulder.

  "Guildmaster..." Doug made a small, miserable sound.

  Evelyn gnced at him without sympathy. "Today the two of you shall stay here. Try not to die."

  Dougs looked up at her. "Are we guarding something?"

  "Yes. Your stomachs."

  She left without another word.

  I stepped over the fallen Night Wardens and continued down the hall.

  The lobby was dim, the shutters still mostly closed. Lumiere stood near the windows, already dressed in her white mantle, hands folded in front of her.

  "Good morning, sister," she said when she saw me.

  "Goddess be with you, Lumiere," I replied. "How do I look?"

  "You look the part," she said. "Ready to head out?"

  "After you."

  We turned together as Rocher came down the stairs, fastening the strap of his shoulder guard. He looked more rested than he had the night before, though Friedrich had clearly made him work for it.

  "Hold on," he said. "I'm coming with you."

  I frowned. "You're the one assigned to us? You stand out too much."

  "I do?" He blinked.

  "Yes. To the men out there, you look like trouble."

  Duke Etienne originally intended to assign six of his men to escort us. I'd haggled him down to one. We didn't want to travel in force—that would only invite trouble instead of deterring it.

  But Rocher alone was almost just as bad. The way he towered over us made it seem like we were angling to start something.

  Lumiere regarded him for a moment.

  "If you're worried about conspicuity, I am just as liable." She gestured lightly to herself. "My face is known. My presence already carries the weight of the Church. Attaching Rocher does not meaningfully change that."

  I considered it for a moment.

  "That's true," I admitted. "It wouldn't be unusual for someone like you to travel with muscle. If anything, I'm the odd one out."

  Lumiere nodded.

  "Then how about this?" I proposed. "As the Saintess, you and the Hero are simply making the rounds, conducting a routine check-up as part of your duties."

  "And you?"

  "Just a lowly pilgrim making a quick stop on her way to the Aurelian Duchy. The Sun Court Jubilee is near enough to make that pusible."

  Rocher frowned at that. "You're not moving with us?"

  "Well, as one of the faithful I wouldn't pass up the opportunity to receive the Saintess's favor," I said coyly. "But I can't expect to take all of Her Holiness's time. Nobody will think twice if I move on my own from time to time."

  Lumiere tapped her chin. "Meaning we'll draw attention so that others lower their guard around you."

  I nodded.

  Rocher looked between the two of us. "Alright. Just... stay close enough for me to see you, okay?"

  I put on my nun smile. "Of course. No unnecessary risks, remember?"

  Lumiere slowed near the first crossing, her mantle catching the early light.

  A woman hesitated at the edge of the street, then stepped forward with a bundled child in her arms. Lumiere greeted her softly, ying a hand against the child's brow and murmuring a blessing.

  I drifted a step behind, just far enough not to intrude.

  "Goddess be with you and your child," I said to the woman when Lumiere moved on. "Busy morning?"

  She gave a tight smile. "As always."

  "The people seem troubled."

  Her tired eyes flicked down the street. "We get by. Some days are harder than others."

  That was answer enough.

  "Here." I quietly shoved a small loaf of bread into her hand. "Eat it when they're not looking."

  Her eyes widened. "Blessings, Sister."

  She bowed slightly and shuffled off before anyone spotted her.

  We'd picked the morning to minimize the chance of encounters, but even this early, there were a few rough men up and about.

  With Rocher by her side, they seemed to give Lumiere a wide berth, content to leer from afar.

  I was a different story.

  I walked only a few paces behind them, my hands csped in prayer, the crook of my elbow carrying a basket of bread as an offering to the Goddess.

  But the fact that I seemed alone was enough to make them bold.

  "Hey, little Sister."

  The voice slid out of a doorway to my left, thick with sleep and cheap ale. A man detached himself from the shadow of a shuttered shop, boots scraping against the stones as he fell into step beside me.

  "That's a lot of bread you got," he said. "Got someone special you're feeding?"

  I kept my eyes down, pace steady.

  "Come on. Don't be like that. You know... I've been down on my luck tely. I could use a blessing or two." He licked his dry lips.

  Before I could decide whether to ignore him or yell, Rocher stopped cold.

  The man noticed a heartbeat too te, gncing up just in time to see Rocher's shadow stretch over him.

  "Leave," Rocher said quietly. "You're bothering her."

  The man ughed, short and dismissive.

  Rocher turned, hand coming to rest on the pommel of his sword.

  Whatever he saw in Rocher's eyes wiped the smile from his face. He slinked off, muttering under his breath.

  I exhaled and continued walking.

  Rocher kept pace.

  "I'm supposed to be undercover," I whispered.

  "It's fine," he said. "I didn't do anything a regur knight wouldn't do."

  I nodded. "Thank you," I said. "For your discretion."

  He smiled faintly. "Don't mention it."

  With a few long strides, he resumed his pce at Lumiere's side.

  She looked back at me, brow knit.

  Before long, we reached the chapel.

  It sat a little apart from the rest of the street, its stonework older than most of the surrounding buildings. Time had darkened the mortar between the blocks, and the Goddess's sigil above the door was worn smooth in pces by generations of hands. A narrow bell tower rose above it, but no bell rang.

  Two men lounged on the steps.

  They were not dressed as clergy. Their boots were muddy. Their cloaks were thrown back to show the hilts of their knives without any attempt at subtlety. One of them was counting coins into his palm while the other watched the street.

  When they saw Lumiere and Rocher approach, they straightened slightly.

  The one with the coins snorted. "Well. Look at that."

  His gaze flicked to Lumiere's mantle, then to Rocher's sword.

  "Guess the Goddess is still in business around here," he said.

  The other man spat onto the stones. "I told you it was worth shaking the old man down."

  Lumiere did not slow.

  The first man ughed under his breath. "We'll come back ter for our cut."

  They pushed off the steps and melted back into the street, already scanning for their next distraction.

  Rocher's gaze lingered on the two men as they were leaving. His jaw tightened.

  "I'll stay out here," he said quietly. "Make sure nobody gets clever."

  Lumiere inclined her head in thanks.

  I met his eyes for a brief moment and nodded once, before filing in behind her.

  The chapel door creaked open.

  An elderly man stood just inside, one hand braced against the frame as if the building itself were the only thing keeping him upright. His vestments were clean but worn thin at the edges. Deep lines marked his face, and his eyes were tired in a way sleep would not fix.

  He sighed. The long, hollow exhale of someone who had been doing this too long.

  "Goddess preserve us," he murmured.

  Then he looked up and noticed us.

  "Saintess," he said, bowing deeply despite his evident exhaustion. "You honor us with your presence."

  Lumiere inclined her head. "We need to speak, Father."

  The vicar stepped aside to let us in, and as the door closed behind us, the noise of Crossreach was cut away, leaving only the soft echo of our footsteps and the heavy quiet of a sanctuary that had been invaded without a single bde being drawn.