Chrysalis Chapter 1720 - Casting Judgement

Throughout his tenure as a War Bishop, Graham had witnessed a multitude of sights. He had seen legendary monsters toppled and ancient settlements that had endured for centuries reduced to rubble in an eyeblink. He had also watched new outposts emerge, seemingly materializing from the void.

However, few sights were as compelling as the image of a Grand Priest attempting to slumber in a common bunk alongside ordinary soldiers. When Alir finally emerged from the barracks that morning, his lack of rest was evident; his eyes were bloodshot and framed by heavy, dark circles. Graham didn't take pleasure in the man's discomfort, yet he found it undeniably curious. It was like observing a rare breed of bird or an exotic artifact in a shop window—something he found nearly impossible to ignore.

“You haven’t had enough of an eyeful yet?” Alir muttered, pulling out a stool beside the War Bishop and sinking onto it with a heavy groan. “By the Path, I’m tired.”

“I am well rested,” Graham remarked, tracing the sign of the Path across his chest.

Alir fixed him with a stare, his expression carefully neutral.

“Thanks. Thanks for saying that.”

“You’re welcome.”

A modest porridge consisting of nuts, seeds, and oats served as the morning meal. The temporary mess hall hummed with the sound of low conversations, fervent prayers, and the rhythmic scrape of spoons against bowls as the soldiers savored every mouthful. It was a rarity for them to enjoy a meal with such distinct flavor.

Graham watched without pretense as the Grand Priest contemplated the bowl before him for a full minute. Eventually, Alir lifted a spoon to his lips and took a hesitant bite, his face contorting as if he were in physical pain.

“Excess is sinful,” Graham pointed out.

Alir’s hand struck the table with a sharp crack, his complexion flushing crimson, though the outburst was fleeting. Within moments, he had regained his composure.

“Yes. Yes, of course. As is flavour, apparently.”

“Would you like to meet the orphans who eat well this morning thanks to the humble meal you are enjoying now? Perhaps seeing the light in their faces would provide the indulgence you seek.”

The War Bishop received nothing but another grimace in response before Alir forced down another spoonful.

“How long until you head out into the Dungeon and deal with this pest? I heard it was sighted from the city walls only yesterday. How much more do you need to get out… out of the city?”

Graham suspected the man had intended to say ‘out of my way’ before catching himself. It mattered little.

“Do you imagine we have been stagnant these last few days? We have not. I have personally questioned every delver who encountered the creature and made it back to the city. Since the prisoners have only just started to return, I must interview them as well. Our Dungeon specialists are currently profiling the beast's traits while we weigh different tactical approaches.

“Meanwhile, my elite scouts have been carefully navigating the tunnels to identify the ideal battlefield. I believe that while we have been occupied with these tasks, you have been… what have you been doing, Grand Priest?”

By all appearances, the answer was very little.

“I have been coordinating with the Union to arrange support for your efforts,” Alir replied through gritted teeth. “They're furious about being forced to pay additional taxes, and the Council is furious about having to make them. Perhaps even angry enough to provide some of the city guards to help take down that ant.”

“Unnecessary,” the War Bishop declared.

“I don’t care if you think it’s necessary. If we can get help, we should. I don’t care what you do with them, put them on the front lines, let them get chewed up by that filthy insect’s mandibles, make them dance a routine to distract it. We have an opportunity here that is rare and precious. Soul Crystal is coveted by the Church, and we are in a position to deliver it!”

And likely secure a promotion to Cardinal for a certain Grand Priest, Graham mused silently. While ambition within the Church wasn't inherently flawed, he found Alir Vinting distasteful. The man was deficient in true faith.

“We will set out into the Dungeon in two days,” the War Bishop announced calmly. “If you insist on providing this assistance, make sure they are prepared.”

Graham held no illusions; this would be a grueling mission. A tier eight mythic was among the most formidable entities one could face within the fourth stratum. Furthermore, the creature had displayed bizarre, unique traits that defied logic. They would need to be ready for any possibility.