As darkness fell over Raek Village, Acolyte Holm made his way through the crowds of common folk with a calm, steady pace that allowed the crowd to part around him rather than forcing his way through.
His pure white robes were trimmed with only the slightest bit of gold at the stiff collar, reflecting his low status within the Church as a whole. No matter how devout he thought himself to be, Holm had never managed more than a minor miracle of light, and the Church had long ago consigned him to the very edge of the frontier in a village too small and too poor to demand a real Priest.
At first, he'd taken his assignment to Raek as a punishment little different from exile, but over the years he'd been here, he came to see the unique advantages of being in a village this small. In Lothian City, he had been one of more than a hundred acolytes in the great temple. He walked very small, kept his lips tightly sealed, and only offered up an opinion when it was asked for.
