When the Queen learned that we were going to continue my training with another expedition to the castle dungeon, she refused to be left out. And of course, she turned it all into a game. Not that I would complain — her intervention would definitely make everything more enjoyable for me.
"We need to build a party," the Queen said.
"With you and me together, there's nothing in that dungeon that could threaten us, my Queen," Sabrina tried to argue.
Of course, my presence wouldn't make the slightest difference with the two of them together, but couldn't Sabrina at least be a little considerate and remember that I was present in the room?
"And what fun would it be if we did all the fighting ourselves?" the Queen replied. "No, with a full party it will be much more entertaining."
"I'll be the Mage," the Queen continued, "you'll be the Rogue, Sabrina, and my dear Prince will be the Knight. Now we just need to find a Cleric, a Barbarian, and a Bard."
"Your wish is my command, my Queen, I'll summon the generals," Sabrina replied.
"No," the Queen started to say but then looked at me, moved closer to Sabrina, and whispered in her ear, "We need to lower the bar. If you call the generals, the Prince won't be able to keep up."
If you didn't want me to hear, you really should have whispered lower, my Queen.
"So, where are we going to find the party members?" I asked.
"First, we're going to the church," she replied.
Yes, you just heard one of the most powerful primordial demons in this world's history saying we needed to go to church.
And so, our party set out on a new adventure, starting by recruiting our new members.
Standing in front of the cathedral, I must confess I was apprehensive. Not that I was afraid anything would happen to the Queen, but I felt sorry for anyone who tried something.
"Are you sure this is a good idea, my Queen?" I asked nervously.
"Don't worry, my Prince, we brought a very powerful protection artifact to deal with religious fanatics," she answered, which only made me even more tense.
"Vade retro, Satana!" the bishop came down the staircase, pointing a crucifix and splashing holy water at us.
"Sabrina," the Queen commanded, and suddenly Sabrina had a suitcase in her hand.
She placed herself in front of us and opened the suitcase, showing the contents to the bishop. Money? Seriously, that was the secret weapon?
"We brought a humble contribution to assist your divine mission, Your Excellency," Sabrina said.
If this story were a webcomic, now would be the perfect moment to illustrate the bishop with dollar signs in his eyes.
"This humble house of God is not worthy of such a valuable donation, Your Majesty." Just a second ago she was Satan, but you regained your etiquette quite fast, didn't you, Your Excellency?
"Your Majesty can be sure we will put your magnanimous contribution to good use. It will make a great difference in our divine work."
"But tell me, Your Majesty, how can this humble servant of God be of assistance?" the bishop asked, fully embracing his faith-merchant persona.
"We need a Cleric to complete our party for an expedition into the castle dungeons," Sabrina replied.
"Of course, of course. We have a fine selection of clerics available. The harvest has been quite fruitful. I'm sure we'll find exactly what you need," the bishop said, leading us inside the cathedral.
He took us to a VIP room. He seated us on a beautiful rococo-style sofa adorned with gold leaf. Luxurious tapestries decorated the floors and walls. Ceramic vases and marble sculptures completed the décor. A small stage stood in front of the sofa.
I wonder why there's a room like this inside a cathedral.
Altar boys served us luxurious tea — at least they kept appearances and didn't serve alcohol — along with delicious cookies. Then, the bishop began his presentation.
"First, I would like to introduce Father Mathews," the bishop announced, and a little old man, at least ninety years old, entered the room, moving desperately slowly toward the stage.
"Too old," the Queen said as soon as he stood at the center.
Seriously? Couldn't she have said that ten minutes earlier, when he entered through the door? The bishop kept presenting cleric after cleric.
"Too ugly. Too happy. Too sad. Boring." None seemed to please the Queen.
But I knew the bishop's tactic. He was a real salesman: you start showing the bad products so the good ones seem even better later.
"We have a demanding customer today, as expected of a beautiful Queen with sophisticated taste. But I think I have exactly what you are looking for. Brother Andreas, please enter," the bishop finally announced his premium product.
The Queen's eyes gleamed dangerously when Brother Andreas entered. To sum it up, the guy looked like a sculpture of Rodrigo Santoro from the miniseries Hilda Furacão. If you're not Brazilian, you'll have to Google it.
The Queen looked at Andreas, then at me, then back at him, then back at me. Each time she did this, I felt more and more like my head wouldn't stay attached by the end of the day.
"As tempting as it is, I won't be able to take this one. But keep him reserved, just in case this novel becomes successful and the author wants to make money writing a spin-off," the Queen finally said after a few minutes of tension.
Whew, my soul finally returned to my body. I even felt my neck to make sure it was still there.
The bishop seemed disappointed. He had really hoped the Queen would pick Andreas.
"Hmm, I guess I'll have to present our finest product then. Please bring in Sister Mary Jane," the bishop said.
Mary Jane... For some reason, I had the suspicion I knew someone with that name. My suspicion was quickly confirmed when Sister Mary Jane entered the room and threw me a mischievous look — and I immediately recognized her.
Just picture the most beautiful and seductive redhead your imagination can create, and you'll have an idea of what Mary Jane looked like.
I turned my gaze away as fast as I could, trying to hide that we knew each other, but the Queen quickly noticed something was up. She looked at Mary Jane, then at me, then back at Mary Jane, then back at me.
"Do you two know each other, by any chance?" she asked. But it was the bishop who answered.
"Sister Mary Jane had, let's say, a very non-religious life before joining our divine cause. Perhaps the Prince knew her from that time, as he was a well-known frequenter of the bohemian district," the bishop said, probably already aware of my past with Mary Jane.
"In the past, I was a courtesan at the most famous brothel in the city, Your Highness," Mary Jane began to explain. "Back then, I was famous for being the young Prince's favorite."
The Queen opened a mischievous smile. I didn't even have to guess — she had made her choice. And I must confess I was eager to find out her intentions behind it.
"She's perfect. I'll take her. Sabrina, you deal with the details," the Queen said.
Yep, the bishop had closed a beautiful deal. And you just witnessed the story of how the devil bribed the bishop to recruit the courtesan nun.
"And now, my Queen, where will we find the next members of our party?" I asked.
"In a tavern, where else?" she answered.
Straight from the church to the bar — truly very Catholic behavior