We dressed in the fading light. Rose picked up the tattered remains of the yellow lace—the bra stretched, the panties torn beyond repair. She crumpled them into a ball, preparing to throw them into the rushing water.
"Stop," I commanded.
She froze. "Master?"
"Give them to me."
She hesitated, blushing furiously, but placed the wet, sticky ball of lace into my outstretched hand. I brought it to my nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled of river water, jasmine soap, her arousal, and my own seed.
"A remembrance," I whispered, tucking the ruin into my inventory.
She gave me a look I couldn't interpret, but she knew that if time hadn't been our enemy, we could have shared moments until daylight.
Rose finished dressing. Beneath her crisp maid's uniform, she was naked. The knowledge that she was walking around commando, her skirt brushing against her sensitive, used flesh, made my mind ache for another round. But the strategist in me took the wheel. I had broken her; now I needed to use her.
I reached into my robe and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in black silk.
"Rose," I said, my voice serious. "Take this."
"What is this?" she asked, accepting it. Inside were thin, black sticks.
"Sticks?" she asked.
"It's incense, my personal blend—something to help Julienne," I said. It was Void-infused monitor incense. "Light one of these in Lady Julienne's room every night. Tell her it will help her sleep, that it will calm the nightmares."
"And if she refuses?"
"She won't. She is starving for peace." I stepped closer, gripping Rose's shoulders. "This incense acts as a gateway. It strengthens my connection to the Villa. If there is something urgent—if the Soldier returns, or if Julienne is in danger—light three of them at once. I will sense the spike in mana, and I will come."
Rose nodded, clutching the bundle like a holy relic. "I understand, and I'm thankful you haven't given up on us."
"Of course. And one more thing," I added. "When you return, find Kara. Tell her to send her son, Chip, to the Sanctuary tomorrow. I need a driver for the Sanctuary's supply wagon."
"But... we have Gaston," Rose frowned.
"Gaston is loyal to the House," I said coolly. "I doubt he can be used for the tasks I have in mind. I need someone who answers only to me."
"I see," Rose whispered. She looked down, then back up, her eyes searching mine. "Priest-sama... is there really hope? You said you had a plan."
"Everything is moving within my design, Rose," I assured her. "Julienne was on the brink of salvation. She would have been converted last night, but someone... interfered."
"Interfered?"
"Someone got in the way," I growled softly, glancing toward the direction of the Sanctuary. "We don't know who yet. but the culprit is hiding within the Sanctuary. A rat in the walls."
"The Sanctuary..." Rose looked horrified. "But who?"
"That is what Pearl and I will uncover."
"I wish to serve... tell me what I must do," Rose vowed, her fingers clutching my hand tightly, seeking reassurance. "But... the children. The orphans at the Sanctuary. Please, Father—promise me they won't be harmed."
I smiled, offering her the perfect image of divine benevolence. I squeezed her hand back, letting a little warmth flow into her skin.
"Do not worry, Rose. Your task is simple: be my eyes within the Villa while I am gone. Watch the General. Watch Julienne. But as for the children..." I paused, my expression softening into genuine seriousness. "They are the future. I will protect them."
I will bring them to the light. I will pluck them from the filth of this world and ensure they are safe from this war. On that, I stake my new life.
We left the falls, walking back through the darkening woods. When we emerged on the road, Gaston was tightening the final bolt on the replaced wheel. He looked up, wiping grease from his forehead. He took one look at us—my damp hair, Rose's flushed face and wet dress clinging to her legs—and grinned.
"Looks like you two found the water," the old soldier joked, nudging the wheel. "Maybe we should turn down the heat next time?"
Rose turned a brilliant shade of crimson. "It... it was slippery," she stammered.
"Yes," I replied, my face impassive. "Very slippery. Let us go, Gaston."
We returned to the village to procure the alchemical supplies and food for the orphanage. Once the shopping was done, I sent Rose and Gaston back to the Villa with the incense and the instructions. I hired a small cart to take me and the supplies back to the Sanctuary alone.
The Sanctuary of Silent Stone lived up to its name; it was as quiet as a grave when I finally returned. Night had fully fallen, leaving the stone halls dimly lit by sputtering torches. The flames cast long, distorted shadows that seemed to dance against the walls like restless spirits.
I hauled a heavy crate of supplies into a shadowed corner near the entrance—I'd have to ask Mother Matilde where to properly stock them in the morning. For now, my only goal was the attic room where Pearl was waiting, or perhaps already sleeping.
I climbed the stairs quietly, my senses on high alert. The air here was heavy, thick with the smell of centuries-old dust and that strange, suffocating scent of stale faith.
I turned a corner on the third floor, intending to take the east stairwell to the attic. But the corridors here were a maze, identical gray stone stretching in every direction.
I paused.
Wrong turn.
I was in the west wing. This area was supposed to be restricted—the quarters of the Sisters.
I turned to leave, but a sound stopped me.
CRACK.
It was sharp. Distinct. The sound of leather hitting skin.
Whimper.
I narrowed my eyes. My stealth skills activated instinctively, my footsteps becoming soundless. I followed the noise. It led to a heavy wooden door at the end of the hall. The door was slightly ajar, a sliver of candlelight spilling out onto the floor.
I crept closer. I pressed my eye to the crack.
My breath caught in my throat.
The room was an austere cell, devoid of furniture except for a large wooden cross mounted against the far wall.
And tied to it was Novice Elaine.
The golden-haired girl, the innocent beauty I had winked at earlier, was naked. Her wrists were bound to the crossbar with rough rope. Her head hung low, her golden braid trailing down her bare, pale back. Her body was a masterpiece of youth—soft curves, pink nipples, and a patch of golden hair between her legs.
But her back...
Her back was marred by angry red welts.
Standing behind her, holding a short, braided leather scourge, was Sister Clara.
The submissive, shy nun who had blushed when I spoke of sharing a room with Pearl. The one who looked like she couldn't hurt a fly.
Her face was twisted—not in anger, but in a rapturous, terrifying focus. She was sweating.
"Repent," Clara whispered, her voice trembling.
CRACK.
She brought the whip down across Elaine's buttocks.
"Ahhh!" Elaine cried out, her body jerking against the bonds. "Please, Sister! I have repented! I didn't look at him! I didn't!"
"You looked," Clara hissed, running her free hand over her own breast as she raised the whip again. "You looked at the Priest. You wanted him. Vanity is a sin, Elaine. Lust is a poison."
"No! I didn't!"
"Then why are you wet?" Clara demanded, stepping closer and grabbing Elaine's chin, forcing her to look up. "Why does the Golden Child drip for a stranger?"
I watched from the shadows, a slow, dark smile spreading across my face.
The shy one was a sadist. The innocent one was a masochist.
And the Sanctuary... was far dirtier than I had hoped.