>>5746216>Leif looks as though he wishes to press the issue further with Montgomery, but you manage to stop him by grabbing onto his shoulder and whispering into his ear. “If he wants us to bother the Patriarch, then maybe we should. We can deal with him first and see if that’s enough to grab his attention.”The Sreng Prince manages to control his temper as he contemplates your words. Biting his tongue, he backs down. “Fine. Then let’s go pay him a visit. You there!” He shouts at the scout that had been leading the group around earlier. “Take us to where the Patriarch is, now!”
“Y-yes sir!” The startled scout replies. He seems all too happy to play as your group’s guide so long as it keeps him away from the frontlines.
You’re shepherded away from the smithy towards the opposite side of the camp. You’re met with the same frantic energy as before, only now news of the Sreng army’s arrival has begun to make the rounds. Morale has improved considerably since you first arrived. Word has gotten out that the Knights of Seiros are critically outnumbered. The sudden rise in confidence though will only hurt twice as much once the raiders join the fight in true. After a few moments of walking, you’re brought to the same large tent that Ingrid had seen during her scouting mission. It’s size dwarfs that of the burned-out houses nearby, and at its crown is a flag bearing the insignia of the Orthodox Church. Much like the smithy earlier, this place too is also guarded by several dozen soldiers. Only this time, the men in question look far more capable and better equipped than earlier. You figure these to be the personal guard of the Patriarch himself.
“State your business!” A bodyguard wielding a sturdy-looking halberd demands of your escort.
“Prince Leif of Sreng and his royal retinue request a meeting with Lord Bennett!” The scout replies. Upon hearing this, one of the bodyguards ducks into the tent. A few moments later, he returns.
“You and your party may enter.”
Finally, you’re getting somewhere. You and the others enter through the tent flap into the massive dwelling. Inside, you find the place comfortably furnished. Several couches and tables had been set up, with both women and priests lounging about. In addition, there were at least a dozen guards standing at attention within, each of them eyeing your group with hostile suspicion. And all the way at the end, where the most ornate chair and table had been set up, was where the Patriarch of the Orthodox Church, formerly the Western Church, was seated. But it wasn’t him that caught your attention at first. Rather, it was the man standing next to him. It was a face you hadn’t seen in several years, but one that dug up a familiar sense of loathing.
