"Alright, nameless Cultivator, I’ve answered your question. Now it’s my turn to ask you."

The dark-eyed Nun placed a hand on her hip, her lazy demeanor suddenly vanishing. Her tone shifted as if to interrogate Eric.

She was quite tall. Emma was one of the taller women he’d met, but this Nun was even taller.

It reminded him of his somewhat detestable stepmother.

Since Eric was currently sitting and she was standing, he had to look up at her, which made him feel like he was at a disadvantage.

"I’ll tell you anything I can. If I can answer it, that is." Eric shrugged.

’Her sudden domineering tone was just like his stepmother’s.’

"How did you get your hands on this badge?" the dark-eyed Nun asked, pinching the golden badge as she looked at Eric.

"The owner of the badge gave it to me, of course."

"He’s not the kind of man who would mix with Cultivators."

"Why are you so sure? Do you know him?"

"Obviously. He’s my brother."

"That explains it."

Eric shrugged nonchalantly, but then he suddenly realized something and shot to his feet.

"May God bless you, Your Highness," Eric said, bowing to the dark-eyed Nun.

"Oh, no need to be so serious. Sit, sit, please sit. Since we are all under God’s gospel, there is no distinction between high and low. Just call me Sesil."

’Despite what she said, Eric felt that she was thoroughly enjoying the difference in their status.’

Just as Eric was about to obey and sit down, she swooped in and took the seat herself, crossing her legs.

’Bad woman.’

"So, what did you want with my brother?"

"We were tasked with transporting some wine, but unfortunately, it all ended up in the sea. Lord Robert will surely punish me. I have failed to live up to his trust."

Eric shook his head and let out a deep sigh, then thumped his chest.

He put on an act of utter heartbreak.

"I see. That is truly unfortunate. But is English wine even drinkable? I’ve heard it’s like horse piss." Sesil wrinkled her nose as if she could already smell it.

"Who knows? Lord Robert has his own tastes, and who dares question a nobleman? Right, Your Highness?"

A look of immense pleasure appeared on Sesil’s face when Eric called her Princess.

’Bad woman...’

"You’re right. It’s rare to find such a sensible Cultivator these days. If only the Bishop and the abbot were like you. Seeing as you’re so sincere, I’ll plead your case to my brother."

"Thank you ever so much. May God bless you, Your Highness. You undoubtedly possess a noble character and a Devotion that is second to none." Eric bowed again.

’Since she likes flattery, I’ll lay it on thick.’

"No, no, it’s merely something within my power to do. Brothers and sisters under God’s gospel should help each other out."

The corners of Sesil’s mouth turned up. She stood and patted Eric’s shoulder.

"Rest well tonight. In a few days, I have business in Rouen to see my brother and my mother. Your party can travel with me. It will make your passage easier and save you some travel expenses."

"Again, thank you ever so much, Your Highness."

"It’s a small matter."

Sesil snapped her fingers at Eric, then walked off down another corridor.

Eric watched her figure recede and let out a breath.

"Good thing she’s rather gullible."

He said it very quietly.

He turned around to see Leif marching awkwardly into the hall from the corridor, glancing back with every step.

The sense of displacement from visiting the Monastery as a guest made him very uncomfortable.

He had stood outside the Monastery for a long time, only coming inside when the light rain became miserable and the hunger in his stomach was too much to bear.

Eric walked over and patted his shoulder.

"What’s wrong? Afraid the Lord of Heaven is going to eat you?"

"How... How could that be? Odin is the one true god!"

Leif glared at Eric, then hurried to the table, where he snatched a piece of bread and stuffed it in his mouth. Then he lifted a bowl of stew and began to drink directly from it.

He was clearly starving.

This rude act drew strong disapproval from those nearby.

"Alright, whatever makes you happy."

Eric shrugged and walked toward the cloister.

The Nuns hadn’t given them much food, and considering the orphans from earlier, Eric guessed the Monastery’s food stores were probably running low.

He figured the Nun who had refused them lodging earlier probably did so because of the food shortage.

He decided to get some sleep. Sleep could alleviate hunger.

The Monastery provided them with a large common sleeping room.

Monasteries typically provide food and lodging for passersby and travelers, though convents usually only offer lodging to the sick, the injured, and healthy female travelers.

Eric found a spot on the outer edge and lay down to sleep.

The place was kept very clean, perhaps because it had been a long time since they had hosted any travelers.

Eric was reminded of the dilapidated common room at King’s Bridge Monastery. Some of the English had been of poor character—despite being given free lodging, someone had even defecated in the sleeping quarters.

The floor here was strewn with calamus reeds, making it reasonably comfortable.

Fatigue soon overwhelmed him, and he fell into a deep sleep.

...

However, he woke up not long after.

To be more precise, he was "bombed" awake. Some fellow in the room was "thundering."

He rolled over, but the thunder only grew louder.

Having been woken up, the hunger in his stomach surged.

He shot up.

He resisted the urge to smother someone with a blanket and, forcing down his discomfort, left the room.

He stood in the cloister for a moment and opened a window. The light rain hadn’t stopped, and he could hear cats meowing.

They were probably strays, with nowhere to shelter from the rain. Of course, it was also possible they were in heat.

Eric closed it again.

He decided to go sleep in the chapel for the night.

In the dim light, the already long cloister seemed to stretch on endlessly.

Suddenly, a strange sound reached his ears.

The length of the cloister made the sound somewhat ethereal, which only amplified its strangeness.

’It sounds like someone crying out in pain... No, it’s more like weeping...’

He stopped in his tracks, abandoning his path to the chapel, and headed toward the sound.

This section of the corridor had more windows, placed closer together, so the noise from outside was louder.

One of the windows was open, letting in the rain. Eric hurried over and closed it.

Now the cats’ cries were even shriller, and it sounded like there were many of them. A cat’s cry can sound like a human baby’s—terrifying to hear in the middle of the night—and the noise was so loud it made Eric’s ears ache.

He continued to follow the faint sound of weeping.

He saw a figure in a strange posture—bent over, peering through the crack of a doorway, as if peeking at something inside.