Chapter 87: The Church
The morning sun was bright and clear, breaking through the soft, billowy clouds and casting a golden glow upon the bustling streets of High Valley. Townsfolk drifted through the various markets and shops, talking, laughing, and haggling. Alone, I slipped through the thin crowds, keeping my hood low and avoiding conversation. Soltair and Trithe were back at the inn, taking advantage of the lazy morning to sleep in, but I couldn’t afford that luxury. If I was to catch up with the other heroes, I needed all the practice I could get.
After almost a half hour of searching the town, I caved in and looked around for a guard. They patrolled the streets regularly, traveling in groups of four with a mounted captain. The bright flash of armor caught my attention, and I found a group taking a break at the mouth of an alley.
"Excuse me," I called, approaching, but not too close. I didn’t want them to catch on to my identity, after all.
The captain, identified by the blue crest on his breastplate, looked up curiously. His eyes narrowed as he took in my deep cowl, and grew even tighter when they fell on my chest. I self-consciously crossed my arms, but knew it was all but impossible to hide the slave crest.
"Could you help me find a clinic or temple?" I asked, shifting on my feet nervously.
He raised an eyebrow. "The temple?" As I nodded, his gaze flitted around the street. "I don’t see your master anywhere. What business do you have with the priests?"
"He’s back at the inn. I just need to visit a temple." As he stroked his chin thoughtfully, I carefully scripted my response to his next question.
He chuckled and relaxed, leaning up against the alley wall. "No need to be nervous, miss. Just so you know, it’s illegal to break the curse of a slave. Even if the priests are strong enough to do it, they won’t."
"Well, I just want to...what?" Breaking the slave crest? My mouth parted slightly, but no words came. Was breaking a slave crest even possible?