In the temple's sanctum, Saintess Catherene stood alone, reading a letter from the main temple. The words were direct and damning:
"This branch of the temple has become a rotten core, tarnishing the name of the Divine. Take whatever measures are necessary to rectify this disgrace, or it will be dismantled entirely."
Catherene folded the letter with a calm expression, though a glint of amusement danced in her eyes. This was exactly the opportunity she had been waiting for.
She turned to Fenrir, who sat in his wheelchair nearby, watching her with a predatory smirk. "The main temple has given me the authority to deal with this place as I see fit," she said, holding up the letter. "I think this is a task best suited to you."
Fenrir's smirk widened. "How generous of you, Saintess. I would be honored to assist."
