The next morning, preparations were in full swing for Fenrir and his party to depart for Chashire. As his attendants loaded supplies into the carriage and double-checked their route, Fenrir sought a private conversation with Father Linus.
He found the older priest sitting quietly in the temple's study, a place that still smelled faintly of fresh paint and incense. Father Linus appeared lost in thought, his brow furrowed as he pored over a manuscript.
"Father Linus," Fenrir greeted, wheeling himself into the room. His presence was commanding, even from the confines of his chair. "I was hoping to speak with you before I leave."
Father Linus glanced up, startled from his reverie. "Ah, Lord Fenrir. Of course. How can I assist you?"
