A few hours' rest and a shower before heading out to check the criminal records

Clara Fauxbright, Ursula Wilmette, and a handful of other disguised angels maintained modest homes on church street, so as to avoid drawing undue attention to their lifestyles, especially as far as their ages were concerned. On another level, it was practically part and parcel for an angel not to hoard wealth. Who ever heard of a greedy, avaricious servant of Geod? That was what made the issue with the black-winged angel so interesting to Ursula...

... Well, not every part of her abode was so modest. Hidden all about were various sexual pleasure devices, "home entertainment" setups built into the walls and floors by a genius relative of hers, and other interesting doodads that she'd often fantasized about one day having a chance to use. With all of these hidden, her house looked quite plain, like the sort of house that might belong to a work-obsessed, 40-year-old spinster, covered in an equal mix of work documents and unwashed coffee cups. For now, she was on her lonesome and in no mood to entertain guests; she plodded to her bed and collapsed face first, her massive bottom and thighs quivering as her dress slightly displaced itself. Only now did she realize she'd forgotten her undergarments in the alley... but she didn't care. She simply passed out.

That last night, being a dirty, filthy, slutty mess, sweating and covered in male ejaculation, had been pretty fun for Ursula- one check off her angelic bucket list. In the morning? It didn't hold up so well. As she drank her coffee, with her glasses displaced and her hair a mess, she desperately wished she'd made a few seconds to shower everything off. In the smutty stories she liked to read, a woman acquired a taste for cum and even the smell of it... in practice... the taste was okay, but she hadn't gotten used to the smell yet... and right now, it was everywhere.

With coffee finished (and no breakfast otherwise), the counselor dragged herself to her shower, threw off the once elegant, now suspiciously stained dark dress she'd worn out, and showered off the night's activities. She didn't even feel like masturbating in the shower- unusual for her- because she knew that the day probably had more promising ways to orgasm left ahead. Moments later, she was most of the way restored to her usual striking (if more than a bit chubby) persona.... Then a few more moments later, she was fully restored, as she applied heavy eye-liner and cherry-red lipstick. She redressed into her full wardrobe, with a church habit over it all, then replaced her glasses and their rosary. Ursula had once again become the spiritual counselor of the Holy Church of Merridan.

A lesser woman would have found some apprentice knight or town watchman of the knights to ask who was the right person to begin with in the chain of command, to submit a formal inquiry about past criminal records. Not Ursula! The tough church counselor and former inquisitor knew that the fastest way to get the information was to skip the little people and go straight to those equipped to know. Who was equipped to know? Someone inside the main watchman's post, where the city's jail was located, obviously.

As she calmly thrust the wooden door open and stepped in, the hard soles of her black short boots clopped against the wooden floor. She thought to herself that the place seemed pretty well maintained, but it was still full of knights, those annoying, unfaithful bastards that denied the work of Geod, their deity who ought to be hailed for protecting the city for so many years and, you know, creating humanity, at least by her belief. The juniors all reacted with surprise as she entered, interested to see what business a nun had in their post. The elders all grumbled under their breath, recognizing her as the closest thing the church had to a modern day fanatic. It didn't seem that anyone up here had changed their practices due to the new manual the knights had issued, at least; they were all still stuck with boring office work.

At this point, Ursula could make a request for the records with the front desk, or she could go to the jail cells by introducing herself as a visitor. She had a sneaking suspicion the jailer might be the best person to ask for a peek at private records or otherwise, personal stories related to that black-winged angel... People who worked in such places usually weren't too far from criminals themselves, with all the daily exposure to bribery.