She speaks to a Brother

From the sacristy behind the alter, a tonsured clerk approached with a stern look on his face. He was roughly the age of her father and wearing the full robes of a Brother of Kewellyn. Christine was familiar with the order; these servants of the church worked to ensure the smooth-running operations of the great houses of prayer.

"May I help you?" The Brother asks curiously. "Our next daily mass is not until 10 Bells." He paused suddenly, "Are you here alone my child? Where are your parents?" Christine could sense the sudden scrutiny of the man; did she dare tell him the truth?

"I need to speak to the Bishop." Whatever the good Brother was expecting to hear, this was not it and the man's tone became condescendingly patronizing.

"The Bishop is a very busy man, my child." Perhaps sensing that he had been too abrupt, the monk tried to soften his frown, "My name is Brother Quentin, how can I help you?"

Drawing herself up as much as she could, Christine projects as much authority and confidence as she can. "I am well aware of Bishop Anthryl's responsibilities, but my petition cannot wait."

Again, Brother Quentin's expression changed and he slowly circled around Christine until the light from the morning sun was on her face. Christine waited anxiously as he studied her for what felt like forever, and then made an almost imperceptible nod as though he had come to a decision.

"Come with me, my Lady." Brother Quentin's face is completely inscrutable, but all the same, Christine felt that she had succeeded in impressing the somber Brother of Kewellyn with the fact that she was no commoner. She had little option anyway, so she followed the man silently into the hallway behind the main sanctuary.