Chapter 14: The Protagonist Suspects He’s a Protagonist... He Must Be Eliminated.

Greywall in the mid-afternoon had a particular rhythm.

Nathan entered through the north gate with the box on his shoulder, his cloak partially covering the side where the ambushers’ blood had splattered during the fight, and the carefully composed expression of a Hunter doing exactly what a Hunter does when transporting goods—walking in a straight line, looking straight ahead, not appearing interesting to anyone.

The gate guards glanced at him once. They saw the Hunter card at his neck. They saw the box. They didn’t ask questions.

*Good. So far, so good.*

The city’s inner streets were busy. Merchants closing up stalls before nightfall. Porters moving barrels. Children running between adults’ legs with the specific speed of creatures who know they’ll be scolded at some point, but not right now. Nathan blended into the flow, adjusting the box’s weight on his shoulder every few steps to maintain a natural rhythm.

His original plan was to go straight to the Temple of the Three.

The original plan held.

It’s just that now, on the way, Nathan had about fifteen minutes to think about how he was going to present himself to a high-ranking priest with a suspicious box, a recent roadside battle, and the open question of what exactly he was going to say.

*Let’s think this through.*

*Point one. I can’t walk into the Temple and just say "here’s a person, help me." High Priest Selrick is a bearer of Maen—which means Justice, Law, Truth. The evidence has to be clear, and the narrative has to be coherent. If I walk in with a story full of holes, he’ll ask questions I’m not ready to answer yet.*

*Point two. The Gray Forest presence registering me from three kilometers away is information a priest of Maen probably wants to know. Not just for my situation, but because it affects the whole region. That could be my entry point.*

*Point three. My Seal is still a problem. If Selrick sees it, he’ll have theological questions. I’m not prepared for that conversation.*

He reached the Temple plaza after about ten minutes of walking.

And stopped.

---

The Temple of the Three was exactly what its name suggested: an old structure, wider than it was tall, built of light stone that time had stained in irregular patterns. Three small towers rose above the main body, each topped with a different symbol. The flame pierced by a spear of Solrath. The thorn coiled in a circle of Yeva. The scales with an open eye on each pan of Maen.

The main entrance was wide, without doors, open to the public during the day.

Nathan approached.

And as he did, an idea occurred to him that was, at the same time, completely logical and completely stupid.

*If I’m going to walk in with this box and speak to the High Priest, I should get a read on him first. Know if he’s the kind of person I can trust with this, or if I’m delivering a problem to someone who’s going to use it against me politically.*

*Which means I should go in first without the box.*

*Which means the box stays out here. Which is impossible. I can’t leave a box with a living person in the public plaza.*

*Unless I walk in with the box but talk about something else first. Evaluate him. And then, if the read is positive, I present the real problem.*

*Which is manipulative and dishonest.*

*But it’s also the right decision given the circumstances.*

Nathan lowered the box to the ground, upright, near the Temple entrance, in a spot where he could see it from inside through the open doorway. He placed a hand on it for a moment, confirming that the person inside was still alive according to Soul Sense. Confirmed.

He crossed the threshold.

---

The interior of the Temple was quieter than he’d expected. Natural light came through high windows and mixed with the light from candelabras distributed throughout the main hall. There were stone benches. A few worshippers knelt in silent prayer. And at the back, at a small tripartite altar bearing the three divine symbols, a priest dressed in a long gray tunic was arranging candles with the slowness of someone who’d made that movement thousands of times.

He was an older man. Short white hair. Trimmed beard. And, as Berran had mentioned, blind in his left eye, with a thin scar that crossed the eyelid and ran down to his cheekbone. On his forehead he wore a small tattoo in the shape of scales—the mark of Maen initiates who had taken full vows.

*High Priest Selrick.*

Nathan approached the altar at a normal pace, without hurry, without exaggerated reverence. Selrick didn’t look at him yet. He kept arranging the candles.

"Good afternoon, Father," Nathan said.

Selrick finished adjusting the candle he was working on. Then he turned slightly toward Nathan, his right eye focused on him with an attention that was anything but casual.

"Good afternoon, Hunter."

"How did you know I was a Hunter?" Nathan asked, without hiding his surprise.

"The card at your neck has a slightly different sheen from common amulets. My sight isn’t what it used to be, but I still register the details that matter." Selrick smiled slightly. The smile was warm, without condescension. "Welcome to the Temple. How can Maen, Solrath, or Yeva serve you this afternoon?"

*Good. Cordial conversation. Now the test.*

"Honestly," Nathan said, "I didn’t come for a specific blessing. I came because I heard this Temple keeps records of the region, and I have a question about the Gray Forest."

Selrick looked at him for a moment.

"A specific question."

"Yes. Yesterday, on a mission near the forest’s edge, my detection Class registered a significant presence in its depths. Non-living. Large. Conscious. And today, on the way back, that same presence reacted to something I did. It moved. Like it had noticed me."

The priest stopped smiling.

It wasn’t a dramatic change. Just a dimming. As if the cordial smile were a welcome protocol, and the information Nathan had just given required another mode of operation.

"How far away was that presence when you first sensed it?" Selrick asked.

"About three kilometers. Maybe four."

"And today, when it reacted?"

"Today it was farther. But still within my ability’s range."

Selrick was silent for a moment. Then he walked slowly to a bench beside the altar and sat down. He gestured for Nathan to do the same. Nathan sat at the other end of the bench.

"Hunter," Selrick said, in a tone that was no longer welcoming but serious conversation, "what you’re describing is something the Temple has been quietly documenting for the last six months. But the information we have comes from bearers with detection Classes of B-Rank and above—not young Hunters. For your Class to have registered a presence at that distance, and for that presence to have noticed you in return, your ability must be considerably finer than your card suggests."

*Good. And there it is. I’m going to have to give more information than I planned.*

"My Class is recent," Nathan said, choosing his words carefully. "Recent in absolute terms. I acquired it three days ago. But for reasons I’m still processing, the detection ability is quite sensitive."

"What Class is it?"

Nathan hesitated.

And while he hesitated, what happened next wasn’t planned by anyone in that conversation.

---

There was a noise at the Temple entrance.

Not a shout. Something more controlled and more official. Voices of men giving orders. Footsteps of boots. The sound of several people with institutional authority moving in formation inside a space where people normally walked with respect.

Nathan turned.

Selrick did too.

Three Temple guards—identifiable by their gray tunics with silver trim and the small emblems of Maen on their chests—were entering the main hall. And between the three, held by the arms with the specific force of people who’d received instructions not to let go under any circumstances, was a young Hunter, dressed in gear similar to Nathan’s but more torn and stained, with the Hunter card visible at his neck and an expression of pure desperation on his face.

"No!" the Hunter shouted, trying to break free. "Father, please! I did what I could! I came here because the client threatened me and I needed institutional help—not so the Temple would hand me over to the guards!"

Selrick rose from the bench with the specific calm of someone who had clearly authorized what was happening.

"Hunter Markell," the High Priest said, in a voice that no longer held any of the warmth from two minutes ago, "you accepted an order. You violated the terms of the contract when you refused to continue the delivery. The affected client requested Temple mediation. The mediation found that the breach was yours, not the client’s. The consequence was explained to you at the hearing. The Temple is not a refuge for contract fugitives."

"The order was illegal! It was trafficking! I said so at the hearing!"

"Without documented evidence, your accusation remains an unverifiable defense. The burden of proof in contract violations falls on the one who breaks the agreement. That is Maen’s law, not my personal decision."

"But you know it’s true! You yourself said you would investigate!"

"I will investigate. In the meantime, you face the consequences of the broken contract."

The guards continued dragging the Hunter toward the exit. The Hunter, Markell, looked back at Selrick one last time with an expression that shifted from desperation to something more bitter. Something that understood the lesson without accepting it.

"I’m not coming back here," Markell said. "When I get out of wherever they take me, I’m never coming back to this Temple."

"That is your decision, Hunter."

They dragged him outside.

The hall fell silent again.