Annan suddenly felt a little envious of Joan.
Illymoyas had shown no interest at all in the wealth Joan had gathered.
If it had been him, Illymoyas would have made sure he never saw a glint of gold from start to finish.
Then again, perhaps that meant Illymoyas was honest and unguarded around him?
That was how Annan consoled himself as he sat in the Tavern.
Night had fallen completely. Annan was thinking of making do at the Tavern for the night when someone knocked on the door.
"We're closed for the next few days," Annan called.
What was going on? Couldn't they see the Tavern's lights were off?
But the knocking continued. Annan had no choice but to go around the counter and open the door.
Creak—
Cold air poured into the Tavern. Annan narrowed his eyes, but saw no one outside.
A child's prank?
There wasn't a single footprint in the snow by the door.
Puzzled, Annan shut the door. As soon as he turned around, he saw a figure in a worshipper's robe sitting on a stool by the counter.
"Who are you?"
"Lord Annan Reeves, we met earlier."
"I don't remember meeting anyone who hid his face."
The only person Annan recalled was Mora, but he had worn a Gray Robe and hadn't smelled faintly of decay.
"Forgive me. The Grand Lord is watching this place, so I had to avoid being seen by his people."
The figure pulled back his cloak, revealing a somewhat familiar face.
"You're that Priest?"
Annan remembered seeing him at the Wealth Church and had an inkling of why he had come here in secret.
"What do you want with me?" Annan asked, pretending not to know.
"Lord Annan Reeves, you're a clever man. Let's be frank. The Wealth Church hopes