Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai-Chapter 160 - 152.5 - Interlude Alexander

"It is good to see you out and about, brother Alexander," the deacon smiled, patting his shoulder. "We were worried for a while, but I understand that being faced with all Her glory must be a powerful experience."

Alexander maintained a serene smile, despite his urge to flinch at the casualness with which the man had brought up the most traumatic event of his life. "I'm getting better," he replied after a moment, making sure to meet the man's eyes.

"Yes, yes, I can see that. I'm sure you'll be even better after tomorrow." With that, the deacon mercifully moved on, allowing Alexander to continue on his path toward his old office.

He hadn't been inside since... Well, it had been several days. Fortunately, with the Purification of the Ashes around the corner, all regular functions of the temple were suspended, and since there were so many new priests, most things wouldn't even cross his desk.

Normally, he would have been very cross about it. The outsiders had essentially taken over the entirety of his ministry without so much as a by-your-leave. However, he was aware that he wasn't exactly in a position to keep business as usual. Certainly not now that he had made such a momentous decision.

Young Nicholas' visit had been an eye-opener. He had been so lost in the horrifying realization of what the being he had worshipped for so long had done to him that he had forgotten there was more to the world; that life did not end within the temple.

Entering his office, he was pleased to find it unchanged. While his own rooms had been opened more than once during his fugue as the acolytes tried to coax him, the study had been spared their presence.

There was some cleaning to do, but that could wait. They'll have all the time in the world to do that once I'm gone.

Finding his stationery took only a moment, and without allowing himself to hesitate any longer, Alexander began writing a very important letter.

"It is after a lengthy reflection that I have come to understand I cannot, in good faith, hold my position as Vicar of Floria any longer. My experience being held in Her embrace shed light on several failures of my character and understanding of Her Word. Therefore, I have decided to resign my Flame into the capable hands of the good Prelate, who will no doubt shepherd the people of Floria in my absence.

I will embark on a journey of self-discovery, hoping to become the man I was meant to be. If She ever graces me with her presence again, I fervently wish to be a much better man for her light to shine on.

This is the official notice of resignation of Vicar Alexander Poe, in the Light of Her Flames no longer a Fire, but a Flickering Flame."

There, that should do it. A load of nonsense, of course, but it is believable enough. I doubt the Prelate will fall for it, but he also has more important things to take care of than searching for a wayward priest who apparently decided to become a wandering hermit.

After eighteen years of service in the temple, ending that part of his life should have been momentous. He was certain he would feel something. Regret, maybe. Fear of the unknown. Even relief.

No such thing came. Alexander stared at the letter as the ink dried and could conjure nothing beyond a gaping void where his faith had once been.

"Ah, I was hoping to catch you," a voice startled him, and he did his best not to scrabble to keep the letter hidden. Instead, he looked up, meeting the eyes of Exorcist Parish. This was not someone he wanted to know about his decision, at least not before he'd left Floria behind, so he inclined his head in greeting and slowly folded the letter, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

The beastman's eyes flickered down, but the parchment was already obscured, and even someone as skilled as he couldn't read that way.

"What can I do for you, Brother Parish?" He asked, making sure to flash his teeth just enough to make the man bristle subconsciously.

Their relationship was difficult, made worse by the power struggle that emerged within the temple after the Prelate's arrival.

Alexander couldn't care less at this point, but he knew that if he suddenly began ignoring the man who had once been his most insidious rival, he would become instantly suspicious.

"I wanted to see if it was true that you'd finally scrounged up enough strength to come out of your hole. Who would be so depressed after being faced with Her? After becoming the instrument of Her will?" Slitted eyes narrowed in displeasure, and the exorcist loomed over him despite his old age.

"I am but a mortal. I was not prepared to host Her will." Alexander replied humbly, forcing himself to keep his hands steady. Yes, he had not been prepared at all.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

"Bah, still the same as always, I see. Hiding behind sophistry to justify your failings!" The exorcist raised his voice, his pointed ears pulling back as he bared his teeth in an obvious threat display.

"That is enough." A voice rumbled, and Alexander didn't need to check to know it was the Prelate. At the other end of the hallway, he stood tall, appearing to have recovered from his experience in the dungeon.

"Brothers, there is no need to snip at each other so! Vicar Alexander is just now returning to his duties; we should allow him the space to do so." The old monster sentenced.

And with that, Parish slinked back, heeding the call of his master without saying anything in response. He didn't even look back at Alexander, revealing just how submissive he was to the Prelate.

"Thank you, Brother Marthas. I shall endeavor to fulfill your expectations," Alexander replied, surprising the man by using his name in private for the first time.

Marthas smiled, pleased, and nodded before sweeping out of the hall with his servant at his heels.

At any other time, this would have been a clear capitulation. Alexander had done his best to keep the two groups—his original congregation and the priests from Alluria— separate and had employed every trick in the book to achieve this. He had deliberately excluded the newcomers from local affairs while maintaining a facade of frigid politeness.

His more casual lexicon could be viewed as an olive branch, suggesting that he had acknowledged his loss of control over the temple.

It was always going to end this way. Since the moment Bishop Umlaut rejected my request for support, I had no chance of keeping Marthas from taking over. It was just luck that several events kept him from focusing on this matter for so long, but now that the dungeon has been conquered, he has nothing to hold him back from seizing control.

Alexander was aware that some in his faction had attempted to use his possession as proof of his rightful authority. They had even gone so far as to call him a Saint in the making.

Unfortunately for them, his seclusion had robbed them of their momentum, and even after he returned, he made sure to let everyone know he wasn't looking to stake his claim. That had been the nail in the coffin.

Alexander pitied his friends, but he knew that they would eventually be welcomed back into the fold. Marthas was not a foolish man. He would swoop in after Alexander had disappeared, and everything would be forgiven as long as they fell in.

Opening his drawer for the last time, Alexander placed the letter inside and stood up.

Many things here would be useful for my journey, but it would be foolish to trust anything so permeated with Her essence. They would find me immediately.

Without looking back, he exited the office, closed the door behind him, and made his way out of the temple.

He made sure to nod to anyone who greeted him and even smiled at the younger acolytes. They were blameless in all this but would likely still be swept away by the changing tides. Hopefully, they would be wise enough not to draw attention to themselves until the waters had calmed.

Walking into Floria after what had happened last time wasn't easy. He made sure to avoid the market district, as he doubted he could avoid a full-blown panic attack, and that would make his next steps very difficult.

Instead, he sneaked through the secondary roads until he finally stood before an unremarkable door. Knocking three times and then two more, he settled in for a wait, but it didn't take long before a reedy voice answered, "Why does the wolf howl at the moon?"

"He seeks what he cannot have," he replied calmly. There was a moment of silence before the door swung open, and an old woman peered at him suspiciously.

"Well, which one of the sprogs do you need me to help flee?" She asked, looking around but finding no one.

"Ah, I'm afraid this case is a bit more sensitive than usual." He replied, meeting her eyes with a placid smile.

"Humph. They all think that. But fine, come in." She grunted, ushering him into the dimly lit room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Alexander felt the world cut off. This, he knew, was the result of a very complicated set of enchantments that prevented even the greatest scouts from sensing this room and what it rested upon.

The woman took a seat at the dingy table, gesturing for him to take the opposite one. There was a third seat to his right, where, several times, he had seen troubled youths sit. He had not done this very often, but it sometimes happened that a child who undertook a Path in Her light eventually came to reject it. While it would raise a fuss if it were known, it was a long-standing tradition for Floria's Vicars to guide them to new ones.

Once, Alexander had regarded this as an almost blasphemous act, but his predecessor had made him swear a blood oath to keep it secret. Now, he wondered if he wasn't the only one whose faith had been shaken.

"So, what is it this time?"

Alexander stared. The old woman was someone he had been warned not to ask about. He knew from gossip that she owned a tailoring shop, but how that connected to people smuggling, he didn't know. Still, she did good work, and if he wanted to leave town without risking the Green Ocean, he needed her. "I want out."

Slowly, a frightful grin spread across her face. "Oho. So it was true. You met Her, didn't you? Not all she's cracked up to be?"

Alexander swallowed an angry retort. I'm at her mercy now. Stay calm.

"Indeed. I cannot stay within the temple any longer, and they would not allow me to leave peacefully," He replied eventually.

The woman chuckled before it turned into a full-blown cackle. "Oh, I knew this day would come. The burnt bitch had it coming, with how pushy she is!"

She wiped at her eyes, and her eyes glowed as she regarded him. "Yes, yes, I believe I can help you. How good are you with your defensive magic?"

*Skreee*

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Alexander yelled, summoning another [Flare] to blind the damnable bat swarm that seemed determined to follow him all the way.

Unfortunately, that only pushed them back for a short while. They would return in a few minutes, angrier than ever. Even worse, he had no means of dealing with them more permanently.

All the magic he knew that could be considered offensive came from his [Priest] class, and if he used any of those, he would be very easy to find for someone as powerful as Marthas.

Alexander didn't know if his absence had been noticed yet, but he couldn't risk it. Not when he was so close to freedom.

After two more attacks and several more minutes of walking through the dark tunnel, he eventually saw the light.

Despite his exhaustion, a new strength filled him, and he rushed ahead. This is it! Freedom!

When he finally emerged from the tunnel, his eyes quickly adjusted to the light, thanks to his [Devoted of the Flame] trait.

The world revealed itself to him, and he smiled as he gazed at the sky. The southern grassland stretched out all around him, and the only man-made structure nearby was the remains of a temple to his left.

After taking a moment to breathe in the fresh air, Alexander turned toward the scene, noticing people moving about. "Oho, look at that. That old frog might have sent us a big one this time." He heard a voice and turned around, spotting two individuals who had not been there just a moment ago. One was very thin and tall, with sallow skin and a long nose, while the other was an utterly unremarkable man, with such ordinary features that Alexander was certain he couldn't find him in a crowd.

Both had tattoos of a horn encircled by spiked chains on the sides of their necks. "Welcome to the resistance, little priest."