The High Priest's smile never wavered as he gestured politely.
"Lord Cedric, I understand you're a busy man—bringing aid to the poor, spreading the Goddess's name, uplifting the downtrodden. So I'll cut to the chase."
He folded his hands behind his back.
"We'd like to formally recruit you into the Church. As an official representative under the banner of Goddess Elyssera herself."
A pause.
"What do you say?"
Cedric tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating.
"Sounds good."
His voice was calm, even friendly.
"But… what's in it for me?"
The smile on the High Priest's face twitched. Not shock. But something colder—an irritation at being reminded that others, too, could negotiate.
"Of course,"
He said slowly, measured,
"we intend to reward you generously for your… spiritual labor, Lord Cedric. You need not concern yourself."
Cedric didn't blink.
"Then let me hear it. The offer."
The High Priest nodded, stepping slightly forward, tone sharpening with formality.
