Where Danger Lies - Part 10

There ran a young man, robbed like a monk, with a rope holding his brown uniform to his waist. He carried Oliver's jacket with him, and his sword. Seeing them, Oliver felt a spike of panic. He was even more disoriented than he had realized.

"Thank you," he said simply, as the man handed him what was his. Oliver noted the man's bald head – shaved, he was sure, for the man seemed to radiate youthfulness, despite his serious air. Serious, yet smiling, he was a contradiction.

"Verdant, Monk of Behomothia," the man introduced himself, extending a hand. A monk, and yet, the ways of nobility streamed off him like a bad smell.

Oliver looked at the hand for a moment, noting the ring, before taking it.

"Isn't Behomothia a sea Goddess?" Oliver asked. "I thought we were quite a distance from the sea."

"Ah, you're wondering why, then. Shipwreck – thirty dead, I found myself washed up on the Eastern shores. Was quite a journey back, but with Behomothia's blessing, I made it," the priest said.