Primordial Villain With A Slave Harem

Chapter 1775: Inside a Holy Sanctuary

Elisabeth’s face went white.

"...Arch Priestess Velara?!"

Velara’s fingers were mid-count on a handful of copper when Elisabeth’s voice hit her.

"Wha-"

Her head came up. A woman in commoner wool was staring at her from across the square, golden hair spilling from beneath a rough hood, and it took Velara two squinting seconds before the face beneath it registered.

"E-Elisabeth...?"

Then her gaze traversed the rest of the group as if pulled by gravity until it reached the tall figure at its center, and the laborer’s tunic did absolutely nothing to help.

Truth be told, while the maids and the robes tried their best to let them blend in, their disguises were never meant to survive a direct stare from people who knew them well.

They were just meant to help get a genuine look at the city without turning every head.

If Quinlan wanted to hide him and his guests better, he could have.

But showing off his amazing maids was part of the tour. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Velara’s eyes went wide, and the coin slipped from her fingers.

"Ah!"

She reached for it, caught it between her thumb and forefinger, and it slipped free again.

She grabbed with both hands cupped, missed, lunged as it bounced off the heated cobblestones, and by the time it rolled beneath the fabric stall she was bent at the waist with her face three shades past crimson and the merchant watching her with flat eyes trying their best not to show any emotion.

She was their city’s beloved Arch Priestess, after all.

"..." Velara left the coin where it was, visibly coming to the conclusion that a woman of her station crawling under stalls could simply not stand.

Instead, she crossed the distance to Elisabeth in four long strides, and began dragging the Dawn Breaker by the hand.

"Inside," she hissed, herding the entire group toward the cathedral’s side entrance with the frantic energy of someone stuffing contraband into a cupboard. "Now. All of you. Move."

Elisabeth stopped dead the moment she crossed the threshold. "You’re inviting him into a cathedral?!" She jabbed a finger at Quinlan.

"Well, he built it..." Velara sighed at the fuming priestess while she took a proper look at her visitors in the light.

She stared at Elisabeth first. "Wait, why in the Goddess’s name are you dressed like a milkmaid?"

"Stop changing topics. And this is a vagabond’s attire!" Elisabeth corrected, tugging at her roughspun. "Not a milkmaid’s."

"You look like a milkmaid," Velara said.

"I do not. The maid who dressed me swore upon the Goddess that she’d make me appear as mighty as possible."

Velara couldn’t help but release a weary exhale. "The Goddess’s name means nothing to those heretics. She played you."

Then her eyes found Quinlan, expression beyond dry as she added, "Next time you want to ensure that the Villain’s allies are truthful, have them swear upon his life."

"How have you been, priestess?" Quinlan smiled at her, as if he hadn’t heard a single word of their loud exchange.

"...Been better."

"You seemed to be enjoying yourself a minute ago." His tone was infuriatingly casual.

Velara’s eyes narrowed with scrutiny, but the blush rising from her collar gave her away.

She had indeed been enjoying herself and the fact that he’d seen all of that... She didn’t like it. Not one bit.

"What happened in the past is inconsequential since after that you showed up, so..." she said flatly.

"Ouch."

"...Huh? Wait!" Elisabeth’s head snapped toward Quinlan. "Villain. Explain yourself. The maid said I look mighty even in this outfit."

Quinlan shrugged. "My dutiful maids would never lie. You’re the mightiest milkmaid of them all."

Golden light crackled between Elisabeth’s fingers, and the Arch Priestess looked ready to commit murder.

"Please refrain from acts of violence in this house of worship," Quinlan murmured, raising a palm. His composure was impeccable. His sincerity was not.

Velara stared at him.

She stared with every drop of patience her centuries of service had earned her, because this man and that lunatic Black Fang had happily attacked her on the steps of her own cathedral, and he was now standing in its replacement preaching the sanctity of holy ground.

She closed her eyes, exhaled through her nose, and accepted that holding the Primordial Villain accountable for his actions or having him admit that he was in the wrong was a war no one could win.

Her gaze moved to the other male instead, and the color left her face all over again.

The roughspun disguise covered everything except the fact that he was the King of Vraven.

"Y-Your Majesty...?!"

"Arch Priestess." Alexios nodded in greeting.

Elisabeth managed to calm herself just enough to rejoin the conversation. "That can wait! Why were you that far from the cathedral?! That stall was hundreds of meters away! Where are your guards? You’re an Arch Priestess walking a public market without a single escort!"

"..." Velara straightened her robes and smoothed her hair, and the careful way she did both said more about how rattled she was than the coin fumble had.

She did not look at Quinlan as she answered. "The city is in the middle of settling a hundred thousand displaced people. My guards are more useful carrying crates and directing families than standing behind me while I browse linen."

"You can’t be unguarded this far from consecrated ground!" Elisabeth refused to relent. "What if someone gets an idea? They don’t even have proper patrols in place yet!"

"Even with loose patrols," Velara said, and the reluctance behind the words cost her visibly, "the city is very safe. Safer than old Whisperfield."

Elisabeth looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head. "Safer?!" She gestured toward the cathedral’s open doors with both hands. "Than Whisperfield?!"

Velara’s gaze finally moved to Quinlan, her expression sharpening.

"These people watched this infuriatingly arrogant creature raise their homes from the earth in just a couple of hours," she said, her tone carrying more exasperation than awe. "No one dares take advantage of the chaos, because they are all convinced he would somehow find them and make them pay. They don’t understand his capabilities, so they assume the worst."

Elisabeth blinked rapidly and turned to look at the man Velara had just described.

He was no longer listening.

Quinlan had drifted deeper into the cathedral with Jasmine’s hand in his, the two of them wandering between stone columns as if continental politics was happening to someone else.

Jasmine was studying the vaulted ceiling with her head tilted, one finger tapping her chin. "You did good with this one, Quin."

"I just gave them walls and a roof. They did the rest."

"The hypocrite’s fanatics are truly hard workers."

"They ransacked the old cathedral and brought the decorations over. Then the priestess did her thing and brought the Goddess’s presence over. Or something like that. I don’t know, for some reason they don’t like sharing details with me."

"I wonder why~" Jasmine purred, then added, "I know all that, but it’s still impressive to have set up a new church so soon."

"Is that so?"

Jasmine giggled and turned to face him, poking the tip of his nose with her finger. "You know, the fact that we, the girls, did everything when it came to our home’s interior decor shows how little you know about making things pretty, Quin."

"I did decorate the sex dungeon in the basement, though? Ronan and I wracked our brains hard on that one."

"Shhh! We have an audience!"

He chuckled, caught her hand before it left his face, and pulled her back to his side.

"Hey, Quin, did you know..." Jasmine hummed, already pivoting to how the cathedral’s foot traffic could anchor the surrounding blocks, what the side chambers could host, whether the district heads could hold their meetings here.

Quinlan listened with quiet contentment while his hand slid from hers to the small of her back, then lower, fingers settling on the curve of her butt and kneading slow, idle circles while she talked.

Jasmine rose onto her toes without missing a syllable, her back arching into his side to give his palm better purchase on her behind, and she didn’t seem to notice the hand was there.

Or if she did, she was enjoying it too much to care.

Myrasyn and Isveth stood shoulder to shoulder with hoods low, both scandalized by the display and both unable to look anywhere else.