[IRP] Between Two Worlds

[Victor]

Being in Sanovar had tired Sergius out. While there weren't many Illians, many of the refugees had recognized him as an Eliminean priest, and he had been ministering to them for about a week now. He'd never done something like this before, and the constant recitation of rites he'd almost forgotten while on his journey were by no means accompanied by the full pomp of a service.

Weary and reeking of incense, Sergius found himself walking into the Bernese neighborhood. He had grown tired of ministering to the people, and rushed to take a break in a place where he wouldn't be recognized and asked for blessings or prayers. He tipped his head to the guards on the streets. Some had responded amicably, greeting him as the holy man he was, but others stared him down like a potential threat. This was just what he'd come to expect in Sanovar. Sergius was sure it was a general distaste for foreigners. His accent, mannerisms, and clothing were distinctly Illian, and while he'd been in the town for a week, he'd only seen a handful of people like himself.

He ducked into a tavern as the rain began, occupying one of the many empty tables. over at the counter were two women speaking a language he didn't quite understand. His drink and food were thankfully brought swiftly, and he offered a quick blessing to God and St. Elimine before he began to eat. Sergius laughed to himself about the many patrons wrapped in their cloaks and bundled against the cold. This was nothing compared to the freezing winters back home. Cold made you healthy, and without it, your bones couldn't grow. Or at least, that's what everyone said. The reason Southerners were small of stature was because they didn't have proper cold to grown on. He was glad he hadn't turned out like one of them.