Low-Fantasy Occultist Isekai

Nick's focus sharpened as Vicar Alexander emerged from the crowd. The vicar moved almost frantically, his robes swishing as he hurried to Eugene's side. He gestured animatedly while speaking, but once again, his words were too faint for Nick to catch from his perch. Still, the deference in his body language was clear.

After his own greeting, Alexander introduced Eugene to the Prelate.

The shift in Eugene's posture was subtle, yet Nick noticed it immediately. His father squared his shoulders, exuding confidence. Marthas was technically not his superior since he was not part of the kingdom's administration; however, as a high-ranking priest second only to the Bishop and a Prestige class to boot, he was effectively the highest-ranking person in Floria at that moment. There was a tautness to Eugene's stance, a slight edge of caution that indicated to Nick he was fully aware of whom he was dealing with and that he didn't want to let the public know.

He told me not to worry about the Prelate, but Dad seems quite concerned. It might appear to be a friendly exchange, but to me, it's clear that Dad doesn't enjoy having to host him.

That was good. It meant Eugene would keep his guard up. While it was possible that this visit would pass without problem, Nick's instincts were clearly on the side of more chaos happening. And Ogden's warning made it clear he thought the same.

The Prelate, in contrast, was all smiles. His face broke into a wide, toothy grin that seemed to illuminate the space around him. His charisma drew people in like moths to a flame. When he spoke, his deep timber rose above the crowd's murmurs, silencing everyone without needing to ask.

"My friends!" he announced, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace everyone present. "I bring tidings of hope and aid during this time of trial. When I learned of the stampede and the hardships your town has faced, I implored the caravan to hasten its pace so we might reach you all the sooner. Floria is a bastion of civilization, and your call for help cannot go unanswered."

The crowd responded with a soft murmur of approval. Smiles spread, and heads nodded. Nick grimaced. Naturally, he would introduce himself with flattery. That was basic oratory, and a priestly class was bound to excel at that.

He continued, overflowing with warmth. "With me, I have food and beverages enchanted to last for years, sufficient to support every household in Floria for the whole month so that our presence here might not strain your larders. These will be distributed at our next temple service." He promised, drawing audible gasps from the crowd.

"And that's not all," he added, his smile growing even wider. "I've also brought five of the finest temple healers from Alluria. Anyone still suffering from injuries, whether from the stampede or from previous conditions, may seek their help. Their services will be free to all who need them."

Cheers erupted as the crowd's excitement became palpable, their murmurs transforming into loud expressions of gratitude. Nick clenched his jaw, tightening his grip on the branch. It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the help—Floria needed it, and there were people who would benefit greatly. However, the ease with which the Prelate captivated the crowd put him on edge.

Any good occultist learns quickly to steer clear of charismatic men. We operate in the shadows, furthering our knowledge away from the spotlight. Anyone who wants this much attention cannot be trusted. Of course, this is a different world, but organized religions with a real god—or goddess in this case—at the helm aren't so different from cults.

From the corner of his eye, Nick noticed Eugene nodding, although his expression remained unreadable. As the cheers subsided, he stepped forward, raising a hand for silence. The crowd quickly complied, directing their attention to the captain.

"On behalf of Floria," Eugene announced, "we thank you, Prelate Marthas, for your generosity and prompt response. Your assistance will be invaluable to our people. Please allow me to officially welcome you to our town."Nôv(el)B\\jnn

He extended his hand again, and the Prelate grasped it firmly. The two men stood locked in the handshake in a show of mutual respect—or its performance, at least.

Enjoy exclusive chapters from empire

Eugene turned, gesturing toward the caravan behind the Prelate. "Darien," he called.

The gruff man stepped forward from the crowd of guards and town officials. He barked an order, and the cart drivers quickly began maneuvering their wagons toward the market district, where stalls and storage spaces had been prepared.

While the caravan was considerably larger than Nick remembered, that didn't seem to intimidate Darien. He knew he'd find a way to fit them all in.

Nick watched as the crowd gradually began to disperse, their energy now focused on assisting the caravan or preparing for the Prelate's promised distributions. Yet, Nick's gaze remained locked on the man of the hour.

Marthas nodded firmly to Eugene before turning away. His crimson robes billowed dramatically as he strode toward the temple, with Vicar Alexander following close behind. He nodded occasionally, dividing his attention between Alexander and the townsfolk around him, who rushed to thank him.

I have very little information about how Sashara's temple works beyond what the general public knows. This is the first time I've seen a high-ranking member, and while I knew he'd have magical tattoos, they are still somewhat unsettling. They didn't seem to affect the crowd, though, which makes me wonder if there is a subtle effect that wasn't strong enough to trigger [Blasphemy] but was still resisted.

Still, despite his misgivings, the initial encounter had gone well. Marthas was a charismatic man, but he didn't seem actively malicious—at least not overtly so. There was, however, a notable absence among the welcoming crowd.

It wasn't unusual for Arthur to avoid crowds, as the old man was known to be a recluse at the best of times, but Nick couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it this time. Is he giving Dad space to lead, or is it something else?

Nick climbed down from the tree and landed softly on the ground, aided by the air to cushion the impact. The noise around him provided plenty of cover as he slipped away. Marthas was dangerous—there was no doubt about that. Whatever his true intentions were, Nick couldn't afford to underestimate the Prelate's influence.

The afternoon sun took on a golden hue as Nick trudged homeward. His mind was still spinning with images of Prelate Marthas and the caravan's arrival. The man's incredible presence lingered at the edges of his mind, reminding him what a difference being a Prestige class was. He tightened his grip on the wand in his pocket, absentmindedly tracing the length with his thumb.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of hurried footsteps behind him. Nick turned, finding Devon jogging to catch up, looking exasperated and amused.

"You," Devon said, pointing a finger at Nick as he fell into step beside him, "owe me an apology."

"For what?" Nick asked, lifting his brows in mock innocence.

"For trying to embarrass me in front of a girl, you little weasel," Devon replied with a note of warning. The older boy rarely got genuinely angry, and Nick had yet to see it directed at him, but it was evident that Devon didn't appreciate being put on the spot—it was merely luck that the girl hadn't been paying attention. "I saw that look on your face when you came over. Don't think I didn't see what you were planning."

Nick snorted, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Honestly, I was so shocked that it wasn't who I thought it was that I completely lost the desire to mess with you."

Devon narrowed his eyes suspiciously but broke into a grin. "You're lucky I'm feeling generous, or I'd be kicking your ass."

"Sure, sure," Nick said, waving him off. "You're so scary."

They continued down the road, slipping into comfortable banter. Nick always enjoyed these moments with Devon, even if he wouldn't admit it out loud. His older brother had a knack for balancing teasing with genuine care, which Nick secretly admired.

As they turned a corner, a familiar figure emerged from a shaded alleyway. Elena took in her sons with a small, knowing smile. She effortlessly fell into step with them, surprising Nick, as he hadn't felt her approach.

"Mom?" Nick asked, blinking in shock. "I didn't see you in the crowd earlier. Were you hiding?"

Elena's smile widened slightly. "Not hiding. You just weren't looking in the right way."

Nick frowned, flaring his air sense instinctively, though he knew it was pointless. His mother's words hinted this was a lesson, and she offered no further explanation. Instead, she glanced at him with a cryptic glint in her eye.

"It's not enough to know things are there to find them," she said, her voice light but pointed. "Sometimes, you must understand how they move. You'll never expect them otherwise."

Nick scratched the back of his head, frustrated but intrigued. Before he could press her for clarification, Elena continued. "I was there to greet an old friend who came along with the caravan."

"An old friend?" Devon echoed, raising a brow.

As if summoned by her words, a towering figure appeared behind Elena, moving with such stealth that neither brother noticed her approach until she was standing directly before them. Nick yelped and stumbled back, heart leaping in his throat. Devon mirrored his reaction, instinctively moving his hand to the dagger at his belt.

The woman crouched before them, sporting a wide, mischievous grin. She was tall—easily above six feet—with a muscular, scarred build that suggested years of combat experience. A massive sword with a worn leather hilt lay across her back. Her voluminous dark hair was pulled back in a loose braid, and her sharp, golden eyes sparkled with amusement.

"Well, well," she said, her voice rich like honey. "Looks like you've got a long way to go yet. Elena told me you were decent, but I should have expected her to exaggerate."

Nick scrambled to his feet, feeling his cheeks burn. I didn't feel anything! Not even a whisper!

The woman chuckled, ruffling his hair with a calloused hand. "Don't be too hard on yourself, kid; I'm joking. You've barely scratched the surface of what it means to move unseen. It's a century too early for you to think you can sense me."

Devon stood, brushing himself off with a frown. "Who…?"

Elena stepped forward and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder. "This is Akari," she said fondly. "An old companion from my adventuring days. She'll be staying with us for a few days until the caravan leaves."

Nick's eyes widened. "She's one of your teammates?" The revelation sent his curiosity into overdrive. Elena had a story for every occasion, but until now, he'd not met any other protagonists.

"Once upon a time," Elena said, her smile softening. "She and I traveled together for years before I settled down."

Akari stood, easily dwarfing the boys. She crossed her arms, and her grin turned sly. "And while I'm here, I'll be making myself useful. Your mother's asked me to guide Devon to Alluria, where he'll meet his new master. But until then…" She leaned down slightly. "I'll be teaching you both what the real Stalking Gait is like."

Devon blinked. "The real Stalking Gait? What does that mean?"

"It means," Akari said, tapping a finger against Devon's forehead, moving back before he could swat at it, "that you'll learn how to move like a predator and strike before your enemy even knows you're there. And trust me, boys, you've got a lot to learn."

Elena clapped her hands gently, drawing their attention. "Let's head home," she said, leaving no room for argument. "Akari had a long journey, and you two must wash up before I let you in the house."

As they made their way down the road, Nick glanced at Akari. She caught his eye and winked, her grin widening.

Her teeth were very sharp.