One week later, morning at the village of Wintervale…

“Alyssa de Aintree from the Holy See, I presume?”

Perhaps it was the long and tiresome journey on the carriage that had left her weary, but the male devata who had stepped forward to greet her at the village gates was rather striking as he stood before her in his black coat sparsely adorned with little more than a golden amulet crafted in the image of the eight-sided Star of Elicia. It made him stand out from amidst the gathered villagers waiting at the side and his fellow devatas assembled behind him as a group of four ladies dressed in hooded robes similar to hers, a sight so charming and smart that it made her heart swell upon her chest as she nodded to his question while looking into his red-eyed gaze, kept behind thin-rimmed spectacles that afforded him both the air of a scholar and a holy man of the Central Church.

“Yes… welcome to Wintervale. We’ve been expecting you, Sister!”

Indeed, those red eyes of his were rather charming, to say the least of him. In fact, there was an almost otherworldly aura to his person, so entrancing that she had barely noticed the looks of surprise upon the faces of the gathered villagers and the hushed murmurs going around about the elvish ears they had noticed poking out from her hood. So entrancing, that she wished Sister Natasha had come along if only to behold him alongside her, considering her friend’s constant gushing about Brother Cedric or Father Alistair back home, of all the possibly heretical things she wanted so badly from them. Sister Violet too, even if she knew her to be more of a prude when it came to such affairs, if only for the reason that good things were worth sharing with one’s closest and dearest friends.

“I’m Edwards. Father Edwards,” the male devata said to her, the strength carried forth in his voice catching her momentarily off-guard. “But enough about me! You should introduce yourself to everyone, Sister.”

“Yes, of course!”

Facing the gathered villagers, and with the best smile she could muster, Sister Alyssa bowed and introduced herself, only to have her burst of enthusiasm be stilled almost immediately. Only now, much to her dismay, did she notice the murmurs and the looks of unease for reasons she knew all too well. The applause and enthusiasm of her fellow devatas did little to ease the tension she could feel so thickly in the freshness of the cold morning air.

“Ah, well,” Father Edwards said to her with a smile, right before turning to address the gathered villagers. “Everyone, please go on about your day. Sister Alyssa has travelled a long way from the Holy See, and she needs to unpack at the abbey and get some much-needed rest.”

As the villagers dispersed into the town, he turned to address Sister Alyssa once more with the warmest of smiles as she looked at him with worry knit keenly upon her elvish features.

“They were like that to me as well when I first arrived here,” Father Edwards said. “They see someone from the city, and they get a little apprehensive. Don’t worry about it for now.”

“I see,” Sister Alyssa remarked, her voice petering out weakly into the cold as her elvish ears drooped slightly. “It’s alright, I expected as much. Her Grace told me that the villagers here respond more to deeds and faithful service, rather than a first impression.”

“Yes, indeed. You’ll have your work cut out for you. But for now, let’s get you settled in.”

Sister Alyssa nodded.

“Yes… I’d like that very much, Father.”

“Good. This way, please.”

Leaving the carriage behind at the village gates and with her luggage in hand, Sister Alyssa and her new colleagues continued on to the abbey on foot, travelling upon the snow-swept streets in silence. She took the opportunity to look around with every step forward, and she found her despondence melting away rapidly as her purple eyes took in the warm colours of the villagers’ homes, their festive decorations and the little orchards they had in their gardens that bore ripening fruits and vegetables amidst roaming livestock, as well as the little bustling shops ahead at the town square that bore all manner of colourful goods and signs advertising all manner of services. The visitors to the Ancient Cathedral had spoken to her at length about the serene beauty of Wintervale, and she had thought them to be mere exaggerations born from memory. As one would, speaking fondly of home as she would have were someone here or anywhere else to ask her of the Holy See of Arcadia. But now that she was here in the flesh to behold with her own two eyes all that they had spoken of so fondly, she found herself very much agreeing with them.

“Did you know? The Harvest Festival is coming,” Father Edwards remarked, breaking the silence of their little party of five as they continued on the pavement. “Three weeks from now, to be precise. Tell me, do they celebrate that at the Holy See?”

Sister Alyssa shook her head.

“No… not really. I’ve heard of it though, from the pilgrims.”

“Excellent! You’re in for a treat, then. Five years ago, I experienced my first Harvest Festival here. I’m from the city of Shadowgate, you see. Coming here was a breath of fresh air, and I’m sure you’ll get what I mean in time.”

Sister Alyssa nodded thoughtfully. For indeed, there was a rustic beauty to this place, one so different yet striking from the orderly luxury of the Upper City back home. Rustic beauty, so serenely captured within a display of postcards that she had noticed standing out to her from a nearby gift shop around the street corner she had just walked by with Father Edwards and her fellow devatas. And as she remembered her promise to her friends back home, she felt a sadness well up within, cringing within her belly and stopping her dead in her tracks as she stood quietly before the display of postcards kept away from her by a window of glass. Where she could see, with her purple eyes growing wet with every passing second, her reflection sorrowfully staring back upon its frosted surface, as though in silent prayer for all that had been left behind.

“Is something the matter, Sister?” Father Edwards said as he joined her right outside the gift shop. “Would you like to buy something?”

With a wistful smile, Sister Alyssa wiped the tears from her eyes and shook her head at Father Edwards, who simply nodded.

“Alright, then. We should keep moving, because it’s almost time for lunch at the abbey.”

“Yes, of course. My apologies, Father.”

Taking one final glance at the postcards, Sister Alyssa followed Father Edwards, catching up to the familiar sight of white robes trimmed with purple and gold much like hers. The village abbey was just up ahead now, its welcome sight a panacea to her weariness and longing as she beheld at its courtyard the icy garden of glacial flowers in full bloom, and the gentle sound of flowing water from a nearby fountain peppered with melodious chirping from the little sparrows fluttering about who had made this lush serenity their home.

“It’s so pretty…”

“Yes, it is,” Father Edwards remarked warmly as he stood by her side before the fountain in the heart of the garden while the rest of the devatas filed into the abbey to prepare for lunch. “And you’ll get to be a part of it, like the rest of us.”

It was with this that Sister Alyssa found herself smiling once more, the sadness of moments past melting away for good as her elvish ears twitched to the sublime medley of sounds all around her while her eyes feasted upon the serene beauty of her new home. For indeed, perhaps for just a little longer, the postal service and the postcards could wait. At least, for now.