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INTERNAL AFFAIRS OF THE HEART- SANCTARCH RAFAYEL X DUCHESS MC/READER

Chapter 1: An Introduction of Scrutiny Words: 6,476 Pairings: Rafayel x MC/Reader Rating: M Overall Tags: Fantasy AU, enemies to lovers, religious themes, angst, hurt/comfort, sexual tension, drama, she/her MC, eventual smut, carriage smut, P in V sex, eventual pregnancy (after chapter 2 is where that plot begins, but you can read chapters 1 and 2 if you don't like those tropes but want the smut just fine), MC/Reader goes by Duchess Sterling, MC is a child of an affair and Caleb is her half brother, Lemurian OCs

Summary: After inheriting the title of Duchess of Treasury and Internal Affairs from her estranged Grandmother, a raised commoner has large hopes that the holy religion of the Sanctide Court will be a breath of fresh air amongst complicated investigations into the bank accounts of the noble houses of Gaia, but instead begins unraveling a web of deceit and hidden truths. Between her and the secrets however stands the Sanctarch; An infuriating man of charm and wit that is as handsome as he is dangerous. Amidst the complications of financial investigation and hundreds of years of religion the unexpected happens: The tension between Rafayel and the Duchess melds with fierce attraction.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The organist was playing a hymn that resonated through the ornate tiled floors of the Sanctide Court’s holy cathedral, and the newest Duchess of the Gaia Kingdom was able to feel the deeper notes in the soles of her feet where she sat near the front row where nobility was allowed.

The name her commoner father gave her did not matter here, as everyone called her by her Grandmother’s last name- Sterling- of who she had inherited the ducal title upon her passing six months ago. The Duchess had never met the woman, and was greatly surprised that she’d bothered to name her as heir; Though in retrospect and with greater knowledge of how the ruling class worked, she should have known such an important seat as the Duchess of Treasury and Internal Affairs could not be left empty.

It was her job, after all, to make sure there was no wealth hoarding or misappropriating of funds, and the noble houses of Gaia learned swiftly she was not to be underestimated; Growing up a commoner left her with a strong morality centered on holding nobility accountable for their crimes, and even stronger she believed that the hard earned money given from the commoners to the Crown should not be miss handled.

The large double doors closed behind the congregation, and a slight chill brought by the absence of the sun made the Duchess shift in her seat and draw her fashionable coat closer to her body. It did good enough to keep her warm outside in the crisp Spring wind, but here where the Sanctide Court rarely lit a fire it did not suffice to stop goosebumps sprouting on her arms.

As the final organ note echoed around the chamber, the Duchess of Sterling swept her gaze along the dais where church officials were seated behind the pulpit, yet there wasn’t any sign yet of the Holy Sanctarch.

Today was the day she would officially meet him as finally her request for appointment had been accepted, and as someone who had been dutifully raised in belief of the Tide she was brimming with honor and doubt she deserved to even have the chance. Her Father and his wife had been deeply religious, and every night he’d read her an excerpt from the Ocean and Covenants- an accepted doctrine of the Sanctide Court- and though after moving out her attendance had slipped in exchange for more working hours, she had always given extra income to it’s charity and the local priest of her village knew her by name.

The charity was in fact the point of the meeting, because the Crown specifically asked for everyone to be audited with her fine toothed comb, no exemptions for religion or charity.

Honestly, she was looking forward to an easy investigation after the countless months of tracking down tax receipts of local businesses to see if they added up to what the local government had reported, and than reviewing how much money was actually within their coffers, she had good faith to believe the Sanctide Court would be much more forthright and amicable to work with. She was praying for this to be so simple it’d be comparable to weeks off work.

The Sanctinal Amund rose to his feet once the note finally died off, and absolute silence fell as he made his way to the pulpit and began service.

During the opening prayer something caught the Duchess’ attention away- a quick tug at her gut that was gone as quickly as it came- and when she opened her eyes all there was to find was the Sanctarch in his seat relaxing as if he’d always been there. There hadn’t even been the sounds of a door opening or footsteps to tell he had arrived, yet there was no mystery to solve because the answer was simple: Magic.

Magic was a distant thing for commoners, a fantastical rumor that most never saw in their lifetimes if they did not have the honor of living near a church or noble that was gifted with miracles, but here in Aristocracy magic was as common as the sun filtering through leaves.

The sources of magic were Divine, Bloodline, and Miracles, and as the leader of the main religion of Gaia, Sanctarch Rafayel’s magic was Divine.

It took Duchess Sterling’s breath away to be able to witness such spectacular things up close, yet it was just another thing that set her apart from everyone else who had grown up with their own bloodline magic that they hardly thought about a world without it.

Though Rafayel did not need magic to leave someone breathless, as his looks were somehow even more captivating than the stories said. She watched for perhaps a moment longer than she should at the way a nearby candelabra made his nose and cheekbone glow a pink hue while the rest was lost in the shadow of his hood, and she felt more than saw the moment the Sanctarch looked in her direction.

Quickly averting her gaze back towards Sanctinal Amund, Duchess Sterling tried not to focus too much on her warming face at being caught staring. Though, that was perhaps something she and the noble women around her had in common, as she was not the only one taking occasional glances towards Rafayel’s handsome face. It was an advantageous thing for the Sanctarch to be so young in comparison to all his predecessors in this day and age where gossip and infatuation were currency in and of itself.

There were rumors about his charming personality that managed to get even the most frugal of elderly widows to part with a portion of their wealth, and though the method was questionable, the Duchess supposed that even if it was true, as long as the cause was worthwhile the ends justified the means.

===

“Your Grace, thank you for your patience!” A tall woman with a kind smile said as she greeted the young Duchess, dressed in the dark blues and tans of those who’ve devoted their lives to the Tide. “I am Naiad, a member of the Pool of Remembrance which is the hall in which the Sanctide keeps all our records, and I am grateful for the opportunity to work with you today.”

“It is me who should be grateful,” The Duchess said as she rose to her feet, though she had been waiting longer than expected in a room she’d been led to by a young nervous boy. “I thank you for taking the time at all to meet with me.”

“Not a trouble at all, Your Grace! Please, follow me.”

She was lead through hallways lit by torches that shifted from blues, to pinks, to purples in differing saturations of light; Passing by groups of people dressed in the same blues and tans as Naiad all conversing to themselves in low whispers, yet they all greeted her kindly with a nod or smile. When at last Naiad stopped, she opened a door to an office and gestured for the Duchess to come inside.

“Would you like some tea?” Naiad asked, and the Duchess was glad to be welcomed by a wall of warmth emanating from a fireplace with a tiled mosiac of the stars moving like waves on a beach in the corner.

“Thank you, yes.” Sitting down, The Duchess looked around the office. There were bookshelves lining every wall, and each was filled with tomes and textbooks, as well as scrolls carefully rolled and placed within so that there was room to stack them.

After sending word to fetch tea, Naiad sat down across from Duchess Sterling, pulling on tortoise patterned glasses that sat at the brim of her nose, and it made the Duchess miss her own pair, but she’d been reprimanded multiple times that wearing them in public was unbecoming of a Duchess, so she did not take them out unless very necessary.

“Unfortunately a matter has occurred that requires the Sanctarch’s full attention, so he will not be joining us. But I can assure that I will provide as much information to Your Grace as is possible!”

That was disappointing, but the Duchess only nodded with an understanding smile.

“He’s a busy man, I’m sure; Perhaps another time. Well, forgive me but I’d like to begin right away if that’s the case.” Duchess Sterling retrieved her notebook from her purse as she confessed, and at the offer borrowed the ink from Naiad for her pen. “I must admit the distributions of tithes and donations has been a long curiosity of mine since I was a child, so I may ask a little more questions than I usually would; Apologies for that in advance.”

“You grew up a Tide Follower?” Naiad asked, and when the Duchess confirmed she seemed very pleased, the apples of her cheeks glowing as she retrieved the first stack of documents they would go through. “That reassures me than that we are in dutiful hands.”

For two full hours Naiad and Duchess Sterling went through the amount of funds given to an individual church, which of that funds was donations and what amount was tithe, the split of the tithe to upkeep church grounds and supplies for the attendants and Priest, and the dividing of donations between local aid and going to greater charity across Gaia. They got through numerous towns, villages, and at least one major city before the town of Muse was brought up, which was the Duchess’ home. There had been no plan to comment on that, however, but as Naiad kept reciting the numbers as she had been, the Duchess slowed in her writing so long that a blot formed beneath the metal tip.

“I’m sorry, this is from the town of Muse, you said?” She asked.

“Yes.” Naiad confirmed, which only made the Duchess sit back in her seat. “The one in the northeast by the mountains.”

“Than… No, that cannot be right.” Duchess Sterling held out a hand, and puzzled Naiad passed the paper she’d been reading from to her.

“I assure Your Grace our records our well kept and precise.” Naiad reassured with a tone that bordered how you’d patiently talk to a child.

The Duchess’ mind was working too fast to bother being offended.

“… Sister Naiad, I grew up in Muse,” Duchess Sterling spoke after a few minutes of complete silence, looking up at Naiad with a confused brow. “Every month since I was twelve years old I donated the entirety of the allowance the previous Duchess gave me to the church, which was ten thousand exactly every time.” The paper was laid now on the table, and the Duchess pushed it back towards her. “That alone exceeds the yearly amount you have written here.”

The smile was still on Naiad’s face, and her hands were clasped atop the table as if this was a pleasant conversation about birds, yet there was a ever so slight tension in her shoulders and the smile was too unchanging to be natural.

“What a beautiful place to be raised in.” She commented, reaching out to pull the paper back towards her. “I am sure there is merely some transcribing error happening here where something has gotten mislabeled. I shall look into it and send word of the correction at once, Your Grace.”

“That would be appreciated, thank you.” The Duchess said, but now she could not help but look towards the stack of documents they had already gone through and feel a nagging concern that there was other clerical errors she had missed. But, her heart could not believe what her brain was telling her that perhaps it was no error, and so she did not push further. “Shall we continue on?”

Duchess Sterling was looking over everything provided to her with a more fine tooth now, because as much as she was raised to wholeheartedly trust in the judgment of the Sanctide Court, her practicality needed to be reassured.

She missed Naiad slipping a note beneath an empty teacup before having the same nervous boy from before come take the tray away, she was so absorbed in jotting down the number amounts into her notebook, and she might have stayed there all night if not for a knock at the door another two hours later.

“Your Quintessence!” Naiad exclaimed with reverent delight upon opening the door, and that did shake Duchess Sterling from her intense focus and bring her to her feet. “What honor brings you to us on this busy day?”

The Sanctarch entered the room with the ease of a man with enough confidence to enter a lions den and be welcomed, and the first thing Duchess Sterling noticed about him was he was taller than she expected, having to crane her neck back ever so slightly to meet his eyes after she gave a polite curtsy.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Quintessence.” Duchess Sterling said honestly, trying to blink the stars from her eyes and recenter herself to the business at hand, though it was almost as awe inspiring an experience as when she first met the King and Queen.

Family had done their fair share of criticism of the royal family, yet no one had ever spoken ill of any Sanctarch; Rafayel nor his predecessor.

“The honor is all mine, Your Grace.” Though it was not offered, Rafayel took her hand that had risen to smooth down any fly away hairs and kissed the back of it, causing butterflies to erupt in the Duchess’ stomach like she was a young girl again. “I’ve heard much about Gaia’s newest noble who no one suspected to be such a vibrant flower, yet I did not think time would allow for us to meet today. It was quite a surprise to find out you’re still here well after most have left to have supper. There hasn not been an issue that is causing Your Grace doubts about the honesty of the Sanctide Court, I hope?”

Seeing the look of honest concern on his face- the inside of the eyebrows raised and eyes that held the suns reflection on deep water a little wide- Duchess Sterling quickly shook her head.

“No! Of course I would never accuse the holiest of orders of anything, especially with no evidence.” She hurried to assure, yet than she looked sideways towards the desk where that slip of paper with the offending falsehoods on it sat. “However, I… must raise some concerns I have about the thoroughness of the records kept here. There is a rather troubling miss identification of funds from my home town that I personally can vouch for as being false.”

“Oh?” Rafayel tilted his head ever so slightly to the side, and picked up the paper she’d been looking at, and she saw the slight movement of his eyes as he read through it. “Might I inquire what specifically causes you to say this?”

Retrieving her notebook, since it would be improper to get close enough to him to point out the numbers on the sheet he was reading, the Duchess flipped back to the page she’d dog eared to come back later.

“None of the donations I ever made are accounted for, as well as off the top of my head I can recall specific years where a family gathered together a more significant amount of money than normal, and about two of those were not documented as well.” Looking at Rafayel, Duchess Sterling tried to convey how earnestly concerned she was through her eyes as well as her words. “It may not be my place, however I have seen wrong calculated funds of similar disparity in other cases were someone was misappropriating the funds for their own personal gain.”

“Are you accusing the Sanctide Crt of allowing a thief to be among us?!” Sister Naiad bristled. “That is prepos-“

“It’s alright Sister Naiad,” Rafayel raised a hand and stopped her indignation, giving Duchess Sterling an appreciative smile. “Her Grace is giving us good faith that it is one bad fish that found it’s way into our current and not accusing the whole of being rotten.”

“Of course it is not all of you,” Duchess laughed, because the idea was preposterous. “I was raised attending and have full trust in those who I know in the local church, and they would not make such a large error nor lie. However, I have learned much about those who seek only personal opportunity, and they find ways into positions where they might leech coin for themselves, and with such a good organization as the Sanctide Court it makes sense to me that someone would take advantage somewhere.”

“I agree.” With a single motion, Rafayel collected the few things Duchess Sterling had left on the desk. “There has been an epidemic of ne’re-do-well’s who grow their pockets by taking advantage of the trust placed upon them by others, and one of our core beliefs is forgiveness of even those who have committed great crimes; Yet it does not mandate that we cannot ever judge them once more.” Placing her pen back into her hands, Rafayel held them for a second longer than necessary. “You have my word that we will find out the truth of what happened, and all will be well.”

Looking into his face, how could the Duchess feel anything but reassured?

That night, Duchess Sterling left feeling greatly comforted by Sanctarch Rafayel’s words, and her heart was appeased that all would be fixed.

====

All was not fixed, because for the sake of diligence Duchess Sterling reached out to everyone she knew from Muse (including her own family) and asked them personally the amounts they’ve donated to the church, and by the time she was called back to the Cathedral to sit before Naiad once more, she had a good estimate for the past year (which had included her own donations before inheriting) and as she looked down at the fresh amounts given to her by Naiad, her heart sank.

“I cannot accept this either, Sister Naiad.” Duchess Sterling confessed, shaking her head and feeling the perched hat on top wobble a bit. “My own research has presented different results, and I’m afraid I will need further investigation done.”

“I do not know what else we can do, Your Grace.” Sister Naiad laughed in disbelief, throwing her hands in the air. “We have done a thorough internal research and that is what we found. I have full confidence that what is before you is the truth.”

“Well I am not comfortable presenting this- nor anything that you have presented to me, if I am to be honest- to the King and Queen as facts.” Duchess Sterling sat up straighter. “Once is forgivable, but twice is concerning. Surely you can understand that, Sister Naiad. If I am allowed to supply a man to do their own investigation and the results are the same, than I will concede that my sources must be wrong. However as of right now I have complete certainty in them.”

There was no fire in the hearth today, and the chill only grew as Sister Naiad leaned closer, hands clasped so tightly atop the desk her knuckles were white.

“You trust common word above the truth given before you by the Tide? A foolhardy decision that I will excuse as a mistake made by someone so young.”

Duchess Sterling bristled at that, eyes narrowing in the dimming light. She was well into adulthood and was by no means a young girl who should be getting admonished like this, but Sister Naiad was not done.

“Those who oppose the tide get swept away by the riptide, and even those with good intentions are not exempt.” The paper was slid back across the table in slow offering. “All the crown needs to hear is what is before you today, with not even a inclination to the previous error. It’d be in your best interest, Your Grace, to align yourself as fresh as you are with an ally as spectacular as us.”

For a few seconds, the Duchess considered it; The weight of obedience a heavy stone in her gut, but around that stone was sparks that quickly caught and grew into a righteous ember as the Duchess realized if she did not pursue this to find out the truth, than the poor mother with six children who always made sure to scrounge together enough coin to put in the donation dish might have gone without a meal for the sake of something unjust. Or the elderly couple who grounds keeped the local church in Muse, who had raspberry bushes in their front yard and always encouraged the Duchess to pick as many as she liked, passed away not knowing if what they spent their life dedicated to was a facade of good atop a bone yard of disease.

“What you walk around saying speaks louder than if you’d admit it outright, which is all you needed to do because I am not here to make any enemies, yet if the Sanctide Court wishes to not disclose the simplest of things- such as what is being done with the copious amounts of wealth donated to you- than I suppose we are not on the same side.” The Duchess started slowly yet reached a strong pace at the end of it, pulling her gloves back on. “I do not know what type of women my Grandmother was, nor what sort of business she kept with the Sanctide Court, however I know who I am and where my allegiance lies is to the people of Gaia.”

Standing up, she looked down towards the holy women.

“In four days I see the Crown, and I will do my duty to them and the citizens who pay for the bed you sleep in at night and the making of the robes you wear which are finer than anything most of them will ever touch. I will not stand to see good people have their faith taken advantage of, and though I hope I do not find anything unsavory, I will upturn every grain of sand in the ocean if I must to make absolutely sure!”

With a sweep of her pink coat draped over her arm, Duchess Sterling marched towards the door, and while standing in the threshold she turned and gave one last withering glare towards Sister Naiad.

“I am also insulted you think me a person who’d bow down to a threat!” There was a few startled stares as the Duchess marched down the halls, but all of them averted their eyes and unlike before there was not even a peep of discussion as she yelled one final word back over her shoulder. “The nerve!”

No one interrupted her as she retraced her steps to the courtyard of the cathedral, and she wasted no time in going towards her carriage with the Sterling family crest of Marigolds on the door.

Caleb, who had been leaning against the side of it twirling a clover in his fingers saw her approaching and elbowed a napping Gideon so hard he jolted and sent the hat covering his eyes flying. He only just caught it before it was taken by the seasonal wind.

“Hey, how’d it-“ Caleb started, yet he took in the look on her face and stopped. “Woah, you look angry enough to scare a cat with a look.”

“The nerve of them!” Duchess Sterling repeated, entering into the carriage, her momentum so strong she slide a few inches after sitting down. “Well, the nerve of one of them, but still!”

“This is a lot more emotion than I suspected, it must have been pretty bad.” Caleb joined her in the carriage, technically improper since he was her guard, yet his status as her half brother trumped all. “Tell me what happened?”

Duchess Sterling waited till they got moving and collected her thoughts, trying to calm herself down from the adrenaline spike of the confrontation with Sister Naiad.

“I can no longer in good faith trust that they are being forthcoming.” She finally said, reaching up and pulling out the hat pin because the weight of it was starting to give her a headache. “At least not the woman I’d been mainly speaking to. I did not want to think it, but they’re hiding something, Caleb, and whatever it is they don’t want me to find out.”

He let the seriousness of that hang between them, keeping an eye out the window.

“Ever since your first meeting I’ve been asking around, and I’ve heard some unsettling stories.” Caleb admitted, voice low, and he leaned forward to go even lower. “I thought entering this life would be safer, but there’s just as many tangled threads as there was back in Port Noino, and this time they have centuries of namesake to fall behind. Even an ancient religion like that is bound to have skeletons in the closet, and I have to ask again are you sure about this?”

As peaceful of a farm life their father was still having in Muse, Caleb’s mother’s side of the family was much more fraught, and a debt had fallen on his shoulders after she died that had introduced the two of them to the dark side of poaching and black market trading.

It was mostly his to pay back, but as his sister who felt horribly responsible for his parents marriage failing since she’d been a result of an affair, she’d dedicated a lot of her own income to it as well up till the sudden inheriting of the title.

“Yes. More now than ever!” The Duchess sat back, replaying the meeting through her mind. “The people have no say in how the rich use their money, but I can give them a voice because money talks and they have that in droves when united. As well, with the Sanctide in particular, I have to admit I feel personally offended. I gave any coin the last Duchess gave me to the church because I thought they were doing something good with it, but if I had not I could have used it to make actionable choices around the village!”

“I don’t know what else you’re talking about, but you’d have not been allowed to aid with anything on the farm.” Caleb reasoned. “It was Mother’s caveat, remember? You always said you’d have used the money to help the family if you could, and we all knew it.”

She remembered very well. It had been a list of conditions for her to be allowed to stay on the land; Not sleeping in the house of course, but in the barn once she got old enough that she did not need to be bottle fed. One such condition was that nothing else related to the Duchess’ mother would be allowed on the land, and that had included the money. Another was that she had to move out as soon as she was old enough, and leaving home at sixteen was a large factor of why the Duchess was managing to meld into this life of nobility as well as she was. To be a child having to hold yourself in such a way that adults take you seriously is not so different from being a commoner having to hold her chin high and act as if there’s no doubt that she belongs among nobles.

“I know.” Duchess Sterling looked out the window at the city street bustling by, following the trailing wings of a butterfly as it floated past the retreating view of the Sanctide Cathedral. “I know.”

===

Once home at the Marigold Estate, Duchess Sterling set herself down at her desk and after an hour or so of consideration, began writing out a plan of attack- for lack of a better word- and sorting through her potential options.

Already she’d been planning on sending out informative surveys to get an idea from the citizens themselves what income they bring in and how much taxes they give to the crown, but now she was going to add an addendum to how much they’d given to Religious worship as well. The Sanctide Court was not the only religion of Gaia, yet it was the most prominent and the information she’d get from that survey would be necessary to compare to the records she’d been given so far by the Sanctide.

It was unfortunate that she’d not gotten to see more than she had that first day, but she’ll work with what she has, and it was a good enough sample size to see just how much they were changing their numbers.

But, all of this would take time. Months, even, and that put her in a complicated situation because so far all she has to bring to the crown is one instance of them lying, which might be enough to allow her to investigate more, but also… the Sanctide Court is going to suspect that, and how does she play their game with her own house rules?

It was a condendrum that kept her late into the night, and when her lady maid Natasha entered the office she thought it was to tell her off for being up, but instead she held out a silver envelope.

“An acolyte just dropped this off, Your Grace.”

Inside was an invitation to meet with the Sanctarch in the morning, and the longer she stared at the words, the more compelled Duchess Sterling felt to go, clashing with an insistent tug at her gut warning that something was off.

Tearing her eyes away, she wasted no time in tossing the odd feeling letter into the fire, that great sense of unease not settling till the parchment had rolled and twisted into ash.

=== The reception she got this time when entering the Cathedral was much more frigid, yet there was no outright hostility as a new woman in crimson robes that matched her hair came to meet her.

“I am Selina, Your Grace, a member of the Pool of Remembrance. I have only just been made aware of your interactions with my aunt last night, and I apologize if she offended, but the Sanctarch will meet with you shortly and shall clear up any misunderstandings she caused.”

The waiting room to meet the Sanctarch was much better furnished than the one she’d first been put in, and Duchess Sterling could not help but take note that meant she was never supposed to meet the Sanctarch that first day, it had all been a ploy to string her along.

“I hope so, I had to move a meeting for this.” Duchess sat down and made herself comfortable because that was a way to portray ease that she was not actually feeling. Every small noise made her eyes flick over to it, and she could not help but stare at the ticking clock. With every minute that passed, she worried this was a power play; Taking small moments of control to make her do what they want shielded beneath simple things such as waiting for an appointment.

“If our meeting does begin within twenty minutes,” The Duchess turned to Selina, who was standing and waiting patiently by the door. “Than I will take my leave.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” Selina left to assumedly pass on the message, and the Duchess took the opportunity to fidget in her seat. Caleb’s mother rolled in her grave whenever she did anything, yet for her to be here about to potentially argue with the Sanctarch would surely make the woman spin around so rapidly a hole would be drilled into the bottom of the casket. After the betrayel of her husband, Caleb’s mother sought comfort in religion.

She’d hate it, but part of why Duchess Sterling felt so strong about setting this right was for her sake.

As expected, at seventeen minutes is when Sanctinal Amund entered the waiting room and beckoned her in with a nod. Very aware of Selina walking in behind her, Duchess Sterling entered the grand office of the Sanctarch.

Dark wood shelves lined the walls, yet the room was so large it did not feel cramped, and the desk at the back had a fully copper front molded to look like waves crashing beneath the marbled top, and the years had turned the copper a patina blue.

The Sanctarch, Rafayel, was standing on the left side of the office where a bay of windows looked out over the great expanse of a gigantic lake the cathedral was built on the cliffside of; A miniature ocean that is a pivotal part of the Sanctide religion. The early morning sun reflected the pink hues of the water as gentle waves lapped at the feet of those choosing to walk it’s shores.

Much of the capital city was along the banks of lake Coralis, an example of how entwined the religion was with the daily life of its citizens.

Rafayel turned with good showing of pleasant surprise.

“Ah, Duchess Sterling, I hope you were not waiting long.” In a few strides, he made it across the room and offered out his hand. She took it, yet retracted it back to her side after giving it a cordial enough handshake.

“Three minutes more and it would have been, yet I’m grateful we get the chance to talk.” That was true enough, and she took the seat she was directed to.

Behind her, she faintly heard Selina say “His Quintessence said I could stay, Grandfather.” Before Amund was moving to stand behind Rafayel as he sat in the finely carved copper chair with pink cushioning. Selina stood on the right side of desk, facing towards the windows with her hands behind her back.

“Firstly, Your Grace, I offer an apology.” Rafayel sighed, shaking his head and his dark purple hair shifted around his eyes, the movement reflected in the silver mask on his face shined to pristine reflection. “I understand Sister Naiad had poor choices of words, and it reflected badly on the Sanctide Court, and as such your opinion of us.”

“It is certainly something to be told that the riptide will take even those with good intentions when all I asked was to be told the truth.” Duchess Sterling said, and Amund clicked his tongue in irritation, yet Rafayel spoke over as much of it as he could.

“As I said, a poor choice of words.” Lifting his left leg to rest over his right, Rafayel slid open a drawer. “However, it is our intent today to make things right and reassure you that it was merely her being difficult without our knowledge.”

A silver folder was handed to Selina from Rafayel, who presented it to Duchess Sterling.

Opening it revealed a lined document that at last contained a detailed accounting of the charity given in Muse the last year, the next page was for the tithe, and behind that was dates and names of those who handled the money from Father Khalid in Muse to an assumed middle man who traveled with it, and at the very bottom a Sanctinal Nora’s signature validated it’s arrival at the Cathedral.

There was even a paper dedicated to notes of when correspondents happened on the matter, with the storage system numbering taped over that would tell where these letters were being kept in the archives.

“Might I ask where this was hiding?” Duchess Sterling inquired as she lowered the small folder. “Nothing Sister Naiad presented to me was this thorough.”

“It was in Selina’s office.” Rafayel tilted his head towards the woman. “No hiding, just an assumption that an aunt would not be so prideful that it’d make her incapable to ask her niece for help.”

Amund’s jaw was moving in irritation, and Duchess Sterling was understanding now that Naiad was a spoiled woman by nature of her father being a Sanctinal- the ranking in the church just below Sanctarch.

“She seems a trustworthy woman, why was I not directed to her first?” The Duchess asked, referring to the other woman in the room.

“Naiad is usually more pleasant to talk to,” Rafayel said conversationally, leaning back in his seat and shrugging his shoulders. “Selina can be quite taciturn, yet clearly this was a duty well above Naiad’s head. I can transfer all correspondence on this matter to her at once, and I can assure you Selina will be up to the expected standard the Sanctide Court operates in.”

It only took two seconds of mulling the thought over before the Duchess set the folder down on the table.

“With all due respect to Sister Selina, I’d prefer to keep in touch with you, Your Quintessence.” That, made Rafayel pause, and Amund did not hide his look of affront. Yet Duchess Sterling did not break eye contact with Rafayel. “This still does not tell me what these funds are used for nor whether they are being kept together or divided into different banks.”

“Is it not common practice for the Duchess of Treasury and Internal Affairs to work with the accountants and record keepers of those being audited?”

“Common, yes, but commonality relies on abundance, Your Quintessence. You are not garnering taxes for landownership, you are gaining funds by the virtue of hearts dedicated to the Sanctide Court.” Rafayel broke eye contact first to look at the number she pointed at, first on the divided line. “To you, this is six thousand a year; To me, this is Hanna whose house always smells of baked apple pies.” Her finger slid down to the next line. “Margery and Edward have a rooster that chases children and they are ever so apologetic about it.” once more, her finger slide down and hovered over the line that was her Father, but she moved one down and avoided it. “Anthony and Greg. They’ve adopted three children, and put all their hearts into raising them with love- well, not all of their hearts, because a portion is dedicated to you.”

There was no reading what was behind those eyes as they lifted to regard her, but there was an intensity that cut through the already fast beating of her heart in her ears.

“Surely you take the weight of these offerings as seriously as I do, being the one they put all their faith in.”

An unsuspecting smile curled Rafayel’s lips, and this one made his lower eyelid lift ever so slightly.

“Very well. All inquires of this matter can be directed to me, and any future meetings I will be in attendance.” Rafayel leaned forward, and the slight tip of pointed canine revealed itself as he said his dismissal; “I look forward to further spreading the Sanctide Court’s good name together, Your Grace.”

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