You cross your arms. "I'm willin' ta hear ye out, but first: tell me yer opinion o' this damned place's architect."
She takes a moment to process this, faint remnants of the outside wind the only sound, before huffing out a laugh. It somehow manages to sound regal despite the inch or two of solid iron between her mouth and the rest of the world.
"An utter fool whom We, to Our eternal shame, paid in advance. The Church tells tales of the wicked Vilebloods and their fell deeds, but Our greatest sin was giving that oaf a legacy."
"Sounds about right," you say with a nod. "Alright, lemme hear yer spiel."
"We have been watching thee, Father Anderson. Though We are bound by this mask, We see and hear through Our subjects." She beckons and a rustling from behind alerts you to a gargoyle waddling into the room, gaze fixed on the Queen. "Thou hast upset the status quo in unheard-of fashion."
"Some o' my best work, if I do say so m'self."
"We recognize thy strength and the zeal. Left to thine own devices, We've little doubt thou would have eventually found and ravaged Us. We sent the invitation to ensure a meeting on Our own terms."
"And ta get me ta whack the big bastard keepin' watch?"
You can hear the smirk. "A favorable side effect, to be sure."
You cross your arms even harder. "So ye got yer meetin' and yer lawn maintenance. What next?"
"A bargain. We pose no threat to thee; Our forces are shattered, Our own might crippled by Logarius' judgement. We offer thee Cainhurst's resources in thine quest in return for leniency."
"And what's ta keep me from just takin' those resources? Can't see ye stoppin' me from that chair."
The humble veneer, which she's been working brilliantly to maintain, cracks a bit. "Cainhurst's archives span the ages. Thou art many things, Father Anderson, but patient though art not. Dost thou truly wish to waste weeks, months, years trawling through the libraries for the faintest hint of relevant information? I am the only one on this earth who knows the intricacies of the castle's knowledge." She leans forward, drooping slightly from the weight atop her neck. "Thou slew Logarius, who single-handedly tore through Our mightiest knights and handed Us Our first and only defeat. Thought it pains Us to say it, We are at thy mercy. Spare Us and, in whatever monolith thou raiseth from the Church's ashes, scour its lies from the histories. Allow Cainhurst to begin anew; it costs thee nothing and grants thee an incomparable boon."
You put a hand on your chin, surreptitiously nudging one of the more garish statues into an imbalanced position. She's not wrong about your tolerance for prolonged studying, at least, although you suppose you could foist it on the Churchmen. Some of the ones on the mend would probably like something to do, anyway. That said...
"If ye're so keen on gettin' on my good side, why'd yer goons try so hard ta kill me?"
She very nearly snorts, what you assume to be queenly instincts heading the outburst off at the pass. "Our subjects are ghosts and revenants, driven only by their desire to protect the castle. We could no more stand them down as convince the snow to return to the clouds. Cainhurst is shackled to the past, Father Anderson. I beseech thee break those shackles."
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