“Val, wait!” Celme stumbled clumsily out into the hallway, the hems of her dress clasped tight in her hands, lips stretched into a tight frown. “I’m talking to you! Wait!”Valens sighed as he saw through the sound vision the Berserker struggling with her pompously designed dress that left little room for her to maneuver, and stopped as he let her catch up to him.“I thought we were done with the shady cult business,” he said, looking over his shoulder. The moment he saw her red face, however, the anger receded and gave way to a mild amusement. There was something strange about matching the picture of a Berserker to that of the woman stumbling behind him.Two sides to a coin. Is this why they hate the capital?“Oh, you’re one to talk!” Celme jabbed at him with her gloved hand. “What happened to that guy who couldn’t close his mouth shut, babbling about the Church using religion to control people, spitting venomous doctrines to cage them into servitude? And now you’re opening a clinic to catch the shadows? What were you thinking?”“Wait.” Valens turned to her. “How did you know?”“We have our sources,” Celme said, face creasing.“Oh, right,” Valens said. “The cult business. You are, after all, a part of the Church. A forgotten and shunned part, but a part nonetheless. I forgot.”“Don’t confuse us with them,” Celme said sharply. “We're not trying to control people. We care only for the truth.”“Well,” Valens said. “I’d say that’s a respectable goal. Quite similar to my own, if I have to admit, if for a few differences in method. I, for one, don’t go around making deals with some legion from the Underworld.”“You don’t even know the half of it—”“That’s because you’re not telling me anything, Celme,” Valens said, frowning out into her face. “I can’t understand whether you want me to be involved in… whatever you’re planning in that guild of yours, or you’re just handing out warnings out (...)