"Thank you, Lord, for teaching me humility.”
Location: St. Etheldreda's/Ely House
Mary had almost stepped outside of her rooms when she realized something mildly unsettling. The massive bore howdah pistol that she had lent the Presbyter had been damaged. Not just damaged, but mangled in small ways as to make it unusable. The packing rod was missing, one of the strikers gone. The wood had been splintered along one side, in precisely the same place that the barrel was warped slightly inward. It looked as if it had been hooved mercilessly by a yak on one side. Mary sighed. The item was damaged in a way that simultaneously easy to miss at first glance and significantly less costly to replace as repair.
Ok, that could be rectified later. The weapon came as a pair; she usually only carried one. Now, in addition to an cutler, Mary would need to find a gunsmith. This was not ideal. Her finances were respectable for a Londoner, but finite. She switched out her gun for its twin and proceeded down to the stables to acquire her horse. Upon reaching the stables, Mary noticed that her white robe, her favorite one that got pelted with various rotten foodstuffs by the mob, was on the ground, in approximately the same place as she handed it off to the Nun. If she didn't know any better, Mary would have assumed that it was merely left there on the ground instead of accidentally dropped. She gathered the familiar cloth up, visibly confused and hurt at the strong possibility that the Sisters of St. Etheldreda's were intentionally snubbing her.
At least her horse was seen to. The lay folk of the Ely House were duty bound to serve the needs of anyone residing on the grounds, including oddities such as female Knights drawn from the Apostolic assigned to the parish, separate from the local ecclesiastic and cloistered Sisters. Her stallion, Cassius, was well taken care of. It was something. She mounted the noble animal and readied herself to exit the Church grounds proper, until a voice called out to her; an angry one, and one known to her. It was the Bishop.
"Dame Mary, while it is still Dame Mary within these walls, dismount your horse immediately and stable it. You aren't going anywhere."
The first vow she took was Obedience. She slipped from her great grey charger and submitted her presence for the Bishop. "Yes, Your Excellency." she said, giving the barest of curtsies. "How may I be of..."
Mary was cut off immediately. "You may start being of assistance to me by keeping your lips together and listening to me. First, you presume to give the Cloistered commands? Telling them to seal the gates and prepare for an attack? Ordering them about like your personal servants? I told them to leave your robe where it lay, Dame Mary, in hopes that you would learn better self-reliance and humility!"
Excellency, I apologize, I only thought to..."
"I know what you thought to, Dame. I will now explain something. Almost every Nun present in St. Etheldreda's is from London, or at least England, and believes the concept of a Woman Knight is ludicrous. Even more so a Venator, which in their estimation is on the same social level as a mercenary or an exorcist. Some of them don't even believe that you have the ability to Heal or any other, for that matter. So far as they are concerned, you are an unjustly elevated Sister to whom they give platitudes, until you earn otherwise. Now, I have to clean up your mess."
Mary was taken aback. This was not the way the situation was supposed to occur. As the only active Knight on the grounds, it was her responsibility to take command of any defenses, were the church to find itself in peril. A riot, very likely following her on account of the child she spared from the Ryne's curse, definitely qualified. Not that it mattered now, the Bishop was here. He had the authority to overrule any of Mary's imperatives, or just take over the defense of the Church. But the child! That was different. "Bishop Mansfield! What of the boy?"
"Yes, the boy. The boy you gave over to the Nuns while you ran off to dress for the Ball."
"Excellency, that was..." She was getting very annoyed at being cut off. Even by the Bishop.
"I know what it is. You are being summoned to Almack's to assist with their security efforts against the Soulless. Or for window dressing, or to stand about as a novelty for the rich young men in their cravats to giggle at. I know, your oath to the Order demands that you assist, unless you have extremely good reason not to. Consider that your new Ward might just be an extremely good reason, unless I order the Sisters to do what you asked of them. I will talk to them. You will stay within the walls of Ely until this gets sorted. Do you understand?"
Mary sighed. Of course he was right. She was taking liberties that a more seasoned Dame might wield. She was still fairly new here. "Of course, Your Excellency. I apologize. Please do what you can, and I shall accept any judgement you give on how my time should be spent this evening." Her head low, she removed her Knightly cloak and placed it within a saddlebag. She was still quite the imposing figure in her long cassock, gilt around the cuffs and collar, heavily armed. She took up her halberd in one hand, reins in the other, and began slowly leading Cassius back into the stables.
Bishop Mansfield did give her a courtesy, however. "Mary," he began, "I did retain your order to lock the gates. And the boy is an innocent. We are not in the habit of letting the Soulled innocent get murdered. I used to be an active Venator too, remember? We took the same oath." His voice softened with some amount of empathy. "We are not in a Catholic country, Dame Mary Hale. Outside of these walls you are a Sister. Even inside of these walls, you will have a hard fight winning the respect of these people. Trust me, I know. It will be so much harder for you, because of who you are. I cannot give them any excuse to plead favoritism."
"Perhaps you should contemplate this day in the Quadrangle. The boy is safe for now, and I will let you know when something changes. Go."
"Yes, Excellency." This was highly unusual for the Bishop. Usually he was extremely laid back and permissive. Not that Mary would have taken advantage of him, but being this confrontational? Something was off. Mary wanted to know what that was, but she was not going to press her luck with an already irritated staff. It took talent to anger everyone in a church at the same time, and the Apostolic wasn't even trying that hard today. Something was off.
Mary straightened her posture and walked quietly to the courtyard, planning on simple meditations involving a slow form with her halberd.
