The Great Hunt (Oslo, Norway)

[Patricus I]

With the Key of Cunning nestled safe in his grasp, Philip returned to the foursome, but he did not sit as he had before. He was satisfied with the group’s collective acknowledgement of his holiness, and required no more deference for now. In that, he was truly surprised that Armande submitted to the tradition so smoothly. Perhaps the women had tempered his independent streak somewhat, or else he was wisened enough now to recognize that Philip’s mood was something that had to be handled delicately else he risked losing what he needed. It was a strange partnership that existed between them, more now that Armande was no longer Regus of the Atharim. Jaap had been Philip’s selection as per the tradition that rounded between the two institutions for the previous two-thousand years. He was a politician more than a warrior, and it was fitting that the politician would surround himself with another of like kind.

Philip’s approach placed him on one of the sides of their four-angled grouping. It was in that moment that he dismissed the priests that accompanied him to Norway. Only once they departed and he was sure that they were alone did Philip look from face to human face, his own expression scrutinizing.

He offered the Key of Cunning to Armande to hold, and afterward, he himself dropped to his knees, where he closed his eyes and spread his arms, and silently began to pray. He had no expectations that the Jesuit priest join him in prayer, but it wouldn't hurt.

Otherwise, it must have been a humbling thing to witness the Pope on a direct line to their lord.