The churchfolk, in the end, seemed to Morgaine to be an incredibly antisocial bunch. Several times, Morgaine tried to make some light conversation with either, but all that speaking simply returned to silence. Did the good hunters of the Church not have weather, or engage in any pastimes? As they continued to walk in silence, the chill grew and grew, biting ever deeper into her garments. The hood and half-cloak, though a powerful ward against evil misfortune, was alas not so against the environment. The metal and stone trinkets within were of little help either, as they absorbed the merciless cold. If only she had thought to wear something more substantial than this thin white shirt and brown vest . . .

The awkward trio then stumbled upon row of homes etched into the Yharnam backdrop, many abandoned. Only one on the entire street had a lit censer, its deep red glow accentuated by the pungent smell of spice. Morgaine was glad to see it, the group having crossed over a lookout hanging over the infamous Old Yharnam. Its reputation followed it out of the city proper, bleeding into the countryside beyond. Everyone knew of this story, of how an entire urban quarter of people were consigned to flames in a desperate attempt to contain the beasthood curse. Little it did them, with the howling that followed the group as they passed. There were beasts down there, no doubt about it, roaming out in the open in packs, obviously fearing nothing from the activity of men. The burgundy light of the incense was almost merry in contrast with the sight. With a curt bark of orders, Victor had drawn his sword and stepped into the incensed building, leaving Morgaine to watch Adelicia.

"I don't suppose there'll be much to welcome us with in there," Morgaine began, to the near-mute Adelicia. "You think they'll host us, the people in this home? We are on Church business. Well, you are. At least a soup . . ." she trailed off, upon hearing the muffled sound of screams coming from within. Was it one beast, or two in there? Did beasts even make such a sound? The noises from within were almost human, how indistinguishable it was from the other side of the thick door. Yharnamites certainly knew something about structural building. They'd have to, with the curse that has fallen upon this wretched land. What hit her next was not the sight of anything, but the smell of something. Blood, thick and aromatic, struck her like the blast of a blunderbuss. That smell . . . so sweet and cloying, so desirable and mesmerizing. Morgaine couldn't believe it. She could almost taste the blood on her tongue, like a slice of fine fruit pie. It was invigorating and soothing all at once, and she needed the smell to keep coming ever more. Then, just as the sensation came, it passed, her head clearing again. What a strange thought. It was the smell of blood, is all. Tangy and sickening, as blood tended to be. Was it because the blood within was of a beast? Or was it that of man, that takes control of the mind and calls to spill more? Eventually, the man emerged, his white garb stained deep red. 

"Now wait just a-" Morgaine began, but Victor immediately began trotting away, calling the two to follow. Adelicia fell in behind him without a word, and Morgaine could do nothing but the same, with a sigh. Onwards they went, pushing into the dimly lit evening streets, until they reached one of Yharnam's magnificent curiosities; the elevator. A large room suspended by a chain, centred around a large round button in the middle. Victor and Adelicia entered it without so much as a second thought, evidence of their Yharnam upbringing. Morgaine was not so inclined. It took a bit of hesitant prodding to goad her to follow, and at last, when the elevator began to ascend, she could do nothing but grip the bars surrounding them as they descended at a frightening pace. 

At the bottom was quite the horrific sight. There was some sort of street battle here, involving a few agents of the Church and some beasts they had been unfortunate enough to encounter. Those mysterious white-skinned folk have an eerie look to them, hidden under their hoods and thick robes. Slumped over dead, they didn't look so different to how they were alive. One of them was a veritable giant, one of those agents that would shake the ground as they stamped. What horrific beast had the power to kill such a creature? The last of them was not an agent at all, but a human, garbed in the off-white of Adelicia and Victor. His weapon lays smashed a few steps away, unusable, and his torch has long been snuffed. Morgaine looked at the body, approaching it slowly, before finally mustering up the courage to grab him and flip him over. The spirit ascends upwards, and escapes through the eyes. Thus, the eyes must be faced up towards the open sky, lest they be trapped. She didn't need to see the judgemental glances she was being given by the other two members of the group. These Churchfolk, can't even treat a corpse right.

Morgaine and Victor left Adelicia at the next shelter. Probably more patients within, just waiting for their Saint's Blood treatment. Without Adelicia, Victor felt more comfortable going forward at a brisker pace, and Morgaine found herself well able to follow. Morgaine was not weak by any means; on the contrary, she was of abnormal strength in her village. However, even at a full near-run, she found she did not even become slightly winded. Is this the saint's blessing, this strength that fills her? The grand gates to Cathedral Ward loomed ahead within mere minutes, what would once have taken them perhaps half an hour to traverse. What awaited her beyond those gates, she couldn't even begin to guess.