You always arrive at the steps of the church like this.

Battered and bruised. Solomon has given up trying to lecture you about the dangers of battle.

Instead he brings you inside his sleeping quarters. Medical aid equipment at his disposal. Along with a hot meal and bath.

There's something else, underneath the hospitality.

Lingering glances. Touches that border on intimate. Whispers and late night night conversations with candles to provide illumination.