DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) by R.A. Salvatore Page A

Belfour, perhaps.”
    Braumin had no answer; he hardly knew the abbot of that northernmost Honce-the-Bear abbey, St. Belfour in the wilds of the kingdom’s Vanguard region.
    “Yes, Abbot Agronguerre would be a fine choice,” Je’howith said.
    Braumin started to ask why, but he stopped short, recalling an image from the previous year’s College of Abbots, the only time he had ever seen Abbot Agronguerre of St. Belfour. The man had been sitting right beside Je’howith, chatting easily, as if the two were old friends.
    Only then did Brother Braumin appreciate that Je’howith had led him to this point purposefully. Je’howith hadn’t held serious thoughts of becoming the next father abbot. Of course not, for his ties to the King were too great and many of the other abbots, involved in continual power struggles with regional dukes or barons, would outright oppose his ascent.
    “There are other masters at St.-Mere-Abelle—” Braumin started.
    “Who will not even attempt to gain the post if Brother Braumin and his friends, the very monks who witnessed the demise of Markwart, were to throw in their votes for an abbot of a different abbey,” Je’howith interrupted.
    Brother Braumin chuckled at the absurdity of it all and admitted to himself that Francis had been correct in assessing that he, Braumin, was not yet ready for the politics of the position of father abbot.
    “Go and ask Master Francis, if you wish,” Je’howith offered, “or any of your other friends who might know of Abbot Agronguerre. His reputation for fairness and gentility is without reproach. True, he is not a forceful man, not a firebrand, as was the younger Markwart, but perhaps the Church is in more need of stability now, of healing.”
    Braumin nodded as Je’howith played it out, as he came to understand the man’s interest in Agronguerre. For Agronguerre would undoubtedly support Je’howith, would protect the abbot of St. Honce’s interests in the coming years. Agronguerre was abbot of St. Belfour, after all, in wild Vanguard, which was ruled by Prince Midalis, Danube Brock Ursal’s younger brother; and Braumin knew enough of that situation to recall that it was a tight bond in the northland, a friendly camaraderie between Church and Crown.
    “He is a good man of sterling reputation,” Je’howith insisted, “and he is not a young man, not much younger than myself. Understand that I am asking you for our mutual benefit. Even without your backing, or that of Brother Francis, I could throw the College into turmoil by announcing my intent to try for the office. Perhaps I would not command the votes to win, but surely I could persuade many away from you—or whomever it is that you choose to back—enough so that either Abbot Olin or the Abbot Agronguerre would gain the position in any case.”
    “Then why do you speak to me of it?” Braumin asked.
    “Because I fear that Olin will take the post, and will try to strengthen the ties between the Abellican Church and the pagan yatol priests of Behren,” Je’howith replied.
    And Olin would not look so kindly on Je’howith and his close ties to the King of Honce-the-Bear, Braumin thought.
    “So allow the memory of Father Abbot Markwart its peace,” Je’howith said, “as it should have, given the man’s decades of honorable service to the Church.”
    Braumin’s lack of retort was all the confirmation Je’howith seemed to need.
    “And support me as I support Agronguerre,” the old abbot went on. “And when he dies, if you have proven yourself in the position of abbot of St. Precious—an appointment I will support—and if I am still alive, then I give you my word nowthat I will back your own ascent to that highest level, Brother Braumin.”
    “I will learn what I can of Abbot Agronguerre,” Brother Braumin agreed, “and if he is all you say, then I agree to your choice.” He nodded and bowed slightly, then turned to go and join his friends.
    “One thing you should know as well,