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nSylvester did not react shocked. He already knew that he’d find situations like these. He had seen similar things in his previous life as well. Any wartorn country had such conditions. Humanity had the ability to do the worst and, at the same time, be the kindest. But, the latter was rarer than the first.

n“In our case, there isn’t much we can do to help them either,” Sylvester concluded and just saw the filthy transactions take place. There was no law; there was no god. All that was there was a facade.

nArchbishop Nelson sighed and got down from the carriage, and started walking towards a group of kids that were too young to partake in anything that was going on there. They simply saw their parents go around.

nThey were wary of the Archbishop at first, but when the old man took out what looked like sweet candies, they all swarmed him like bees. They gathered around him and held onto his leg. Some tried to climb him up as well since the old man was too tall.

n“Hoho, strong ones, aren’t you?” The Archbishop rested down on the ground and started to distribute the candies to all of them. They were all malnourished, and their heads looked bigger than their bodies. It was not a sight that any man would want to see, but it was something they had to accept.

nSylvester also arrived near the kids and, with Miraj’s help, took out many bananas because that was what Miraj kept with him most of the time in huge numbers. He did it begrudgingly, but since it was for the kids, Miraj did it.

n“Who wants the bananas?” Sylvester asked and started handing one to each of them.

nThe kids didn’t have much strength to peel it all though, so Sylvester had to help them as well. They were on the verge of dying, and there was not enough medicine to help them. What they needed was food and care, and sadly, that was the last thing they could find there.

n“What do you want to do, your grace?” Sylvester asked the old man who allowed the kids to play with his long white beard and hair. He was having too much fun and seemed like a genuine grandfatherly man.

nNelson glanced back at Sylvester, his eyes slightly watery and his voice turned hoarse. “This isn’t why I joined the Holy Land, Priest. I desired peace, love and kindness everywhere. I desired equality and quality of life, a world without wars… This shatters my heart.”

n“For how long have you tried to make things better here?” Sylvester inquired as he smelled an intense scent of foul rotten meat, signifying sadness.

nThe old man, showing not an ounce of disgust, wiped the faces of the kids as they were dirty. He used his magic and his own church robes as towels. “Half a century ago, I made my way to this despondent domain known as the Sorrow Kingdom. Initially, my aspirations were lofty, but as time progressed, I began to acknowledge the stark reality. After the Duke of the Patch’s insurrection, the situation in the Sorrow Kingdom plummeted sharply. The Patch annexed all the arable land, and widespread famine became a commonplace occurrence.”

nThe venerable Archbishop heaved a deep sigh and continued to tend to the children under his care. “I did everything in my power to handle the situation. But what could a mere banished Archbishop achieve against entire kingdoms? I endeavoured to alleviate suffering and cure those afflicted, but ultimately, my efforts depleted me of all vitality due to Solarium exhaustion. Despite my abundant talent, I could never rise above the rank of Archwizard. I attempted to gain the trust of King Sorrow and provide him with sound counsel, but the insatiable thirst of the Patch was too much for me to appease. Now, we witness the grim dance of death consuming the young ones.

n“I cannot help but feel that I have failed, young man. I failed in my duty, and I failed Solis, as I could not spread his message of peace and harmony. If only I could receive a sign or some indication that I have followed the correct path, I could depart this life in a state of tranquillity.”

nSylvester rested in silence for a few minutes. He could feel what the old man was going through. Chasing a goal without knowing if you were on the right path to achieve it was something that could make people go mentally unstable. And there was the Archbishop still with all the love and warmth, trying to help those he could.

n‘What did he do to be ignored and sent to the Sorrow Kingdom?’ He wondered.

nThud!

n“Priest Johnathan, we found him.”

nSuddenly, Bishop Lazark and Sir Dolorem arrived in their disguised forms and threw a man beside Sylvester’s feet. The man was tall with a big belly, bald on the head, white-skinned and with a face that only a mother could love, for his teeth were rotten, his nose was half chopped away, and many scars were as hideous as they could be.

nSylvester didn’t let the man get up and stomped his foot on his chest. “Who is he?”

n“He is the administrator of this camp here appointed by the Patch. Heathen! Speak of your crimes, or we shall skin you alive and feed it to you.” Sir Dolorem introduced the man and threatened him at the same time.

nInterested, Sylvester pressed on the man’s chest harder. “What did you do? Speak, or the Archbishop here shall execute you immediately, for he holds the authority.”

nThe man rambled everything out before Sylvester could even press his feet more. Loyalty didn’t run very strong among the men of the Patch, it appeared.

n“I am a mere administrator of this little camp. I am to run this place. That was all the instructions I was given. I get no money to run this place, as the money sent towards me gets taken and distributed among the seniors. I have to make money here, so I use whatever means I have. Since the village sits on the trading route, I let these people earn money.”

nCrunch!

nSylvester pressed further on the chest, creating the sound of bones breaking. “Is that so? Then why are they still poor? Why are these children still starving?”

nClank!

nSir Dolorem inched the blade of his sword closer to the man’s neck. “Say it!”

n“I… I take eighty percent of the money they earn… and they must buy their own food, which is so costly that they have to earn for two months to afford one week’s ration. T-That is why they are like t-t… Argh! Please! I was jus–”

nBefore Sylvester could do anything else, Archbishop Nelson pulled Sylvester away and stomped on the man’s neck in his stead. The man’s eyes turned red in rage, and his voice shattered in seething anger. “You are nothing but a lowly, insolent heathen! Even in the midst of this dire crisis, you prioritise your own interests over the lives of innocent souls. Do you not possess an iota of fear for the divine? Can you not feel their immense suffering?”

nBlood oozed out of the man’s mouth as his ribs punctured into his lungs from the immense force. The Archbishop, who seemed like a sage not a while back, now seemed like a god of war.

nThud!

nIn no time, his entire foot caved into the man’s chest and burst through the chest, spreading a sight of gore. There were kids, men and women around too, but they didn’t react, for the blood was a sight all too common for them.

n“Such heathens deserve not a single more breath in our realm. Priest Johnathan, go and find all the money he had and buy food for these poor souls. I shall call forth an Inquisitor Commander to oversee the camp from now on.” Archbishop Nelson ordered.

nSylvester played his part and went ahead with the orders. Furthermore, he added the name of the entire Grand Duchy of Patch’s administration to his kill list. After all, he had seen many such refugee camps, and they were all under Patch’s control.

nHe looked inside the lavish house and office of the dead man and found all the money he could. On top of the money he found, he put a few more Gold Graces out of his own pocket in the same bag.

nTap!

nAs Sylvester was tying up the bag of money, a tiny fluffy paw stopped him. “Maxy, I also give some from my pocket money. Kiddies need help, so I help.”

nSylvester glanced at Miraj sitting on his arm. “Are you sure, Chonky?”

n“Aye Aye, Maxy. I got enough to buy more bananas. They need this money more than me.” Miraj replied, looking saner than ever before. “I didn’t like those kiddies. They looked like skeletons. I thought they were Laz-Laz’s undead.”

nSylvester took ten Gold Graces from Miraj and put them in the bag too. “You don’t need to do this, Chonky. But now that you are, I appreciate it. I may not be a good person and do believe in conquering at all costs, but even I draw the line here. Killing the population of an entire kingdom for my selfish greed is not my cup of tea. Spies have no honour, but I am more than a spy now.”

nTap!

nMiraj climbed near Sylvester’s face and patted his cheeks. “Of course, you’re also my son. I adopted you. Did you forget?”

nSylvester chuckled and walked out of the lavish office. “Well, I guess you did adopt me. Without you, growing up in that place would have been boring. Anyway, let’s finish our plotting soon and start reaping the benefits. Once we’re done with this kingdom, I will go and learn metal manipulation.”

n“Aye aye… But can’t we just feed everyone in this kingdom?” Miraj asked. “How much money do we need for that? I got lots of it.”

nSylvester hummed and calculated the numbers. “Let me see… Since the Sorrow Kingdom has a population of around sixty-eight million, we need to provide at least two loaves of bread daily to feed all of them. One loaf of bread costs three Copper Muds, which makes it four hundred and eight million copper muds. That’s almost four hundred and eight thousand Silver Crowns or Four thousand and eighty Gold Graces. This is just for one day, so multiplying it by a month makes it one hundred and twenty-two thousand Gold Graces. That’s a lot of money, Chonky.”

nThud!

nAll of a sudden, the sound of something falling resounded. Sylvester looked behind, and there was Chonky fallen from his shoulder on the hard stone floor of the lavish house. Chonky’s eyes seemed hazy, and he remained on his back.

n“Hah, was that too much calculation for you?” He asked and picked his fluffy friend up.

nMiraj grumpily nodded. “Maxy, let’s just go and steal it!”

nSylvester smirked, somewhat evilly. “Oh, my dear Chonky. You meant to say ‘Donation’ in the name of the lord?”

nMiraj’s eyes sparkled. “YES! Donation!” 𝘦𝘯𝑜𝘷𝘦𝘭.𝗇𝓔t

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nPlease send all your Golden Tickets! Help this Gorilla reach the top 25!

nThank you!

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