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nNo more words were spoken, for they all knew their tasks. Sir Dolorem swung the blade like the scythe of the death itself. No time wasted, no questions asked, the sharp edges of the sword touched and pierced through the crying baron.

n“No! Please… You are mistak–”

nThud!

nWords had no meaning coming out of a man like him. The severed head fell on the floor with a sound, and the torso sprayed blood before taking a few steps back and dropping as well.

n“I wish such heathens could be detected and terminated in their mother’s wombs itself.” Sir Dolorem commented, cursing nearly.

nSylvester didn’t respond, as his priority was the girl who silently wailed. Her eyes watered down non-stop as she continued to stare at Sylvester’s face.

nHoping to help, Sylvester decided to use his hymns and halo to soothe her heart. After all, most people consider him a god after seeing his halo. In Amy’s case, she needed the confidence that God genuinely was there to help her.

na??Let those tears fall once and for all.

nLife awaits you, for you’re still very small.

nHope for joy and love, for you’re no longer a thrall.

nWorry not; if evil returns, I shall be your wall.a??

nThe warm halo behind Sylvester’s head gave Amy much-needed warmth. Without embracing, she felt embraced. Without speaking to him, she felt she had known him her entire life. He was the one she waited for — He was the one she prayed to — He was God.

nSylvester stood up and held her small hands that were hardened from rough work. Then, without letting her see the bloodied floor and the baron’s body, Sylvester brought her out of the house.

n“You need not worry about anything from now on, Amy. You will come with me to the Holy Land and live happily. But first, let me ask, do you have any family? Parents or siblings?” He asked because the story the count gave before was too doubtful now. According to the Baron, Amy was the daughter of another Baron.

nAs he intently looked at her for a reply, he smelled her emotions. There was hope, fear, pain and worship. But, slowly, the sadness overcame all, and from that, Sylvester knew what her answer was going to be.

n“They died, mister priest.”

n“Was he a baron as well?” Sylvester inquired.

nThe little girl nodded and continued to walk with Sylvester to what used to be the monastery in the town. It was now a rundown building with nothing but some dogs living inside.

nSylvester stopped asking her more questions as he didn’t want her to remember the horrors again and again. He just requested Miraj if he had anything to make her feel better. Surprisingly, Miraj took out a lot of candies from his belly.

nSoon, Sir Dolorem and Bishop Lazark finished chopping the Baron into pieces and throwing them out in the desert for animal food. That was the highest amount of disrespect one could face after their death. Not being burned in the fire meant the soul would never reach Solis. At least, that was what the faith believed in.

n“What will you do with her, Priest?” Sir Dolorem asked him.

nSylvester glanced at the girl who was eating a candy silently. He remembered her face from the last meeting. It was so joyful. Alas, it was all a farce, and the current her was the real her.

n“She’s too young to walk this world alone. So she will live in the Bard’s and get trained there while studying. I will pay for her education.” Sylvester proclaimed.

nOf course, Sir Dolorem and Bishop Lazark didn’t object to the decision. They were men of the faith, and that was what they were supposed to do. Kids were too pure for the vileness that existed in the world and should be protected if seen in harm.

nSeeing Amy’s condition, Sylvester was reminded of the little girl from his visions, the princess of the Sorrow Kingdom. He wondered what sort of hellish torture she was facing. Not only that, the girl from the visions was even younger and weaker.

n‘Just for the sake of my mental peace, I should look for her at least.’

n“Rest now. We will look for the cure tomorrow morning. Amy, you can sleep here. Nobody will come to hurt you anymore.” Sylvester set up a small makeshift bed near the fire they had started for the little girl.

nThe little girl just nodded and followed his commands. She rested down on the small mattress and quickly fell asleep. She had cried too much, so her eyes were already tired. Combined with the fact that Sylvester seemed genuinely kind. She felt some peace of mind.

n“Don’t get too attached to her, Lord Bard.” Sir Dolorem warned Sylvester as they sat around the fire.

nSylvester bobbed his head. He knew what Sir Dolorem meant. There were far too many kids out there possibly suffering from fates even worse than Amy’s. He could not afford to become worried for all of them, as it’d take away all his time.

n“I understand, Sir Dolorem. Child slavery is not yet outlawed, and there is nothing we can do about it. But to feel sad about these children means we are not yet so mentally unhinged. It’s proof of our own humanity.” Sylvester argued.

nThe old wizard knight agreed with him. “Certainly, you can look at it from this aspect.”

nFollowing the short discussion, Sylvester went to sleep. Amy slept the closest to the fire with the three clergymen surrounding her. She was the safest she could ever hope to be.

nIt was late in the night when they went to sleep, so the morning came too quickly. But they were strong men and required not much rest. With the bright light dawning over them, they rose, cleaned themselves and prepared to fulfil the rest of their task.

nThis time, Sylvester kept Amy beside him. She was nine years old or so, so that meant she could be tested for magic. But he didn’t have any means for that yet. However, the fact that she travelled with the Baron to such a plague-hit area and yet remained safe meant she did have magic in her.

nKnock! Knock!

nSylvester knocked on one door and waited until someone came. Eventually, five minutes passed, and finally, an old woman appeared, dragging herself to the door and opening it. She had blisters all over her face and hands. She seemed disoriented, her eyes red and her body thin.

nSylvester clapped his hands together and sang a short prayer to her before turning around and leaving in silence.

nAmy ran behind him and quickly held onto his hand. “Why didn’t we help her, mister priest?”

n“She is infected with the plague. No cure can help her, so we don’t trouble such people.” He said and continued to another house.

nSlowly, they covered most of the Magnuslia town, but then the night returned, and they had to rest again. That night, Sylvester sang a song for Amy and played his violin. He just wanted to make her forget everything that went bad in her past.

nBy the end of his song, her eyes shone, and her arms extended. “Can I play it? It was so beautiful!”

n“Hah!” Sir Dolorem chuckled suddenly, for he knew what was to come next.

nSylvester gave her the instrument and taught her how to hold it. “Go ahead, give it a try.”

n“Yes!” She excitedly took a long breath, hoping to make a melodic sound by mimicking Sylvester from before.

nBzzzz!

nKzzzz!

nShe started sweating instantly, and an angry frown formed on her forehead. But she didn’t stop and kept going, trying to copy what Sylvester did. Surprisingly, she was able to make it less ear-shattering, but it remained ear-shattering nonetheless.

n“Why it sounds so bad?” She asked after finally giving up.

nSylvester took the violin back and taught her. “There are a few reasons why it sounded bad. First, you tried to mimic what you saw me doing but didn’t have the same experience. Second, you press too hard on the strings, making a screeching sound. Third, you don’t press hard enough, and it makes a squeaky sound. Even your bow, if incorrectly held, can make it sound bad. You master all these. Then you can play like me.”

n“C-Can I try again?”

n“No, now you go to sleep. But you can practice it tomorrow.” Sylvester, like a caring elder, made her go to sleep.

nSlowly, the night passed again, and their boring day began. They had checked most of the houses in the central districts, and only those far-fetched homes were left. So they headed to meet the people there one by one. More people were alive there than in the central part of the town since the density was less in the outskirts.

nSylvester found the doors opening fast in the outskirts, but the disappointment was all he received. They were all either plagued or had someone in their family die from it already.

n“Be safe, and here, keep some of these grains.” Sylvester bid farewell yet again and handed a bag of grains. That was the least he could do as a clergyman.

n“Let’s go, Amy. To the next house.”

nUtterly tired and bored, they arrived at the last sector of the town. Their hopes were low, so not much enthusiasm was left in their eyes. They just automatically moved and knocked again.

n“Priest! I found one!”

nAll of a sudden, just as Sylvester was about to knock on a door, Sir Dolorem appeared running and shouting.

n“A house where all members survived!”

nSylvester’s tired eyes opened wide in an instant. He didn’t even stop Sir Dolorem and just picked Amy before running towards Sir Dolorem and past him.

nIn no time, they arrived at the distant farmhouse. Bishop Lazark was already there, speaking with the whole family. There were three old grandparents, an adult man and a woman, along with three children aged five, ten and thirteen.

nSylvester calmed down as he approached them. “May the Holy Light Enlighten us!”

nThe man of the house stood at the front as if shielding his family. “Yes, what can I do for you, clergymen?”

nSylvester stared into the man’s eyes and kept his senses sharp. “Do you, by chance, own a cow?”

n“Of course, I’m a farmer.”

nSylvester’s hopes skyrocketed. “Can I see it?”

n“Oh, but we ate it.”

n“…”

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