Sir Dolorem cleared Sylvester's doubts as the man spat on the ground in utter disgust. This was the first time he saw the man showing such an unpleasant face. "Ugh… What's a filthy elf doing here?"
Sylvester glanced at the man's face in disgust as well. But he accepted the reality of the situation. In fact, it all made sense to him. 'It seems God didn't make this world equal for all either.'
"Why is she jailed?" he asked in false innocence.
"She's a heathen from the foul lands of the east. They believe in their weak tree gods and such rubbish. She has no rights in this land, and the Inquisitors may do whatever they wish. Death, however, is inevitable."
Soon enough, loud shrills full of fear echoed. The jail cart had stopped in front of the Monastery. She was dragged out by her hair, and her clothes were being ripped apart at the same time, for no tainted blood was allowed to touch the house of Solis.
Since Sylvester and the rest were to go the same way, they stopped in front of the monastery gates. The Inquisitor Knights saw Sir Dolorem's Inquisitor robes and barked. "This is our catch! Stay away from this."
'Ugh… this scent and feeling again. The aroma of roses and sweat combined. Are these men lecherous right now?'
"AAA… Help me! I don't want to die… please!" the elven woman cried as her modesty was trampled.
As a strong sense of chills and vibrations spread on his tongue, Sylvester decided to shut them up by giving his introduction. First, he raised his right palm and closed his eyes. Then he mumbled under his breath, letting the halo of bright golden warm light appear behind his head.
Sir Dolorem, Sir Silvereye and Sir Smith quickly crossed their arms in prayer and closed their eyes.
Then echoed Sylvester's melodiously improved voice. It felt calm, soothing and with a hint of child's cheerfulness.
Kneel before the apostle of light.
Warriors and Knights for Solis who fight.
Feel the warmth of the Lord burn bright.
This is the way; this is what's right.?
Signs from the Lord are all here.
The filth of heathen land is near.
Needs a sacrifice for his grace to appear.
He shall make the disease disappear.?
All come together, rejoice, cheer and cry.
The blessing has fallen from the sky.
So says the words of Solis,
Burn shall those who dare defy.?
Thud!—The Inquisitors handling the elven woman kneeled suddenly, their eyes reddened in passion and emotions. They thumped their chests in salute and reverence.
"Such a beautiful hymn, why have I never heard this before?" the Knight asked.
Sir Dolorem explained. "You kneel before God's Favoured, Sylvester Maximilian. The Inquisitor High Lord found him five years ago."
"Ah! We've heard about it all these years. We're blessed to be in the presence of the holy one." they knelt.
Sylvester returned to normal and looked left and right as if he had no idea he had sung a hymn, his acting game already at the top. "It happened again? Strange. I'm hungry."
"Please enter. We shall prepare a feast." The Inquisitors warmly welcomed him and Xavia.
It was still afternoon, so there was not much need for food. Sylvester wanted to roam around the town first and see the walks of life. He spent most of his early childhood inside the confines of Bright Mother's complex, so he was interested in everything else.
"Sir Dolorem, I want to see the town."
"Of course, Master Maximilian. Mother Xavia must wish to get to work as well. The Monastery has all the information needed for the disease that's spreading here. I shall go and call the Archpriest."
Sir Dolorem tried his best to facilitate all the mother and son duo needed. He had, after all, vowed to Sylvester, and he had not forgotten it.
Soon enough, the Archpriest appeared. He was an unremarkable man with a forgetful face. He was bald, had a short white beard and wore white silk robes over his chubby short body. He was most likely a wizard. The old Archpriest quickly gave a church salute to Sylvester. To most eyes in the church, it didn't feel strange.
"Oh blessed favoured one, please help this tarnished land to become pure again. If it has sinned against the great Solis, please punish it, I beg you. We call for your aid."
Sylvester glanced at his mother. He didn't want to steal her spotlight right now. "The Church sent my mother, not me."
"Indeed." Sir Dolorem nodded.
"T-Then… I plead to the Bright Mother and Favoured One, help us! The people in the town have suddenly started to fall ill. The disease seems to be spreading fast as every day someone would fall and have profuse watery diarrhoea or vomit and body cramps. Three to five out of ten people die every single day. If this goes on, Pitfall town shall be finished!" the old Archpriest knelt in request by the end.
Sylvester could notice it at first glance, though. Through the years, he had found a correlation between what he smells and what it means. Finally, he could make a small list after hundreds of trials and errors. Even now, he was getting some new ones.
'Ah, same as Queen Rexine Gracia, Sour and salty. Is the Archpriest jealous of me?'
The man didn't care for the people. He only wished to keep ruling and making money. This disease must have been costing him.
"We shall see what we can do, Archpriest." Xavia was determined to begin the investigation quickly.
…
A few minutes later, Sylvester accompanied Xavia to the large hall the town had set to keep the sick ones. It was filled to the brim with ailing people and their families. Men, women and children were lying in a matrix, each coughing, vomiting or defecating themselves.
At a simple glance, Sylvester knew what the problem was. He had faced it back when he was a spy with the cover of an industrialist in the USSR. A whole village was suffering from this exact problem, and it didn't solve until he supplied that village with free canned food and water.
'This village is suffering from a cholera outbreak. But why have they not found a solution yet? The church seemed very advanced to me.' He wondered and silently followed Xavia around.
She soon stopped by a young child who was vomiting uncontrollably. Due to dehydration, his eyes were red, and his body was thin as a stick. But then she started waving her hand with shining green light on the boy's stomach.
The boy stopped vomiting after a few minutes, and his eyes returned to normal. Xavia caressed his head warmly. "Worry not, dear. You can have food and water now."
However, the mother of the child cried then. "Thank you, Bright Mother, we are grateful. But what you said has been repeated to us many times. Every week he falls sick like this."
Sylvester sighed silently. 'Of course, unless they deal with the root, the fruits will keep rotting.'
At the same time, Sylvester observed what the boy's mother said. It appeared that Xavia was not the first healer here. And for some reason, every healer only used the magic to help these commoners. It was still too early to judge, but he was inclined to believe that the world was so backwards not just due to the church but also due to overdependence on magic.
Why would one invent penicillin if a wizard can cure them with a wave of his palm?
But then, a bigger question arose. Why was Xavia sent here? What's different about her? The answer was clear. 'It's me, isn't it? Is this a test of some sort? But who's trying me? The Pope?'
If the latter were the case, he'd have to tread carefully. First, he must show his belief in the Church and that he's the true God's Favoured.
Sylvester then acted as if he got bored. So he went to the market with Sir Dolorem to buy some items. Meanwhile, the other two accompanying knights guarded Xavia. Things proceeded like this until the evening when everyone returned to the Monastery for the dinner feast.
However, Sylvester had a wish first. "Sir Dolorem, I want to meet the elf. I have never spoken to a heathen creature before."
There was no reason to deny him. So he was escorted to the dungeons by Sir Dolorem. The Archpriest followed behind as he preached his various achievements in hopes of making good relations with Sylvester. After all, even if Sylvester didn't become the pope, he could reach the Guardians of Light level with the tag of God's Favoured.
Soon, they arrived in the dark dungeons. The pathway was tight and had a low ceiling. The various bricks had algae on them from the seeping drops of water. The location's temperature was low, and it felt humid, absolutely unsuitable for living in. Not to mention, there was no vent for natural light.
They walked with torches in hand, with Sylvester in the middle. However, Sir Dolorem stopped suddenly and asked Sylvester to reconsider. "M-Master Maximilian, I suggest you don't watch this."
For the first time, Sylvester smelled the foul scent of rotting meat. He didn't know what this signified. "Move, Sir Dolorem."
He soon found a way to walk to the front and look. He moved the torch closer to the jail bars and saw the horror within. There lay the body of the elven woman, her legs tied to the wall with metal chains. She had no piece of cloth on her body; worse were the bruises and bite marks all over her flesh. Blood oozed out of her various parts, making the cell look more like a slaughterhouse than a prison.
Her hair looked dishevelled and patched as if someone had pulled them. Her eyes seemed hazy, lifeless even. There was no response, and silence descended with rare churning sounds from the torches and Archpriest gulping.
'So the church dogs have already taken their turns and broken her apart.' he thought.
However, as saddened as he was, he had seen far worse in his life. So he didn't feel shocked; instead, he was disgusted because he belonged to the same group of people who did this to her. And he had no plans of leaving this group anytime soon. freewebnov(e)l.com
"What will be done with her next?" He asked the Archpriest.
The short, old man chirped in reply. "She's a heathen, so she shall be slowly burnt alive in the town square."
"Aaaaa…!"
The voice of the Archpriest seemed to have woken the woman up. Probably the trauma from not long ago. She leapt madly, reached the jail bars with her arms, and caught Sylvester's hand in a rage.
"Mast…"
Sylvester merely waved at them not to come close. He knew the look in the elf's eyes. She had given up already, and this was merely an attempt to let her emotions out. Besides, he knew fire magic, and she was no threat to him, at least not in her current state.
"What's your name?" he asked.
The woman replied in stutters while her eyes teared up. "L-Lixiss… W-Why? Why did you steal me from my home? Why did you enslave me? What did I do to you?
"I-I was so happy… I want to go home."
As she spoke, she silently looked into Sylvester's rare golden eyes. She kept that going for a minute until Sylvester broke her focus with his words.
"Don't we all?"
Suddenly, she pushed her hand out and caressed Sylvester's face. There was no anger or hatred in her motions, however. "Your eyes… I pity you."
"Indeed, pity me, for I have a gigantic task of bringing your heathen land to heel. Do not fight the will of Solis. There is nowhere to escape. Sir Dolorem, let us return." He turned her words around and decided to leave. "Mother must be waiting for me at the dinner table."
"I want to go home!"
"Let me go!"
"Please!"
The screams of agony slowly diminished into unintelligent echoes. Her fate was sealed the moment she arrived on this side of the world. The Church had money, power and pull, but the only thing it did not have was forgiveness and acceptance.
Sylvester calmly headed back up. Meanwhile, his mind was in chaos. 'What did she see in my eyes?'
'She talked about being caught and brought here as a slave.' These words made Sylvester aware of the status of slavery in this world. It was still in fashion, it seemed.
For this elf, however, Sylvester knew there was no hope. She will die no matter what, and he was not foolish enough to help her. He was, after all, just a tiny pawn in the Church.
Amidst those thoughts, he arrived at the dining hall and sat beside Xavia. But he honestly didn't feel like eating right now. His mind was too preoccupied with complex planning and what-if cases.
"What happened, Max? You look different." Xavia asked him in concern.
"It's nothing… I'm not hungr-"
TING! TING! TING!
Three clear emergency bell rings resounded in the Monastery. Something big must have happened.
Quickly a priest came running. "Archpriest!… The elf woman in the dungeons… I don't know how…"
In an instant, the Archpriest put the whole Monastery on lockdown. All Inquisitors and members ran around in a hurry. Sir Dolorem and the other Knights that came with Sylvester tried to help too.
But Sylvester stayed seated in his place without showing any expression on his face. Instead, his eyes were focused on the plate, staring at it aimlessly.
Then he finally picked a piece of potato to eat. Xavia wished to ask what happened, but her son's behaviour kept her seated…something was unnerving in it.
"W-What's happened, dear?"
He took a bite of the food and stared into her eyes before replying nonchalantly.
"It's so strange how we live in a magical world… Yet there is nothing magical about it."
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