“Thank you, Lord Bard.”
Sylvester handed over a bag of money to a textile shop in the market. “Prepare yourself. You will need to work harder to make money now. Don’t spend it on foolish things.”
He advised as many shop owners as he could. In one glance, he knew which one would heed the advice and who would soon be a beggar.
The entire northern Gracia would soon suffer from high poverty; Sylvester knew it. If the Holy Land and the rest of Gracia Kingdom didn’t help them, people would die from hunger or worse, a plague could start.
He slowly made his way back to the castle as once again he was to say the prayer to the dead. This time he wondered if he was an extraordinary case of reincarnation because if everyone gets reincarnated, then that would mean no new people get born. It’s all just recycling.
So that begged the question. ‘Why me?’
Sadly, this question could not be answered by anyone, nor could it be asked to someone. This was a secret he was going to take to his grave… pyre in this case—whenever it may be.
“… May the Lord enlighten the path of his soul.”
He finished speaking and used a torch to flame the pyre. Seeing this one burning, all hoped this was the last, for they were tired now.
On the other hand, Sylvester didn’t have time to wait and see things go on. The next day, after he had overseen the distribution of money in the two Counties and had given the rest to Duke Grimton, he arrived at Count Raftel’s castle one last time.
“How is lady Melinda?” He asked since the Countess had been resting over the past few days.
“She’s alive and in spirit. But I know she’s broken inside after the incident and the continuous incoming news of the conspiracy.” Count Raftel led him to Lady Melinda’s room.
“How is her health? Is she eating properly?”
“Yes, but only because I told her I’d do what Jartel did if she left me.” Count Raftel said.
Soon they entered the spacious room where in the middle, on the bed, a beautiful lady sat with her back resting on the wall behind. She appeared lost while staring out the window as the cool breeze seeped in.
“Greetings, lady Melinda.”
She faced Sylvester and lightly smiled. “Welcome, Lord Bard. I’m sure you’re tired after all that has occurred.”
“I am alive, my lady. It’s just that I am mentally exhausted. How are you? Did the healers from Duke’s Keep check you? Can you grow back?” He asked, knowing how vital a chest can be for a woman—especially for one looking forward to having children.
She shook her head. “They are not hopeful, Lord Bard.”
Sylvester nodded and wrote something down on a piece of parchment he had brought. “Mere Counts are not worth much in the land of god. But, thankfully, my mother is a Superintendent Healer in Guild Peninsula. Take this parchment to her if you ever find yourself on pilgrimage. The healers at Holy Land are far more competent than what you’d have here. 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘭．𝘦𝘵
“I’ve heard about bones growing back, so something should be possible. If not, then at least they can do something cosmetic-related. But in the end, lady Melinda, you must come to terms with this new life. Nobody but you can help yourself in this situation.”
She took the parchment with great hope. She held Sylvester’s hand and thanked him continuously. “T-Thank you, Lord Bard. Even if it’s a hope that may result in nothing—thank you for this. I’m sure my lord husband and I will visit the Holy Land in this year’s Season of Solis.”
“Wonderful! Now, I must take my leave, lady Melinda. I need to return to Holy Land and report the situation. As for the one who attacked you, I’m sure a manhunt will be initiated against him soon.” He reassured her as he stood up.
Count Raftel escorted him towards the exit. “Thank you for saving us from total destruction. If his schemes had gone on until complete fruition, they could have been disastrous.”
“The disaster is still not fully here yet, Count Raftel. Be careful. That’s all I can advise.”
They soon arrived outside, and the large carriage of Lady Aurora was waiting there. Sylvester bid his farewell to the Count without any useless songs this time.
“Let’s go.” He took his seat at the front beside Felix.
“Ha!”
The horses moved fast, their destination being the Pitfall Town, as Sylvester had promised to pick Dungface when returning.
“How bad do you think the situation will be?” Felix asked him as they sat isolated from the rest in the back.
“Are you worried about your house?” Sylvester wondered, knowing that Sandwall County was the bordering County beside the Masan Empire. The trade route went through there and likely generated a lot of money for the region.
“I don’t know. When I was little, I remember we still lived in decent wealth before they made the corridor. We hunt and kill the Desert Cannibals and take their gold occasionally. Not to mention, the cannibals attack us in hordes too.”
Sylvester could come up with a few reasons for Sandwall’s wealth. ‘Sandwall County should still be able to do business with the Masan Empire since it shares a border. They probably send their own traders to Masan, I believe.’
“Your family will be fine then. But for now, let’s focus on the task. I have a bad feeling about Sir Dolorem’s silence.”
…
Pitfall Town
After Sylvester warned the town’s Archpriest that he’d be taking Dungface with him, the clergyman didn’t dare harm the mentally challenged man. He didn’t allow him to go and work, as usual, and he didn’t allow him to climb heights to paint the Monastery.
But the problem was, Dungface was so used to being slaved around that he was now getting angry at being stopped from working. The simple man thought people were mad at him and didn’t want to talk with him.
So, Archpriest Milan had to create jobs for the man, one of which was to clean the artefact room.
After that, Dungface carefully and diligently cleaned all the artefacts in the room with great care while singing a few hymns of Sylvester. His favourite was a hymn from years ago that Sylvester sang personally.
Though he had already forgotten that Sylvester would come to take him along. In his devotion, he just cleaned and cleaned, eventually rubbing his hand on a strange transparent orb.
With warmth that all have embraced.
I kneel to the Lord, for he has graced…?
He first cleaned the orb with a cloth and then rubbed his hand on it to remove the scratches.
“Clean clean… I make it very clean…”
Woosh!
All of a sudden, the crystal got covered in bright shining light that shrouded the entire room. But, Dungface was so engrossed in that warm light that he forgot to let the orb go.
Bam!
“What in God’s name are you do-” Archpriest Milan barged in, intending to scold him but ended up with his jaw falling low and losing breath.
“W-What… How are you… this is…”
…
Sylvester ensured he reached Pitfall town as fast as possible this time and didn’t dare spend a night in the region. He had seen the Shadow Knight two times, and in both cases, he appeared in that region.
Felix had gone to sleep now, and Lady Aurora sat beside Sylvester, steering the carriage herself.
‘What does she want now?’ Sylvester clearly knew that her reasons for being so generous as to sit at the front were her selfish desires. Nevertheless, he knew she was curious about something, and the scents clarified it.
“Lord Bard, how old are you?”
‘Why is she asking this?’
“Seventeen, why?” He asked back.
She stared at his face as if trying to read him. “No.”
“…”
“What do you mean no? Ask my mum if you want to.”
She still shook her head. “There is something else, Lord Bard. You’re too developed in the head. Now, keeping the blessing of the Lord aside, you are talented in things you shouldn’t be. How do you know about making a trade?”
“Demand creates supply. That’s all one needs to know to trade, Lady Aurora. It’s not that hard to master various things. You just need to try. I am personally interested in the languages of the Desert Cannibals and Mountain tribes.” He subtly changed the topic.
“Why? Do you want to convert them to one true faith?”
He scoffed. “Not in the slightest. Many Popes have tried in the past and failed. I only wish to learn their language and find out if it’s derived from our common tongue.”
‘And see if they have matching grammar with any other Earth’s language.’ He thought.
“Good luck then. But I’d rather suggest you learn the Beastkin’s or Elven tongue. You’re young and will likely participate whenever the great war continues. I, for one, have mastered the Dwarven language already.” She boasted with pride.
But Sylvester was not impressed. “Ugh… aren’t you more than a century old? Just learning one new language is anything but amateurish.”
“How dare you! Dwarven language is the most complex language script in existence since their common tongue is also their rune language. They used it for mining and enchanting nearly everything.”
‘That’s really impressive.’
“Umm… still not very impressive. Just one language in so much time?” He still teased her, knowing she was also in a joking mood.
“Hmph! Whatever. I will see how great you become when you are a century old.” She scoffed and focused on the road ahead. Not knowing she was nowhere near prepared for the greatness Sylvester shall earn in a decade, let alone a century.
“We’re here!”
Finally, they saw the start of Pitfall town. They drove the carriage straight to the Monastery, and Sylvester called the man’s name.
“Dungface! Where are you, buddy?” He called the middle-aged simpleton.
‘I’m going to need a new name for him.’
“Ah! Lord Bard!” When Monastery’s gates opened, Archpriest Milan walked out, rubbing his hands, face sweating and eyes dilated. “What can I do for you?”
‘What’s he scheming now?’
Sylvester felt suspicious and jumped down from the carriage. “I have come to take Dungface with me. Tell him to come out.”
The Archpriest made a false sad face. “Oh! Dungface… I’m afraid he’s not here, my Lord. He’s been missing for days now.”
Bam!
Not giving him any time or explaining, Sylvester grabbed the Archpriest’s neck and lifted him in the air easily. Lady Aurora also stood beside him and watched everything calmly, already used to Sylvester.
“Don’t lie, Archpriest! Where is Dungface?” Sylvester interrogated.
Cough!
“M-My lord… I swear, he has run away. I think he…”
Crunch!
The sound of something breaking came from the Archpriest’s neck. “If you don’t speak the truth in five seconds, a beam of light shall come out of my palm and burn your head away.”
“One!”
The Archpriest tried to free himself and kicked around.
“Two!”
The man lost strength, and his eyes started to go red from the lack of air.
“Three!”
Cough!
“Four!”
“He’s inside!” Archpriest Milan blurted slowly. “He’s inside! I locked him there… He’s…”
Thud!
Sylvester let him fall but didn’t let him go as he put his right foot on the latter’s chest. “Why?”
“His talents, my Lord! We found out Dungface has the talent of a…”
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