Sometimes, silence is a man’s worst enemy, for it doesn’t just remind him of emptiness around but also gives you time to find emptiness within.
Sir Dolorem lay in his bed alone, unsure of his surroundings. Was it bright? Was it dark? What was the colour of the blanket he was covered with? What was the colour of his clothes?
He tried his best to keep himself collected, but whenever he tried to cheer himself up, he was reminded of the vows he took to Sylvester. The vow to forever follow him and support him–to give his life if he must–to become a bone of his holy throne if he must.
Now, it all seemed empty.
“I must not let the lack of sight hinder my duties. This is a test the lord has embarked me upon, and I shall defeat it no matter the cost.”
He forced himself to sit up despite the pain and tried to touch things around his bed. Sometimes, he’d hear something falling, and sometimes, he’d find nothing, but soon he caught what felt like an apple.
‘If Lord Bard could sing the praises of the Lord and move at the age of a month, then I have no reason to accept this fate.’
Pa!
He tried to juggle a single apple from one hand into another to build hand coordination and sense the minute details, such as the change of air with the throw of the apple.
‘Baby steps lead to long-term effects… I must not accept this fate… I must never give up.’
…
The next morning, Sylvester woke up tired, still in the seat he tied himself to the last night. He looked left and right and found the walls, the floor and the bed bloodied. ‘Ugh… I need to clean this before mum enters to clean.’
He looked at his lap where Miraj was sleeping, having curled himself into a ball of fur. He caressed the good boy and woke him up. “Thank you, Chonky. I feel much better in my leg now.”
“Maxy!” Miraj woke up and quickly hugged his neck. “You fell asleep and didn’t wake up no matter what I did. I thought you left me…”
Sylvester patted his back. “Don’t ever think of that, Chonky. I am not dying before living this life until I’m an old man with a long white beard. This recent happening is just one of the few hurdles, one of the many that shall come with time. I guess the religious folks would say this is a test from god. Let’s just hope we find a permanent solution to my problem soon.”
Chonky licked Sylvester’s face, cleaning him like a cat would their child. “Why not ask big mum? She can heal people.”
Sylvester smiled wryly. “As much as I cherish her, I know her limitations. She’s a healer of wounds and ailments, and my problems are more magical in nature. Only the senior clergy healers can do something–and they are the ones I can never go to, for I am what they call tainted blood. If they decide to test my blood, I’m sure before the next sunrise; my body will be found dead in some pit of mud.”
“B-But…”
Sylvester freed himself from the leather straps and stood up. “If I was just another tainted blood, perhaps it would not have been a problem. But here I am, a prince who never was.”
He quickly started to clean his room using water and air elemental magic. Within an hour, he had everything back in its original state. Then, he removed the cotton bandages on his right thigh and replaced them with fresh ones.
Knock Knock!
“Max! Breakfast is ready.”
“Coming!”
Sylvester looked left and right to ensure nothing suspicious was left in the room. Thankfully, he used Miraj to keep most of the personal items hidden. As a result, his room only consisted of his bed and table, nothing else.
“I should take a bath first.” He decided and took off his upper robes. As for the pants, he didn’t remove them, or Xavia would notice the bandages. Not to mention, that was a bit shameful.
Bam!
“Where do you think you’re sliding off to, boy?” He also caught Miraj in his arms. 𝚘𝚟𝚕．ｔ
“Nyooo… leave me! I lick myself clean every day!”
But Sylvester didn’t listen to him one bit. “Shh… no noise now.”
“Mum, I’m taking a bath first.” He informed and proceeded towards the indoor bath that only the rich and important like him could afford.
Xavia quickly came out of the cooking area and handed him a metal bottle. “Take this. My senior gave me this. He said it keeps the hair silky.”
‘It does?’ Sylvester took it, no questions asked. After all, looking graceful was a part of his whole persona as a bard.
He then walked to the living room, beyond which was the bathroom. “What’s in the breakfa���”
“…”
There was a sudden silence as soon as Sylvester reached the living room. There, he noticed a certain woman sitting alone, blonde hair, grey eyes and a pretty face–now blushing profusely and trying to look away from his bare, muscled upper body.
“What are you doing here?” Sylvester questioned her, not even bothering to hide as he didn’t care.
“L-Lord Bard… I… I…”
‘Ugh… women.’ He sighed internally as he instantly smelled the lust and anxiety combined.
Just then, Xavia appeared. “Oh, you’ve met? The Inquisitor High Lord told me to bring her with me when I visited Sir Dolorem. She was just sitting outside, alone, crying. She’s the Princess of Gracia Kingdom, can you believe it?”
Sylvester didn’t share the enthusiasm and only looked at her with a suspicious gaze. ‘Why did that big man do such a thing? Does he want me to interrogate her… Or… Perhaps this is more of a boon than a bane. The closer she’s to me, the faster I can ‘educate’ her.’
Sylvester, taking the benefit of her attraction towards him, sat on the cushioned wooden sofa beside hers. “I have no problem with her living with us, mum. I’m sure you always wanted a daughter. Go ahead, teach her how to cook and other things.”
“Oh, I showed her the bra! All bright mothers talk about you constantly whenever I meet them. You really made things better for their personal lives.”
‘I could have lived without knowing that, but I’m happy.’ Sylvester thought and glanced at Princess Isabella. “Your highness, how about I show you the Holy Land? This is your first time outside Green City, right?”
“Brilliant!” Xavia exclaimed. “Go with Max, dear.”
“I will, mother Xavia.” she meekly nodded.
Sylvester got up. “Let’s do that then. But first, I need to visit Sir Dolorem and Saint Wazir. After that, I will be free.”
“Understood.” She gave a monotonous, nervous reply and saw him leaving.
“Isn’t my son so handsome? What do you think?”
Princess Isabella just glanced at Xavia in confusion and embarrassment. She was shocked that Xavia was not being nervous around her or addressing her as most people do–flustered.
Sadly for her, it was Xavia’s daily life to meet and heal nobilities of all ranks, even the Kings a few times during the Season of Solis. So, as per the protocol, as Bright Mother, she was allowed to ignore all nobility ranks–as there is no one worth more than a mother.
…
An hour later, Sylvester finished writing his detailed report about all the incidents and headed out. He didn’t take Princess Isabella along as she would not be allowed inside the Administration office.
First, he arrived at the sick bay to meet Sir Dolorem.
“Maxy! I will give baldy a shoulder massage.” Miraj proclaimed while showing his mighty paws while sitting on his shoulder.
“That will spook him more than calm him down, Chonky. So don’t do that, and stay silent.”
Miraj sadly lowered his head. “Okay.”
The sick bay was half an hour away by horse. He soon reached it on Frost, his horse that had seen life and death. Frost was one loyal horse, and he’d been around Sylvester no matter what, be it the disaster of Sphinx Town or this time.
“Greetings, respected Inquisitors.” As he entered, Sylvester saw the four Archwizards from Inquisitors standing guard in front of Sir Dolorem’s room.
Bam!
Bam!
“What are you doing?” Inside, he first noticed Sir Dolorem lying in bed, throwing an apple above him with each hand and then catching them effectively as they fell.
“Archpriest?”
“We’re alone. You can call me Max.”
Sylvester went ahead and took a seat at the side of Sir Dolorem. “How are you feeling? I can not imagine the blindness, but I know you must feel depressed.”
“Indeed.” Sir Dolorem replied while catching and throwing the apples. “But life is never a straight line, Sylvester. It’s always a mix of ups and downs–sometimes a straight freefall. But, it’s on us to not fall–into the abyss of everlasting self-loathing depression.”
‘Holy goodness! What’s this shocking change of mindset? He appears even more positive and motivated than before.’
Sylvester was left in confusion as he also smelled the confidence. A gentle breeze with the smell of sunflowers in his mouth–It was hope.
“I know you can overcome this, Sir Dolorem. At the same time, I will try to find a cure for your eyes. The world is too big to not have some magical genius who can heal you. As for right now, perhaps you can try to somehow learn echolocation, like the bats.”
Pat!
Sir Dolorem stopped juggling and faced Sylvester, albeit not seeing anything. “What is echolocation?”
“It’s the ability of some animals to emit a sound wave that bounces off an object, returning an echo that provides information about the object’s distance and size. Bats and some animals use this to travel around.” Sylvester clarified in easy words. He reckoned this was not a commonly known thing.
“T-This… could it be!” Sir Dolorem sat up with a jolt. “Could this be the secret behind the Second Guardians? Could this be how he can fight so well despite being blind?”
Knock Knock!
Suddenly, the door opened, and one of the four Inquisitor guards came in. “Lord Bard, you have been summoned to the Pope’s Palace.”
“Go.” Sir Dolorem blurted. “I will try to feel this echolocation in the meantime.”
“I will be back in a few hours. Take care, Sir Dolorem.” Sylvester left quickly.
‘Pope wants to see me? Did the Lord Inquisitor get the words across? Perhaps I should ask him to heal Sir Dolorem?’
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