AN: I know y'all are itching to see if Holo will be okay, and that itch will be scratched next chapter :p
This chapter is necessary for the setup for future events! For those who've read from the beginning this one's gonna recall your mind way back to the first installment.
Chapter 10
The Storm Brewing Home
An endless caste of grey yawned its gloom over the rooftops of Nyohirra. The people thronged about without their summer day with that slight tinge to their regular spirits. There were two standing unaffected before the burned wreckage of the once 'Spice and Wolf Inn and Bathhouse.' having a heated exchange.
"I am quite sure Dante, the original structure stood taller and accommodated at least one more room."
The man referred as Dante grimaced with disdain while examining the blue print he conjured himself, "Your surety gives no sway to my designs Fernand! I scripted these specifications exactly as they were recalled. But since we are on that note, I am quite sure you were very talkative during the moments I tried to guide my hand from the recitation of memory. If there be flaws, it is because who distracted me!"
At that moment a familiar voice called to them, "Ah, how fairs the day monsieur's?"
Their eyes turned to be met with Count Laternieux who stood with triumphant purpose upon his cain.
Stifled by this unanticipated encounter, Dante could only muster a few audible sounds, "Ah, well."
"We are disagreeing on the relative size of the place." Fernand piped in.
Dante silently slid his eye over to him with contempt.
"So I have heard." replied the Count stepping forward.
"I am the architect," Dante spoke defensively, "my counterpart is a lawyer, the most lucrative practice of them all, I believe I have first rights to the interpretation of my craft."
"Well," Laternieux started, "where do your interpretations differ?"
"He claims the original inn was bigger than my drawings. With all do respect, you hired me, myself, to oversee the edifice rebuilt brick by brick adhering to all measurements and calibers of its originator. I only wish to honor the contract of which we have agreed."
The Count overlooked the print then said, "If there be any measurement off, let them be bigger than smaller. You know I am good for all the expenses."
Dante bowed, "As you wish, I shall reconsider the measurements."
Smiling he said, "I am glad of your resolution Monsieur Dante, please have the plans ready and spit spot by the coming morrow for that is when I am expecting the crew and laborers to begin the work at once."
Standing further off from the trio was Mazarin showing greater interest in each face passing by. His displayed no grandeur of emotion save when the city guards came on patrol of which his eyes squinted. The remaining agent of Jurgen was believed to still be within the city limits whilst shrouded in the sentry's tunic.
A greater interest ensued when a third man joined up with them, stood upon a stool then loudly appealed for the masses ears.
"Good people of Nyohirra, a moment of your time!"
Slowly, the waives and ripples of bustling commoners slowed their stir directing all attention upon he who called for it.
"In light of recent events!" he began, "The city guard beseeches each of you to report any and all suspicious activity immediatley. Men of the uniform are not exempt form this scrutiny either. Should anyone of their craft, be it: Baker, smith, taxer and soldier conduct themselves in any manner that is extraordinary and seemingly derelict to the interests of the common good, you are to report it to myself or Chief Reinhart without delay. So that an investigation by the proper personnel may be carried out to prevent calamity."
A hand shot above their heads.
"Has this anything to do with the inn that burned down?"
"Yes it does."
Another swiftly arose.
"You say to be wary of the city guards as well, and to only report it to you or the chief. Have we maniacs among our own guards?"
"That has yet to be determined."
A third came up.
"Are you saying everyone is a suspect?"
The announcer paused a moment long enough to empower the mood.
"Yes."
Awestruck whispers ignited into heated exchanges of distrustful murmurs amongst their tongues. The man stepped down, gave the two sentries some orders then had them depart. He in turn made his exit amidst the bothersome chatter making it as far over the conjoining blocks before being stopped in an abandoned avenue.
"You think it wise to incite the evils of paranoia that dwell within the hearts of every citizen?"
He swiftly turned around out of curios alarm to be met with the scarlet robe that shrouded Mazarin.
"Who are you?"
"A stranger who has done much and has seen more. And am here to warn you of the dire consequences you elicit by turning each man into a spy against his neighbor."
"You have not answered my question."
"Not to your expectations."
The officer examined him more fully before a deduction was made, "A man in a scarlet robe? You are that of Laternieux's outfit."
Mazarin made a stifled animation.
"Perhaps I should introduce myself to your expectations. I am Lieutenant Stephen Ziccardi assigned to investigate these recent happenings and I must say; the actions of your outfit have made scarlet robes men of high interest as of late."
Mazarin, realizing all incriminating connotations were aimed upon him, pulled back his hood and said, "Believe me, had I been the one in charge, our actions never would have attracted such interest."
Ziccardi tilted his head inquisitively, "Are you saying you act independently?"
"I am saying, the agent before my overseeing differs greatly from me. Whereas he may be quick to blood and carnage, I seek a diplomatic approach."
The officer glanced up and down the avenue out of privacy then asked, "You men in scarlet robes, this Count Laternieux, who or what are you?"
Mazarin approached in a friendly yet cautious manner, "Once, we carried out his majesty's most delicate assignments. Now, though disbanded by the crown, we continue the secret work for the benefit of all men."
Ziccardi stepped back shaking his head, "Vigilantes? I'm sorry but I neither work with nor condone such groups."
"I do not feel you have much of a choice."
"Why is that?"
"First off, everyone within the city limits, including your garrisons, are suspects of being involved with a syndicate group. How can you hope to enact precise justice on such a broad scale?"
Sighing, Ziccardi replied, "I actually do have one suspect. One of our lieutenants had been placed on leave for how he handled the affair. His conduct was so extraordinary that when word that an agent of a secret syndicate was among our ranks all signs pointed to him."
"Any sufficient proof?"
The officer fell silent.
"Secondly, have you an accurate picture of this syndicate?"
"I know they went by the name of wolf trading with many of their members slain in this very town. A dozen at least."
"And beyond that?"
His head fell out of shame unbecoming of his standard, "Nothing more really. This lieutenant is my only real lead."
Mazarin gave him an assuring look, "Now you have two."
Ziccardi's head popped up, "What can you tell me?"
"Everything."
"You wish to cooperate?"
"That is why I am here."
Ziccardi subdued further excitement when the reality of such alliances recalled themselves in his mind, "Unconditionally?"
"Yes I have terms."
"Name them and I shall see if they are acceptable."
"The first shall be obvious, to protect my own ilk, all our dealings shall be done in secret, no records shall be made or kept. You shall not inquire nor come searching for where we roost. And we shall only meet in times and places designated kept from the public eye, and you will always come alone."
"Incognito," huffed Ziccardi, "I get it."
"Secondly," he resumed, "When it comes to extracting information, you will not inquire nor delve into the methods employed in doing so."
"The less I know the better."
"Lastly, we withhold nothing from each other and uphold the utmost trust."
Ziccardi nodded, pulled in a long breath and said, "Agreed, only upon my terms of my own."
"Name them."
"Remain discrete at all times. If you are caught or your actions draw unwanted attention I cannot remain silent. Right now the garrisons believe there is only one corrupt lieutenant among their ranks, I will not suffer them to believe that there is two."
Mazarin nodded.
"You will not engage in any cruel and unusual punishment. Confessions extracted through means of torture are not reliable, aside from this, though everyone is suspect they are also innocent until proven otherwise. So you shall not so much as lay a finger on the hair of any head."
Again, Mazarin nodded.
"Finally, I and I alone reserve the rights to serve justice. Whoever we find out to be the remaining agent of this syndicate will be arrested, tried and sentence in court. No vigilante justice. For you are no judge, jury or executioner."
Thrice more Mazarin's head bowed. Then to Ziccardi's surprise he said, "We have an accord, now I shall tell you everything. Starting with who this syndicate is and the man they answer to, Jurgen De Buhr."
…
As the day carried dismally, one soul endeavored to enlighten it, Edmund Whelzling, by employing himself best suited to his nature, serving others. While he went about lifting another's burden, lifting a cart or imparting a coin, word of mouth informed him of someone who stood in greater need. And lo, the spirit of inspiration descended upon him and he went immediatley.
Humbly he followed the peering church steeple looming high above the rooftops to its desolate courtyard. Signs of abuse and disarray were made manifest upon it, splats of rotten dried fruits and eggs marred the front. The beautiful stain glass windows suffered fragmented voids leaving sections of their precious colors and figures gaped. The final touch lay branded across the door, some degenerate painted the sloppy word 'liar' spanning both panels.
As he approached it he heard from beyond the muffled cries of a child. He knocked thrice, stepped back and awaited. The cries remained without additional sounds of stirring, which questioned if the door would be opened.
The sudden claps of unlatching bolts caught him off guard as the door creeped slightly open to an innocent yet wayfaring face peaking through.
Edmund bowed, "Sister Fridrika?"
Her overwhelmed and grief stricken eyes widened with fear and despair causing her to sue for mercy, "Please, I know nothing and had nothing to do with what happened, please leave me in peace!"
The proceeded to shut in which Edmund gently held it ajar, "No madame, you misunderstand, I have not come to assail you."
Her tender eyes moistened at his sincerity, "Truly?"
"I have only come because I overheard you might be in need."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Edmund a traveling missionary for the Lord."
"What have you heard?"
"I shall not lie, pretty disparaging things, but I reserve any and all judgment. What I've heard is that you are the only nun tending to this house of the Lord who also cares for orphaned children. I know you have been harassed and feel strongly prompted to come and bring you aide."
She gazed upon him with indescribable emotions swarming her face but resigned all barriers in defeat and opened the door with a sunken head. He entered like a gentlemen while the fatigued sister stepped away with her back turned. As it shut behind him he noticed further disparity, the shattered remnants of the windows lay scattered about the pews with the stones the hewed them still present.
The damage was recent.
A clearer portrait of the exact vexations wrought upon the poor woman aligned clearer in his mind. She kept the back of her head lowered occasionally dapping her eyes with a handkerchief. And heavily topping off this scene of spiritual despair were the still resonating complaints of the child.
Sister Fridrika lifted her head and said without daring to face him, "She is most likely hungry, excuse me while I fetch some milk."
She walked away before he could respond.
"Sister, is there anything I can do to help?" he called out when she attained so many steps.
Her stride ceased but a moment and stood there sustaining a burdened heart beating the cadence of a defeated woman.
"I do not know…" her delicate gasp cried.
Her heels clicked along once more to the kitchen. When behind the parapet she fetched some milk but then, on return, sat near the table, set the pitcher aside and buried her face into her folded arms and wept.
She restrained her cries to only body shudders and remained that way for some time. Her tender hands clasped together and where held high. There in her personal abyss wrought on by the downtrodden mires of worldly vices she prayed.
She sought deliverance from her tortures and cried for angels to come take her away. However what she did not utter from her lips she kept in her heart, she wanted to forsake the faith if relief dawned not.
When realizing she was absent far longer than the required milk run, she composed herself, arose and walked out pitcher in hand. Once reared within the chapel she stopped, Edmund was gone. Supposing he departed freely she continued on then realized the cries of the child were gone as well. In their place was the gentle voice of a man.
She carefully teetered into the nursery to see what was happening. Edmund was rocking the cradle and singing to the distressed little one. As she listened, her back rested against the wall as his voice soothed her spirits like a cold rag to a scalding burn.
It may not be on the mountain's height,
Or over the stormy sea.
It may not be at the battle's front,
My Lord will have need of me.
But if by a still, small voice He calls,
To paths that I do not know,
I'll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in Thine,
I'll go where You want me to go.
I'll go where You want me to go, dear Lord,
Over mountain, or plain, or sea;
I'll say what You want me to say, dear Lord,
I'll be what You want me to be.
A golden light filled her bosom confirming this man to be the answer to her prayers. When he finished, she entered. He looked back and turned a slight shade of red.
"You have a wonderful singing voice." she said.
He answered while bashfully rubbing the back of his neck, "Only when it's quiet."
She chuckled with him noticing "I'm so sorry sister, you went to get her milk and it seems I've put her right to sleep."
Setting the pitcher down she reassured with great relief, "Fear not, it's exactly what she needs."
Standing before him for a while she asked, "Care to sit down in the other room and talk?"
He nodded as a motion for her to lead. Together they left into the kitchen and sat apart each other at the table.
"That was a beautiful song. Where did you learn it?" she started.
"My father wrote it a long time ago and would sing it to me and my eldest brother when children."
"It gave me great comfort because…"
She rested her face against her palm seeming to wrestle with her own thoughts before finishing, "…because I had been debating leaving the church these last few days."
"'Leaving?'"
"Yes, this past week has been…difficult."
"Has it to do with all the vandalism?"
She nodded ever so slightly.
He leaned against his arm, "What happened to turn all the hearts and minds against you?"
She frowned, recalled her memory and annotated, "Last week, during the night, a lone city guardsmen came in and sat down. Abruzzio was his name. He seemed so burdened and guilt ridden that I desired to ask what was wrong, but dared not pry into his business. He was wounded and thought perhaps he had a scrape with death and wanted to get confessions out before it was too late.
Not long after, his sergeant walked in and sat beside him. I did not know what they were speaking about because little Deirdre, the child you tended to, was crying as was her way. When I returned to the chapel with her in my arms, their conversation took a turn for the worst.
This time, the sergeant was standing over the tearful young man. He held out a pair of shackles and instructed him to put them on. Suddenly the young man started to change his demeanor and began to speak evil things.
He went on about how God did not love us and that the devil reigns with such horridness!"
She put a hand to her mouth before letting her emotions go too far.
"His sergeant begged him to cease his wicked speaking, listen to reason and redeem himself, but he would not listen. That's when Abruzzio pulled out a small weapon.
The sergeant readied himself, pled one last time to come in peacefully but he did not. Instead he pondered aloud whose blood he ought to spill. Suddenly the young constable arose, blocking my view of the sergeant. Moments later Abruzzio lay on his back clutching at his opened throat and bleeding to death!"
Edmund listened in all seriousness then inquired,"If there was debate on whose throat he would go for, then which of the two dealt the killing blow?"
Rubbing tears from her eyes she said, "I could not see, when he stood he obstructed my view, only the sergeant knows. I can only remember the ghastly sight of the carnage and those dreaded sounds, the gargles of blood as Abruzzio tried to breath! His sergeant fought to occlude the open wound and sent me to run for help. But there was none swift enough. Alas, blood was spilled in these very walls."
Edmund tilted his head, "And this occurrence has sent citizens coming to assail you?"
She affirmed with a simple head notion, "There is more to it than simply this. Apparently Abruzzio was in cahoots with a criminal syndicate with another accomplice somewhere among the ranks. The people have been driving themselves into insanity with many assuming the church bares some responsibility. I always knew there would be some risk working alone in a church built in a pagan town. But this I daresay is unendurable."
"When people are frightened, they do not act rationally."
"I know, it is just that, one truly does not know the terror of man's wrath until they are personally subjected to it."
Her eyes then wandered off elsewhere leaving him to assume more was on her mind.
"Is more going on?"
Her eyes came back to the table, "I do not believe the harassment will stop with stones through windows. There've been some nights I catch shadows skulking about the premises. Because this is a church, there are no weapons, nor locks and I am obligated to answer when someone calls at any hour. I am defenseless and prepared to be taken advantage of. I fear I shall be besieged by men who wish to drive me out by force and maybe force themselves upon me by…"
Edmund raised his hand, "You need not explain, I understand."
She drew a strand of stray hair back under her bandeau, "You know, I feel safer already with you here."
"Fear not there is no beating I shall not take on your behalf." he said with a soft smile.
She chortled, "I do not know you, yet all I know is that I prayed for an angel, and now here you are."
"Oh madame, believe me I'm a far cry from an angel."
"But you are at least a missionary. Tell me, which diocese do you hail from?"
He winced slightly, "None."
"Who is your bishop?"
"No one."
"Who oversees your mission?"
"God and God alone."
She erected herself out of this breech for tradition, "Do you call yourself a missionary because you take the honor unto yourself?"
"I said I was a missionary for the Lord, not for the church."
"You act independently?"
"Indeed."
"But you must be authorized, instructed and blessed by the church before you can hope to serve the Lord in any capacity."
Edmund answered near annoyed, "I did have those once."
Her mouth fell open, "Are you apostate or excommunicated?"
A strained sigh squeezed out his chest, "I am many things; Saint, sinner, convert, apostate, the list goes on."
"A heretic?" came her scornful tone.
"This right here, is the reason I left." he said mostly to himself.
"What do you mean?"
"I suppose, since I have heard your story, I am bound to tell you mine."
"Very well, I shall hear it then." said Fridrika upholding a reproachful glare.
Edmund took in a deep breath, cleared his mind and subdued his anxieties before proceeding.
"My father was a deacon, a kind and gracious man who felt it right to leave the parish when he fell in love and married my mother. Between them, they had two sons, me being the youngest, and the act to give me life came at the cost of her's."
"She died in child birth?"
"Yes, that rare but not unheard of condition when a child carries on their mother's legacy as sooner than their first cry. However, my father never looked upon this as God's punishment, nor did he ever curse His name. Instead he raised us upon the belief that she walked with us in spirit and had simply gone home to that God who gave her life. He strongly encouraged us not to mourn or fret over being denied her presence in this life. For we would all be reunited on the other side and that loss would be made up."
Fridrika was overcome with a look of yearning sadness, "Such are my hopes for us all."
"As were mine, but you shall soon see how my hopes were transformed into a sure knowledge.
As I was saying, this was the household with which I was raised. However as I grew up, I became more curious about the worldly things which developed into an appetite that pushed me into steeling my inheritance and leave my family farm in pursuit of all things unclean; Gambling, whoredoms, drunkenness, carnality. You name it, my soul bore its stain.
The worst of my offenses was me blaming the Lord for my woes to the point of denying him publicly and actively seeking to destroy the faith of others. Oh, the man I once was; angry, vile, faithless…yet not beyond redemption."
"Oh, a convert also?" said Fridrika with illustrious encouragement.
"Indeed. One day I fell smitten. I could not move or speak, there was no remedy. It was just me in a black void filled with the inexpressible horror at the idea of standing before the Lord and being judged of my misdeeds. In my mind's eye I heard His voice speak, commanding me to cease these abominations or loose my very soul. I was so terrified and drowning in the dregs of damnation that I saw only one real option, cry for mercy.
And so I did, for the first time in my life I prayed in all earnest. Not some wrote, by the motions, invocation, but an actual desperate plea for deliverance. I lamented and whole heartedly appealed for forgiveness. And my prayer was answered.
I awoke, free from all pain and turmoil and in its place was the pure love of God cleansing my soul and purging every blot on my conscious surpassing my misery. With His redeeming love invigorating my veins I returned to my father, paid back my debts and joined the clergy to convert others to the marvelous light I beheld."
"But why leave?"
Fridrika was in the chasms of unfathomable reasoning.
Edmund lifted an eyebrow in such an austere manner that it sent waves of the notion that ignorance is bliss upon her. Nevertheless, he answered, withholding nothing.
"I made discoveries within the church's vaults. Ones that made me question if we really were enacting the Lord's will. Questions I was punished for asking, questions that drove me away."
A range of fear ran through Fridrika's bosom, her first consideration being he was an artful deceiver sent by the devil to test and attempt to pull her from the faith. Yet her curiosity drove her to ask, "What discoveries?"
"Simply put, the scriptures have been altered. I came across some of their original texts, phrases and passages were either removed or changed just enough to allow personal interpretation to take over. I found other texts written by other seers who provided greater enlightenment on areas where there is confusion. Yet they were stricken from the final binding.
Then I examined the Holy Book we have now, and realized much of the church's practice has debatable scriptural support, and that which was clearly written is not being practiced at all. I wrote thesis upon thesis confronting the current leadership. The exchanges ultimately ended in my dismissal, which was equally willful on my account."
"So…" Fridriak started, attempting to comprehend his position, "You act independently from the church?"
Her tone was one warranting great unease, however Edmund picked up on it and addressed that concern.
"I know what you're thinking. I am the greatest sinner of all. My times as a wayward soul does not compare to the evil I am committing."
"I did not say that."
"Sister please," he urged, "I know what you were taught in seminary; because I preach outside the church's designated approval I have committed the unpardonable sin by denying the holy spirit. I was taught this as well. I am no longer saved, I am beyond the Lord's grace, I should yeat my dissenting thoughts out like poison, so on and so forth. I have heard enough fiery sermons on what qualifies for hellfire that I could light a hearth til the end of my days."
"So am I to understand that you wish to preach the word of God while also denying yourself entrance to His kingdom?"
"It is God's kingdom I seek, it is just that current affairs along with historical accounts, including simple observation, has convinced me that the church in it's current state is not it."
"And this is why they do not want you to question the church. You've placed your very soul at stake." Fridrika reasoned.
Edmund realized they were on the verge of an argument which was contrary for him being there.
"Perhaps we should talk about something we both can agree on?"
She, upon making the same realization, nodded her head in a cooling manner.
"So, about those broken windows."
She bashfully stooped her head, "I know, I know they need to be tended to. The draft keeps coming in making it impossible to keep the place warm."
"Have you no one to help you?"
"None."
"Priest, Deacon or even a monk?"
"There was at one point a priest. But he had been reassigned leaving me to run the place by myself."
"No replacement?"
Her shoulders shrugged.
"Is your bishop aware of these conditions?"
"He rarely sends word, or even visits. However for some reason he is on his way up as we speak. I received his letter ahead of time and it was strangely abrupt."
"Hmmm," he pondered with disapproval, "When I was still part of the cloth I always wished the nuns in remote areas were treated better and taken care of. Just like…"
"Like the one in Tereo?" she remarked.
Edmund bolted his head out of recollection, "Where Sister Elsa is?"
"Yes, you know her?"
"Yes, we crossed paths here and there. She was in the nunnery and I was an up and coming deacon. "
"We joined the convent together."
"That is wonderful! But is she now alone? Whatever happened to Father Franz?"
Her eyes softened under the burden of being the bearer of bad news, "He passed away."
"Oh truly? That is too bad, however he's with God now."
"Yes, he finally found peace. And I actually found Elsa not too long ago."
"She came up this way?"
"Indeed, last week if I recall, she paid me a visit in her spare time."
"What brought her so far north?"
"Well she advanced up to priestess to perform a wedding!"
"Ah, congrats to the happy couple!"
Fridrika became eerily still as a harrowing matter suddenly impressed upon her.
"What's wrong?"
"Oh sorry it's just that, the couple are far from happy, in fact as it turns out, they were simple inn keepers who had gotten mixed up in that foul business Abruzzio confessed being apart of."
His head quirked with a jumping heart, "Oh?"
"Yes, whatever it was that was going on, someone tried to murder them by burning their inn down with them inside. Can you believe it? They left with a band of mercenaries for protection and had not been seen since."
Edmund became darkly still.
"This couple…" he started, looking on the verge of death, "Do you know their names?"
Not paying attention to his demeanor she answered, "Yes. Holo and Lawrence. A lovely pair from what I've heard."
Edmund's face became paler than the moon.
"Tell me…" he continued, "…your bishop due to arrive, who is he?"
"Father Michilini." she answered turning towards him, "Did you know him?"
Though his face was frightfully neutral, the fear within his spirit betrayed the cup of his composure that overflowed with dread. He became so petrified in a single moment with such terror in his bosom that had his chest been a canon his heart would have shot from it.
"Are you ill?"
Only when Fridrika spoke did his face stir once more. His eyes blinked a random number and said while recalling his senses, "Oh yes, it is just that I…that I…that I am actually running a little late."
"Let me not keep you." said she arising, he did the same but with reduced vigor.
"Sure you are alright?"
"Oh yes," he attempted sound off, "Singing to fussy children can be taxing work."
She chortled then escorted him out. As they made it to the front door she asked, "Can I hope to see you again?"
"Again?" he murmured without paying attention.
"Yes, you felt inspired to come to my aide. Shall I expect more from you?"
Latching onto the context of his memory during the tempest of his swirling thoughts he answered, "Of course, in fact, I think I know of someone who can help me board up those windows."
Her eyes tinged pink which she wiped them clear, "I would appreciate that."
Edmund bowed his head and quitted the courtyard at a near stumble. All he could think of was the encroaching bishop looming overhead like a guillotine. He broke for the discrete layer of Count Laternieux, shoving past everyone and looking over his shoulder every other step.
He arrived at a rundown home presenting itself as one having outlived it's usefulness moments after construction. He rounded the corner, checking his surroundings as he did, and stopped before the cellar door.
After checking his surroundings once more, he knelt down and performed a knocking pattern.
Not long after the boards popped open and he disappeared inside.
Once the entrance secured behind him he was confronted by Mazarin.
"Where have you been?"
Dusting off his collars he answered with disdain for questioning, "Going about town helping and learning things as I went. Keeping my business my own."
Folding his arms he answered in kind, "Your business had better not compromise Hanna and Col, Jurgen's agent is most likely aware of them."
"But not aware of me" he corrected, "I believe we can breathe easy, besides I have learned something you best be aware of."
"Speak."
"I visited the abbey and the nun informed me a member of the tribunal is on his way up who is due any moment. Michilini."
Mazarin turned and paced with a hand on his chin.
"Actually this might play into our favor."
"How so?"
Stopping to face him he said, "I was able to secure a union with an officer investigating a possible suspect for Jurgen's agent. A disgraced Lieutenant by the name of Lucas Dorian. If Michilini is coming here, he may get into contact with him. Thus proving him to be the man, so an arrest can be made."
"But Dorian is a mere suspect, you sound as if he's for certain the man we're looking for."
"From what I've gathered, all signs point to him, we just need to prove it. Do you know why Michilini is coming up?"
"I have not."
"He may be coming up here on orders from Jurgen himself. He most likely will have some kind letter or dossier with instructions regarding whatever business he is to conduct here."
"Would you want me to spy on him, and you Dorian?"
"In a manner of speaking. Michilini will most likely be staying at the church. Is it possible to return without garnering too much suspicion?"
Edmund nodded, "Yes, in fact the church had been damaged and I elicited myself to help repair it. The nun will be expecting my return."
"Good, try to time your visits when the bishop is there, if he brings anyone into another room, stop and listen, pay attention to everything being said. However, do not follow him outside the church, he will become wary of that, therefore I'll have my own men keep tabs when he's in town."
Edmund nodded, "I suppose you'll have a similar detail on Dorian's end?"
"Indeed."
Edmund nodded then issued one last grievance, "Also, the nun reported skulking figures sneaking around the church at night."
"More vandals?"
"I have given it some thought and realized that that is not regular for the town's current behavior. Everyone has been assailing her during the day, making their presence known. This might be something more sinister. After all, that church is were Jurgen's other agent had died, who also spoke a great deal before he did. The nun knows enough to be considered a liability and the remaining agent is surely wary of it."
"Loose ends need to be severed."
"She is most definitely a loose end."
Mazarin nodded, "Very well, I'll have someone keep on eye out for her."
The two men, though sharing reservations for the other in equal disposition, split ways in grateful accord. Mazarin tended to organizing the few men under his command while Edmund took himself to the main chamber where he, Col and Hanna slept.
There was only one bed where they elected the lady to rest her head while the two gentlemen slept on bed mats and straw. Upon entering, he found them trying to entertain their boredom with what little frivolities granted them, and sat cross legged upon his mat.
Hanna scarcely talked during the whole ordeal, she only knitted in silence allowing her pincers all vocal activity. Col lowered a book he was reading from his eyes and observed the stranger, whom they had only days old acquaintance with.
He would have returned to his study if not for the unusual trance veiling Edmund's face. It was so uncanny it allured him to inquire what his inner thoughts were that moment.
With a strange, yet serene surety he replied, "I think we ought to pray for Mrs. Holo. I feel her situation is dire."
Vermili Facts
-That hymn Edmund sung is a common LDS one usually sung at missionary farewells. I would know, it was sung at mine and holds a dear place in my heart.
-My only real regret with this chapter is that it breaks the common 'show, don't tell.' rule. We never see or experience the turmoil spoken about regarding the townsfolk getting paranoid. I know I should have written an earlier chapter with more time dedicated to this and also Laternieux, Col and Hanna who we haven't seen for a good spell. I'll try to get them in more but gotta keep the plot moving. I think a lot of readers fell off because the story was taking too long to get anywhere.
-The conversation Fridrika and Edmund have regarding questioning the church stems from my discoveries when taking more in depth ganders at other philosophical ideas and beliefs along with de-conversion stories. A common thing I've found is the whole 'do not question' mantra leads to either close mindedness or disenfranchisement. Neither benefits the minds of men.
-Dunno how you guys felt but I thought them talking about Elsa was a good way to lead Edmund into finding out about Michilini.
Not a lot more to say so, peace! Til next time!
