The priestess came to the village late in the afternoon to lead the prayer.
She had lit the thick, white candles and gathered the people around her.
"Can you not attend the prayer meeting?" Muren asked his sick mother.
Madam Lumen let out a dry cough and slowly shook her head. "I cannot do so for today, son. But I shall give my prayers over here."
Muren frowned at the sight of his mother and laid her gently at her bed.
"I shall return with some medicines for you after the prayer meeting, then."
Afterwards, he went to the gathering and informed the leader about his mother's inability to come for everyone, even the youngest family member and the eldest people, are invited to join.
When things had finally settled and everyone was ready, the priestess began performing the sacred ritual by filling the holy grail and cups with blessed waters.
She read the prayers from ancient consecrated tablets as everyone followed her lead. They closed their eyes, clasped their palms together, and earnestly prayed for their intentions.
The rounding guards keenly observe the prayers and rituals too.
The colonizers had integrated their own religion to theirs and converted most of the villagers.
Some are still adamant about their unwavering faiths for their previous monotheistic religion resulting in a bloodbath, hence people were forced to believe what was being pushed to them.
Those who valued their lives abandoned their faiths and these are the remains.
Muren's family, including his mother, didn't have any particular religion to begin with.
However, the massacres did not justify a reason for them to accept the religion.
In time, people had to accept what they needed to, thence the prayers and rituals and priestesses. When the prayer meeting was over, they returned to their own businesses.
Some had returned to their houses to rest until the early night off, while some had to pass by the public market to buy some things.
Meanwhile, Muren quickly walked to buy a newspaper and hid in a cubicle of a public restroom. It is almost sundown, so he had to lift the paper to where the lights strike.
After reading the headline article and deciphering what was in it, he immediately threw the paper away on his way back to the house.
It was a little after the blockage along the West, Muren had already met the chief editor of newspaper press who had joined as an individual independence activist.
The colonist had kept him as writer and editor for the papers, closely monitored and observed at.
They had twisted the articles according to their favor and removed all the propaganda submissions.
To utilize the public press according to the benefit of the secret organization, they created a code that is arranged in a systematic pattern to allow communication among the members.
Since the secret group was created in an utmost discreet way, most of the members do not know who is among them and who is not aside from the head members near Muren.
While walking on a busy and crowded market aisle, one of the members, Sorell, had joined beside Muren.
"I read the newspaper earlier," He whispered while they walked. "Taxes were increased at the other villages."
Muren sighed. "They must have had a boycott strike."
They stopped and looked around.
"What must we do next?" Sorell asked.
Muren pondered this for a while. "We must first prepare for war. It will be a long battle, but we must be patient. Things might get worse if we only rash things."
"How much longer must the citizens endure the plight? They are desperate to fight back now. Some of them are more deprived of privilege than us. I cannot imagine what pain they must be feeling now."
Muren stared at him with great intensity until they heard a soldier's roaming march, cutting off their serious conversation.
They agreed to meet some other time, so they separated ways from there.