* * *
Arthur Ishviel POV...
A sack of fresh bread in hand, I sit at the pew with Jerard. He's to my left, feasting on his own stolen goods. His ginger hair is duller than usual in this light, giving him a less vibrant and more down to earth look.
I wouldn't exactly say he's a standup guy, but he's alright. In fact, he's fairly normal, all things considered. Doesn't seem terrible, just dealing with a stressful life in the only way he can: sass. We all have our coping methods, I suppose.
My coping method is probably just... pressing it down until I break. I should really work on that part of myself... eventually.
"So what exactly did Patricia tell you about me?" I start up a conversation to distract myself, taking a bite of my bread a second later.
He gulps down a bite of his bread, choking for a moment before clearing his throat and returning to normalcy. Turning his head to look at me, we lock eyes. His face almost looks solemn, or maybe somber is the word I'm looking for...
"She said that you were... hurt. Not on the outside, but somewhere much more important... your heart," He states, setting the bread down and looking towards the altar.
He leans forward, placing his hands on his knees in an almost half-praying position. It makes me wonder why he put so much distance between us, as if he was scared to get too close.
"I don't much know how to help with stuff like that, Arthur... I always told myself that emotion was for girls. Boys don't cry, y'know? And that's getting harder for me to idealize because... sometimes I do cry. Everyone does. That's part of being human."
For a good minute, I simply stay silent and turn away. I don't know how to process my emotions, even though I'm in my late 40s and this kid has an arguably better understanding of his own.
"Sometimes I wish I wasn't human... that I couldn't feel at all."
My words echo exactly what I was saying when I talked with Patricia, indicating that nothings really changed. It'll take more than a few emotional chats to 'fix' me. It sucks, but that's the truth.
"You think you do, but you don't. That's the funny thing about free thinking... it's never really free."
Before I can be preached to anymore, I stand and pat his shoulder to indicate my incoming departure. It's not that he's wrong, but that I won't let him waste his words on me.
"I've got things that I need to do, okay? I'll see you around."
He nods and stands up, patting me on the shoulder as well. I consider hugging him for a moment, but don't.
"Alright then... see you around," He says, putting his hands in his pockets and stepping away.
I nod a little before stepping away as well, turning and walking down the aisle. For a second, I stop walking and just stand there. I listen to his footsteps until he stops, the sound of a chair scraping on the floor entering my ears.
I hear a note from the organ in the corner, then another until it chains together to form a beautiful piece of music. It's stunning, but I need to find the relic.
Walking through the rest of cathedral, I search for some kind of locked door or cabinet or... something to use this key on. I eventually reach a door to what I presume is a sacristy, the room farthest back in the church.
Trying the door, I find that it's locked and, pulling out the key, unlock it a second later. Walking through, I see a room with many boxes that remain unopened and untouched.
Any of these could contain the relic, but I'm unsure of which one. I walk through, surveying all the goodies before stopping in front of a specific box.
It gives me a weird feeling, but I can't say what. It's not like what I feel from the prophesized, which actually makes it an outlier by now.
"Hey guys, welcome to todays unboxing video-"
Before the joke can run any further, I grab onto the lid of the box and just pull really hard. The wooden box creaks before breaking off, a few shards of wood splintering off and shooting into the distance.
Inside the box lies a necklace with a small sword pendant attacked, the blade on it resembling an amber color. The rest of the sword pendant is silver, the miniature handle with brown leather.
It's a nice ornament, but I can feel that it's more than that. The mana flowing in the pendant tells me it's unnatural, so I put it on my neck and step away. Uninterested in the rest of the boxes, I turn around and walk out of the room.
I lock the door behind me, walking towards the altar once again. I set the key back in its place before taking a final look. Jerard has already left the Cathedral, silent and swift. Fare thee well, my new friend.
I once again resume my steps, going down the Cathedral aisle and out the doors. It's not raining anymore, although it's still cloudy enough to where it could rain.
Walking around to the side of the building, I pick up my sword and put it back on my hip. Welcome back, you cranky old man. I see him apparate in front of me, his arms crossed behind him.
"You done praying, boy?" He asks, looking over at me. He looks less irritated than usual.
"Just about, just about. Any reason?" I respond, shooting him a question in response.
"Not in particular. I'm going to stay in the sword until we're out of the dungeon."
Before I can ask why, he disappears. Whatever. He always seemed less cranky when he was in the sword anyways. Who needs him?
I hear footsteps to my right, turning to stare at the source of the sound. It's that sword guy, Baldwin, the one that Valory ragdolled.
He has a half cloak on, covering the left side of his body in a blackened shroud. His hair is high in a pony tail, a wildly different style compared to when he would simply allow it to hang over his eyes. He already has his sword out, so I draw my own into my hand.
"Arthur, I presume?" He questions, stopping in his pacing a few feet away from me.
"You'd be correct."
* * *