Let's spin, let's spin around the matches.
Let's joyfully sing around the matches.
Until the red hair turns black.
Until the song we were singing ends.
Let's spin, let's spin around the matches.
Let's spin around the matches until they all fall.
***
A winter's icy road.
The sound of horse hooves and the creaking of carriages passing over were loud.
The northern wind, dry as the harsh road, chilled the already heavy atmosphere of the group.
"It's time to part ways."
Joseph, who dared to open the window despite the cold, glanced at Vlad and smiled faintly.
Joseph's voice broke the silence that had lasted for a long time, and all the knights looked ahead.
Ahead of the straight road, two paths diverged.
As they reached the fork in the road ahead, the group and Vlad had to part ways.
"Take care of yourself."
"Sir Joseph, please take care of your health as well."
Joseph and the knights had to return to Sturma.
It was natural for Joseph, who was eliminated from the competition for family head, to return, and the knights who followed him would likely disperse as they received new missions.
Although it's said to be inevitable to feel regret about parting, it was inevitable that the ending would be heavy for the current group.
"Please don't cause a commotion as usual. Just like you did at the convent this time."
"...I'll do my best."
Meanwhile, Jager's constant reprimand was quite welcomed.
He wasn't pleased to be the subject of someone's laughter, but the sound of laughter from all around seemed to lighten the atmosphere a bit.
"We might be able to get together in the spring. Let's see each other then."
"Alright, Sir Joseph."
Seeing Joseph promising the next meeting with his pale lips seemed pitiful, but Vlad believed Joseph's words were not empty promises.
The Joseph he knew was someone who always prepared for the worst.
"...And don't forget what I said."
"Yes."
Vlad silently nodded at Joseph's final words, whispered softly.
The advice Joseph gave him in a hushed voice came from a strange rumor spread by the Vatican.
"I hope the deacon achieves what he wants."
"May God's peace be with you on your return, Sir Joseph."
After bidding farewell for the last time, Joseph winked at him quietly and signaled that the time had come.
Gregory, Maxim, and Cade.
Vlad, who gave his final farewells with just a look in his eyes, finally parted ways from the group and turned towards the opposite crossroad.
A black horse and a donkey moved further away.
Even in the winter wind, Joseph and the knights paused for a moment and watched their backs as they gradually faded away.
A cold wind blew, but seeing Vlad leading the way of the young deacon no longer seemed uncomfortable at all.
***
"Perhaps the knight sir didn't know, but every time Vlad of Soara's name was mentioned, Lord Andreas' shoulders would shrink."
The old donkey he was riding on was peaceful by itself, but the young deacon atop it now looked lively as if he had finally found his own world.
"Even if we throw down something that could be sold for a high price, no matter how much they talk about it. Still, no one is talking about it right now."
The young deacon, who was now chattering away, was named Jean.
This boy, with a single-letter name uncommon in the north, was looking at Vlad with happy eyes and a proud expression as if he was proud of him.
"The name... Do you sell even your assurances for money?"
"That's right. Everyone sold them little by little. Especially those who came from the Vatican."
Perhaps it was because he was a deacon under Andreas, but Jean did not hide his hostility towards the Vatican.
Jean was a boy who knew better than anyone the circumstances of Andreas, who was famous yet wandered in the desert.
"Well, the head nun of Soara also sold something."
Jean's words reminded Vlad of the Soara convent, and he frowned.
It was a convent built for the poor, but all the women inhabiting it were daughters of powerful people.
Pure virgins close to God.
The head nun of Soara was nothing more than a businesswoman who borrowed God's name and sold the title.
"...For now, let's replace the jerky with this."
"Yes?"
Jean's eyes widened as he looked at the bundle of papers Vlad suddenly handed him.
The name Kannor was engraved on the thick bundle of paper.
"Is it from the Kannor family?"
"I have a small acquaintance with that person."
Even the young deacon knew that Kannor family's meat was excellent.
And it's pricey too.
And Vlad was one of the knights who most supported the Kannor family.
"It's your first time on a long journey, so it's best to eat well. If you were to fall ill somewhere, wouldn't it be difficult for me, who asked you to do this?"
"Ah. Uh. Thank you!"
Though he tried to hide it, his flushed cheeks showed how he felt.
There was no need to explain to him the joy of serving meat to a child in his prime.
Perhaps Andreas, who lived a simple life, hadn't even been able to see jerky like this.
"If you have any inconvenience, tell me anytime."
He was vaguely aware of it, but the grace of Andreas, which I learned from Jean's words, was greater than he thought.
Seeing Jean pull out a piece of dried meat and murmur, Vlad hoped that through the path of the young priest, he could repay Andreas with his own worth.
***
"Wow..."
"What do we have to do, Deacon?"
The winter road to Moshiam, the capital of Baron Utman.
I don't know if it was the map or the person holding the map that was strange, but after camping for several days, Vlad and Jean finally managed to find a small village.
However, the joy of seeing the village was short-lived as the two soon stopped in their tracks when they saw a strange scene at the foot of the hill.
"What should we do? Are you going down?"
"Wait... just wait a minute."
Jean frowned, still showing signs of youth and wondering what to do.
Vlad stood still, watching Jean who was deeply troubled.
The theme of this journey was a young deacon, and Vlad knew well that the boy's growth through this trip was what Bishop Andreas hoped for.
"Let's go down. I have to stop it."
"Alright."
Vlad nodded at the young deacon's words.
The first step towards penance is to look without turning away.
At the foot of the hill, a festival was unfolding along a difficult path, not an easy one.
A small village whose name was not even written on the map held by Vlad.
However, despite being such a small village, the square seen from the hill was crowded with people, as if all the villagers had gathered en masse.
"Help me! I'm innocent!"
A festival must have a proper offering.
Someone captured for the festival struggled and shouted.
The mask looked quite strange, as if someone had put it on.
"I didn't do it! You're making a mistake!"
The man, who was covered not only with a strange mask but also with dark clothes, shouted non-stop, but the villagers simply piled up firewood and lit the fire.
Among them, there were people covering their ears with their fingers as if they didn't want to hear anything.
"Everyone, don't be deceived! By their very nature, evil people use their language to deceive others!"
A man dressed in a pure white robe stood in front of the people, shouting loudly.
I don't know which affiliation he belonged to, but from his appearance, he clearly had the look of a priest.
"I'm sure you all know about the evil being that originated in Moshiam!"
As soon as the word Moshiam came out of the priest's mouth, the people's eyes began to turn towards him.
A city engraved with a sinister and terrifying name.
Even in this remote village, everything related to Moshiam was frowned upon.
"Why did everything rot in the once-healthy barley field, and why did the healthy water from the well dry up? It's all because of that guy who came from Moshiam!"
The priest's fingertips began to point at the man struggling and tied to a pillar.
"So we must burn him!"
"Crazy bastard! Why burn good people?"
The oddly looking man tried to hit him with all his might, but he was already tied up and a red smoke slowly rose from below.
His appearance from afar looked like that of a crow roasted over a wood fire.
"…Ah, this seems suspicious."
Vlad, who had dug into the center of the village to avoid the gaze of the few watchers, scratched his head and looked at the center of the festival in flames.
"No, right?"
"Yes. It doesn't seem right."
Now on Vlad's shoulders was Jean, riding on a wooden horse.
Jean also wore a tunic of pure white, but the villagers' eyes had long been focused on the priest standing before them.
Jean took the opportunity to take out a small magnifying glass and focused it on the man who was about to be burned at the stake.
"It seems we can't see it no matter how hard we try. Of course, it could be a presence that even this magnifying glass can't detect..."
"If that's the case, there's no way they would have caught him like this in the first place."
Since he was just a child, he might have gone unnoticed, but if he were someone of that caliber, he probably wouldn't have been captured by the villagers in the first place.
"But, well, I think I know without having to check."
Vlad and Jean, riding the horse, looked at the same place at the same time.
"You need to improve your performance! So that God above can see it!"
As the firewood fire dyed a bright red color, offerings piled up in front of the priest.
The villagers who followed the frenetic shouts left the belongings they had brought in front of the priest and repeatedly bowed their heads in prayer.
The priest shouted the name of God, but looking at him was a lie.
Vlad frowned as he listened to the priest's voice grow louder as the mountain of sacrifices piled up in front of him.
"That's a scammer."
It's like recognizing your companions.
I don't know if he really was a priest or not, but Vlad noticed his clumsy movement and grabbed Jean by the shoulder.
"What should I do?"
"We have to stop him. We can't just ignore the tragedies that occur using the name of God."
Jean quickly took out the Bible from his pocket and looked at Vlad with stern eyes.
The boy who had been happily eating jerky a moment ago was nowhere to be seen.
"Alright. I'll do as the deacon wishes."
Jean must have felt encouraged by Vlad's nod, so he quickly opened the Bible and flipped through the pages.
A book of the Bible carefully engraved by Bishop Andreas, letter by letter, for his young deacon.
The hand of the young deacon flipping through the Bible stopped on the page where a hymn to God was written.
- Cast away the vain idols of the world.
- Set aside all human lies and injustices.
- I will go wherever I am called to go.
The villagers began to walk slowly around the bonfire, following the shouts of an unknown man.
However, all the people surrounding the bright red light turned their heads when they suddenly heard a noble voice.
"You there."
"Yes, what?"
As the voice of the young deacon carved a path, a knight walked down the path.
The left eye of the knight had a golden glow that anyone could see.
"Are you really a priest?"
"...Agh."
The fake priest had to bite his treacherous tongue upon seeing the beautiful images that assaulted his ears and eyes.
Piled sacrifices, a priest who couldn't speak, and an innocent sacrifice still struggling over the flames.
"First, shall we extinguish the light and talk?"
People who are where they are supposed to be and doing what they are supposed to do.
Bishop Andreas's sword and his young voice held up the false flame.
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