At the same moment.
St. Peter’s Cathedral. A rest room at the end of the corridor.
The Pope and Bishop were standing in a room, looking down at a bedridden Holy Knight.
There was no one else in the restroom. The Holy Knight had a red face, with his eyes tightly shut. He was twitching about and having spasms, showing signs that his condition was critical.
It seemed that he had been infected with the raging "plague".
"Plague? Who has spread such rumours?" Suddenly the Pope snorted in disgust. "It’s obviously forcing us to remove the ban. The mages in the capital are running more and more rampant."
The Bishop had his head down, observing the passed out Holy Knight. He spoke after a momentary silence.
‘This type of curse is very unique and can only be broken by His Highness the Pope. If wouldn't be easy to apprehend, if others were to attempt. However, there’s at least thirty thousand people in the city that are cursed, it’s not a magnitude we could handle.
