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Even then, life isn't easy for them.

Where is she now?

That's what I'm wondering. She should have come back with game today, but I haven't heard from her.

She's missing. We don't know where she is.

Whatever happened, I hope she doesn't do anything stupid.

Missing? No, this isn't right.

What do you mean?

Hyman would not allow the children to go out, in order to keep their existence a secret. Erendel and Estara's appearance at the sacrarium was not an accident.

Someone brought them outside.

Where is Hyman's home? I want to see it for myself.

The battered wooden hut was a shelter in the storm for the young children.

Abandoned by adults who lacked the means to raised them, they wandered the wastelands and were picked up by a Sarkaz on death's door.

The battered hut was leaky and cold, but there were clean clothes, even if a little tattered, and food, even if the taste was not great.

The walls did a poor job of keeping the cold out. They could gather all the fabric in the house and wear the thickest winter clothes they had, and they would still shiver at night.

But it was home. Mamma was there.

That was where the children felt safe.

The unexpected visitors do not disturb their soft breathing.

They remain slow and steady.

A twisted shadow is cast over the children.

(Incomprehensible whisper))

Hungry... eat...

Mm...

(Rolls over)

Eat, eat...

Cold...

The misshapen monster murmurs incomprehensibly.

The stationary shadow begins to move.

In the moonlight, the monster's powerful tail reaches forward. It brushes the children's soft cheeks, leaving behind a wet scent, then—

It falls into the soft, meek little 'prison.'

Still sleeping soundly, Estara and Erendel instinctively lean towards the comforting scent.

Cold...

Zzz... zzz...

Mamma...

Oh... hungry... eat, eat... cold...

Cover... cover...

Cold... cover...

Eren... Sara...

What have you done, Your Excellency?

It is improper to eavesdrop on a confession, Reverend Executor.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I wasn't listening to your confession.

Of course, you also know that's not what I'm talking about. Nor am I asking who you sent to ring the bell, how you plan meals for the monastery...

I'm asking about the smell coming from the sacrarium up there.

You can tell by the smell...? Is the Griffin Arsenal still in business?

As far as I know, it still supplies practice equipment for various educational institutions.

Including firebombs.

...Only the Holy City endures.

I feel your pain. If only Federico learned subtlety and discretion, right?

Still, it's just a corner of a building. It's far from over. Everyone can return to Laterano safely. What do you think?

You're talking to the wrong man.

I taught everyone how to dismantle the abbey's old weapons and make use of them. Fuel is short, while the winter is long.

But if you think I instigated the fire... I won't argue.

Come now, don't talk like that. Why don't we sit down and have a chat? Find a solution that we can all accept?

Chat? Solution? Ha.

Is there a solution that doesn't involve turning my back on a human being? I already explained my convictions. Would you truly accept a compromise?

A group of refugees sought sanctuary at the monastery seven years ago during a great drought. I closed the doors to them.

They stumbled, almost crawling, back to the wastes. It wasn't the first time I saw a sight like that.

But I swore before the Lord that it would be the last.

Am I wrong in my convictions, Executor?

No, of course you're right. I understand your pain.

There are limits to Laterano's power.

The laws are imperfect.

You...

I think, and therefore, I doubt.

For all its imperfections, though, Laterano is good enough for me. I don't want to see her peace and harmony to be threatened by anyone or anything.

I'm sure you can understand that.

It would be easier for me to persuade my colleagues if we reach an agreement here, and if you refrain from causing any complications.

My mission would be easier if none of you lifted a finger.

Just because not everyone can go back to Laterano, doesn't mean that no one should.

Laterano is to you as this place is to me.

There is no need for any further talk between us.

I ask you to leave me to my confession.

Raimund? It's getting late. You should get some rest.

...Clément.

I just had something to do.

I'm really sorry about today...

Don't think too much about it. We're leaving anyway.

...Right.

When is that...?

Depends on Gerald. We'll be leaving tomorrow morning, no matter what.

Probably after Matins.

Matins...

Oh! Do you know where Fortuna and Delfina are?

I was going to... well, I was looking for them.

Did... Gerald not tell you?

What? What are you talking about?

Delfina... she's gone.

Good... bye...

Was that a word of farewell? Or am I mistaken?

You possess basic language skills. It seems my previous assessment was incorrect.

You... are...

Sank... ta.

Indicating a certain level of sapience and cognitive thinking.

Communication appears possible, despite deviation of physical form.

Unknown level of contagion. Unclear if movement patterns change over time. Unknown level of danger.

Notarial Hall regulations permit elimination of potential threats of unknown danger level in order to safeguard the rights of the citizenry.

No sign of resistance. No apparent will to survive.

I'll try to make this quick and painless.

The monster stands in place.

The path before it is blocked. It cannot go back to the past behind.

Justification, anger, pain, all consumed within the no-longer-human body, before it can manifest itself on the hardened hide.