act26side

I rarely prayed when I was in Laterano.

This is not to say that my faith was flawed then, or that I was more arrogant or lazier than I am now. Nor can I prove that I am more devout, humble or diligent now.

Because of the environment, though, there were many things that I thought were not necessary when I was in Laterano.

In Laterano, all that the people sought was right there. The Holy City's blessing was right there.

It was everywhere.

The Sankta knew it.

'Lord, I seek your forgiveness...'

'I swore to welcome all who asked for help, treat all of them with equal kindness, and help them to the best of my ability.'

'But I did not keep my word.'

'I can no longer answer the calls for help. I cannot ask them to stay, for we are short on supplies and cannot afford it.'

'I must choose between one group and another.'

'Choose, yes, I have made many choices.'

'But choosing is wrong. And I cannot bear any more wrongs.'

'I cannot go back on my faith, abandon one to save another, save the many and condemn the few.'

'Laterano... my absent home...'

'Why is Laterano the only home?'

'If betraying the high guidance is the path to what I believe in; if only by accepting the heathen can obstacles be truly cleared...'

'...All will be revealed soon.'

'My Lord, forgive my sins... if you truly exist.'

Who's there?!

Come, now, there's no need for violence.

I've been looking for you, Most Reverend Abbot.

Food is in short supply these days. I hope you don't mind.

Not that minding would do any good. At least it fills the stomach, even if the taste is nothing to write home about.

I don't need to eat right now.

Eat. Don't let it go to waste.

Gerald, leader of Sarkaz. You knew the two Liberi children.

Are you always so direct?

Don't call me a leader. I've seen the true King of Sarkaz. A humble hunter is not worthy of the title.

Why do you call yourself a hunter?

Because that's what I am. I hunt to feed myself and others.

I think you have an idea of what's going on here, even though you just arrived today.

Not the full picture.

You lead the group of Sarkaz that lives here. You were latecomers, but at one point you got along well with each other.

Yes. At one point.

Now, conflict has arisen, and it is likely to escalate, given the circumstances.

Yeah, which is why we're leaving.

Normally, you would have the advantage in conflict with the other inhabitants.

There are few able combatants amongst them, which is one of the reasons they took you in.

But Laterano's intervention has taken away your martial advantage. Leaving is the logical choice.

You're good with those logical conclusions.

But I learned a long time ago—

Our lives are not logical—and I get reminders about that all the time.

The candlelight flickers.

The aging Sarkaz casts his gaze on the wall. The shadows reflected upon it have become blurred, one fading into another.

We didn't choose to leave because we couldn't live anymore.

Before I came here, I never thought we would have a life like this.

There were dangers, there was conflict, but we were accepted, we built our own homes, worked for our daily bread...

That all might seem normal to you, but it was beyond our wildest dreams.

What is the true reason you chose to leave?

It's simple.

We see the writing on the wall, just like you do. The rift can no longer be repaired. All that's left is to watch things get worse.

Today it's just an argument, an accusation, but what about tomorrow?

Violent confrontation between the natives and the Sarkaz is likely.

Today's fire was a warning.

Leave now, and we remain friends to be missed.

But if we allow ourselves to be burdened by attachment and fail to make a decision...

We will become the Sarkaz that the rest of the world knows—a band of vagabonds who bring conflict with them wherever they go, who are not welcome anywhere, who have no place to call home, and no place to go.

That's just prejudice.

To us, it's a fact.

The Sankta have Laterano.

But where do the Sarkaz belong to?

It's time.

It may take a while for the little ones to get used to life without a roof over their heads, but it'll happen.

As for those two children...

You knew them.

...I know a little about where they came from.

The people at the abbey and Raimund don't.

Very few do.

I guess they're wanderers who came from the outside. Their family could be dead, or they could have abandoned their children.

Stefano has taken in other wanderers before, but this place could hardly accommodate any more inhabitants these days.

But someone secretly took the children in.

You know who it was.

Few secrets can truly be kept forever, especially now, when every single grain counts.

Hyman took them in. She set aside a part of her own rations each day, and stole from the hunted game a few times. I covered it up for her when I discovered it.

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...