Aldrin frowned briefly, as if his mind was wandering through memories and a question that had long weighed in his heart. He paused, hesitation rippling in his gaze, as though the question he wished to ask carried its own heavy burden.
Then, gently, he placed his hand on Vantias's shoulder. The warmth of his touch could be felt even through the fabric, and for a moment it drew Vantias into silence and focus. Aldrin, with a kind yet teacherly look, while the candle shadows danced across his face, said:
"In the report you wrote for me… something caught my attention… In the last section, you wrote only a few words… Do you see?"
His eyes filled with curiosity, and in a calm yet determined tone, he asked:
"When Wensing was wounded, what did you see?"
The atmosphere of the church, with flickering candlelight and shifting shadows, grew heavy and mysterious. Vantias lowered his head for a moment, his heart beating faster. After a brief silence, he lifted his gaze toward the ceiling of the church.
Vantias, in a quiet but weighted voice, said:
"I saw a friend… a father, a husband, a man with a simple dream… He only wanted to live with his family, in joy and without danger."
He closed his eyes, and for a moment, the heavy silence of the church was filled with the soft sound of his breathing. Then, with a voice full of grief and heartbreak, he continued:
"I was the one who caused his death… At night I see the nightmare of that moment. Sometimes I hallucinate, seeing his corpse watching me, standing beside me…"
He swallowed hard, as though a lump was caught in his throat, and with a broken voice he said:
"He keeps telling me: Do you see? Do you see what happens when my choices ruin the lives of others…"
Even Aldrin, with all his calm and kindness, could sense that this guilt and torment revealed a deep and haunting layer of Vantias's world.
Aldrin looked at Vantias with both compassion and strength. He closed his eyes and gently placed his hand on Vantias's shoulder, speaking with a calm yet assured voice:
"I feel the same… Many times I have sent my agents on missions where the shadow of death always loomed over their necks… The blade of death was always ready to fall upon their lives. They had families, friends, and dreams, yet still risked everything to protect others."
He paused for a moment, then continued:
"Their memory does not lie only in their names, but in their deeds."
Aldrin then raised his index finger and pressed it softly against Vantias's chest, directly over his heart. His touch was warm, and it seemed to reach not only his skin but the deeper layers of his being. In a quiet but meaningful tone, he said:
"You can blame yourself again and again… and in the end, sink deeper and deeper into darkness… Or you can truly try to lift yourself up."
His gaze grew sharper, the lines of his face cast into sharp shadows by the wavering candlelight, and every word he spoke was heavy and unwavering:
"Remember the oath you swore… Don't let your thoughts block your actions. If you let them, they will grow and grow, until the entire room is filled—leaving no place for you anymore."
The church fell into a mysterious silence; even the candle flames seemed to still, as though they too were silenced by the truth Aldrin had spoken. Vantias's heart beat faster beneath Aldrin's touch… and perhaps, deep within, a small spark of light long forgotten began to flicker again.
Aldrin then smiled and said:
"You have a new mission…"
Vantias grew curious and asked:
"What are the details?"
Aldrin began walking and said:
"Follow me. I'll explain along the way."
After leaving the church, Aldrin and Vantias began walking through the streets. The respect people showed Aldrin was clear—paths opened for him, and they greeted him with bows of respect. Aldrin, in turn, responded with kindness, a sign of just how beloved he was among the people.
Aldrin said to Vantias:
"A few days ago, several bodies were found in the Royal Academy. They had been crucified. The victims were students… stripped completely naked, with a smile carved into their skin with a blade or some sharp object."
Vantias frowned and paused to absorb Aldrin's words. Then he thought:
"I had heard about some murders at the Academy, but the soldiers and agents confirmed nothing. I suppose they didn't want panic to spread among the people."
He then looked at Aldrin as they walked, and his thoughts continued:
"But what happened last week—the massacre of hundreds of villagers and agents of the Order—it's all happening so suddenly."
Vantias, in a calm and curious tone, said to Aldrin:
"What do you want me to do?"
Aldrin smiled and stopped in front of a stone house built from orange blocks. Roses grew in the yard, and green moss covered the walls. The windows were completely sealed—nailed shut with wood and planks.
A cold sweat trickled down Vantias's forehead as he thought:
"I don't have a good feeling about this house…"
Vantias, with hesitation, asked Aldrin:
"What are we doing here?"
Aldrin pulled a key from his pocket and opened the door, offering no reply to Vantias's question. As the door creaked open, a cold wind blew through. No light from outside touched the interior—the house was lit only by candles. White sheets were draped over the furniture, protecting them from dust.
Vantias hesitated, fear tugging at him. Aldrin picked up a candelabrum and began ascending the staircase. Each step on the old wooden stairs groaned beneath his weight. Together they reached the upper floor.
Vantias took a step back, struggling to comprehend what he saw. He turned to look at Aldrin—and the only thing he saw was a smile spread across his face. A smile that evoked trust, yet at the same time, doubt and fear.