53

  Constantia, Marcus, and Antonius were resting inside a room that Faust had prepared for them. It had been so long since they'd gotten any decent rest or even a good bed to sleep in. Antonius had already buried his face deep into a pillow, while Constantia and Marcus were still cleaning their equipment and doing general maintenance on them.

  "So, what will you do tomorrow?” Marcus asked as he polished his rapier.

  “Since the hard part is still looming in the distance,” Constantia leaned back in her chair, “I’ll keep an eye on our dear War Saint. You two will be looking out for Ipsilas.”

  “Are you sure he’ll come?” Marcus replied shortly.

  Constantia understood the weight of that question. Their whole mission rested on this gamble she'd made. Truth be told, Constantia now had only her instincts to trust. Every plan she’d had had been thrown out the window. They’d been here far longer than the Saints, but still hadn’t found a single clue about where Ipsilas was hiding. Now they were just throwing darts blindfolded and hoping for the best.

  In short. They’re desperate. And Constantia is far more desperate than everyone around.

  “He’ll come. He has to. We practically challenged him with this maneuver. He needs to show his face, or his little band of heretics will run in fear after we killed just a tiny fraction of their army.”

  Marcus snickered. “You seem certain. The Prophet could just run away. He might not even be in the city anymore.”

  “No, he’s still here. A man like him won’t run. He’s far too powerful and arrogant to do that.”

  The room fell silent. The only sound was that of a wet stone scraping against metal. Constantia was trying really hard to maintain her composure. Despite the calm appearance she showed on the outside, she was begging and praying for Ipsilas to show himself. She didn’t care if they couldn’t even kill that monster.

  Antonius lifted his head from the pillow and looked at Constantia and Marcus. “Have you two noticed the torch that Saint Sebastian keeps on his belt?”

  “Of course we did. That’s the first thing everyone notices when they see him,” Constantia replied.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about that torch. It might be a relic. An unholy kind,” Antonius said as he rested his back on the bed. “Where did he get it? This made me realize we haven’t gathered any information about these Saints since they arrived in the city.”

  Constantia thought the same thing. That blue torch was strange. Despite burning brightly, it didn’t burn anything around it. She knew relics followed their own weird logic and rules. But holding onto an unholy relic could have side effects on its bearer—or even those around it—regardless of whether it was used. She needed to investigate it further before making any move. It could just be some kind of enchanted object.

  “I’ll keep an eye on that thing. If it really is an unholy relic,” Constantia smiled, “then we might’ve found our golden ticket out of this mess.”

  *

  Faust was bathing inside a giant heated pool. His breath was slow, and his body floated like a cloud as the hot water calmed every nerve. Right now, he was thinking about what he should do tomorrow. He already had a long list of plans he wanted to set in motion for Sebastian—but he needed to be careful not to draw too much attention.

  The objective was simple: to teach Sebastian a powerful and painful lesson. He needed to be reminded of who he was dealing with. Just because he was a Saint didn’t give him the right to insult and mock Faust inside this palace.

  Faust opened his eyes, then clapped his hands. “Bring me paper and a quill.”

  Some of his servants swiftly brought everything he requested. They even wiped down his upper body and provided a wooden board for him to write on. All of this was expected of Faust’s personal attendants. They were paid handsomely each month. Enduring his tantrums and outbursts of rage was a requirement if they wanted to keep their wages—or possibly, their lives.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “Send this letter to Ismail,” Faust said as he tossed the quill. “Make sure it’s for his eyes only. Now go.”

  One of his servants bowed his head before walking outside the room carrying his letter.

  Faust back to resting his body. He closed his eyes and went into a deep thought. He’s been thinking about one thing for the past few days. The blue torch that Sebastian seems to bring everywhere he goes. The blue flame was soothing to look at as it danced around. Despite it being so close to Sebastian 's body, it didn’t hurt or even set anything on fire.

  Was it some kind of fashion trend that these young people have? They're very creative and unorthodox. But it doesn’t really fit with the Sebastian aesthetic. It could be just a magically enchanted item. But he doesn’t really sense any magic coming out from it. Strangely he felt comfort and calmness emanating from that object.

  The best way is to just ask him what it is. But that’s impossible. He would rather dip his hand on boiling tar rather than speak towards that little rascal.

  “Maybe I could steal it?”

  A thought flashed in his mind. Stealing it won’t be a bad thing either. With chaos that’s going to happen tomorrow, the might could just pull it off. All he needs is a sly and deft hand to snatch that thing away from his belt. Maybe he could pay some of his guards to try it, but he isn't really sure if they could pull that off.

  “Hmm, I really want that torch now.” Faust mumbled as he opened his eyes slowly.

  That object now really captured his eyes and mind. Now he must have it. If he steals it from Sebastian. He could imagine what kind of face that kid will make and it brings joy to his heart. Faust laughed at the thought of it. He’ll definitely get his hand on that object, whether through force or deception.

  *

  Dalia is praying inside the palace chapel. She was reflecting on what just happened this afternoon. It’s the first time she ever felt that angry and irritated. It might be the effect of their not-so-smooth trip to this place. There’s always trouble stacked upon another trouble since the left Latinum. She wonders why this trip is so difficult and filled with trouble.

  Her cat ears and twitches and her tail dances on the floor reflecting her mood. She was so lost in prayer; she didn't notice that Sebastian was watching from afar.

  He came here to apologize. He realizes that this whole mess is caused by him and his arrogance. But he only acts like this because of everything that has happened. He balled up that intention inside his chest. He guesses that this wasn’t the correct time to talk to Dalia.

  Inside Dalia's head, she could see a flickering light in the distance. A dim light like a tiny star dot in the night skies. However, she also noticed something else. A hungry entity. Unseen by a naked eye and could only be felt by her heart. It slowly siphons power from the other star like a hungering hole. Slowly draining other stars from life, then keep getting bigger and bigger with each passing moment.

  She felt anxious. She wonders what she could do to stop that thing from growing. But deep inside the abyss of the hungering hole. As she watched into it long enough. Other eyes stared back.

  The entity smiled as it showed the vile shape of a mouth. Its teeth are warped into a weird unrecognized shape and the eyes are staring at her with such intensity. It sends such a terrifying force that forces her out from prayer.

  She could feel her stomach churning and brain throb in pain. Her lungs felt heavy as she struggled to take a breath. Cries began pouring out and she couldn’t hold it back.

  Whatever had seen her—whatever was watching from afar—was the cause of this. A terrifying abomination. And only one thought came to her mind.

  “Th-that torch.” Dalia said as she struggled to form a sentence. “It must be destroyed.”

  “What?” Carlos asked from behind.

  Dalia looked back and saw Carlos who had just arrived at the chapel. She immediately wipes her tear-stricken face to make Carlos less worried. But Carlos already saw the tears that were soaking her clothes.

  Carlos rushed towards Dalia. “What happened?! Did someone hurt you?”

  “It’s nothing, but I need your help, Carlos.” Dalia said with a smile.

  “Anything for you.” Carlos replied as he wiped the tears from Dalia's face.

  “That blue torch—the one Sebastian carries.” Dalia touched Carlos’s hand. “We need to throw it away. Destroy it if we can.”

  Carlos clenched his jaw. He hated feeling like this—so petty, so overshadowed... but he couldn’t help it anymore. Suddenly Carlos' expression changes and Dalia notices it. It turns sour as if he just ate something rotten. Carlos pushed Dalia's hands and stood up. He looked at Dalia angrily, something that Dalia has never seen from his face.

  “Why do you always talk about him?”

  “Wh-what? What are you talking about?” Dalia asked, confused.

  “It’s always Sebastian—this and that!” Carlos shouted. “Please get along with him, please understand him, please be friends with him. Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian!”

  Dalia stared at Carlos in confusion. She wonders what’s going on right now. Why does he yell at her like this? Does she make a mistake? Why is he making that face? A violent storm of confusion arrived in her mind and she couldn't think of a single answer to any of the questions.

  “Ca-Carlos? Wh—”

  “I’m sick of hearing his name!” Carlos cut in, turning away. “Deal with this yourself! Don’t drag me into your Sebastian problem!”

  Carlos left Dalia behind in the chapel. He was just really frustrated by how Dalia keeps siding with Sebastian on this trip. Dalia on the other hand felt speechless and shocked. She never realizes this outcome at all. So far Carlos has always got her back in any situation. But now she has no one to rely on. She was completely alone in this problem.

  Dalia buried her face deep inside her hands. She needs to do what needs to be done. If she didn’t, then this problem would become too big for any of them to solve. Dalia swallowed her pain and wiped the tears off her face. She must find a way to destroy that relic or to dispose of it completely. She must do it and she must do it alone.