Was what once a proper land was now defiled and soiled. Was what once a lush green forest is now a dying patch of grass.

Sighed silently to himself the King. In all his years of seventy, he had never faced such turmoil of soil as terrifying as this year before. The world around him was dying, and there was naught he could do as a king.

The weight of his people laid on his shoulders. His crooked back had borne the heaviness for decades and yet this was the first time he felt overwhelmed by the problem. They would not survive another winter with crops in spring so dire and water so scarce like this. How would he, as a king, act when nature did not have enough mercy to provide them any?

The King of Arcadia tapped his finger on the wooden throne, thinking. The fine and elegant rosewood was carved by the most skilled sculptor of this nation into the seat that befitted his title. This seat was a gift to him. It made him plenty happy when he had the throne installed in this large audience hall. Alas, he could not do the sculptor much favor in return for he, at his old age, had fallen ill from the land's misshapen plague like anyone else who had grown fragile.

What could he do? What must he do?

He could not think of a way to escape the drought. Always had he turned to The Goddess for guidance, always had he prayed for the better of his people and land, and yet nothing sprouted from devotion. He gave away all he could to those who were in need, but in the end, their hunger would eventually grow. There was no permanent solution, only a temporary remedy that would soon no longer be of help to anyone. Heavy the head that wore a crown. The King sank lower and lower as if the silver amulet of his, the only ancestral treasure he had planned to bestow to his child, was dragging him down the earth.

"Your Majesty," a voice disrupted the old King's anxious thought.

"Sir Grayson." The King perked up his heavy head to see none other than the trusted general he had been knighted nearly two decades ago. "I trust that you may bring both of us good news."

"Please, do not be upset," the gray armored knight bowed his head even lower as he spoke. The leg plate made a clunking sound as his knee touched firmly on the floor of the hall. "I merely bring you the word from the church." 

"Why would I be? Please, continue what you bring for us, sir."

"The church... they said they might have discovered what plagues our land."

"Had they said it was because of a curse?"

"Very much so, Your Majesty."

Nodding in understandment, slowly the crowned man descended from his throne and walked toward the kneeling knight, touching gently on the plated shoulder. "Sir Grayson, could you please do me a favor?"

And so, took off for a short trip down the village, both the old King and his knight. Through images of sorrowful villagers and mournful patches of lands that once were plenty with crops, the King in his dull guise could only anguish inside for how helpless he had been. From a great distance between the castle to where the only church lied, the two men had to walk on their own feet all the way to get their answer. The King needed to know, he needed to be the one to hear directly of what mishaps had been destroying his land for almost a year. Even with body nearly readied to be dusted, he would not mind walking all the way here by himself even though what painful vision he witnessed greatly caused him a gash in his heart, bled from him of his vast empathy.

A farmer's corpse in a dead cart. Two family members, wife and child, crying for the departed dear. Cracked dry earth that used to be their wheat field.

"Your Majesty, this is why I told you not to come along," Sir Grayson spoke out of concern, watching as the farmer, now nothing but a lifeless body, was being quietly transported to the nearby piling graveyard. This sight of suffering he had quietly suffered from watching, he could not bear to have his beloved ruler witness it.

"Just hearing them pleading in the hall on a daily basis is too much to bear, sir knight." His face was wrinkled further than his old age had already caused. "Now that I can see them, touch them, hear them, feel as if I was suffering the same hunger and illness as them. I could not bear it long, Sir Grayson. How far left must we walk?"

"Please bear a little more steps with me, Your Majesty" he said, "The church is nearing."

Sir Grayson was no liar, this the King knew, but he had to admit the long, long way the dirt path that led them to this wooden church had his feet tired out.

The church was nothing too fancy, shabby even. It was quite tall and had a proper roof to withstand wind and rainy weather. From the outside alone, no one would know that this church was best known for being a pilgrim's first destination.

The old man looked around the wooden church. Ever so faithful did it look as humble as the Goddess it firmly believed in.

"Grier, you are here!" a familiar voice of a young woman reached to him and it caused his head to whip her way. The moment their eyes met, two pairs of the exact same replica that akin to amethyst, she cried out in glee his name, "Father Juan, I did not expect you here."

"Oh, my little daughter." He smiled gently, expanding his arms for her to take the embrace. "My Aisha, why are you at the church?"

She parted with the warmth her father provided and took a step closer to Sir Grayson. "Grier said that the church is in need of a helping hand with their garden, so I am here to see if there is anything I can do."

"Grier?" The King looked at his own knight who often wore an expressionless facade, now a nervous mess. He grinned at the slight red that was painted on his face as her hand guided him onward to the church. "You two are on good terms, I see."

"It certainly is not what you think, Your Majesty..." he murmured, trying to pry off the fingers that had his armored arm held off, but his effort was for what if not futile.

Said no more to further the embarrassment the knight was facing, King Juan just pat him lightly on the back and followed his daughter into the wooden church. Whence his foot touched the floor, the ancientness of the wood creaked softly as if humbly welcoming him in. To the left and to the right, one would have never guessed that such a rundown place like this was a church most faithful to Melanie. Aside from a simple podium speech for Sunday preaching and wooden pews, there were planters and an indoor garden just at the far back of the church where a generous amount of daylight could reach. One could say this was less of a church and more of a botany. Priests and nuns in red robes were seen either preparing medical remedies or tending to their assigned crops. The King assumed that this rare sight of the greens here was all thanks to the hard work of the priests and the daughter he was proud of as they grew ever so healthy as they could be on their little soil.

"Look, father. I helped them grow these berries." The princess proudly showed him her fruits of labor. White little flowers in bloom and in buds greeted his delighted face. The happy painted face of the daughter only lasted for seconds then turned into a frown. Her amethyst colored eyes clouded with worry. "But they are not enough to feed the entire village... not to mention the plague that is going around..."

Grier Grayson wished he could comfort her. If not for the woman's rightful father here, he would reach his arm to gently hold her near... So, only words of appropriate comfort could form, "Princess, you did all that you could. I am certain our people appreciate your act of kindness. Besides, we may have soon found ourselves a way to fix the curse of this land."

The King nodded in agreement with the statement of consolation and confidence.

"Oh, what Brother Redmond said?"

"Exactly. In fact, the King asked if he could hear directly from the man himself." Sir Grayson looked around to find one priest in particular. "Is he not here?"

She shook her head and turned to the sacristy where a tired priest could lie. "He is, but he must still be tired from the journey to the neighboring country."

"Your Majesty, shall we visit Brother Redmond at a later time and go back to the castle for the now?"

"Ah, but you have to carry me on your back, Sir Grayson. My legs gave up on walking even for a foot." The King laughed heartily at the ever so serious expression the young man made. He was intent on giving him a piggyback ride. "Now, now, Grier Grayson. That was a joke. If you do not mind, I would like to remain here, waiting for his return."

Bowed the gray armored knight. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

During this little wait, Aisha had offered the two men a little tour around this indoor garden of the church. Though the father had to decline and caused the daughter disappointment by explaining to her how his legs could not stand the soreness they felt from the trip here, still he watched as Grier was taken in his stead, forced to walk around and about to see all plants and flowers. He sat silently on the wooden pew, facing the small statue of Her image, admiring the busy priests tending to either the injured or the plants. They were such admirable people, not only for their versatility in magic, but for their neverending faithful devotion and kindness to the people as well. Not to the King's surprise, no, not at all, of how only the church could house and grow these greens. 

"It is all thanks to the divine power of our Goddess," a man with a soothing voice softly said as he took a nearby seat on the pew. "That this holy ground is saved from the curse."

"Brother Redmond." Juan nodded in acknowledgement of the priest's approach.

The priest sitting next to him, in white robe and red cape, looking ever so respectfully, smiled gently to the old king. Within the kind eyes of the young man, spotted a certain tiredness in the gaze. Clearly, he had not been fully rested, yet here he was, entertaining the king. "Your Highness, I am certain you have many questions for me."

"Sir Grayson had told me of your request..."

"Yes, but I do understand if you were to decline."

"That was not what I implied, young priest." King Juan shook his head in disapproval. "I was worried indeed. What you propose was far too dangerous for a person to brave it alone. Shall I order Sir Grayson to be your companion?"

"No need, Your Highness. Knight captain Grier Grayson will be more of a help remaining here than to travel with me." Redmond could not discard the caring glance the King gave him. "Besides, in my travel, I am going to recruit a reliable friend of mine from the neighboring country anyway. That would not make me alone."

"I trust that this friend of yours will keep you safe." His amethyst eyes gleamed with curiosity. "Now that you had mentioned our neighbor, your trip with the merchants, tell me more, will you?"

"As always, the trade was as fair and square with how little our medical supply had," reported the priest. "Still, our neighbor sympathized with our situation and gave us more rations than we could bargain."

"Give them my gratitude when you next visit them, brother. Country of Moree has always been such a great friend to us."

Redmond nodded solemnly. "The thing is... the people over there are suspecting the same thing that had occurred on our land also."

"The curse..."

"Yes, Your Highness, although they refer to it as a rot, which is much similar to the curse we are facing. The woods surrounding their country are slowly decaying before autumn has even come." The priest's head hung low. His sympathy for the others put him into a state of uncontrollable worry. "I fear, at this point, everything will eventually..."

King Juan found himself mirroring the pose the priest was doing and succumbed to the thought of the world where all else was rotten and decayed, his people were dying and no remedy could treat them. He knew his little princess would never be able to be happy again, knowing many around her had to fall for the curse and sooner or later the girl herself would live no longer than any of them. If said world where the daughter would no longer smile, the father would never wish it to happen. He wished he could lend any help in this trying time, but, oh, well, what could an old man with frail health like him could do but sit in silence and wait for the inevitable.

No! This was not the end. It could not be. If he could not be the mobile one to save the people, then the most he could do was to place his hope onto someone else.

"King Juan." Redmond's word snapped him out of the abyss of thinking. "Please, allow me to investigate this cause."

The old king nodded. "I understand. I trust that you may be our savior, Brother Redmond."

With that, The King of Arcadia had quietly and meekly bestowed upon the young priest both his murmur of blessing full of hope and the pristine silver amulet he wore. The tiny rock of dark amethyst embedded in it gleamed at him with its grim shine. Redmond gently touched the priceless prize he got. Strange shiver crept and took hold of what beneath his chest. Was this the power its small dark gem held?

"Handle it with utmost care, priest. As it could be your guidance and your doom, Brother Redmond."