Ulrich’s footsteps sank into the soil. Slender raindrops descended from the sky as if they were weaving through it. His wet black hair fell upon his black eyes, where dark circles clung beneath. A dark cloak, heavy with water, hid his pale skin.

Unpleasant whispers bothered his ears. At his sides, poorly built stone houses made their alleyways serve as shelter for people. Some of them opened their mouths to drink the blessing of the sky, while others stored it in clay pots.

Ulrich walked past an alley. Kids hugged their knees, covered by the same cloak, trying to appease the cold and quiet the roar of empty stomachs. Shadows twisted around their bodies, thin fingers of smoke brushed at them, gnawing at their minds.

Pattering of rain tangled with unknown words, harassed his ears, while his spine bent forward, as though an unseen weight pressed his shoulders.

‘How annoying…’

His ragged breath left a trail of mist in his wake.

As alleys passed by, a structure built of pale stone and crowned with three slender, tapering spires that made it look both defiant and desired came into sight.

With each step he took approaching the temple, the whispers intensified.

Ulrich glanced at both of his sides, and after what felt like an eternity, he finally stood in front of two wooden doors that prohibited passage. However, he walked towards them, pushing with all the strength he had.

Slowly, the door opened, letting a deep groan fill the inside. Leaving enough space to step through, as Ulrich placed his feet onto the temple’s floor, his mind fell silent.

Ulrich let a deep breath out.

Turning around, he pushed the door once more, which thudded shut. Then, turned again and walked through the stone pews that lined both sides. There were dozens of these, each one pointing to a marble sculpture at the end of the room.

The sculpture depicted a human figure whose body was shrouded in a cloak, with only the left hand shown, raising a long sword. Under it, several lit candles covered the polished black altar in wax.

“You seem tired.”

A calm, melodic voice echoed through the darkness. In the far right corner, the tap of boots announced an approaching presence, and a silhouette soon emerged from the gloom.

“That’s only natural, having to push a door such as that,” Ulrich said with a hoarse voice that made his throat itch.

The man approached the altar candles that lit his face, revealing green eyes that glinted to the rhythm of the flame, and his brown hair was slicked back.

Ulrich slipped into one of the stone pews to his left and sat. He rested his left arm on the edge and crossed one leg over the other. Then, waiting for the man, he looked up at the ceiling and gazed at the gigantic, golden candelabra, which swung unlit.

When the man approached, Ulrich asked:

“Something?”

The man sat and let out a sigh. “As you predicted, they have summoned me to be part of the clergy present in Asleir.”

Ulrich nodded a couple of times, biting his cheeks. Then, he took a breath. “That’s good… There are still a few days until New Year's; you have time to study the dungeon.”

Silence filled the temple.

Lowering his head, Ulrich fixed his gaze on the sculpture.

‘I barely have time to do everything… However, it’s good news that Val has been summoned; it would be almost impossible otherwise.’

Ulrich closed his eyes and bowed his head even more, facing the ground. “…Val, I need you to do something.”

Valerian glanced at him before closing his eyes too.

The dull sound of rain pressed in from outside and crept faintly over the stained glass to their right. Depicted upon it was a long sword that pierced the earth and reflected the rising sun.

“Do not supply more medicine to the poor. Focus on the nobility,” Ulrich muttered just enough to be heard.

Valerian frowned and looked at him. “Why?”

There was no response.

Valerian continued, his voice showing a hint of displeasure. “Are you serious? Without medicine, they would die in days. They are already suffering with it.”

“They can last a couple of days.”

“No, they don’t,” he went on, reproachful. “They are going to die without any purpose, and with agony.”

“Not like they’re living at its fullest now…”

“Ulrich!”

The pale light of the moon filtered through the stained glass, reflecting Valerian’s tightened jaw and his knuckles that stood out. Ulrich, without any light to illuminate him, hid his gaze in the darkness that surrounded him.

Seconds passed by. The rain slowed down, leading to a quiet night, and Valerian finally cut through the silence. “Do not play with human lives like that.”

“First of all…” Ulrich raised his head slightly and glanced at Valerian. “I’m not playing with their lives. It's all for a greater good that they themselves would appreciate.”

Valerian tried to answer, but Ulrich cut him off, silencing him with a hand.

“And second…” His black eyes were fixed on Valerian, and his voice deepened. “Do not give me orders.”

Letting out a deep breath, he took his left hand from the edge and slipped it into his cloak. After rummaging in it for a moment, he took out a note. Then he offered it to Valerian without looking at him.

Valerian looked doubtful, but ended up taking the yellowed, wet note. After opening it, the black ink in it differed throughout. However, the words were distinguishable:

“Josh Vanmister… What about him?” he asked, confused, trying to bury in his heart what had just happened.

“Between the nobility, give him more medical supplies. But don’t start until I give you the advice. Meanwhile, store up everything you can at the Port of Rosan.”

Valerian lost himself in his thoughts. On the other hand, Ulrich massaged his face, starting from his nose and ending with his jaw. By then, Valerian already made up his mind.

Standing up, Valerian saved the note on his cloak and walked away, leaving behind his last words:

“Hope that your plan works, our relationship might be in line…” He paused, then said calmly. “And take care of your face, we don’t want it to fall off.”

Ulrich’s lips curved upwards while he looked at the ground. The footsteps faded away slowly, and Ulrich muttered:

“I wouldn’t want that…”

Moonlight caressed his body. Ulrich, with his hands crossed over his knees, raised his gaze enough to see the marble sculpture, and then glanced at the stained glass.

Three big and imperfect white dots fitted perfectly at the sun depicted, making the temple shine in a set of colors.

He let a sigh out and covered his face with both hands.

‘This needs to work out... With this short period of time, things have all come together at once,’ Ulrich thought, biting his lower lip.

He leaned back against the cold stone. With his head tilted towards the ceiling, he gazed at the candelabra before closing his eyes.

Ulrich lost himself in the embrace of darkness. The wind whistled through his ears with force.

‘I didn't know why, but my body paralized, slowly shivering as I remembered that sound. My face froze, and my hands… felt cold.'