Chapter 5: Simulation 1- Reliving old memories

Inside Siarl's parents' humble mud house, a heavy atmosphere hung in the air.

"What...!" Makalu broke into tears as Miz told her that Siarl needed to go for proper treatment. Going to the church for treatment from the village meant that Siarl was in grave danger.

Ruk, who had been standing quietly behind Makalu, rushed to her side, his protective instincts kicking in. He gently embraced his trembling wife, trying to offer whatever solace he could. With a knowing glance, he signaled to their two nearly grown daughters, silently urging them to support their distraught mother.

Ruk, now on his feet, looked at the three individuals who identified themselves as members of the church.

Ruk, a man of limited education but boundless determination, understood that life demanded a price for every blessing. He couldn't help but worry about what the church would demand in return for their assistance. While they had spent a significant portion of their savings on Siarl's medical care, they had steadfastly safeguarded their eldest daughter's dowry fund. Ruk knew that if the church asked for a heavy toll, he would willingly sacrifice everything; a father couldn't abandon his child in times of need.

As Ruk was about to summon the courage to inquire about the impending cost, Miz's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. Ruk, please rest assured, you won't need to spend a single coin."

Miz, Sino, and Rext harbored their own motives. Their priority was to leave this village, fearing the potential harm of lingering any longer. What if an evil spirit attacked while they were here? So, their plan was to take Siarl and get out of there.

"Your son, Siarl, possesses remarkable, untapped potential," Miz continued. "He must join the church. Please entrust him to us. All we ask is the opportunity to nurture his talents. It would be a tragedy to see such potential wasted due to this illness." As Miz spoke, he produced a pouch filled with gleaming copper coins, a gesture of goodwill and a promise of support.

Ruk's disbelief gave way to shock as he accepted the pouch. He had doubted the authenticity of these individuals, but their church verification put his doubts to rest. The pouch of copper coins represented a sum equivalent to the money they had painstakingly set aside for their daughter's dowry.

"Thank you... I am truly grateful," Ruk managed to say, his heart heavy with emotion. He had considered pressing further to understand the motives behind this unusual generosity, but at this moment, his fatherly love for Siarl had diminished significantly.

***

As the door opened, few people entered.

First, Salv, the village doctor who had painstakingly patched up Siarl, entered the room. Then, a group of unfamiliar faces followed, all with sombre expressions. Finally, Siarl's own parents and sisters arrived.

Makalu, his mother, approached his bedside, trembling with emotion, and gently clasped his hand. Her voice quivered as she spoke, "Naya, these are people from the church; they are here to take you to be one of them."

As she uttered these words, tears streamed down her face, and her voice cracked with sorrow. Ruk, her husband and Siarl's father, held her close, his own eyes welling up. He whispered, "Son, you must never cry. A man must have ambitions to survive. If you ever face adversity in the town, remember you can always come back here."

Both of Siarl's sisters wept openly, their sobs filling the room as they clung tightly to their beloved brother, their emotions too overwhelming for words.

"What..! What was happening? How did we go from love and care to straight up abandonment?" Siarl questioned himself, as he looked at his sad parents.

Of course what Siarl didn't know there had been dealing between his parents and the people from church behind his back.

***

In the enchanting garden of Chatou, beneath the boughs of a snow-cloaked tree, a woman found her respite. Delicate snowflakes swirled gently around her, accompanied by another woman who stood in silent vigil nearby.

Beth found her solace beneath the Tewa tree, which quivered in the frigid winter breeze. As she stared at the withered Tewa, her heart felt just as desolate, burdened by the unfortunate news she had received earlier that day.

"Isn't this winter markedly colder than the last, my lady?" Beth's loyal maid, Sivi, inquired with a knowing glance. Her attentive eyes were fixed upon Beth, who held the distinguished title of the wife of Lord Camsell, the esteemed ruler of the northern lands.

"Perhaps you're pondering the looming civil war, my lady. You are, after all, aware of the slim likelihood of its touch upon our northern domain," Sivi said, her voice a gentle balm meant to soothe Beth's troubled soul.

"Yet not impossible, Sivi. Do you know why the north has remained unscathed by the civil strife?" Beth asked, her gaze turning to Sivi, who had been her companion since childhood, their bond as strong as sisters.

"I have no inkling, my lady," Sivi admitted, her expression one of genuine curiosity.

"It's because of the refugees, the families of soldiers strategically placed here by the church and the empire, and the flourishing Venetie trade route that originates in the north and extends deep into the heart of the empire. Our abundant supply of wolf skins and fur plays a significant role…" Beth explained, her words flowing hurriedly, coming out in a rush as she ran out of breath.

"Please, my lady, calm yourself," Sivi implored, gently touching Beth's shoulder.

Beth, however, was undeterred. "Do you know the news I received today? The emperor himself plans to visit the north!" At this revelation, Sivi's astonishment was palpable.

After all, the emperor leaving the capital during the civil war was unheard of in history. Even the Windras weren't so arrogant during their rule.

"Does this imply that the north will also be drawn into the civil war?" Sivi's voice quivered with urgency as she posed the question.

"I cannot say, Sivi. My husband personally undertakes the task of orchestrating the emperor's welcome. They share a deep friendship rooted in their youthful days," Beth revealed, her voice now laced with uncertainty. She continued, "Yet the pretext for the emperor's visit is baffling – he claims to be here to relive old memories. Can you fathom such a motive?"

Sivi was once more taken aback, her astonishment mirrored in her widened eyes. She had heard the storied legends of the Lord of the North, Camsell, who wielded the title of the king's trusted spear, and the Lord of the West, Imum, who was the emperor's loyal blade during the rebellion against the Windras. However, she had never anticipated that the emperor would venture northward to rekindle old friendships.

"My lady, can we hope for a favorable outcome?" Sivi's countenance bore the weight of her concern, a recognition that the lives of countless souls hung in precarious balance.

"Only the sands of time will reveal whether we shall bask in grace or languish in condemnation. May the heavens have mercy upon us," Beth whispered, her eyes fixed upon the frigid winter sky, a canvas painted in shades of uncertainty.