The Sharpest Knife

Saint Tusa did not receive much instruction from the Messenger of Silence on the first day of their meeting.

The latter was understandably a man of few words. Very few words. Hardly any words.

Though the Messenger of Silence did not prohibit himself from communicating in a non-verbal manner, he was not the sort of saint that preferred to chat for hours on end. His vow of silence had caused him to become a lot more economical about how much time he spent on socializing.

Tusa sort of understood why Saint Dostoevsky no longer talked as much. He could feel it through the contact between their respective domain fields.

The man was haunted.

The Messenger of Silence never enjoyed any peace. Since the fateful battle where he and his fellow Terran mech pilots suffered a grave defeat against the Rubarthans, his dead comrades continually haunted psyche with each waking hour.