Half an hour ago, the clattering of hooves sounded in the barren fields outside Auschwitz. A dark stallion walked through the field. The knight was covered in armor without an inch of skin showing. The heavy armor was created from hundreds of detailed yet hefty pieces. Rather than seeming fat and cumbersome on him, it looked like another layer of skin or a sharp skeleton outside the body. He carried a black kite shield covered in gashes and scratches. One could vaguely see the design of two keys.

This was the representative of the Sacred City.

The two overlapping keys represented the joining of heavenly and human power, expressing that the pope had indisputably high status.

A bladeless sword hung at the knight's waist. The hilt was narrow and all forty centimeters was pure black. It clanged against the leg armor as the stallion moved. The crisp sound seemed neither powerful nor fierce.

"Sir, this way," a fawning voice said. A ragged old man carried a lantern and walked quickly besi