Chapter 5 Chapter 3 Anniversary

"My lord cardinal, Radisovik?" The cardinal was concentrating on reading a book, he raised his head and turned around to see who was calling him.The bright sunlight in the morning pierced through the beautifully styled glass windows, making the bishop unable to open his eyes. He could only see a black figure reflected at the door of the study. "It is I, Mosiah, Your Excellency." The young man realized that the Catalyst Saints did not recognize him. "I hope I haven't disturbed you, and if I did, I could try another day—" "No, don't bother me at all, my child." The bishop closed the book and beckoned him. "Please come in, I haven't seen you in the palace recently."

"Thank you, Your Excellency. I'm living with the demon craftsmen now." Mosiah said as he walked into the room. "Due to work, I have to stay in the furnace most of the time, and it is more convenient to live with them." "That's right." Cardinal Radisovik nodded. When he mentioned the furnace, his face seemed to be a little gloomy, but the shadow quickly disappeared. "Yesterday I also went to the newly built urban area by the demon craftsmen, and I was deeply impressed by the projects they completed in such a short period of time; their houses are all small and comfortable, not only built quickly, but also reduced life Cost consumption, what are the stones used to build the house called?"

"Brick, Your Excellency." Mosiah said, smiling secretly in his heart. "That's not a stone. It's made of mud mixed with straw, molded in a mold, and then dried in the sun." "Yes, I know," the cardinal replied. "I've seen them make these... bricks... I saw them last year when I went to their village with Prince Jarod. For some reason, the word 'bricks' never entered my head." His gaze Move from Mosiah to the palace gardens outside the window. "You must be very interested to know." Radisovik continued. "I have advised the nobles to use this method to build houses for their serf mages. Yesterday I inspected those houses with some Albanaras. At least two of them agreed with me that they were better than the existing structures. many."

"Where are the others, sir?" Mosiah asked.A former serf mage himself, he once lived with his parents and many brothers and sisters in a magically enlarged dead tree trunk, and he knew that for those who were forced to endure all kinds of vagaries of natural climate , What a blessing it is to live in a warm and dry brick house. "I believe they will agree." Radisovik said slowly.He rubbed his tired eyes from reading, shook his head and said with a wry smile: "To be honest, Mosiah, they were all... shocked when they saw the so-called dark craft, and found it difficult for themselves to get used to it rationally, but because The demon craftsmen are now living in the city of Saraken, and their skills are obvious to all. I believe that over time, people will become more accustomed to this kind of technology and accept it as part of human nature." Speaking of this, Mosiah saw Cardinal He frowned again, followed by a sigh.

"It's the part of human nature that leads to war. Are you considering this? Your Excellency." Mosiah asked softly, casually flipping open a book on the exquisite walnut table beside him with one hand. "Yes, I'm thinking about it." Radisovik glanced at him sharply as he spoke. "You are a perceptive young man." Mosiah blushed, happy but still a little embarrassed, closed the book, and stroked the leather cover. "Thank you, Your Excellency, you have praised me, I don't deserve it, but I have thought about the same problem myself..." He faltered and seemed not used to expressing his feelings. "Especially when I'm working, when I'm forging a spearhead, thinking that because I made it, it's going to... be used to kill somebody."

"Oh, I know Prince Jarod said he wouldn't use it to do this." Mosiah worried that his words might contain elements of criticism of the ruler, so he hurriedly added a sentence. "The spear is for deterrence—or at best—against centaurs, but I still can't help but wonder." "You are not the only one who suspects, Mosiah." Cardinal Radisovik stood up while speaking, walked over and stared out the window, thoughtful. "Prince Garrod is a fine young man, the finest man I have ever known, and I say this from the man who watched him grow up, the most distinguished and noble man in Albanara , so young but with infinite wisdom, sometimes I even forget that he is only twenty-nine years old, and I often think of—" the cardinal's voice softened. "The light he brought to the dark soul of your friend... what was his name?"

"Joran," said Mosiah. Hearing the pain in the young man's voice, the cardinal turned around from the window and said gently, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to expose your old scars." "No, it's all right, sir," said Mosiah. "I understand what you mean. If Prince Garald hadn't taught him the true meaning of honor and nobility, he wouldn't have been able to... achieve everything he has achieved." "Yes, Garrod made him understand that, but it was the Catalyst Saint who opened his heart to love and sacrifice. That weirdo, Father Saryon." The cardinal said, looking more like It's a soliloquy. "It's a strange and tragic turn of events. I'm not satisfied with what I know about Joram's true condition. How about you, Mosiah?"

This question was asked in a calm tone, but it was unexpected by Mosiah and caught him off guard.He answered that question by saying: No, I am satisfied.But the voice was very low, and it avoided the sharp gaze of the cardinal.The cardinal nodded to himself, and looked out at the beautiful garden again. "We digress," said the cardinal, returning to the conversation, smiling at the nervous movement behind him. "We were talking about Jarod and the war, and if my prince made a mistake it was that he took pride in the coming battle - or rather, even forgot what we were fighting for. Goals. To command the troops, to place the wizards in their proper positions, to train them and their catalyst saints, to create a great deal of competition—it was all on his mind these days."

"When the war is over, whether we win or lose, we must prepare for the ultimate victory or defeat, but he refused to discuss this issue with his father." Radisovik frowned, Mosiah He suddenly realized that as a humble subject of Saraken, he was listening to things that should not be heard. "As soon as the king was in the presence of Prince Jarod, his eyes were blinded, he was blinded. He was proud of Prince Jarod - indeed worth it - but he didn't really know the man in his radiant halo Jarod played happily with his shiny toy soldiers, refusing to spend enough time thinking about the consequences: what would we do if we succeeded in capturing Merilon? Who would rule it? By now Will the deposed emperor rule? Although I have heard rumors that he has gone mad. Also, who will take the place of Bishop Vanya as the head of the church? What will we do with the nobles who refuse to serve us? Other cities We are all careful to distance ourselves from this war, but what if they see us getting stronger and decide to attack us?"

"Do you understand these questions?" Cardinal Radisovik asked, turning to face the confused Mosiah. "However, whenever I wanted to talk to Prince Garrod about these issues, he waved his hand and said, 'I don't have time to think about this, go talk to my father.' And the Emperor said to me rudely, 'I have Worry enough about this country, ask my son about the war!'” Mosiah shifted his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if he had enough mana to sink quietly to the ground.Seeing the young man's embarrassment, Radisovik realized what he had been saying just now, so he stopped talking and said, "Young man, I don't want my problems to burden you."

He left the window, crossed the room, and stood beside Mosiah, who was looking at him with a sort of awe.The priest smelled of court intrigue, and even as he walked, the gold-trimmed robe seemed to whisper secrets. "Bless you Emin, everything will work out. Now tell me about your problem. There must be something wrong with you coming here, and I have been talking to you about irrelevant things. I'm sorry, is there anything I can do to help you ?" It took a while for Mosiah to come to his senses. He had always noticed and appreciated Radisovik's skillful handling of any potentially embarrassing situation. Very cleverly, the cardinal dismissed the criticism of the prince as irrelevant. It's over, and putting the blame on Emin also seems to be subtly implying that Mosiah forgets what he just heard and believes Emin absolutely. Of course Mosiah wished for it, and Saraken was not a dangerous court, just like Merilon was rumored in recent days.But no palace was truly safe, and Mosiah had learned long ago that there was a price to be paid for knowing too much or knowing too little. "First of all, I want to apologize for bothering you with such a trivial matter, my lord cardinal." The young man said. "But... this is very important to me... just because we are now in a state of war, and without your permission, no other catalyst saint can execute it." "What do you want? My child." Radisovik asked in a gentle but suddenly cold and cautious tone. "I... I came to ask if you could open a teleportation corridor for me, Your Excellency." "You want to leave Saraken?" Radisovik said slowly. "Yes, sir." "You are well aware that for the benefit of the citizens, all travel outside the magical boundaries of the city is forbidden. All travel is dangerous these days, especially for the inhabitants of our city, our own distance from which Controlling our various teleportation corridors, Malilong's wizards can only enter with the help of Duke Xisi, of course, but this possibility is not ruled out." "I know, Your Excellency." Mosiah said respectfully but stubbornly. "However, this trip is very important to me, so I am willing to take the risk, and I have told Prince Jarod." Seeing Radisovik's hesitation, he continued: "He allowed me to leave, I still have him message." He clumsily took out a small crystal ball from his coat, as long as he chanted a spell, the image of a handsome young prince would appear on it. "That's unnecessary." Radisovik said with a smile. "If you have discussed this with Garrod and obtained his permission, then of course I will open a teleportation corridor for you and wish you the best of luck. Now, where do you want to go?" "To the Far Lands," said Mosiah. Radisovik was taken aback, and looked at him with a puzzled expression. "Why do you—" He suddenly frowned. "Oh." He said softly. "Today is the anniversary." "Yes, sir." Mosiah replied in a low voice. "I've never been there, I was dying when the Witchcrafters found me in the Wildlands, and I didn't hear what happened until... much later. I wanted to, but I There's nothing you can do about it." He looked at the floor, ashamed, as he spoke. "I know I should have gone, but I can't bear to see Saryon... see him become..." At this point, he coughed and cleared his throat. "I know, boy, I understand," Radisovik said, putting his hand on Mosiah's shoulder. "I've heard what happened to you. It must be very tragic. No one can blame you for not wanting to go to that place because your body is not strong enough." "I'm going, I have to go." Mosiah said stubbornly, as if arguing with herself. "I'm going to convince myself that it's real, that it really happened, and then I might accept it and understand it." "I doubt we'll understand." Radisovik watched the young man intently, noticing every slight change in the frank and innocent face. "But we do have to accept what has happened, lest the anger and pain will haunt us and keep us from living well." He paused to see what Mosiah had to say, but the young man was fighting with his own Emotions struggle and seem speechless.The cardinal shrugged, and then read a prayer, which opened a teleportation corridor in the room, and an empty oval hole appeared in the air. "Go, Emin will bless you, Mosiah!" Radisovik said to the blushing Mosiah, who muttered thanks. "May you find the peace you seek." The teleportation corridor stretched, and the young man stepped in. The tunnel created by the ancients to travel through time and space tightly surrounded him, and then Mosiah disappeared in the room. Looking at Mosiah's back, Radisovik frowned and shook his head. "Young man, what secret is tormenting your heart?" he murmured. "I would like to know……"
The portal wrapped around Mosiah with a familiar squeeze, as if he were being pulled through a small, dark tunnel.The young man had had a terrible and painful experience, which reminded him of the last time he was in this teleportation corridor, and that scene was frighteningly vivid... The witch warlock said a word expressionlessly, and Mosiah was horrified to see the spikes sprouting from the vine again, but this time the spikes only stuck to his flesh and did not penetrate. "Not yet." The witch warlock saw through his thoughts from his pale face, and said deliberately.This made Mosiah's eyes widen. "But they'll keep growing, until they pierce the skin, through the muscles, through the internal organs, and tear you apart. Well, I'll ask you again. What's your name?" "What? What does that matter?" Mosiah moaned. "You already knew!" "Tell me." The sorceress said another word.The spikes grew another inch. "Mosiah!" He turned his head away in pain. "Mosiah! Damn it! Mosiah, Mosiah, Mosiah..." Then their plans are filtered out bit by bit through the sieve of pain.Mosiah choked, trying to swallow what he said.He watched with horror as the sorceress became Mosiah: her face became his, her clothes his, her voice his. "What shall we do with him?" asked the wizard in a low voice, clearly displeased with his mistake. "Throw him into the teleportation corridor, into the wilderness." The sorceress who turned into Mosiah said, standing up. "No!" Mosiah tried to free himself from the sorcerer's strong hands tugging at his ankle, but the slightest movement sent the spikes digging deeper into his body, and he wept bitterly, collapsing on the ground. "Joran!" he yelled desperately as he saw the dark void of the portal emerge from the forest. "Joran!" he yelled, hoping his friend would hear, but in his heart he knew it was all hopeless. "Run! This is a trap! Run!" The wizard threw him into the portal.The teleportation corridor began to shrink, pressing towards him.The spikes dug into his flesh, and the blood ran warm over his skin.He looked out of the teleportation corridor and caught one last glimpse of the sorceress - himself now - looking at him, her face - his face was expressionless. Later, she spread her hands. "Furious," he heard himself say.
What happened afterward, Mosiah could not know for sure.Fortunately, he lost consciousness in the teleportation corridor. When he woke up a few days later, he was in the village of demon artisans in the wilderness. Anton was their old and kind leader, He was with him, and so was a Zeldalar—the Healing Witch Doctor—and a Catalyst Saint, sent by Prince Jarod himself to the Wizard's Village.Mosiah begged them to tell him about his friends' whereabouts, but no one in this remote village could—or would—tell him. For the next few weeks, he was in constant pain when he was awake and nightmares when he was enchanted to sleep.Then he heard a whisper that he didn't want him to hear, about what happened to Joram and Father Saryon, he heard the tragic death of the catalyst saint, and Joram voluntarily entered the afterlife. Mosiah himself was on the verge of death, and that Zeldalar had tried everything, but had to tell Anton that magic was not working for the young mage, and he didn't want to save himself.Yet Mosiah didn't care, it was better to die than to live in pain. One day Anton told Mosiah that he was to be visited, and that the two had been brought to the village by the orders of Prince Jarod.Mosiah couldn't think who it could be, and he didn't care much... So, his mother's arms were around him, and tears fell on his wounds, and his father's voice rang in his ears, soft, soft , the parents' hands that became rough due to work pulled their son back from the brink of death. Painful memories and despair overwhelmed Mosiah, and he felt the portal nearly suffocate him.Fortunately, the distance was short, and when the portal opened, the feeling of panic disappeared, but the panic was replaced by a deeper and equally painful feeling—a feeling of grief and sadness over the loss of a loved one. After emerging from the portal, Mosiah gritted his teeth and mustered up his courage. Although he had never been to the Far Lands, he had allowed himself to familiarize himself with them and know what awaited him. In front of the eyes is a white fine sand coastline, with pieces of long-growing grass sporadically distributed, and finally it becomes completely barren near the misty mist leading to the other shore, leaving only a bare and desolate coastline, as if stripped bones.On this beach there would stand the Watchers, and here, too, Saryon would stand—his flesh turned to stone. "The sight may not be as terrible as you imagine." Not long ago, at a dinner party, Mosiah had heard Prince Jarod say so to those gathered around him. "There is an enviable tranquility upon the faces of the stone statues, for such tranquility is incomprehensible to the living." Mosiah doubted this deeply, and he hoped it was true, that Saryon had found a way to The priest has lost faith, but he doesn't believe in this.Radisovik said Garrod had made one mistake—he was proud of the war, and he was, and if he had made another mistake, it was that in people and things, he only wanted to see what he wanted seen, not necessarily real. The stone statue of Saryon will forever watch the realm of the afterlife, the mist of the misty and changing magic boundary rolling and changing one after another. "The Borderlands, that is a peaceful and peaceful place." Prince Garald said to the people in a dignified tone. "Looking at it, no one doubts that tragedy will strike on that shore of death." Calm... Peace and tranquility... Stepping from the portal onto the sand, Mosiah was knocked down by a gust of wind. He can't see anything.The sand clung to his face, making it almost impossible to keep his eyes open.The force of the wind was unbelievably strong.Never in his life had he seen such violent thunderstorms, nor even as he had experienced the one caused by the warring Sihana. He struggled to stand up, but it was in vain, if there was not a strong hand holding him, he would have been thrown by the wind and thrown onto the beach, like those uprooted, flying around, or Like the grass wrapped around his feet. Knowing that he couldn't take it any longer, he quickly cast a magic shield around him, enveloping him and the one who saved him.In a blink of an eye, a protective cover surrounded them, and the wind was kept out. This protective cover kept them in peace. Mosiah wiped the sand from his eyes, blinking to see who saved him, and wondered how anyone was still on the border.As soon as he saw the fluttering orange silk scarf, his heart sank. "I said, old partner." An extremely familiar voice said. "Thank you so much, why didn't I think of protecting myself like this, I was blown by the wind like those grasses that didn't take root and flew everywhere, it was really enjoyable. I got a new outfit, I called it a whirlwind, you like ?"