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Aden woke up in the infirmary. It was already sunset. This time he wasn't accompanied by Laura. Instead, he was tended by one of Laura's friends who happened to be also Indry's maid. She was petite and cute with dark hair and a round heart-shaped face.

"Agnes, isn't it?" asked Aden.

She glanced once and only answered Aden with a hum.

"Thank you," Aden thanked the cute small woman who tended his wounds. She didn't reply. She just hinted with a smile. Aden didn't know what that meant.

She was one of the three Aione sisters in this village, Indry and Laura's friend—Agnes. Or so he heard. unlike Indry and Laura, she was a small woman with a small lovely face and nothing of her parts appealing to Aden —only her lovely round face.

He was a bit disappointed as he expected Indry or Laura who tend his wounds. He glanced at their tables, They looked back at him. Laura smiled and Indry gave her subtly seductive gaze. They were busy with the numerous casualties of the volunteers and villagers who defended the front yard this day.

Around the perimeter of the room, at the arranged wooden cots, some patients lie still, their faces drawn with pain, while others sit upright, conversing quietly or clutching tightly to the hands of loved ones.

In one corner, Father Edgar, acted as a skilled barber-surgeon attends to a wounded townfolk, deftly stitching a gash closed while murmuring prayers for a swift recovery. Nearby, Laura and Indry move about the room, offering comfort and tending wounds to those in need.

Shirtless, Aden rose and grabbed his tunic. His line was still full of townfolks with injuries waiting for medical care.

"Ugh," Aden gingerly slipped into his tunic, wincing as the wounds from the battle stung with pain. Although they were only cuts, scratches, and bruises, each movement was agonizing. He knew he had been lucky, but still felt grateful to be alive after such a harrowing ordeal.

"I think I should avoid returning to this place more often," Aden grumbled.

Agnes giggled as she tended to another person. She happened to hear what Aden complained about.

Aden walked out of the courthouse, looking for some fresh air. He watched the villagers gathering junk and debris in the front yard. The harpies messed up the front yard really hard. They needed them to fortify the barricade back to its former sturdy state.

In the distance, Aden saw some harpies take away their fellow wounded and dead sisters. Never had Aden seen the harpies leave a dead body of their own kind on the open more than a candlestick burn.

A golden hue of ray blinded his sight from the west. He raised his hand and tried to block it.

The sunset was on the horizon, concluding the day. The harpies were once again repelled. their new strategy foiled. They went back to their nest after collecting their wounded and dead.

⁕⁕⁕

The ground units succeed in defending the courthouse. The hwachas stood firm, unschated.

The wounds were tended and the bellies were filled. the villagers were breathing fresh air and having free time before bedtime when suddenly Agnes, wearing Aione Sister robe showed up at the doorway and clanking a glass with a fork drawing everyone's attention.

The villagers get up and walk toward the patio where Father Edgar would stand.

Aden and Maeda looked at each other in confusion.

Hjalmar saw their confused face, "It's praying time."

"Oh, I see." Aden understood and Maeda nodded.

Although Hjalmar was also not a believer of Aione just like Aden and Maeda he knew a thing or two about the Wessen culture, That's because Norden region was practically an extended Wessen continent with almost no natural barrier dividing them, and Vjord is part of Norden.

Father Edgar walked from behind them, "Why don't you lads join the prayer?" he saw their eyes and touched them gently.

Father Edgar stepped forward, his voice carrying a tone of inclusivity and understanding. "Brothers and sisters, today we gather not only as followers of Aione but as Children of The Ark. We are united in our shared humanity, our desire for peace, and our commitment to protecting our loved ones."

Aden hesitated for a moment, surprised by the invitation. He had always felt like an outsider in this part of the foreign land, his beliefs setting him apart from the majority. But now, in this moment, he felt a sense of acceptance and belonging.

Father Edgar continued, his words filled with compassion. "In the eyes of Aione, we are all equal. Our differences should not divide us, but rather, they should serve as a reminder of the rich tapestry of beliefs and perspectives that make up our community."

Father Edgar smiled warmly, his eyes reflecting a genuine understanding. "We are all children of this land, bound by our shared experiences and the love we have for our families and our village. Let us come together in prayer, seeking strength and unity."

There was nothing wrong in participating in a congregation prayer in a dire situation. They need everything they could have and a morale boost is the first thing they need to fight an enemy like the harpies.

Aden and Maeda took the corner, while Hjalmar and the others took the rear of the congregation.

Father Edgar stood at the center, his voice resonating with a sense of calm and reverence. The flickering torches cast a warm glow on the faces of those gathered, creating an atmosphere of unity and devotion.

"Dear Aione, our Lord and our Father.." Father Edgar began, his voice carrying across the front yard. "We gather here today, grateful for the blessings you have bestowed upon us. We praise your name and give thanks for the safety and protection you have granted us throughout this day."

As the prayer began, Aden observed the unique sight of the village Aionians as they bent their knees in reverence. The words of the prayer resonated deeply within each person's heart, reminding them of their common humanity and the need for compassion and understanding.

The villagers and defenders bowed their heads, their hearts filled with gratitude and reverence. They had faced the harpies with courage and determination, and they knew that their strength came from their unwavering faith in Aione.

Father Edgar continued, his words filled with sincerity and devotion. "We thank you for the strength you have given us to defend our village and protect our loved ones. We are humbled by your presence and guidance, and we ask for your continued support as we face the challenges that lie ahead."

The congregation listened intently, their hearts open to the words of Father Edgar. They knew that their faith would sustain them in the days to come, and they sought solace and reassurance in their shared prayer.

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"Grant us the wisdom to make the right decisions, the courage to face adversity, and the compassion to care for one another," Father Edgar prayed, his voice filled with conviction. "We ask for your blessings upon our village, our defenders, and all those who have been affected by the conflict with the harpies."

The villagers and defenders echoed Father Edgar's prayer in their hearts, their voices joining together in a chorus of devotion and hope. They sought strength and guidance from Aione, knowing that their faith would carry them through the darkest of times.

Praying was a reminder to Aden when he —and his army— thought they were invincible. He didn't need it back then, believing he would live forever. Until one faithful day when everything fell apart in a blink of an eye. Made him feel more vulnerable than ever before.

They were all reverently worshiping, particularly the three women, Indry, Laura, and Agnes. They covered their heads with white veils, clasped their hands on their chests, closed their eyes, and humbly bowed in prayer. Their faces reflected the joy of being in the presence of God as they praised His name and thanked Him for His mercy.

With how they perform their prayer, Aden clarified, the women and men are mixed in the congregated prayer. Unlike the church of Aione, in Lua temple, women and children pray behind the men or on the second floor. Because it was also the norm in the battlefield or defense line formation army/soldiers.

Indry knelt and whispered her prayers with little Jasmine by her side. Laura and Eugene joined in a moment of devotion while Agnes bowed her head alongside a rough-looking man.

There was nothing more irresistibly alluring to Aden than devoted loyal wives. Aden already made up his mind. He would do Laura first, as her husband looked like a meek person, and then Indry if he got a chance.

"fuckable isn't she?" a voice whispered to Aden's ear.

"Shi—," Aden startled. "Damn it old man. You spooked me!"

Old man Jed appeared out of thin air. He must've slipped his way through the crowd. The old man giggled like a mischievous kid. He managed to burst Aden's imagination bubble. Plunged him back to reality.

"I know who you are ogling at. The tall one? Ooh la la, you can make her lean on a wall or on a table, have her while she is standing from behi—"

"Seriously old man?" Aden cut in, his depraved behavior couldn't get any more perfect time. It seemed like the old man found out the subtle language between Aden and the two women.

"Yeah, I remember one of my tall glasses of a woman— Lororis's her name," He described his love interest or sex partner lively with his hand gesture.

"I don't care about her name," Aden cut again, he looked around. He wanted to move from his spot. He felt uncomfortable with the old man pesking him around with his depraved words.

Alas the front yard and the hall were too cramped and he was backed to the wall with all of the villagers praying in front of him—and Old Man Jed pesking him beside.

"she was a beauty, I can sure you. the moment you laid your eyes on her you would do anything to fuck her—anything," The old man still rambled about his long-lost love—or lust. Dwelled in his nostalgia at the wrong time and the wrong place.

"She was a tall, sultry, alluring beauty with perky tits and beautiful hair you can pull from behind. Aren't you ruhimis love to chain those women and ram them from behind?" Old man Jed's words dripped with crudeness, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous light.

Aden recoiled slightly, taken aback by the old man's brazen vulgarity. "Aren't you supposed to join them in prayer, old man?" he countered, hoping to steer the conversation away from such unsavory territory.

Jed waved his hand dismissively, letting out a hearty chuckle that seemed to reverberate through the courtyard. "Nay! I've had enough praying for one lifetime."

His eyes glinted with a confident, almost defiant spark, and a douche-like smirk played upon his weathered features.

"Of course you are," Aden rolled his eyes, exasperated by the old man's irreverent attitude.

Feeling a sense of obligation, Aden half-heartedly attempted to preach to the old man, knowing full well that his words would likely fall on deaf ears. "Aren't you supposed to prepare yourself for the... you know, the afterlife? Your time is near, old man. You should spend more time in the church."

Jed's grin widened, his expression one of smug contentment. "I am perfectly where I need to be," he declared with conviction. "I don't need forgiveness. Not from anyone, not even God. My forgiveness is not theirs to give."

Aden scoffed, unable to fathom the old man's nonchalant attitude towards matters of the soul. Just as quickly as a moment of melancholy had flickered across Jed's face, his eyes were already fixed on Indry once more, as if he were mentally undressing her with his lecherous gaze.

The exchange had been brief, but it painted a vivid picture of the contrasting perspectives that coexisted within the village's walls. Jed's unrepentant debauchery stood in stark contrast to the pious principles upheld by the faithful, creating a palpable tension that hung in the air like a thick fog.

The session continued to the forgiveness, Father Edgar sat on a simple wooden chair where the prayee stood in line and uttered—whispered—their sins in front of the Father.

Aden watched in silence. He glanced quickly at the old man. Astonished, he couldn't believe what he had seen. The old man was suddenly lost in himself, captivated by the people asking for forgiveness and the religious atmosphere that filled the air.

"Did he just pray?" Aden was curious.

The Old Man mumbled something almost inaudible. Then he went out knowing the praying session was about to end.

"don't forget to save the tall one for me, okay? Hehe."

Before leaving, Old Man Jed didn't forget to thrust his hip in the air and displayed a lewd gesture. in the middle of the praying crowd. No one noticed him because they were too preoccupied with praying.

"Just a brief moment and he is back at it again. Lua saves me from that wrinkle ballsack," Aden mumbled as he asked for protection from his God. He was left speechless by the Old Man's attitude.

"Unbelievable."

As the prayer concluded, a sense of peace settled over the congregation. They felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination, ready to face the challenges that awaited them.

Father Edgar raised his hands in a final gesture of blessing, his voice filled with gratitude. "May Aione's light shine upon us, guiding us through the trials and tribulations of tomorrow. May we find solace in our faith and strength in our unity. Amen."

"Amen!" The congregation responded. Their voices were filled with conviction and belief. They knew that with their faith in Aione, they would find the strength and resilience to overcome any obstacle that came their way.

After the evening prayer session concluded, the volunteers dispersed, returning to their respective duties, and preparing for the next day's challenges. The courtyard bustled with activity as they went about their tasks.

Aden glanced upwards, his attention drawn by a clanging sound emanating from the rooftop. There, the old man Jed was already at work, meticulously assembling the hwachas.

In the entrance, the volunteers were assembled, and Aden joined Ethan, both tasked with collecting the scattered arrows and bolts littering the ground near the courthouse neighborhood.

"So, what were you discussing with that old hog back there?" Ethan inquired, his tone light and conversational, attempting to alleviate the monotony of their task.

Aden smirked, "Just some pervert stuff."

Ethan chuckled, "Ah, yes. That skirt-chaser."

Aden furrowed his brow, puzzled. "Skirt-chaser?"

"Yeah, it's a term we use for his kind," Ethan explained his expression a mix of amusement and disdain. "They're usually old geezers, old enough to be your grandfather, chasing and bedding young girls like there's no tomorrow – thanks to the New Way abolishing the fornication law." He couldn't resist slipping in a jab at the New Way's policies.

As they prepared to gather the scattered projectiles, their banter continued, jesting about the old man Jed and the politics of the Wessen realm, their laughter punctuating the evening routine.

Aden recalled the words he had read on the old pervert's lips before leaving the courthouse: "People ask forgiveness in the church, this is where I ask forgiveness."

What was that supposed to mean? Aden curious about what was the old pervert said inaudibly.

Amid their conversation, a familiar figure approached, running toward them. It was Oliver, his breathing labored from the exertion.

"Aden!" Oliver's voice rang out, breathless and urgent, as the boy dashed towards Aden and Ethan just before they could leave the Courthouse's gate. His chest heaved with the effort of his sprint, yet his message took precedence. "Captain Willem has summoned you to the war room after you finish gathering the arrows and bolts."

Aden acknowledged the summons with a nod, his curiosity piqued as to what service the captain might require of him. "Okay, thanks," he responded, his mind already turning over the potential reasons for the unexpected summons.

With a curt nod, Oliver pivoted on his heel and made his way back to the war room, his footsteps echoing in the courtyard as he departed.

Left to their assigned task, Aden and Ethan set out across the grounds, their eyes scanning the earth for any stray arrows or bolts that had been left behind during the day's activities. The soft crunch of gravel underfoot punctuated their steps as they moved methodically, their gazes trained on the ground before them.

"Any idea what the Captain wants?" Ethan inquired, breaking the silence that had settled between them. His tone carried a hint of curiosity, tempered by a touch of wariness – for in times of conflict, a summons could herald news of grave import.

Aden shook his head, his brow furrowed in thought. "Not a clue," he admitted, his gaze momentarily lifting to scan the horizon. "But it must be important if he's calling for me specifically."

Ethan grunted in acknowledgment, his focus returning to the task at hand. They continued their search in comfortable silence, each lost in their own musings, the weight of the village's plight resting heavily upon their shoulders.

As they gathered the scattered projectiles, the ever-present threat of the harpies loomed over them like a dark cloud, a reminder of the precarious nature of their existence. Yet, despite the fear that lurked in the shadows, a flicker of hope burned bright – a belief that, through unity and resilience, they would persevere, just as their forebears had done before them.

With their task completed, Aden and Ethan made their way back to the Courthouse.

⁕⁕⁕