The heavy snow came down without mercy at the roof of the tavern, making a racket, it did. Outside was pure white, all hailing down was the cold winter.

It was frigid and dark, if not for the crackling firewood at the fireplace. The smoke rose up with a dance, heat flowed throughout the place.

With a low grunt, he checked his newly repaired armor. Darwyn looked down at his feet, gave his wrist a slight twist, then he caressed his sword before nodding.

“Wait here.” He was talking to Liliana and Shen who were sitting at the back, near the fire. Shen wrapped her slender arms around her abundant breast, while Liliana snuck beside her, shivering her teeth as she closed her eyelid.

“Y-yeah...”

“Be careful out there.”

Shen was calm as always and paid no attention to the freezing air entering her nostril, down to her lungs. With a faint smile, she added, “Don't you need any protection from the cold?”

She had heard that plate and chain armor stuck to the skin when it was cold. She worried that the same could happen to Darwyn. Shen was met with silence, and the answer that she was looking for, however, came from the pale wizard at her side.

“Don't worry... He wears something inside the armor...” Liliana jaws rattled as she struggled even to utter a coherent statement.

Shen giggled, her shoulder shaking. “I see. Then it's all good.” Liliana and Darwyn have something to safeguard themselves from the low temperature, Shen on the other hand, has nothing but her thin monk garb.

This kind of cold was still not enough for the elf. She was resistant against elemental damage, for she was a monk trained by the eldest of elves back in her country.

“I will leave.” With that, the conversation ended with him walking away. His massive body made a sound, pounding the floor with each step.

Soon, he reached for the knob before opening it. A cold gust entered the place, and it almost killed the fire.

“Ah!” Liliana, with all her might, stood up and protected the blaze from the wind, gritting her teeth and enduring the prickle at her back. Then the door closed.

“He-he-he, how heroic!” She clapped in approval at Liliana's comical antics.

“Kuh, this is nothing.” She answered grinning like she was some sort of protagonist surviving a tough fight. Seeing that, Shen chuckled.

***

As expected, the sun outside wasn't even visible and was covered in thick leaden clouds. The stone pavement was all white now, his feet left a depression through the snow.

There was no one outside, no merchant either. Not because they are slacking, but they reckon that no customer would go outside just to buy their goods.

He narrowed his vision only on the street. But from time to time, his eyes would bounce here and there to see if there was something suspicious going around.

The howling snow fell into his shoulder and helmet and shield, he shrugged them off with his hand mechanically.

A hazy silhouette raised up from the blizzard. A figure of a woman, holding a sword and scale, eyes blindfolded, but one could feel that she can see through everything. Of course, she can, she was the highest goddess of law.

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He made a gesture of adoration and respect before proceeding to walk again. The last time he came here to the church of law, he remembered it to be quite busy. But now... There was hardly any clergy at all.

Except for the two people who quickly noticed his arrival. The nun and the bishop were chatting together before looking at him with a smile.

“Quite early Darwyn!” The boastful voice came from the bishop who was stretching his arms wide open as he strode near him. His path was followed by the nun who had a soft face.

“Here I am.” His brief answer provoked laughter from the two. What was funny? He did not know. He had no idea, except for the fact he was in time and did not come late.

“Let's get started then!” The bishop led the way as he worked his legs back and forth. They arrived at the center of the church, where the pews faced the majestic mosaic glass art of Aversia.

This was the place where both mass and trails are being held depending on the day.

“If the snow maiden were kind today, you could have seen the breath-taking sight of our goddess.” The nun said as she was bragging the beauty of the mosaic.

Darwyn shot a glance at it. The snow made the art dim and dark, not befitting for the image of his goddess. “A shame.” He said from the bottom of his heart.

On the ground settled a bunch of holy symbols, scriptures, and catalysts. There are tons of them, too many to count. All of them were necessary components for what he will do today.

“I will do the rest from here. Thank you.” He bowed deeply to the two.

They stared at each other, flabbergasted at his action. “No need Darwyn. It's only our duty.” The bishop was clearly not used to this. His behavior earned a sigh from the nun as she pulled him by his collar.

“We're leaving now okay? If it's you, I know you can pull it up.” She said, dragging the bishop with all of her force.

“Let go of me you wrench!”

“Oh, I will! I will break your neck!”

Their banter reverberated through the empty church, and as they go farther, so their voice was.

Darwyn observed the two until they made their way to the door, still arguing about something he cannot hear. Now that the two were gone, he has to do his work now.

It was so quiet that even his breathing was practically loud as a war drum. It was howling outside.

He kneeled facing the stained glass artwork somberly, then his gauntlet moved to pick and arranged the materials below.

His hands were deft and waste no time assorting what was before him. After finishing that, his eyes closed behind his visor.

Darwyn focused all his senses, then slowly and calmly, he exhaled.

And from here, he has to recite all the prayers he knew, all the prayers there was. His mind traced back his memories from back when he was still young and innocent. To where his only trouble was what to eat and how to play.

Faces of his childhood friends, his mother, resurfaced with a crystal clear image.

With a holy symbol in his hand, he began casting all the miracles he has for today.

“Aversia, preserver of law. May your presence come down, and we shall shower from its grace. Purify.” One.

“Aversia, preserver of law. Have mercy on the souls of the innocents, lend us the shield of righteousness. Protection” Two.

“Aversia, preserver of law. Provide me with your holiness to defeat the evil before me. Holy Light.” Three.

He expended them all, one after another. But the usual effect of the miracles was none, only a glint of light heading towards above.

“Aversia, preserver of law. May your gentle hand touch this feeble one's soul. Heal.” Four.

Still no magical happening, yet, he did not stop. To his fifth and sixth, seventh and eighth, ending at his eleventh and twelfth miracle.

Sweat pouring at his neck, it was getting harder to breathe. He gulped down, his throat was itchy and dry. His lips brittle, his head aching.

The blizzard came harder as the particles of snow tapped the stained glass and the closed windows.

His hand went for the quill and ink and sheepskin without looking at it.

Then he wrote at the paper viscously. His eyes were white—it was glowing, literally. The light that came inside his visor lit the dark place.

He couldn't see anything, except for the words that were appearing inside his mind. This was it. It was the message from his goddess

Darwyn was writing the divination down precisely, making sure that no information would go unnoticed. The quill jolted up and down, the ink splattered across the ground, across the paper.

His lungs begun to hurt as if he was inhaling fire. His ragged breath created fog repeatedly.

It was hard to write, difficult to see the dazzling words, his hands were shaking violently and his feet went numb.

The only thing that was still fine was his will. Even his mental state was slowly chipping away each second.

This was the power of Aversia, one of the higher gods that observed, not only this material plane but the whole universe, too.

It went on for hours without a break. And when he finally finished, his body could no longer keep up. Like a puppet losing all its string all at once, Darwyn collapsed on the floor, his armor made a sharp metallic sound.

He has no memories of what he had seen in the revelation. Not that it matters since he wrote all of it down.

It was supposed to be winter, but to him, it was burning hot. He wobbly stood at his feet, almost crawling. Darwyn tried to steady his body, but it would not listen at all.

The sword and scale at his hand turned grey, the materials beside the paper were reduced to ash.

“...” The grunt that he usually let out would not come out, but instead, a hot air escaped his mouth.

What was written inside the paper? He was curious, and he looked... It was nothing but incomprehensible. The black liquid whisked every way at every angle. So it was a success. He thought.

It was the words of Aversia herself, and he properly noted what she wanted to say. Now it's up to the bishop to interpret this.

He curved his body to pick up the piece of paper—he collapsed. Darwyn fell straight into the floor. Clang. His hand did not even reach the sheepskin.

This was the price he had to pay that the bishop had told him about. Darwyn was left, all alone. Only the cacophony of the weather rustled, covering the sound of his still-beating heart.