In a letter, Yviev shared all the things that happened during the past year or so; for her, things remained more or less the same, though her time was spent in deep study at all times. The hospital and her work there consumed most of her time.

It was difficult, not less so than before; by now, it was possibly even more difficult. Since as one works at a hospital, death becomes an impending reality and a great possibility for all those around you.

Most of the time, surely your patient will survive through the process of healing, but it could not; it would not happen each time. Thus, one becomes far too familiar with death. No matter how hard she tried at times, death was what would claim some of her patients, so it was up to her to deal with that death and share such news with the family of the one who was now lost.

At times, one would feel like a murderer for being unable to save a life; sometimes, she would blame only herself for the outcome that was predetermined. The reality was that there would be times when you could do nothing but witness as life ended. Stops.

Professor Forsvarn did offer some guidance with the matter, but her words were always harsh and lacking in understanding of another human: “You will get used to it.”

Sure, it might be so. One might become numb to death—numb to the grief and feelings of failure that one would have to go through over and over again. But for Yviev, it had been just the first year or so. To develop such numbness, it takes time.

Otherwise, her life was the same, though now her living quarters were in a different part of the campus, near the hospital, and her room was no better than during her time as a student. But it did not matter, as she slowly but surely learned more of the things that she wanted to learn.

Truthfully, she knew nothing—not enough. More time is needed. Perhaps decades to first understand and know at least a little, and then to master her craft; all would take time. To become numb; to become a master; to fulfill one’s own foolish decisions.

Reading through her letter, there were no mentions of Yirn or the things that had transpired—the death of her fiancee, everything. The same was true of Kanrel’s letter; he felt that there was no reason to bring up this topic—to let memories flaunt their way through and cause even more pain. Yet she probably suffered through such thoughts as much as Kanrel did; she just chose not to share those feelings. It was her right not to.

In Kanrel’s understanding, Yviev was a brave woman and a talented priest, perhaps more so than he was. And her choice to continue working and learning at the hospital was noble; perhaps through this, she had arbitrarily proved that she would not break, that she would defy the suffering, the torment that she carried on her shoulders and in her heart.

Kanrel wished that she would be here with him. He wished that there would be someone more brave than him to help him carry this burden—this truth that had begun unraveling itself before him.

The Cult of the Hanged God and the new information that he had begun reading through held things that were not for the faintest of hearts. It wasn’t the belief itself that was evil, but the actions committed by those who believed.

Is it not a choice a man has to make—the choice between obvious evil and good? In which world is murder for the righteous? And if that world was this one, why was it allowed? Why did it become so?

As a man who was familiar with history and how and why that history was written, it was apparent that there was no kingdom, no people, no human, or anything else that could be far above anyone when it came to the deeds that had been committed. Be it for peace, for desire, for power, for love, or for anything that has ever been done.

Murder, war, torture, and tyranny—all these things were at the centerfold of all history. Humans were by nature neither good nor evil; they just were. In nature, there is no such thing as evil or good. Therefore, humans have to choose good over evil, lest they become monsters, no better than the Wildkin thousands of years before.

Sometimes it might be so difficult to differentiate between the two; evil can be so alluring and so beautiful; this one lie produced by another. And goodness can seem hard—more difficult than that which seems easy at first.

And the members of this cult chose evil. To justify this evil, they quote the evils committed by the Priesthood, blaming them for corruption, for falsifying records, and adamantly claiming that their god was the true god.

Surely, such rhetoric was correct then, but not anymore. Surely, the Priesthood and the Kingdom which both support each other, have changed for the better as times have changed. There was no more slavery, there were no more witch hunts, and the people were more equal than they had ever been.

There were no more wars, no more tyranny. Of course, things are not perfect, but that is only because things can never become perfect. Humanity could only strive for that perfection—to try building a utopia for all of mankind. But to achieve such a thing, it could only be possible if the Angels themselves came down from the heavens and forced it upon humanity through tyranny.

And the Angels would never do such a thing, for they were the only things with inherent goodness to them, for they were above nature. Or so Kanrel believed.

Thus spring came and went as he read and traveled through the forests, trying to find these ruins but not once seeing anything related to them. There were no more masks, no more hunts—just the writings that spoke of these things.

But it did make sense, for most of the records describing such events were from decades ago. The last time a “hunt” had happened was when Rant’s wife, Betty, had lost her head.

In early autumn, during the first harvest, officials from the Kingdom and the Priesthood conducted a survey and brought four letters: one for the mayor, one for Kanrel, and the last two as potential mandates to be given after the survey.

First, they came to meet Kanrel, for even if Ulken Reven was the self-proclaimed mayor of Jersten, he remained above him in station and importance.

The guards surrounded the temple, not allowing anyone uninvolved to enter, while the officials all entered. They stood valiantly, holding their swords, without moving even an inch. It made one wonder: when was the last time anyone in this village had seen a real soldier?

The two priests and the two officials who came with him were unknown to him. They seated themselves on the table while Kanrel served what little tea he could produce in such a short period of time.

The two priests didn’t even take a sip out of their teas, for obvious reasons, and the two officials looked around the room in great curiosity. Perhaps it was to wonder in what kind of living conditions the son of the Herald lives.

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“It is assumed that we can skip pleasantries?” Asked one of the priests; she had taken out a notebook and pen, which she carefully placed on the table. She opened the notebook on an empty set of pages, pressing down on the paper so it would not close on itself.

She was an older woman and one who probably frequented such expeditions to different parts of the kingdom. She seemed to have a pedantic way of doing things.

Kanrel took out his own notebook, perhaps in retaliation, and prepared to write things down as well. “If I might at least receive your names,” he said, looking at the woman who was across him.

“I am Jenru Kirdia, and my colleagues for this survey are as follows: Erik Uksio, Terent Oldurian, and Resha Kairen,” she said, introducing each of them with a point of her finger.

Erik was a younger man, another priest, and one who seemed not less pedantic than his co-worker. Terent was a noble of the Oldurian family, perhaps the oldest person in the room and the one who held the most authority and knowledge when it came to investing and the economics of the Kingdom.

Resha seemed to be Terent’s aid, either way, an official.

Kanrel wrote down their names. “A survey, you say? I did not expect such a thing so early.”

Jenru scoffed. “You may blame the Herald; they had wished for us to take action the same day they had received a letter from you.” She carefully observed Kanrel as he wrote things into his notes.

“Alas, we don’t have much time, so we will go through with the survey; this will take perhaps a week, perhaps more, depending on our findings. No one is to intrude or get in our way; all such things will be taken into account after the fact.” Jenru explained.

“Any questions?”

Kanrel stared at his notes for a moment, then looked up. “How is she? I’ve not seen her for over a year.”

Jenru scoffed once more. “They seem fine, and they sent a letter with us. Is this all?”

“Yes.”

Jenru got up and picked up her things. “Then we will begin our mission here; you can find us at the local tavern if you have further questions. This is all.”

And as quickly as they had entered, they departed. There wasn’t much regard given to him, but it was no wonder; they would not have much time to go through with their survey and then make it back to the capital before the winter arrived.

On the table, there were now many things he would have to deal with: four cups of tea left with their contents; his notebook and pen; and lastly, a letter that he would have to go through and then write a reply to before the end of the week.

He let out a long sigh and got to it. There was no reason not to, so he cleaned the cups and soon read through the letter.

It was mostly his mother asking about his well-being, commenting on the things he had gone through, and agreeing with the problems of a village that had been neglected for over a decade. She expressed that she was to be partially blamed for this neglect, but what is she to do when resources are being spread far more thinly than one might think?

Neither the Priesthood nor the Kingdom have unlimited supplies or wealth, and one would always have to decide where to spend more of their budget and where to spend less.

In the end, people would suffer, and some areas would receive less help. This was something they would not be able to change. Only with unlimited wealth could they maybe try achieving a utopia where no one would be left behind and where everyone was equal. And even then, they would not have enough people with the adequate set of skills and education to take care of the many positions that would try to guarantee this utopia.

Sadly, Kanrel could only agree with this. Most would, for even with such thoughts of utopia, even if humanity reached such a utopia, it would surely slowly dwindle, slowly becoming the opposite of the thing it sought to become. Corruption is the law supreme, and people will always find it difficult to choose good over evil.

Life would continue even then. And everything would happen again; there would be a desire for a utopia; people would fight for it and try earnestly to reach it; then some, in the end, would choose evil over good. Corruption comes at the cost of others.

The survey sought to understand and map out the possibilities of new industries entering the area by tapping untapped resources that were around the village. The forests, with their wood and things one might forage, the fertile land, which produced plenty of grain and other things to feed the village.

The stone and the different types that could be found around the area, and even the possibility of mining. The area had not been searched before, so there was a possibility of finding rare ores such as copper, iron, and silver, and maybe even gold.

Finding ore was something that might happen gradually, so first one had to investigate the possibilities of other industries and for how long they could produce things during the year or cycle of harvest. They were far up north, after all.

During the next two weeks, Kanrel found himself again frequenting Vien’s tavern, taking part in interviews with many of the villagers, mainly as someone who could provide further knowledge about the people, their property, and so forth. His words, at least, had some value, and even his surprising knowledge of the forests around the village was welcomed.

Jenru and her colleagues and aides go to witness a part of the harvest, including how their crop rotations were set up and which crops worked best on the land they toiled on. This was all valuable information, as Terent had a far greater understanding of such things than even some of the villagers who worked on the fields.

The old nobleman gave some tips to the local farmers on how they could further enhance their crop production and the fertility of the land. He seemed like an outstanding man, and he seemed not to care much if he got dirty while inspecting the lands or that which the lands produced.

He was the total opposite of a noble that Kanrel had learned about during his time at the academy. There seemed to be a reason why he had worked for multiple monarchs in his lifetime as an important advisor.

But things remained uncertain as the two weeks went by; there had been lots of data collected and conclusions drawn from said data, yet not a word muttered or shared from the priests and officials that had surveyed the lands and its people.

Kanrel could only hope that this village, which he could almost call home, would receive the funding it needed and the status of a town, which would benefit it for years to come.