The knight had fallen silent for some time now. Father Tremo was uncertain as to what to do or even expect next. Should he ask the knight to continue or stay silent? Should he use the time for a small silent prayer, thanking the Lord that this knight hadn’t killed him yet? But eventually, he only thought about what the stranger had told him until now.

Tremo didn’t understand how a seemingly pious man like Rosomil, if this was truly the Divine Lord's true name, could become a tyrant. How could he throw away his good goals and morals and become the absolute opposite?

Suddenly, the knight let out a worn sigh. Tremo flinched and looked at the man concerned.

“One more”, the stranger murmured, sounding bitter but also relieved.

“Sire?” Tremo inquired in a hoarse whisper. “I-is something the matter?”

“Do you have something to drink?” the knight asked and turned to face him, with the living shadows hiding his face underneath the cowls.

“Water”, he answered, tense. “I’ll get you some spring water.”

“Much Appreciated.”

Without hesitation, Father Tremo stood up, picked up the empty bowl of the stranger and went past him. The spring was close by, but far enough for the moon to be the only light source left. Once he stepped outside the light of the fire, Tremo felt easier in mind and body. Still, the presence of the knight loomed behind him like a noxious cloud. It would be easy to just go. To leave, but Tremo couldn’t. The knight had offered him a meal he hadn’t had in weeks, if not months. And he told him the story about the Divine Lord. Something no one had heard before.

“But why?” he murmured. “To what end?”

It seemed utterly insane for a knight of the Divine Lord to betray his master like this. After all, Tremo couldn’t imagine him to be happy about this being shared. Perhaps there was unrest within the vile ranks of the Divine Lord. An insurrection subtlety brewing right beneath his eyes but invisible to him.

“Oh, Lord, I’m part of this now”, Tremo realised and felt icy cold.

But wasn’t he already a target of the Divine Lord due to being one of, if not the last, Franciscan still alive in the country? He couldn’t hope to run and hide forever. Maybe it was best for him to join this knight. At least he seemed charitable enough.

Feeling lost, Father Tremo arrived at the spring and went towards sparkling water. After he drank some himself, he looked at the reflection of the moon on the clear water, which filtered in mesmerising patterns through the leaves of the trees. It was a beautiful small moment Tremo usually cherished as it showed him that the true Lord was still there. That He was still allowing beauty to exist despite the darkness suffocating the land. But this wasn’t enough. If there was no one opposing the Divine Lord, he would sully even this last remnant of beauty. How could God let this happen?

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“No, Tremo, don’t abandon all hope”, he reminded himself. “The world might appear like Hell overtook the Earth, but this is still Earth. There has to be hope.”

With a serious expression, he filled the bowl with the clear water and returned slowly to the fire. The knight sat where he had left him. But this time there was a dark spot between the armoured feet of the man. It looked like blood.

“Sire?” Tremo asked, uncertain, and stepped towards the knight. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine”, he replied with an audible wavering smile, while covering the splotch by his feet with dirt. “No need to concern yourself with my health, little brother. Just give me the water.”

Reluctant, he closed the distance and gave him the bowl. The knight took it with a thanks and drank from it without the shadow lifting from his face. Tremo waited until the knight had emptied it and gave it back.

“I-I know of some medical herbs growing close by, should you need them, Sire”, he said, concerned.

“Herbs won’t help me, little brother”, he replied and stifled a cough. “It’s temporary for now. So… You can do me a greater service by listing to the story I’m telling you and committing it to memory.”

Father Tremo moved back to where he had sat and looked at the fire. At the same time, the knight cleared his throat and continued his tale.

—

Silence to the mind is like a festering wound to the body. And thusly Rosomil’s mind weakened, slow but steady. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide his affliction from the man closest to him. A man by the name of Lodwin.

They both were of the same age and found within a week from each other by the Crimson Hand. Due to those similarities and their shared wish to save those unfortunate people, who suffer like they did, they grew fast very close. And not only did they found solace within each other, but they also completed each other in different aspects. While Rosomil was distant to most, Lodwin was warm and welcoming, easing those they saved into accepting their aid. While Rosomil was conniving and preferring to accomplish his goals through his mind, Lodwin was strong and direct, preferring to approach all dangers head on. Their bond was so obvious that even the Order took note and ordained them both as sworn brothers in the fight against evil.

So, Lodwin felt the despair growing in Rosomil and asked him one day in private about his sorrows. At first, Rosomil feigned ignorance. He told him that everyone had days they felt down and that he needn’t concern himself with him. Lodwin accepted his words, but he did continue to worry. Especially once the Skin-Bound Tome had come into the Order's possession, he felt new waves of despair creeping over his sworn brother.

The book slowly but steadily took up all of Rosomil’s thoughts, while its secrets eluded him ever more. Lodwin tried to take his sworn bother’s mind off the book, but he failed.

In an attempt to get the heads of the Crimson Hand to consider burning the Skin-Bound Tome, he appealed to them and described his observations of Rosomil and the book. In the end, a partial investigation took place, much to Rosomil’s dismay, who felt betrayed by Lodwin. But the investigation found no active demonic influences emitting from the book and gave it back to Rosomil. Still, the damage was done and distrust spread like a subtle poison between them.

Furious, he faced Lodwin and told him off, saying that it was his burden as God had seen fit to bestow upon him. Still, Lodwin told Rosomil that he was on a dangerous path considering his obsession with the book. Rosomil, not wanting to hear about it, forbade Lodwin and their other companions to enter the room with the book. He yielded, but only with a heavy heart.

But Lodwin didn’t remain idle. Again he went to the heads of his Order but was rebuffed yet again. The Skin-Bound Tome needed to be studied and deciphered. They told him much the same his sworn brother had said, that it had been God's will for Rosomil to find and secure the book, and thusly he had to carry the burden on his own. Again furious but at his wits end, Lodwin yielded.