“How is O’ Brian,” asked Wilson to the group.

“He’s still recovering. I’m not sure if he is awake or not,” replied Greg.

“That’s good.” Wilson paused. “So, you said you needed me. What is this about?”

“We need to move forward with plans to get rid of Priest Damon,” said Taylor. “After Ash did what she did we don’t have much time before he cracks down on all of us. We need to gather the evidence of every bad thing we can and present it so that he can be dealt with.”

“He will be distracted by the events of the wedding, and we can further disrupt him while you sneak into his office and grab whatever incriminating evidence you can find.”

“What if the evidence isn’t in his office?” asked Wilson.

“It will be in there. Trust me,” said Greg.

"We need a solid plan. The wedding will be crowded, which works in our favor. We can blend in easily, but we must be vigilant,” said Brad.

Taylor nodded; her expression serious. "I'll be near the main hall, listening in on the guests. People tend to talk more freely at celebrations. It's the perfect chance to catch any slip-ups or mentions of Damon's misdeeds. If there is anyone else involved in covering up for him we will know."

Greg added, "Brad and I will handle the mingling. We'll keep the guests engaged and try to steer the conversations towards Damon. It’s crucial we pick up on any discontent or past incidents that haven’t come to light yet."

“Fine, then I'll take the riskiest part—sneaking into Damon’s office. We believe he keeps a private journal. If we can get our hands on that, it might just have the evidence we need."

"Let's talk timing," Brad interjected. "I propose we execute our individual tasks during the peak of the reception when Damon is most likely to be occupied."

"Agreed," said Taylor. "And we should have a subtle signal, just in case someone runs into trouble or discovers something critical. Maybe a simple hand gesture or an uncommon phrase dropped into conversation. He will be most busy when he is brought to the front of the church and everyone’s eyes will be on him."

“Most of all we must be careful,” said Greg.

"We meet back here, no matter what," Brad stated firmly. "We’ll review everything we’ve gathered and plan our next move. It’s crucial that we keep this information secure until we have a full picture of what we’re dealing with."

“Tomorrow the event starts early. Let’s all get a good night’s sleep,” said Taylor.

A small procession rode through the street. The morning of the wedding arrived, and the bustling town was alive with excitement. The streets were adorned with colorful banners and flowers, as people from all walks of life gathered to witness the grand event. The church, an imposing structure with intricate stained-glass windows and towering spires, stood at the heart of the town, ready to host the momentous occasion.

Priest Damon, a stern-faced man with graying hair and piercing eyes, emerged from the orphanage, his brow furrowed with frustration. He had spent the morning dealing with the unruly children, their laughter and mischief grating on his nerves. As he made his way towards the church, his thoughts were consumed by the impending wedding and the need to maintain his façade of piety and righteousness.

The crowd outside the church grew larger by the minute, a sea of faces filled with anticipation. Nobles in their finest attire mingled with commoners, their differences momentarily forgotten in the shared joy of the occasion. The air was filled with the gentle strains of music, as minstrels and bards entertained the gathering with their songs and tales.

Inside the church, the atmosphere was one of reverence and solemnity. The altar was adorned with fragrant flowers and glowing candles, casting a warm light upon the sacred space. The pews were filled with guests, their whispers and murmurs echoing off the stone walls. Among the crowd, Taylor, Greg, Brad, and Wilson blended in seamlessly, their eyes and ears alert for any signs of Damon's misdeeds.

Priest Damon met with guests and spoke in casual conversation describing his time maintaining the orphanage and his other public works. Unbeknownst to Damon, Taylor, Greg, Brad, and Wilson were already in motion, their plan unfolding with precision. Taylor lingered near the main hall, her keen ears picking up snippets of conversation, searching for any mention of Damon's misdeeds. Greg and Brad mingled with the guests, their easy smiles and engaging manner masking their true purpose. And Wilson, with the skill of a seasoned thief, slipped away from the crowd and made his way towards Damon's office, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear.

The others waited and listened. Brad started to find the conversations dull and boring. The adults often talked of business or trade. The fact that they were there and had to interact with Priest Damon seemed to be a formality. It seemed like few cared to interact with Priest Damon on a personal level. He was starting to think that this part of the plan. Based on the looks from the others they though similarly. No one was just going to causally go out and say how terrible Priest Damon was.

Even in the gossiping circles around Taylor the name barely came up and only to discuss his aloofness. Taylor grew frustrated.

Outside the church Wilson returned to the orphanage. He watched the other kids go by and looked out for where the kitchen ladies might be. When the time was right he went for Priest Damon’s office. He started lock picking.

Wilson's heart raced as he carefully maneuvered the lock pick, his fingers trembling slightly with each delicate movement. The soft click of the lock yielding to his efforts was like a symphony to his ears. With a final twist, the door to Priest Damon's office swung open, revealing the dimly lit room beyond.

Slipping inside, Wilson gently closed the door behind him, his eyes scanning the space for any signs of the incriminating evidence they so desperately needed. The office was meticulously organized, with towering bookshelves lining the walls and a large, imposing desk dominating the center of the room. The air was heavy with the scent of old parchment and the faint aroma of incense.

Wilson moved swiftly, his footsteps muffled by the plush carpet beneath his feet. He approached the desk, his hands roving over the polished surface, searching for any hidden compartments or locked drawers. His fingers brushed against a small, ornate key, tucked discreetly beneath a stack of papers. With a triumphant smile, he retrieved the key and began his search in earnest.

The desk drawers yielded little of interest, filled with mundane correspondence and administrative documents. Wilson's frustration mounted as he rifled through the papers, his hope of finding the smoking gun they needed slowly fading. He turned his attention to the bookshelves, scanning the titles for any hint of Damon's misdeeds.

As he pulled a particularly ancient tome from the shelf, a small, leather-bound journal tumbled to the floor, its pages yellowed with age. Wilson's heart leapt as he scooped up the journal, his fingers trembling with anticipation as he flipped through the pages. The entries were written in Damon's own hand, a testament to his innermost thoughts and secrets.

But as Wilson read on, his excitement turned to disappointment. The journal entries were vague and cryptic, alluding to events and individuals he couldn't quite place. There were hints of wrongdoing, whispers of corruption, but nothing concrete, nothing that would definitively prove Damon's guilt.

“There is nothing.” Wilson pulled back realizing that he knew nothing. “Why did I even do this for them. I should get out of here before Priest Grant finds me.”

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Realizing that time was running short, Wilson hastily replaced the journal and the key, ensuring that everything was exactly as he had found it. He slipped out of the office, his heart heavy with the weight of his failure. As he made his way back to the others, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something, that the key to unraveling Damon's web of deceit lay just beyond their grasp.

Rejoining his companions, Wilson shook his head, his expression crestfallen. "I found nothing," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just hints and whispers, but nothing solid. I fear we may need to dig deeper, to look beyond the obvious if we hope to bring Damon to justice."

Taylor, Greg, and Brad exchanged glances, their own efforts having yielded similarly disappointing results. They knew that their quest for the truth would not be an easy one, that they would need to be patient, to bide their time until the right opportunity presented itself.

As the wedding celebration continued around them, the four friends huddled together, their determination unshaken by the setbacks they had faced. They knew that they could not rest until Priest Damon was exposed for the fraud he was, until the orphanage and the town were free from his corrupting influence.

“What do we do?” asked Greg. “We have nothing on Priest Damon. Otherwise, it is just us versus him.”

They paused in thought. At this point Priest Damon was mid ceremony and the crowd was deep in the day’s event. Brad looked around. None of the other orphan children had stuck around at the event. They were starting to stick out. The others had returned to the orphanage.

“What are we doing here?” Brad asked the group.

“What?” Greg turned confused.

“Exactly what I said. Why are we here? Everyone we care about is back at the orphanage. Nothing else matters.” He turned to Wilson. “You said that it was ‘us versus him’. Well, there are a lot more of us than of him back at the orphanage. Each with many experiences and stories of what he has done. Those who have graduated out of the orphanage may have forgotten but we still remember and experience those events.”

Dejected but not defeated, Taylor, Greg, Brad, and Wilson made their way back to the orphanage, their minds racing with the realization that they had been approaching their problem from the wrong angle. As they walked through the familiar halls, the sounds of laughter and chatter from the other orphans filled their ears, a stark reminder of the community they had been overlooking.

"We've been so focused on finding evidence against Priest Damon that we forgot about the most important thing—our family here at the orphanage," Taylor said, her voice filled with a newfound determination.

Greg nodded in agreement. "Each one of us has a story to tell, an experience that could help expose Damon for who he really is. We need to come together, to share our truths and find strength in our unity."

In the midst of their revelations, a gentle knock at the door caught their attention. Priest Grant, a newer addition to the church, stood at the threshold, his kind eyes filled with concern and compassion.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," Priest Grant said softly, stepping into the room. “ I am here to help. I was sent to watch over him and report if I found anything," Priest Grant revealed, his voice calm and reassuring. The four children looked at him with a mix of surprise and relief, realizing that they had an unexpected ally in their quest for justice.

Priest Grant continued, "The church has long suspected that something was amiss with Priest Damon's leadership of the orphanage. Whispers of his cruelty and neglect have reached the ears of those in power, but without solid evidence, they have been unable to act without my experience and reports."

Taylor, her eyes wide with newfound hope, spoke up, "Priest Grant, we've been trying to gather proof of Damon's misdeeds, but we've hit a dead end. We thought we could find something at the wedding, but we came up empty-handed."

Priest Grant nodded; his expression thoughtful. "I understand your frustration, but you must remember that the truth often lies in the experiences of those who have suffered under Damon's rule. Your fellow orphans, both past and present, hold the key to unmasking his true nature. Today there is more than just the nobles visiting from out of the city. Today I bring my final report on Damon. With your testimonies it will be greatly supported."

Greg, his brow furrowed, asked, "But how do we get them to come forward? Many of them are afraid of Damon, afraid of the consequences of speaking out against him."

Priest Grant placed a comforting hand on Greg's shoulder. "Fear is a powerful tool, but it can be overcome by the strength of unity. If you can show your fellow orphans that they are not alone, that there are others who share their pain and their desire for change, they will find the courage to speak their truth."

Brad, his voice filled with determination, declared, "We need to gather everyone together, to create a safe space where they can share their stories without fear of retribution. We can start with those who are still at the orphanage and then reach out to those who have left."

Wilson, who had been quietly listening, added, "And we can document everything, create a record of the abuse and neglect that Damon has inflicted upon us. With enough evidence, even the church will have to take action."

Priest Grant smiled, his eyes shining with pride at the children's resilience and determination. "You have a wise plan, my young friends. I will do everything in my power to support you, to ensure that your voices are heard, and that justice is served."

“I’ll get everyone together and we will share everything,” said Greg firmly.

It took an hour of hurried preparation but they each took to some of the orphans and chatted with them. Their words were recorded and prepared for presentation. The issues ranged from mundane to awful. They listened intently and were empathetic. Some after listening to their speeches decided to speak directly to Priest Grant. They were encouraged to do so.

Priest Grant kept his own set of notes on the issues and happily listened to those that visited them. Brad and Greg looked out the window across to the church where the wedding’s events were still being held. It was a reminder to move quickly.

Children gathered in the common room of the orphanage, a sense of unity and purpose filled the air. Taylor, Greg, Brad, and Wilson stood at the front; their faces etched with determination as they prepared to hear the stories of their fellow orphans. Priest Grant sat in the corner, his pen poised over a notebook, ready to document the testimonies that would finally bring Priest Damon's misdeeds to light.

One by one, the children stepped forward, their voices trembling with a mix of fear and courage. Emma, a timid girl of twelve, spoke first, her eyes brimming with tears as she recounted the countless nights she had gone to bed hungry, the meager rations provided by Priest Damon barely enough to sustain her growing body. She spoke of the times she had been forced to clean the church floors until her hands were raw and bleeding, all while Damon watched with a cruel smile on his face.

Next came Jack, his voice filled with anger as he described the beatings he had endured at Damon's hands. He showed the scars that crisscrossed his back, the result of Damon's leather strap, wielded with a fury that seemed to know no bounds. He spoke of the fear that gripped the orphanage, the way the children would cower in the shadows, praying that they would not be the next to face Damon's wrath.

As the stories continued, a pattern began to emerge. Tales of neglect, abuse, and cruelty, each one painting a picture of a man who had long ago abandoned his vows of compassion and kindness. The children spoke of the times they had been denied the comfort of a healer's touch for a time. Damon hoarded the resources meant for their growth and development.

Throughout it all, Priest Grant listened, his pen scratching furiously across the pages of his notebook. He asked gentle questions, probing for details that would strengthen the case against Damon. The children, emboldened by the presence of their allies, spoke with a newfound clarity and conviction, their voices rising in a chorus of truth and justice.

As the last child finished their testimony, a heavy silence fell over the room. Taylor, her eyes shining with unshed tears, stepped forward, her voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you," she said, her gaze sweeping over the gathered orphans. "Thank you for your bravery, for your willingness to speak out against the injustices we have all suffered. Your stories will not be forgotten, and together, we will ensure that Priest Damon faces the consequences of his actions."

Priest Grant rose from his seat, his expression solemn as he addressed the children. "Your testimonies have been recorded, and they will be presented to the church authorities. I promise you that your voices will be heard, and that Priest Damon will be held accountable for his crimes. You have shown incredible strength and courage today, and I am proud to stand with you in this fight for justice. For now, return to your duties. I have some people to meet with. He won’t be allowed reentry into this building while our friends cooking meals are watching over you."

Priest Grant hurried to leave to deliver his report. As he left Brad, Greg, Taylor, and Wilson turned to each other. Their faces showed something that wasn’t quite victory. Not yet anyway.

“We did it,” said Greg. “We actually did it.”

Taylor nodded, "It's a start," she said, her voice filled with determination. "But we can't rest yet. We need to make sure that Priest Grant's report is taken seriously, that the church authorities act on the evidence we've gathered."

“It will be,” said Brad. “I’m sure of it.”

Wilson, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, his voice filled with a quiet strength. "We'll face whatever comes together," he said, his gaze sweeping over his friends. "We've come this far, and we won't back down now. We owe it to ourselves, and to every child who has ever suffered under Damon's rule, to see this through to the end."

"And just think, once Damon is gone, we can start to make some real changes around here. It will be how it was meant to be,” said Greg.

“We just have to remember,” said Brad, “that we did this together.”