We march out of the forest with minimal danger. The animals keep their distance but disperse once we reach the last tree line. Without a God to mettle with this forest, it’ll gradually return to its original state.

The dirt road shepherds us to the town of Landan. Sharpened lumber buried in the surroundings of the town provides a minor defense against bandits. Though I wonder if there would be any bandits that have their eyes on this place. Landan doesn’t look ripe for pillaging.

Located outside of the wall are two lumber cabins. Having collected the wood, the lumberers work to strip it bare and chop it into firewood. They’re diligent workers, but it seems like they’re running on fumes.

Besides the lumberers, there is no one else in sight but the two guards by the town gate. From their listless expression, it must be an incredibly slow day. The edge of their chest plates gathers rust. The gate they protect points towards the forest, without a sight of life roaming in these woods.

By the time we arrived at the gate, it’s already open. The guards spotted us coming and recognized Mercy and my (technically her) cloak. We pass through without an issue.

“It is nice to see you again, Sister Mercy,” one of them greets.

“Hello, Jaune. Hello, Hanen. It is good to see you.”

The dirt road follows into the town as if to loathe me, picking up more soil with every step. One quick look around at the buildings shows where the stones have gone. Locked to the ground by a rocky base, they built houses upon this platform with oak wood. Squared windows add to the simple design, sparing more materials to be used to build more houses instead of decorating.

Up ahead is the marketplace, but it’s scanty. The only merchants are the ones who live here. The withdrawal of Landao has affected the numbers of travelers. It’s expected. A town without resources to survive on its own isn’t exactly a hot spot. If they can endure for a couple more years, this area would eventually settle back to normal.

Mercy glances back at me on multiple occasions as I soak in this scenery. I wonder if she believes I can solve this issue? It’s true if I used my presence, but the cycle would remain.

‘This is what happens when you rely on the Gods.’

One merchant glimpses at Mercy and waves. “You’re back! Were you able to see the Goddess?”

It appears I was too keen on leaving the forest. I forgot to force Mercy into a ‘word oath’ for the secrecy of my identity. Then again, she assumed I was hiding when she gave me her cloak. Now, I ponder on whether she’s willing to tell this man the truth? Lying is a sin after all, and a woman of Faith must never practice it.

Mercy seals her lips; her brows illustrate the storm inside her head. Another smile sneaks upon my lips.

‘How amusing.’

“No, I didn’t,” she says in defeat.

“Damn,” the man groans. “I expected that result, anyway. We haven’t seen her in years. Oh, well. So, are you interested in anything?”

Mercy browses his wares and ends up with a conclusion. “Nothing today, An An.”

He swings his arm in mock anger—what an eccentric man. After one conversation, another pops up a second after. In a dried-up region like this, seeing a Sister must count as a blessing. Even so, I didn’t foresee the warm reception.

Didn’t she mention the Temple Monks before? The details about her are too specific that it keeps triggering foggy memories. But the fog… it’s so thick. Each grasp for recollection is a futile attempt. There are no lesser gods who’d be able to place this hex on me.

‘Why was I chosen? As much as I’d like to assume that it’s all a cruel joke, my instinct pleads with me not to stray onto that path. Who would break the Code for a simple joke?’

“Hello, Dear Sister,” a woman with gaunt cheeks greets as she walks towards me.

I frown, ready to lash at this human for addressing me with such an inferior status. Mercy steps in between us, cutting me off from berating.

“Hello, miss Reilly. Our Dear Sister is currently under a silent oath, so she cannot respond, but I’m sure she’s happy to see you.”

‘A silent oath?’

A soft chuckle. I suck in my pride and wave at the woman. She beams back before placing her hands together and mutters, “I pray for you and Sister Mercy’s safe travels.”

Her fingers are bony, lips dried and crusty, and those eye bags stick to her face like leeches. It’s pathetic. While I contemplate this, Mercy examines the woman’s condition before reaching for something inside her cape. It’s a small glimpse, but there are pockets stitched inside. She hands the lady a tiny bag, and mentions, “Here’s medicine for you cold, Miss.”

“I can’t accept this, Sister Mercy. These must be for your travels.”

Like kids, they are both unwilling to compromise. The transaction loops, going from one hand to the other. I hurriedly snatch the bite-size bag—tired of their stubbornness—and dropped it in the woman’s hands. Distracting her with a smile, I graze the back of her hand. A single touch from a God and she’s already in a trance.

After that, I march down the marketplace with a new purpose. If I have to impersonate a ‘Sister’, then I’d rather stop existing altogether. New clothes it is. I’ll be glad to get rid of this tiresome dress.

There’s a gap in between the left side of stalls, leading to a tailor shop. I point at it, confusing Mercy at first. Then she gasps, now aware of the silent oath.

“I’m sorry about that,” she whispers. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

‘Another apology? That’s not what I need.’

Outstretching my arm, I direct her attention to the shop.

“Oh! I don’t have that many coins on me, and I don’t know if there will be anything that’ll suit your taste.”

‘I’m not exactly in the position to be picky, but she’s really getting on my nerves.’

To put an end to this, I grab her hand. Before I can emit a bit of my essence, she reacts a lot faster than expected. Her hand retreats into her wool cape, a heavy blush mark across her cheeks.

“Okay…”

———

As expected, the owner graced the new clothes upon me with no fee. The catch is that I have to listen to Mercy argue with the man about paying. Her stubbornness is quite endearing, never wavering, even if she’s lost the battle. Maybe if she adds in a streak of meanness, the merchant would’ve backed off. Not that I can tell them both off with this silent oath.

With the leatherworks and a grand olive green cloak in my hand, I walk out of the store with a slumped Mercy behind me. The sunset glares down at the town. Night time will arrive soon, it’s best for the Sister to rest. Having the same thoughts, she suggests we stay at the nearby inn.

The inn looks as dead outside as it does inside. However, even without new customers, the place seems like it’s well kept. The innkeeper walks along the wall, turning the gas on the wall lamps before the sun fully sets. When he notices Mercy, he races to the counter in order to greet her.

When Mercy requests two rooms for the night, the innkeeper offers it for free‌. It ends up being another tug-of-war with the sore loser being the Sister. I take the key without hesitation and head towards the stairs. Still down about her loss, Mercy follows behind with her head tucked into her cape.

Upstairs are four rooms, the two further being ours for the night. As I stop in my tracks, Mercy crashes into my back.

“Ah! I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I frown, jabbing my finger at the right door, commanding her to enter. Inside, light shines through the window shutters. I open the shutters a little, letting more light in, although not enough for anyone to peer into. Then I loosen the latch around my neck, tossing the cloak and leather on to the bed. The moment I hear the door clicks, I let loose.

“How many times are you going to apologize before your mouth falls off?”

The girl’s mouth drops when she hears that. It hangs as if she wants to say something, but can’t. So I continue with my remarks.

“Granted, I’ll let some of your apologies go. I’d just rather not hear it incessantly. Haven’t I told you how you should talk to me?”

“You did.”

The girl trembles like a scolded child, although I did bring it upon her. She probably believes that she’ll get some divine punishment if she inconveniences me in any mild way. So much that she would disregard the words of the Goddess in the flesh and blood. In the Church’s eyes, she’s a true God-fearing believer. To me, looking at her at this stage is pathetic to a very annoying degree.

At the very least, I can quell that trembling of hers, consider that I’m the source. I reach for her hand yet again. This time, she doesn’t pull away. I squeeze with minimal strength, my thumb rubbing against her palm. Almost in an instant, the trembles stop.

“How?—” she utters before closing her mouth.

“Simple.” I let go. “The presence of a God can be overwhelming for mortals. So I gave you a bit of my essence to quell that overworking heart of yours. Of course, it should only last for a few hours. Calm yet?”

“I am, but… what do you mean by essence?”

“Essence is what separates mortals and Gods. We generate it endlessly, and while we’re able to give it to a mortal, they’ll never be able to replicate.” A finger pointing at her palm, I clarify, “What I did just now, it is what you mortals would call a blessing.”

Mercy nods at my explanation, though she does not meet my gaze. The way her mouth curves upward has me assuming she might’ve forced herself to smile so often that it became her resting expression. When her cheeks tint red, I realize I’m still within arm’s distance of her. Stepping back, I return to our original topic.

“Now, about what I said before. Less apologizing, alright?”

“Okay…”

The setting sun draws back the natural light from this room little by little. Eventually, we turn on the gas lamps in order to navigate this small room. There’s no stopping time, although Mercy seems rooted to the wooden floor. Her sight locked on her still hand, Mercy’s train of thoughts streamlines into overtime.

To my knowledge, most Faithfuls understand the concept of a God’s presence, but are in the dark about essence.

Her pale pink lips squish against each other, making me wonder if she’s biting into it or not. She need not know about it now, though I’m not opposed to answering if she asks. When the Sister glances at me, I wonder, “What are you pondering about?”

She twitches, eyes now focused on the ground. “I… I don’t know what to ask and what not to ask.”

Sighing, I state, “I don’t know who you’ve met before me, but I won’t strike you down for stupid or offending questions.”

“Then… what are you going to do now?”

‘Straight to the point, huh?’

“I’ll stick around until you get to a temple and figure it out from there.”

If that doesn’t lead me anywhere, then I’ll have to follow Mercy until she’s at the Temple of Abe. He’s the only God out of all the lesser gods that assist in the pilgrimage. And the most annoying one at that.

“Oh. So you’ll be with me then.”

“Is that going to be an issue?”

She shakes her hand, disagreeing. “No! Of course not.”

Whenever she stops talking, I can see her squished lips again. To her, this must be like an interrogation. So I switch over to an easier topic. “Have you eaten?”

This releases the tension on her face as she responds, “Not yet.”

“We should go down and eat then. I must change first.”

She takes the hint, bowing and hurrying out of the room. All by my lonesome, I undress and lob the silk onto the bed. My body lays naked in the open air. A jolting shiver lurches a twitching reaction. It provides a sound reason to put my new clothes on quickly.

The fitting of the leather armor is a little too perfect. I knew that merchant had his eyes on me the whole time, but I didn’t realize he could figure out my body size like that. Down to the size of my boots and gloves. It’s both amazing and creepy. Either way, I’m impressed with the craft. I expected worse in a depressed town like this.

I thought about wearing the green cloak, although there are people below who have seen me in the white cloak. So despite wanting to toss away this false identity, I’ll keep it until we leave the town. I roll up my dress and shawl, stuffing it under the pillows for the time being. My new cloak lay untouched for now as I head out.

Mercy rests against the door to her room. She hasn’t even entered it yet. When she looks at me, my mind runs back to the various pockets inside Mercy’s wool cape.

“Do you have any pen and ink on you?”

Rummaging through her pockets, she says, “I don’t have a set, but I do have a pocket brush.”

“Hm? Pocket brush?”

I’ve never heard of a ‘pocket brush’ before. A dash of curiosity hits as I inch forward in anticipation of this device. In her hand is a cylinder object crafted from birch with a glass vial affixed at the end of the wood. Ink fills the inside of the glass. At the other end of the base is a closed cap. Mercy pulls off the cap, revealing a flat top brush. The size of the brush shows that this is for enchanting bigger items.

‘With the masterful craft done on her rings, the enchanter probably doesn’t want her to mark it.’

I’ve only asked if she had it, yet she stretches her arm towards me with the brush in hand. ‘Heh.’ I accept her offer and slip the brush into my pocket.

“What enchantments can you create?” A genuine question.

Fingers intertwined, Mercy hesitates for a moment. Her primal fear has quelled, though I suppose her fear for the Church still chains her down. Eventually, she pushes through and answers, “I only know how to make two basic enchantments.”

I wave my hand in a circular motion, a gesture for her to continue.

“I—it’s just Compress and Ignite.”

“Those are essential enchantments when you’re traveling or camping out in the woods.”

With another motion, I direct her attention to the stairs. She connects it with dinner and nods in response. We head down to the ground floor of the inn. There isn’t a sizeable crowd, but at least it isn’t dead like it was a few minutes ago.

The innkeeper recognizes the two figures coming down and shouts across the opposing side, “How are the rooms?”

Mercy responds at a more reasonable level, albeit with a blush splashed across her cheeks. The one working server of this inn leads us to an empty table, and we proceed with dinner.

There is an initial fear that it would be awkward with her putting me under a silent oath. She might’ve realized as well when she asked me what I wanted, and all she got was silence. Recognizing the ordeal, she asks me simple yes or no questions. The girl’s capability to carry a conversation by herself is astounding. And perhaps I underestimated her ability to read body language.

I am glad to have some sort of conversations instead of having to listen to the surrounding voices. As much as I’d like to learn more about Landan through the townsfolk, the incessant murmurs about Sister Mercy are becoming bothersome. However, Mercy’s voice is like an anchor, weighing me down to this table.

As time passes, she drifts into talking about her hometown and the Temple Monks. From the knowledge of her hometown, her current progress in her pilgrimage, and the location of this town… the Sister has traveled a long way. All by herself.