"Which room?!" Sylvester asked.
"Next door."
Sylvester rushed out and looked left and right. Seeing only one room on his right, he quickly barged in. There was nobody in the room other than Sir Dolorem's fully bandaged body, silently lying on the bed, eyes closed, and breathing so slow that his chest almost didn't seem to move.
"Sir Dolorem." Sylvester walked beside the bed and called his name. "You're not supposed to be sleeping when I'm about to take the throne. I did it… we did it…"
Sadly, no response came from Sir Dolorem. The man, as if lifeless, just lay there with his body covered in wounds. At that moment, Sylvester felt some anger toward Pope Axel. The man had no need to start the battle; he could have personally come to him if he only wanted to die. In his heart, Sylvester knew he couldn't forgive the man, even if he saved him a few times.
"Old man, wake up," Sylvester called again, hoping that Sir Dolorem was listening at least. "We'll head to the Holy Land right now. You have to wake up to see my crowning."
Xavia and Healer Hendrix entered the room. They tried to calm Sylvester down. Miraj silently rested beside Sir Dolorem's head and softly tapped his paw to wake the man up.
"He's alive, but his body is unresponsive, Your Holiness. It's better to let him rest." Healer Hendrix advised him.
But Sylvester refused to give in, "Stand back. I will check his mind and body with Elder Magic. If his body's healthy now, then there must be something wrong with his mind."
Sylvester got closer and placed his left palm on Sir Dolorem's forehead. He used Elder Magic to pour his Solarium into Sir Dolorem's body and run it through every corner to check his condition. He closed his eyes and tried to feel the flow.
'You're perfectly fine in body and Solarium…' he deduced quickly. 'Blood flow to the head is also normal, as is the Solarium. Sir Dolorem, wake up…'
Sylvester tried everything that he could imagine. He tried using healing magic, using Elder Magic to heal him, or using his common knowledge from his past life. However, no matter the world, a coma was a tricky thing.
A few minutes later, disappointed, he withdrew his senses and silently stared at Sir Dolorem's face. There, he could see a few short white hairs of beard growing. There were age lines and dark circles under his eyes.
'I should have forced him to retire long ago.' Sylvester muttered and turned around.
"Keep a guard standing here at all times. If there's any movement, I want to be notified. Prepare a convoy to return to the Holy Land. Sir Dolorem will come along." He ordered firmly and walked out into the corridor, wanting to go and see the rest.
But as he walked through the corridor, he noticed something. All the Bright Mothers and healers who walked past him lowered their heads and kept them down until he passed them. The first few instances he ignored, but then he noticed everyone was doing it, even the old Archbishop-ranked men.
Sylvester strode forward and arrived at a larger hall, where multiple sick beds were placed, each near a window, and they were all full of patients. As he surveyed each one, a sigh of relief escaped him; No one seemed to be mortally injured.
"May the Holy Light enlighten us!" Everyone suddenly saluted in unison, "Your Holiness."
Sylvester didn't have both arms, so he couldn't respond to them fully, but he gave a firm nod. "May we be enlightened. Thank you for standing by my side and fighting a foe you knew you couldn't defeat. This favor I won't forget, nor shall the faith. I will think of a reward once I officially take the throne."
"Seeing you as the Pope is reward enough, Your Holiness." Queen Trinity Highland said, sitting on a patient's bed as well, her arms bandaged.
Sylvester felt genuinely indebted to them. They at least delayed Pope Axel until he arrived, but he still couldn't find the being who likely hindered the Pope the most. "What happened to Shadow Knight?"
"I was there…" Lord Einarr spoke, also injured. "Fighting the Pope, he lost his soul's leftover essence rapidly—I believe he dissipated completely and reached the Lord's embrace."
'A man who sacrificed his life twice for the faith,' Sylvester sighed, making sure to remember the man and honor his sacrifice correctly later.
He looked around and noticed Lord Inquisitor looking healthy, albeit with the visor back on his face. Felix was also fine, currently gobbling down food. King Highland's leg was bandaged, and Dagorith's face was swollen.
"We leave for the Holy Land immediately. Those with severe injuries will stay behind, and the rest will follow. Felix, you will remain here with Isabella and oversee the city—This is an official second Holy Land, which shall bring the Western Sol and Eastern Sol closer and stronger—You'll be notified when the preparations are complete." Sylvester gave them the orders and turned back to get some fresh air.
He stepped onto an open deck balcony of the sick bay building and gazed at the city before him. The sounds made it clear that people had gone back to their daily lives as usual. Since they couldn't afford not to, as the consequences were starvation. Thankfully the infrastructure wasn't destroyed much, so the restoration work needed was minimal.
"Sir Dolorem has been a loyal man." The Inquisitor High Lord walked behind him and joined. The man was still wearing his special red clothing. "I've seen him grow and rise since his duty began."
Sylvester took a sharp, deep breath. "Did you visit him?"
"Every hour." Lord Inquisitor replied, then continued. "But Sir Dolorem has lived beyond his time. Adept Wizards live a decade more than a century at most; he's long past his old and prime."
Sylvester looked down sadly, worried for the man who taught him to cast magic. "Yet somehow he still had the willpower and the drive to keep going, to keep fighting—So he could see me on the throne, before he's gone."
Lord Inquisitor agreed and placed a hand on Sylvester's shoulder, "I'm content that I assigned him to take care of you. After losing his family, it allowed him to make memories anew. In you, he found another family, another son—I'm sure he is content seeing you rise to such height, even if death he can't outrun."
Sylvester, feeling terrible for not making the man retire much earlier, sat down on the balcony floor and gazed into the distance. "Will he even wake up from that state?"
"The Holy Land is your best chance. The Orb of Purity is said to have miraculous healing; perhaps it can bring him out of that trance." Lord Inquisitor suggested, seemingly worried for the Inquisitor as well. Sir Dolorem might not have been a high-ranking man due to his limited talent, but his loyalty was unquestionable.
Sylvester nodded his head and jumped to his feet, "Let's prepare to leave then. Before another adventurous clergyman hopes to become the Pope."
…
The evening descended rapidly, and a long convoy of carriages and horses was prepared. No foot soldiers were being brought, as they wished to rush. The soldiers who turned against the city on Pope Axel's orders were pardoned, but some of them were held accountable for harboring ill thoughts toward Sylvester. They saw a quick settlement between their necks and blades.
Once ready, Sylvester took Aurora, Sir Dolorem, Gabriel, Xavia, Lord Inquisitor, Soulbreaker, and anyone related to the Church with him. He didn't bring any monarchs along, as they were injured, and he wished to officially invite them into the Holy Land as guests, not as conquerors.
Thankfully, Aurora's carriage was there, being the most comfortable place to be. Sir Dolorem was placed inside with Healer Hendrix, while Lord Inquisitor had his own larger carriage. However, Sylvester and Xavia remained with Sir Dolorem.
In no time, the convoy left Miraj City and made its way down south. They moved swiftly but calmly as the roads were destroyed in a few locations. Since they brought enough powerful wizards along, they repaired everything on the journey.
"This is going to cost a lot," Gab muttered, seeing the state of everything around them.
Sylvester patted his friend's shoulder, "It's going to be your headache soon, my Saint Wazir."
"..."
Gabriel sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily, "If that is your command, I'll do it, Your Holiness."
Sylvester smiled and thanked him. He peered out of the carriage window as they crossed through Kinman City, the capital of the Duchy of Normani. The cold air of the frozen north was chilling even though winter was far away.
"STOP!" Sylvester suddenly exclaimed.
At his command, the convoy abruptly came to a halt. But Sylvester didn't wait for any soldiers to guard him and rushed out of the carriage toward a nearby hill at the north of the road. It was dark at night, and the twin moons illuminated the sky. The air was breezy and cold but soothing.
Sylvester had noticed a lone white horse standing on the hill's horizon.
Sylvester waved back to silence the guards and focused on the horse. With the same hooves, white fur, eyes, face, and injuries, Sylvester could recognize the creature, "Is that you, Frost… It's been a while."
Because of what happened in Sandwall, Frost, Sylvester's loyal horse, was abandoned, finding himself masterless. Sylvester had wondered what happened to it and tried to search the region before but to no avail. The memories connected with Frost brought Sylvester back to his younger days, when he had just found the horse in the strange interaction and a little intimidation from Miraj.
The white stallion neighed at Sylvester and gently came closer.
Sylvester softly rubbed his palm on Frost's head and neck while Frost licked his face in joy. "Haha, as always, you found me again… Come, let's go home, boy."
But Frost didn't budge and protested. A moment later, Frost tried to bite onto Sylvester's tunic and pull him along toward the north, as if inviting him to come along, away from all the hassle and live in peace with him.
"I can't come with you, buddy..."
Sylvester stepped back and freed his clothes. Both of them looked into one another's eyes for a long time. The wind brushed past both of their hair. Eventually, they turned around—both having made their choices—One had found its peace in the wild, and the other was still searching among the civilized.
With a solemn face, Sylvester returned to the carriage and took his original seat after commanding the convoy to resume its journey.
"What was that?!" Aurora asked in concern.
With hazy eyes fixed on the spot where Frost had stood, Sylvester replied. "A lesson—that nothing lasts forever."
Thank you for reading. Gifts and GT votes are highly appreciated.
