CH-056

The morning of the harvest festival—dawn light shifting from blue to red.

Once the sun came out, the musical sounds from the village drew nearer and nearer, growing livelier by the moment.

The seed-offering ceremony was mainly held in the farmland adjacent to the village—some distance from the church and town center—though many who loved the festive atmosphere went early to watch.

From what Finnian had said, the townspeople here rarely attended the seed-offering ceremony specifically unless they were farmers. It was only about ten or so years ago, one year when a group of foxes came running down from the mountains and imitated human movements in offering seeds—becoming a remarkable spectacle—that things changed.

People who had witnessed the foxes offering seeds that year all experienced good fortune that year.

From then on, every harvest festival, even idle townspeople would come and join the crowd on the chance of catching some luck.

Shu Li had no way to explain the reason behind this tradition—he could only chalk it up to the low-magic world setting.

Bishop Holm was very interested in this activity. Before dawn he had Shu Li make him something warm to eat, then rushed off to watch.

This made Shu Li suspect that part of the reason Bishop Holm had chosen to stay in this village for the festival was precisely this foxes-offering-seeds legend.

After Bishop Holm left, Shu Li, seeing the sky beginning to brighten and with a breeze to drive away the drowsiness, got up and started working on yesterday's soybeans.

He wanted to make tofu today.

How could a fast day go without something good to eat?

The past few days he had borrowed an ox from Elder Yagg's family to grind the soybeans. A small portion of the pulp was removed and kept aside as soy milk to drink, while another portion was retained as the base for tofu.

Since Shu Li didn't have modern coagulants, he could only use brine water to cause the curds to set, while stirring continuously as he poured.

The result would be firm tofu—the shape not particularly nice. So if anyone asked, Shu Li planned to say he had actually intended to make tofu pudding.

The reason for keeping some soy milk was mainly that Shu Li had always been given milk by Finnian ordinarily. This time he wanted to make Finnian something new to try.

Shu Li planned to make him a bowl of soy milk with added sugar and egg.

The egg had been laid by the little hen Bandt's family had given him—one or two a day, usually.

Just as Shu Li went to the hen coop, he found Narci the little fox lying beside it, staring at the little hen, while the little hen rolled her eggs over to the fox's feet: "?"

Narci the little fox was holding a small egg and dancing on the spot. The moment it turned and saw Shu Li standing behind it, it immediately froze—like a tiny fluffy little sculpture.

Shu Li: "..."

From the first time he had seen the little fox looking in the mirror, Shu Li had known this was no ordinary fox. Because most animals find it very hard to pass the mirror test—in other words, they cannot recognize themselves in a mirror. As far as Shu Li knew, as of the early 2020s, the number of species known to recognize themselves in a mirror was approximately eleven, including humans, apes, and ants—not the fox, which most people would assume to be quite intelligent.

But then again, this was a low-magic world, and Shu Li had fully accepted the premise that foxes here could look in mirrors.

However, seeing that it was now capable of asking the hen for eggs—this felt like a different kind of sentience altogether.

This made Shu Li suddenly come up with a bold experiment: if the little fox were made to raise baby chicks, would it eat the chicks it had raised?

For animals with infanticidal tendencies—like pigs and rabbits—killing young was a relatively common behavior.

And foxes also had the animal behavior of consuming their own young.

Yet for a creature with such exceptional sentience—a little fox that looked in mirrors—would its emotional factors overcome its animal instincts?

Even without a control group and without sufficient sample data, Shu Li had already developed genuine curiosity about this—he felt it was a very interesting topic related to animal psychology.

Narci the little fox, watching Shu Li's expression become increasingly unfathomable, voluntarily surrendered its little egg.

After Shu Li took the egg, he came slightly back to his senses and felt it was a bit too heartless to make his own pet do something that twisted. As a kind of compensation, he patted little Narci on the head: "Good fox."

Narci's tail stiffened immediately. The moment Shu Li released its head, the fox took off running.

Shu Li didn't bother chasing it.

Passing the chicken coop and heading toward the kitchen, he suddenly heard quick, light footsteps from the forecourt—that particular sound unique to children, clear and nimble.

Shu Li's heart warmed instantly.

He had assumed Finnian would be busy helping at home today and might not come to the church. Yet here he was, showing up punctually as always.

In Shu Li's mind he was already imagining that Finnian would dash in, drop off whatever he'd brought, and immediately run off again.

But when he looked out, he found the arrival was not Finnian—but Leslie, dressed in clean, neatly pressed new clothes.

Though nothing especially elaborate or showy, his natural good looks meant that a little tidying-up made him look remarkably sharp and put-together.

Before Shu Li could say anything, Leslie, the moment his eyes met Shu Li's, looked slightly flustered and stepped back, making every effort to maintain a composed expression. He asked: "Where is Finnian?"

Sure enough—so eager to play with his little friend?

Shu Li smiled knowingly in his heart: "He hasn't come yet. The harvest festival doesn't start until evening, right?"

"Doesn't the harvest festival begin in the morning?" Leslie asked.

Though he had never attended one, he had heard it described.

In the morning, one went to the farmland to watch the ceremony, and walked up to the mountaintop.

The mountain wasn't very high, just somewhat far away.

But from up there, one could see all of Savoie's sunrise—the first-rising sun like dissolving candy at that moment, golden-orange light spilling over the ground and draping over people, like warm syrup flowing into the heart, brightening one's mood for the entire day.

Leslie had assumed they would all go up the mountain together to watch the sunrise, which was why he had come before dawn had fully broken. But here he found only Shu Li, seemingly with no intention of setting off.

Shu Li noticed his puzzlement and explained: "Yes, it does begin in the morning—but we agreed to meet in the evening."

At these words, Leslie went completely rigid.

For a moment, he felt only like a pitiful fool who had overestimated his own importance, his face simultaneously hot and stiff, instinctively about to leave.

But Shu Li promptly called after him: "You've come so early—you certainly haven't eaten anything. Would you like to eat something here? I just happen to have made something new, and want you to try it."

Leslie shook his head and refused: "I'm not eating."

Shu Li was thoroughly confident in handling this sort of young person. "It's mainly for Finnian to try—I'm not sure if he'll like it."

Sure enough, the moment Finnian was mentioned, Leslie turned and asked back: "You think he'll like something new?"

If he wouldn't, he wouldn't have specially prepared it for him.

Shu Li watched him like a small fish taking the hook—and rather than immediately pulling the line tight, he let it slacken a little, nimbly slipping into the posture of asking for help, saying: "The thing is, I'm not completely sure he'll like it—I just feel that way—since I don't understand children's tastes particularly well, I need your help."

Though Leslie was young, he knew this was a face-saving step that Shu Li was extending to him. Something stirred inside him—it wasn't quite discomfort, or gratitude, but some sort of tingling sensation—and for a moment he neither knew how to refuse nor how to open his mouth and agree.

Shu Li stood across from Leslie, saw his hesitation, recognized that it wasn't excitement—and for an instant had the sensation of looking in a mirror. Like the younger version of himself faced with unfamiliar kindness—awkward and timid. And in those moments, the adult would simply come straight over and, without any deliberation, make the decision for the child—

Shu Li boldly moved toward him, pretending not to see his uncertainty, and firmly took his arm: "Come on! It'll be cold if it gets any later!"

The drink was hot, fragrant soy milk with egg—warming and filling.

Leslie never said whether it tasted good or bad, but he drank one cup after another without stopping.

Shu Li felt somewhat reassured.

After all, Leslie had never said he needed help, and if Shu Li approached him with the air of a savior, that would be too self-righteously heroic or self-satisfied.

But Shu Li couldn't simply sit back and do nothing either.

Leslie was still a primary school-age child.

Sheriff Reilly had mentioned that there was no family or servants of the Duke in the residence now, and the neighbors avoided it. The entire house was cold and empty, as if anyone who came near would become touched by misfortune. This autumn was relatively mild—as in Leslie's original memories—rainy but manageable. But once winter came and the snow fell, things would be different. No heating, food running short—when winter nights arrived, there wouldn't even be anyone to close the window for him.

This was simply not the kind of life an underage child should face alone.

Should he maybe ask when he was planning to go back? The longer this "runaway" state went on, the less likely he'd be to return.

Eleven years old was a delicate age—children began developing a powerful sense of autonomy.

If during this stage he received no support or security from family, he would find it very hard to go back to relying on that family, and would also find it difficult to form close connections with others. Because his model for how to relate to people would have become fixed—which wouldn't be conducive to his life and growth going forward.

The present phase was unlike the original novel.

In the original, Leslie had maintained even as an adult a faint illusion about family. Because when he was little and was locked up, he had been wrongly accused and framed—and as an adult believed that if the truth could be made clear, and the facts vindicated, perhaps he could yet receive his father's recognition.

But in the current phase, Leslie had actually spent time properly living with that family, and might have thoroughly shattered his illusions about it. He had made it clear: even without misunderstanding, even without accidents—they simply never loved him. For him, his "father" was essentially as good as dead.

"..." Shu Li had all sorts of thoughts, but was unable to say even half of them aloud.

He could only try to pave some paths ahead for Leslie for now.

Seeing him finish eating and his gaze drifting to the pot as if still somewhat unsatisfied, Shu Li didn't refuse outright—instead he followed his gaze and said sympathetically: "If I'd known the first attempt would turn out so well, I'd have made more."

Leslie, with his appetite opened by the soy milk and now actually hungry, hesitated a moment before saying: "...May I have a little more bread?"

Shu Li replied: "Of course." Watching him start nibbling small bites of bread, Shu Li continued: "If you like the food here, you're welcome to come eat any time—just let me know in advance. Because sometimes I go eat at Elder Yagg's home and we'll miss each other."

Leslie said nothing.

Shu Li noticed his attitude had softened somewhat, and pressed on with the question: "I've heard this winter is arriving earlier than usual—how are you planning to get through it?"

Leslie heard Shu Li bring up the subject of him living alone, and immediately became guarded.

If Shu Li told him to get in contact with the Duchess of Stein City or his father, he would flee from the Savoie Parish.

Shu Li naturally hadn't missed his microexpression, and pretended not to notice. He smiled: "We're planning to have hotpot, make snow people, go sledding, do winter fishing—and Finnian says there's a natural hot spring nearby, which would be lovely to soak in. Would you like to join us?"

"Me?" Leslie's eyes lit up.

"Yes—if you join, things will be much livelier around here." In truth, Shu Li's winter plan was simply to hole up inside the church. He planned to build himself a heated kang bed before autumn set in, lie on it all winter—and apart from eating hotpot, he had no desire whatsoever to step foot outside.

But there was no helping it—out here in reality there was an unattended child.

Especially since Shu Li had originally assumed his heart was as cold as stone, incapable of being warmed—like the original novel depicted him.

Yet seeing how Leslie interacted with Finnian now, Shu Li couldn't help feeling that Leslie did have a tender place in his heart—genuine, earnest feeling; a kindness willing to help others with no conditions attached; and clearly hiding, deep down, a warmth that hadn't completely frozen over.

Perhaps precisely now—before his heart had fully hardened, before he had come to believe that this world ran only on calculated self-interest—if he could give him a hand at this stage, Shu Li was willing to draw a little closer.

"Are you being good to me because of Finnian?" Leslie looked steadily at Shu Li, his gaze limpid yet guarded—like a small animal that had quietly pricked up its ears in the dark.

Shu Li had just been about to answer when Leslie added another question: "Why are you so good to Finnian? The things he gives you are so insignificant."

What Leslie wanted—that warmth and attention—Father Aliss could give to Finnian so effortlessly. Why so easily?

Shu Li smiled, his voice casual yet carrying sincerity: "Because he's good to me, and willing to be good to others. Isn't that exactly like those stories say? The kind protagonist deserves to be treated kindly. I just hope he'll know that doing good things gets a response. At least I can see it."

Leslie instinctively blurted out: "Then I also..."

He stopped short. Before he could say more, Finnian appeared at the doorway in a huff, slapping the door. "There's no 'also'!"

Shu Li felt Finnian should have heard the whole thing properly—perhaps what Leslie was going to say was "then if Leslie is also good to Finnian, they could become a really good pair of friends."

What a rare heartfelt declaration. Shu Li felt it was such a pity!

Finnian glared at Leslie with discontent: "What are you trying to do, dress up like a peacock? Why are you wearing that?"

Shu Li glanced over Leslie as well—he was actually dressed very simply, neither showy nor exaggerated, but his natural looks meant that even a little tidying went a long way.

Seeing Leslie momentarily at a loss, Shu Li offered a quick translation: "He means you look sharp and handsome in that today."

Leslie heard this, looked away, and turned toward Finnian.

And so from Finnian's perspective, Leslie's expression looked like a face full of contempt for why Finnian would bother complimenting him.

Finnian then looked toward the instigator, Shu Li—clearly this young priest was completely unaware of the "deep grudge" between him and Leslie. Yet he couldn't be angry at Shu Li, so he directed his words toward Shu Li instead: "You—you've been having something to eat here. I want some too!"

Seeing Shu Li get up and go scoop soy milk for him, Finnian quickly darted toward Leslie, and in a low voice issued his warning: "If you try to take Father Aliss from me, I'll fight you."

Leslie glanced at him without responding. Shu Li's voice rose then, and both children looked up.

"Finnian, I thought you weren't coming today."

Finnian clutched the fully loaded soy milk, then deliberately asked: "Did you wait for me?"

Shu Li smiled and said: "Of course I was waiting for you."

Finnian shot a look at Leslie, his satisfaction palpable. "See—?!"

Leslie: "..."

Finnian ignored Leslie's speechlessness, hurriedly invited Shu Li to sit with him—he wanted to sit right beside him. Finnian had a stomach full of grievances to air: "Ask me something! I want to tell you!"

So Shu Li followed his emotional lead: "What happened? Is something wrong?"

At home, Finnian had actually been trying to act nonchalant, but his whole head kept spinning with the thought of the grain storehouse fire: how would the village get through the winter.

Finnian told Shu Li about the storehouse fire.

Shu Li didn't panic along with him—possibly a habit born of his occupation. When others began to panic, he was always fastest to stay calm, perhaps knowing this was the only way to get people to settle down quickly.

He asked: "Was it deliberate arson, or an accident?"

The recent nights had been heavy with damp air—not the kind of dry heat needed for spontaneous fire. Even the grass-arch gate frames they had built would need repeated applications of pitch to be waterproof, and without that you couldn't even get a spark going on a night like this.

For something to catch fire in this kind of weather, it was surely unusual no matter how you looked at it.

Finnian said: "I went and looked—the worst burning was inside the storehouse. If someone had wanted to set fire to it, they could have done so from the outside. Having to infiltrate the inside of the storehouse would have taken so much more effort. All our emergency grain is burned..."

Visibly agitated, he spoke with anger—and instinctively glanced at Shu Li as he said it, watching to see if Shu Li had figured out the underlying reason.

Shu Li, naturally living up to Finnian's expectations, said: "Villagers gambling inside the storehouse at night, knocked over a lantern—and they didn't notice? Or they intended to keep it small but the fire got out of hand and they didn't know what to do?"

Finnian's eyes lit up: "Truly worthy of Father Aliss."

Actually, it wasn't that hard to deduce.

Because Finnian clearly dared not speak about this openly, it was certainly a scandal that couldn't be publicized.

After living here for so long, Shu Li knew that among the bad habits of the Savoie parish residents—besides heavy drinking—was heavy gambling. But Shu Li had little to do with them ordinarily and wasn't clear on just how serious the gambling problem was. Not to mention, history held documented cases of fires started by gambling in grain storehouses.

"I recall your storehouse is that kind of semi-circular dome, built of dried grass and wooden frame—" Shu Li looked at Finnian, his tone easing but also becoming more serious. "I remember thinking at the time, if possible, it would be best to convert it to brick and stone—it's more troublesome, but much safer."

Shu Li continued: "These past few days you've been coating the rooftops with large amounts of pitch for waterproofing, right?"

Finnian nodded, not yet understanding where the problem was.

Shu Li said quietly: "Do you know that pitch is flammable?"

Finnian was taken aback, shook his head, but his eyes were growing brighter and brighter as he listened to Shu Li.

Shu Li explained: "The semi-circular structure tends to trap heat inside by its very shape. If the outer layer is coated with a highly flammable material, once a fire starts, the storehouse can expand and burn rapidly like a balloon—and take out the entire structure along with it."

"Wow—!" Following Shu Li's words, Finnian began building the image in his head and found it fascinating. "What does a balloon look like?"

"...I'll make one for you sometime." Shu Li suddenly felt there were many things to do over the winter.

Shu Li worried that if he said that now, Finnian would want him to do the experiment right away, so he continued: "What are you planning to do about it? You're not going to hold them accountable?"

Finnian said: "My dad is planning to have the villagers admit their mistake, and forgive this one lapse."

Shu Li saw him frown and knew he had other thoughts, so he prompted further: "Do you feel angry that they made this mistake?"

Finnian waved his hand, his voice flat with a hint of suppressed tension: "It's already burned—since it's not fully winter yet, we can just buy grain somewhere else."

Finnian shook his head again and said: "But I feel this isn't right. It's not that we're being petty—it's that this isn't just between us and the villagers. It affects the whole village. Others have suffered this undeserved disaster and have to share responsibility. This way of letting it slide is, frankly speaking, irresponsible to everyone."

Finnian was only eleven, but his thinking and reasoning were those of an adult—often coming up with unexpected insights, expressing things accurately, as if born knowing.

This made Shu Li admire Finnian from the bottom of his heart: this child was smart enough to inspire genuine respect.

"So what would you do?" came a low voice carrying interest, suddenly interjecting.

This wasn't Shu Li's voice—not Leslie's either—but Bishop Holm, who had just walked in through the door.

His gaze landed on Finnian's face, carrying unrestrained expectation.

Finnian showed no sign of being intimidated, saying clearly: "Because I feel this is everyone's business, it must be made known to all that gambling inside the storehouse is wrong—and ideally this could reduce the bad habit of gambling from occurring. So public punishment is certainly necessary. That's also giving everyone an account."

"Then, because the villagers weren't doing it deliberately, I feel afterward everyone can gather to discuss how to procure grain—this falls on the offending villagers too, and they certainly can't resolve it alone, so everyone might as well do it together. But the offending villagers must be assigned compensatory labor to fulfill their fair share of responsibility."

As he said this, Finnian's tone suddenly shifted, carrying a certain defiance and stubbornness: "But if this is called 'throwing one's weight around'—"

Finnian had clearly been rejected with this argument before, so his tone carried a certain devil-may-care attitude. "—Then throw it around! We're the village head—village head, not just head of one household. We need to make everyone understand that the village head can handle matters for everyone."

Shu Li, from Finnian's attitude, suddenly realized that his ideas must have been rejected more than once by the adults around him using various reasons—and it was because no one was willing to listen to him that Finnian had been so unruly and out of line. Because the adults wouldn't listen when he spoke.

Shu Li fixed his eyes on Finnian, his gaze flickering, and naturally patted his back.

"..." Finnian immediately felt his mood lift, and smiled at Shu Li again. "They're stupid if they don't listen to me—aren't I right?"

Shu Li leaned toward Finnian's ear and said quietly: "...If you want them to listen, I can actually help with this kind of thing. It's not difficult."

Finnian had barely finished hearing this when he instantly grabbed Shu Li's arm.

This gave Leslie, who had been sitting silently beside them, a jolt—"..."

On the other side, Bishop Holm, who had been listening closely, raised his eyebrows, then turned to Shu Li and said: "This child has ability! Very good! I like him very much! What is your name?"

Finnian, who had been praised, didn't take it in stride at all, giving not an inch: "What does it matter that you like me? I don't like you."

Bishop Holm startled, his goatee quivering slightly in surprise: "Why don't you like me?"

"You were mean to Father Aliss, so I'm not happy. If I'm not happy, I don't like you." Finnian stood his ground righteously.

Bishop Holm shot an aggrieved look at Shu Li, as if Shu Li had turned Finnian against him and broken their bond. Yet he still wanted to patiently explain: "Child, the ability to judge circumstances on their merits rather than on personalities shows you are rational—you can't let personal emotions negate a person because of one thing."

Finnian's mind moved faster than Holm had imagined, and he immediately counter-attacked on the same grounds: "Old sir, if judging on the merits rather than on personalities means being rational, then judging people rather than merits means being clear-headed. That means you know when something has crossed the line you set for yourself—and you stop tolerating it. You're not condemning everyone—just refusing to continue. Wouldn't that be right?"

He paused, then asked sharply: "Don't you find that no matter what old Mr. Hugo does, you dislike him just the same?"

At this, Bishop Holm was completely frozen, and then burst into roaring laughter.

"Ha ha ha ha! God, I adore you!" He laughed so hard his shoulders shook, and looking at Finnian with an appreciation deepening in his eyes: "You are an extraordinary child. Would you like to come work with the church in the future? I'd save a position for you—you could even become a bishop one day."

Finnian raised his head and looked at the bishop flatly: "I don't believe in God and I'm not joining the church."

The bishop raised an eyebrow. "Then what do you believe in?"

Finnian said earnestly: "I believe in getting things done—no luck, no divine intervention."

Bishop Holm said nothing more, instead turning to Shu Li—as if suddenly understanding something. "Did you teach him this?"

Shu Li with complete innocence: "I'm a devout believer."

This sentence both answered and didn't answer Bishop Holm's question.

At this point, Leslie stood quietly off to one side, having said nothing throughout—watching Finnian as if observing him, and perhaps thinking something over.

Bishop Holm suddenly turned toward him, becoming curious about this composed, calm child: "You haven't said a word. Do you think what he said was wrong?"

Leslie's expression shifted slightly, and he didn't hold back his thoughts: "What he said isn't wrong in principle. In practice, it might not be so simple."

"Oh?" The bishop grew interested. "Say more—where is it not simple?"

"What the villagers fear is not punishment—it's not surviving the winter. If punishment leads to less grain, it could actually make the villagers resentful of the village head." Leslie paused, his gaze calm as he continued: "So how to procure grain while also punishing—without making the situation worse—that's the difficult part."

His gaze swept the people around him, and he continued in an even tone: "Having everyone decide together—not the village head making the call alone, but having everyone know how the situation came about, bearing it together and solving it together. But the offending villagers must be assigned to compensatory labor, fulfilling the duty they owe."

Finnian looked back at Leslie, unexpectedly offering no rebuttal—just saying: "That's why everyone should make the decision together. It's not the village head putting his foot down, but letting everyone know how this happened—bearing it together and solving it together. But the offending villagers need to be assigned compensatory work, to meet their fair share of responsibility."

Leslie asked quietly once more: "It's not my fault—why should I bear responsibility?"

Finnian frowned: "It's not as bad as you imagine."

The air, through the two of them's back and forth, suddenly fell quiet for an instant.

Bishop Holm looked at these two eleven-year-old children, as if watching two new shoots just breaking through the soil.

He smiled with satisfaction and slowly opened his mouth: "You've both given me answers I very much like. Go ahead and handle this matter yourselves. I'll also notify the church to send a shipment of grain—to help you take care of a bit more of the problem."

Finnian was surprised by this—and felt he wasn't quite so unbearable after all.

And so, later on, when Bishop Holm found opportunities to approach Finnian and chat while Shu Li wasn't paying attention, Finnian cooperated somewhat.

Bishop Holm had not in a long time encountered a child so much to his liking—he really wanted to take him as a student. Yet he was also bothered by what Shu Li had said yesterday—predicting that he would certainly take on a student.

"What's your name?" he asked.

Finnian said: "Finnian."

Not Nero. Bishop Holm relaxed.

But then—

"That name is a bit too gentle-sounding. Have you ever thought about changing it?"

Finnian immediately furrowed his brow, not knowing what this bishop was getting at—but since the bishop had just offered to donate winter grain, Finnian said: "My dad has been thinking recently about giving me a more mature, settled name."

Bishop Holm's face lit up: "What would it be?"

"Nero." Finnian rested his arm on his arm and said casually. "But if I were to change it, I'd have to check with Father Aliss first—it's only good if he likes it."

"..." Bishop Holm's heart gave a sudden lurch. "Does Father Aliss know you have this name 'Nero'?"

"He doesn't know yet. Nobody said anything."

Bishop Holm immediately said: "Then I think you shouldn't change it—just keep it as Finnian. The name 'Nero'... isn't exactly an auspicious symbol."

Finnian: "..."

Barely had he finished speaking when his gaze drifted involuntarily to Shu Li not far away.

The quietly standing Father Aliss, outwardly gentle—yet with a keen, discerning eye, having already earned the deep trust of these two children—

Such a person, if left as an ordinary cleric within the church, would be far too remarkable a match for that role.

Bishop Holm's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and he silently turned something over in his mind:

A person like this, left in the church, would be difficult to control in the days to come.

No wonder Duke Claude and Corny had paid such close attention to this young figure.

Without personally seeing him, you'd never believe the reports of someone truly watched over by divine favor.

An ostensibly unremarkable cleric—yet carrying an energy like this.

Reaching this conclusion and recognizing the real threat to future plans, a shadow flickered through Bishop Holm's thoughts.

—This sort of person could not be allowed to remain in the church…