Chapitre 28: Problem
"This crop looks weaker than the last one," a soldier commented as he inspected the grains.
"Yeah, it's the same in the other villages. Why is this happening now that we're at war?" another soldier added, his voice tinged with concern.
"These are tough times, but have faith. God will protect us," the religious man assured them. "Now, excuse me, I need to speak with the village chief," he said before walking away.
Cenric was woken by the rooster's crow, having fallen asleep later than usual due to his thoughts about the trebuchet. He even dreamed about it. Still groggy, he got dressed and headed to the main room for breakfast.
I expect to finish the harvest today, and by tomorrow morning, Lothar and his group will be gone. I need to coordinate with the farmers to prepare the soil and seeds for the next planting season, he mentally outlined his day as he ate.
By tomorrow, my scout should return with the Baron's response. Then, I'll send the book and the letter to him... Finishing his meal quickly, he stepped outside to relieve himself, but one thought dominated his mind: I have to check if the book is still secure.
Back inside, he noticed the chest was still under the bed, exactly where he had left it. But when he walked over to the hidden spot where the book was supposed to be, a chill ran down his spine. The stone was perfectly aligned with the others—something was wrong.
Quickly crouching, he removed the stone and saw the empty hole. "It can't be!" Panic surged through him. Where was it? Who had taken it? A flood of questions raced through his mind until one image struck him with certainty. It's him. I know it!
He stood abruptly and rushed to the front door, yanking it open—only to find a man in a simple brown robe, hand raised, about to knock. "Oh, good morning, Sir Cenric. I hope you don't mind if we resume our conversation from last night," the cleric said, noting Cenric's agitated state.
"Ah, can't it be anot— Actually, we can talk. Please, step inside," Cenric said, changing his mind mid-sentence. He was about to dismiss the cleric but remembered the main subject of their conversation: Rafael.
"Thank you," the cleric replied, taking a seat. "Have you had breakfast already?" Cenric asked, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
"Yes, yes, I'm not hungry. Don't worry. I don't know if I told you this, but this house is... hmm, how can I say it? Cozy. Yes, cozy."
"Thank you, I'm glad you like it. I personally chose the type of wood used for the furniture, and the stone for the floor is of the best quality around here," Cenric replied, though both knew it was just small talk before the real conversation began.
"So, as we were discussing yesterday, about the man who inquired about the metal. You said his name is Rafael, correct?"
"Yes. He's a merchant who got separated from his group," Cenric replied, still unsure why the cleric was so interested in Rafael. Despite all the strange occurrences and Rafael's mysterious background, Cenric believed it would be advantageous to keep him close as an ally.
"A group from where? You see, this metal he asked about is something most people don't know about—and shouldn't know about. So, to cut to the chase, why don't you take me to see him?"
"I can take you there, but I think I have the right to know what this metal is and why you're so suspicious of it," Cenric replied, his tone firm.
"I'm sorry, but you don't have that right. Only inquisitors and high priests may know. Now, could you take me to him?" the cleric insisted, his voice calm yet commanding. Cenric felt a knot of unease forming in his stomach.
This doesn't feel right, he thought. They remained in tense silence for a moment before Cenric reluctantly agreed to take the cleric to Rafael's house.
When they arrived, the guard on duty saluted them. "Is he inside?" Cenric asked.
"Yes, sir. He only stepped out briefly to go to the stream."
"Hmm. We'll speak with him," Cenric said, and then, without knocking, he opened the door.
The two men stepped inside, and the guard outside closed the door behind them. Rafael was sitting in the only chair in the small room. "Good morning, Mr. Cenric and..." he paused, noticing the unfamiliar cleric.
"I'm just here following orders. You don't need to know my name. And you are Rafael?" the cleric asked, his eyes narrowing as he observed Rafael's well-made clothes and calm demeanor. Is this the devil the child spoke of? His clothes match her description, he thought.
"Yes," Rafael replied.
"And it was you who asked Sir Cenric about a specific metal that attracts other metals?"
Oh yes, finally! Please say that you have it, Rafael thought excitedly. "Yes, it was me. So, tell me, do you have it?" he asked, his voice tinged with expectation.
"How did you come to know about it?" the cleric demanded.
"Wha... Wait, so you do have it! Could you give—I mean, sell some to me, please?" Rafael's excitement was palpable. He was thrilled at the prospect of acquiring the material he needed for a compass.
"Answer my question! You are suspected of blasphemy, treason, and paganism. If you believe you're innocent, you'd better start answering my questions," the cleric's voice was cold and authoritative.
"What?!" Rafael and Cenric exclaimed in unison. Cenric was stunned. What blasphemy? What is happening here? he thought, his mind racing.
You piece of shit, what blasphemy and treason are you talking about? Rafael seethed inwardly. Out loud, he retorted, "What the fuck are you talking about?!"
"Silence that foul mouth! This is your last chance. Where did you learn about this metal?" the cleric barked.
"Wait! There must be a misunderstanding here. He's just a merchant, he..." Cenric tried to intervene, knowing that anyone deemed a traitor would be executed without exception.
He had reasons to defend Rafael—he was certain the man knew more valuable things, inventions that could change the world, like paper and the trebuchet. If Rafael was executed, all that knowledge would be lost.
"Are you siding with him, Knight Cenric? Know that by doing so, you will share his fate," the cleric warned, his voice dripping with menace.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone