It had been a year since that night Berthold had held a ceremony for the dead Captain, then anointed a new one, and since that strange man had approached him. So much had happened since then, and all of it was troubling.

Francis had secluded himself even further, working on some thesis he refused to tell Berthold about, and almost never left his chambers. Johannes, on the other hand, had been invited to one of the bigger churches in a village on the outskirts of the capital.

Berthold missed him dearly, and despite them exchanging one or two letters a week he was concerned. Johannes had told him time and again of raids on his village, and the church had almost been robbed once, which was only prevented by a detachment of Crimson Mages which had been in the area.

Even more so, despite getting compliments from everyone who had visited regarding his first ceremony he had gotten no invitations to any of the other churches in the kingdom. Not even the small ones in the far east. Berthold asked Francis about it once or twice, and he always had the same answer.

"None have arrived!" he said, in what was almost suspicious frustration from the old man. But Berthold didn't believe him, it was just too odd.

With Johannes and Francis both distant from him, that left him with the responsibilities of the church alone. He had held hundreds of small and grand ceremonies in that year, and Berthold believed he had gotten quite good at them. Yet despite seeing dozens if not hundreds of people every day, he felt lonelier than ever.

That's how he found himself feeling that morning, he had finally had a chance to read some new books at the library, which had arrived months back, but he had no one to speak to about them. Berthold had already sent a letter to Johannes, and he wouldn't write another before he got a response. And he hadn't seen Francis in over a week, as even his meals were delivered to him by the younger apprentices.

It frustrated him in a way he refused to recognize, he shouldn't need either of them. Yet they had replaced the family he so wanted to forget.

"Berthold? Francis is calling you," one of the younger apprentices, a boy of fifteen named Orzt, interrupted his reading.

"Oh, he finally wants to talk to me?" Berthold stood up in annoyance, though he was somewhat happy.

"Yes..." he said in resignation, and left Berthold to his own devices.

After a short while of standing there, unsure of what to do, he finally decided to head up to Francis' chambers.

The staircase he remembered was short, but now it seemed to stretch, every marble step a herculean climb heading towards another unknown assignment or more odd requests from a man he just wished would act like something other than a priest.

But he opened the grand wooden doors full of ancient markings just the same, and found Francis hunched over hundreds of pieces of parchment scattered about his desk and the room. Even his simple bed was stacked with them.

"Francis, why did you call me?" Berthold asked impatiently.

Francis turned his head and Berthold could see he had not slept for a couple of nights at least, "I finished it!" his voice croaked, but his face took on a smile of pure pride.

"And what is it, if I may ask?" he strangely found himself genuinely curious. Francis had written theses before, but none so clearly dense. And whatever subject it was on might supply their conversations for a year, at least. Now that he would have more free time again.

"My grandest theses, Berthold. It defines everything our church is doing wrong according to a cross referencing of ancient texts and religious philosophy from the last thousand years," the dark spots under his eyes almost disappeared as a glow crept into them.

"Is that what you've been working on? That's incredible!" Berthold found himself swept up by the idea, finally getting to fix all these terrible things about the church. Those same things that had led to his father's execution. Yet, he also felt a primal fear emerge, "but how will the High Order react? This might be considered heresy Francis, especially given your position here."

"My boy, I'm not your father. I'm not a rebel from the east which they can so easily dismiss. I was a member of the High Order, they will have to face their own sins…" he paused, and took a few steps towards Berthold, "ever since I found you after Jan's rebellion, I knew I had to do this. I know I haven't been what your father was, but I couldn't let his death go unmentioned and forgotten," he stepped forwards again, and hugged Berthold in a single motion.

"If you truly aren't in any danger, why are you saying this, I already knew it!" Berthold asked, feeling a wet spot roll down his cheek.

"I can not guarantee what happens next Berthold, same as you. And I will have to leave for a long time. I plan to take this document to every church and lord who will listen. And if they don't I will write copies and nail them on their doorsteps for all to read. But I refuse to let you forget why, I will not let my church destroy your life further. You are a brilliant young man, and you have always deserved more than this," Francis' voice wavered. And Berthold wanted to scream, but he found his words caught in his throat.

Instead, without prompting he hugged the old and foolish priest, and spoke to him in half cracked whisper, "I will see you again, promise me!"

"I promise, you will see me tomorrow morning before I leave!" he said, almost teasingly, while embracing Berthold. Yet again his voice was not still.

About an hour after the sunrise Berthold was woken up by Francis, he had decided to leave as early as he could. With only a hushed goodbye, and a request to tell no one of his work he left.

And so the Church of Landing was now even emptier than before. The apprentices asked many questions, Ortz in particular. He had grown fond of the old man, just like Berthold himself.

"He was invited by the High Order to some secret matter, he will be back soon enough, " he was forced to grit his teeth and lie.

And for a while, it felt like things had gone back to the sad normality he had been used to. Yet something else had settled in. Berthold had rummaged through every letter and piece of news coming into the castle in the following weeks, just to find a single piece of information about Francis.

There were some letters that said he had already been spotted in the west, and some letters from the church asking about his true whereabouts, mentioning it as a point of concern. Berthold wrote back to them that he was still there, trying to cover the old man's tracks.

Yet as a few weeks turned to a month, Berthold took it upon himself to venture into Francis' room. And there it was, nailed to the wall just as it might be to all other churches' doorsteps. Berthold read it slowly unsure of what to feel.

"The ninety five issues of the Church of the Comet and Order of the Crimson Mages," it was simply titled, but the first of those issues struck closer to him then he realized, "Number one, the crushing of religious dissidents. According to a theological debate that came to found the principles of the church, originating with the prophet some hundred years after the landing, the church may not use force beyond measure to enforce religious doctrine. Furthermore, the founding idea of the Order of the Crimson Mages is one of keeping the peace and protecting the church’s assets as well as the common folk, not more. Yet, in the bull of 1430 years since the Comet Era began, it was argued that such restrictions should not disallow research into the further usage of magic in contexts of holy war. Despite the bull itself banning its use against the people of the Celestial Empire, Jan’s rebellion, as it was called. Despite it not resulting in an ounce of violence until the High Order’s intervention, was dealt with using that knowledge. In fact, in a thesis written by one of the Order’s own members it was said that the former king’s death only resulted from a misuse of magic against a group of unarmed rioters.”

Berthold could do nothing but laugh, there were four more pages full of even more insane arguments that he knew were all entirely correct. But that wasn’t enough, an unsettling thought filled his mind. He knew two things now that he read it. Francis had been planning this since he was still in the High Order, perhaps this was the true reason he left it in the first place. And second, he would never come back. The last time he would ever see him he had already passed.

For once, he prayed to the Comet with all his heart.

“If there is any justice in this world, make sure he lives and this kingdom doesn’t fall to ruin with even more civil strife,” he could do no more now, but he would keep the Church of Landing the same place Francis had left it, for his day of return.