Dikke returned to the grimy room.
A persistent smell of burning tar covered a hint of decay, set against the old files on the shelves, created a somber dread-filled backdrop.
Malachi's heartfelt confessions, wine-soaked as they were, proved more helpful than he likely knew.
"Click—"
She pressed against a concealed stone button.
The secret table revealed itself, along with a neatly arranged assortment of knives and clamps, holding faint traces of dried blood.
Dikke: Hmm?
A solitary notebook lay on the stone table.
Dikke: This is the complete notebook.
Dikke: "As for preventing another outbreak of the great plague..."
Dikke: "The disease seems to spread most readily through rats or perhaps fleas... the scent of the patients' corpses and these creatures carry a similar odor..."
Dikke: "...The tower's state of decay has permitted the presence of many vermin which might carry the disease. A thorough cleansing of the tower would seem a prudent move..."
Dikke: "Testing method... senses far beyond those of a normal person... body immune to infection..."
Dikke: "...It is true, I am a wizard, but please trust me, my intentions are pure..."
Dikke: "I just don't want a repeat of the tragedy of this plague."
She closed the notebook.
Dikke: So ... not a ghoul, but an arcanist.
Dikke: A wizard, fearful of being discovered ... shunned and reviled by everyone. Yet, you continued your work from the shadows. Only for them to call you a ghoul.
Dikke: No one appreciates what you've done.
Dikke: Was this the result you envisioned?
Dikke: But, no matter how righteous or noble your intentions were...
Dikke: Dissecting corpses is a serious violation of the Church's dictates, an indefensible act, Brother Chester.
The flaming sword rested on the stone table, leaving scorch marks on its surface.
Dikke: ...
Dikke: But in any case, your crime did not merit your death.
After a while, she opened up a record, one she had long carried but before now left unfolded.
The monastery was filled by an eerie quiet.
Civilian: Father, will we find salvation?
Clergy: Of course, my child, all you must do is pray sincerely.
Civilian: But we've been praying, yet still my family is bedridden...
Civilian: They are pious, Father... They have put unwavering trust in our merciful Lord.
Clergy: Yet, the duty to pray is ours ... and you have not forgotten yours, have you?
Civilian: So... what should I do? Please, tell me, Father.
Clergy: We will need a pure silver coin. Heed me, it must not be mixed with copper or iron...
Clergy: A pure gold coin would be better still ...
Clergy: Bring it here, and drop it into the redemption box. Reciting your prayers as you do.
Clergy: When you hear a clear ringing sound, you will know your prayers have been heard.
Civilian: ...And if there's no sound?
The priest laid a hand gently on his shoulder.
Clergy: Then that's simple... you haven't offered enough.
Civilian: But father, will this heal my family?
Clergy: ...
Clergy: Perhaps something stronger is needed ... bring to us a ream of parchment, on it we will write our prayers for your kin. Oh- uh, mind you—fine parchment.
Clergy: After reciting the prayer ... and dropping your coin, we will return the transcribed parchments to you, cut and ground into a powder.
Clergy: Dissolve it in water and have your family drink it.
Civilian: Thank you for guidance, Father.
Clergy: May the Lord bless you.
The faithful man bowed his head, reciting his instructions earnestly.
Dikke: Frankly, I loathe these records.
Dikke: They exist only to stubbornly cling to memories, more of a burden than an aid.
Dikke: Such outdated things.
Dikke: They should have been discarded long ago.
Tossing aside the old documents, she stood up.
Dikke: "Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's."
