6 Deacon Frantz Tagen

Nolan, feeling so depressed, stirred the burn barrel with a long stick.

He was searching through the smoldering remains to see if anything had at least survived the flames. His collection had been painstakingly difficult to acquire, each item was a rare find. 

People like him, who also had a fascination with occultism, were bound to collect such things in complete secrecy to avoid drawing the church's attention.

Sanction was operating behind the scenes. Even if you thought you were safe to even just discuss candles or animals, think again. Candles were crucial materials for rituals, and animals could also mean a sacrificial.

Even normal folks were not safe from the Orthodox church's scrutiny. Even though they knew they were innocent, once a Sanction member pointed a finger at them, all they could do was pray. The Sanction's main duty, aside from aiding the Deacons, was to filter and confirm if a person was a heretic or not so innocents could be spared.

Regular people hated heretics, they hated the Sanction for unfair judgment. But with the full authorization being granted to Sanction, they could only shudder in fear for their safety.

Was the Orthodox church even on their side now? All they ever cared about was to beat evil and if innocent became entangled in their pursuit, they turned a blind eye.

Nolan kept on stirring and pushing the stick inside the burn barrel. However, to his confusion, no matter how much he shoved the stick into the barrel, all he could see was ashes.

"Strange. Human bones require extremely high temperatures to burn completely. What did they do to my stuff?" He mumbled to himself, staring down at the barrel with burnt leaves, papers, and even melted candles.

The smell of the burnt incense lingered in his nose.

"Young Master, your Father had already departed and was unable to say goodbye to you. He said he has to hurry back to attend business."

Nolan straightened his back and glanced at his butler. He sighed in dismay and threw the long stick he was holding into the barrel.

"My years of acquiring those materials are gone now." He muttered to himself, his voice filled with dejection. "Prepare a carriage, I need to visit my brother."

Atticus smiled, "Will Young Master follow me into your room first? I have something to show you."

Nolan remained still and stared intently at his butler, Atticus. 

The man had been serving the family since before Nolan was born. While other servants often found him strange and a bit eccentric, his family valued him for his excellent service. 

Rumors frequently circulated around the manor, whispering that Atticus might be a ghost or a vampire. After all, despite decades of working for the family, the butler seemed untouched by age, his youthful appearance didn't change.

Nolan trailed his eyes from the gray eyes of his butler to his white, slicked-back hair. Atticus was certainly handsome, and he had been admiring his cold beauty since he was a kid.

"Young Master?"

Nolan snapped and walked past him, "What is it that you wanted to show me?"

Atticus followed behind. His smile did not disappear as he watched his master walk before him.

Upon entering his room, Nolan scanned his surroundings but noticed nothing unusual. 

Meanwhile, Atticus strode casually to the wardrobe and opened its door. Nolan's eyes widened slightly in surprise as he followed him and looked inside. Beneath his hanging clothes sat a large box, and its contents were nothing he had expected—it was his collection, the very one he thought had been burned.

Nolan blinked, half-expecting the vision before him to be some cruel trick of the mind. He dashed towards the wardrobe and knelt beside the box. His fingers hovered over his belongings as if afraid they would vanish at his touch. 

"...How?" His voice came out quieter than he intended. "Why are these here?"

"I know how hard it was for you to collect them and how much those things mean to you. I simply cannot allow anyone to take the things that make you happy, Young Master."

Nolan was unable to say anything for a moment. All the items he thought were gone were in the box, nothing missing. How did his butler manage to keep his collection from getting burned?

"Do you still want to visit your brother, Young Master?"

"No. Father must have spoken to him as well. He would certainly refuse to offer his help now."

Happy that his collections were safe, he couldn't care less about anything. He began to carefully take out the stuff out of the box.

"If there's nothing you need help of, I'll be in my quarter, Young Master."

*

At the chapel of the Cerefina village.

"Deacon Frantz, the newly appointed leader of the Sanction is waiting for you outside."

Deacon Frantz Tagen glanced at the closed door, "I'll be there."

A light sipping through the door outside gradually disappeared as the person outside walked away, their footsteps echoing through the dark hallway.

"Sanction, huh? Is the church still at it? What do you gain by capturing people you label as heretics just because they don't follow the doctrine you promote?"

Deacon Frantz strode over to the small desk, where a now-empty candle stood, its wick extinguished.

"Absolute goodness will prevail," He said, his yellow eyes gazing at the flickering small fire on the candle, "Now that the emperor granted us more power to capture those heretics, we will do with utmost dedication to do our duty."

A soft clanking of chains softly reverberated in the room before a voice from earlier chuckled, "A total hypocrisy. What is goodness? There's no such thing as absolute goodness."

The Deacon turned to face the person behind him. 

A pale, white-haired man was pinned against the cold stone wall, his limbs bound by rusted chains that bit into his wrists and ankles. He was wearing a worn-out shirt paired with a trouser with frayed at the edges. His face was marked with dirt and old scars. Yet, his scarlet eyes gleamed with a strange amusement, an eerie smile curling at the corners of his lips, as though he found some twisted humor in the Deacon's presence.

"And we will make sure to unravel your kind as well."

The chained man laughed, "You keep saying the same thing for the past 10 years. I doubt that even though the emperor passed down a law for the Sanction, nothing major will change."

Deacon Frantz gazed at him for a while before he turned and began to walk towards the door.

The man followed his eyes to him, "You're leaving already? Will you come visit me again later?" he said in a bit of disappointment, "I haven't seen you in weeks, I've missed you so much. You should visit more often, after all, who else could understand you better than me?"

Deacon Frantz opened the door and stepped out of the room, closing the door without saying anything to the man.

"Psh. Cold as always."

As he was left alone, silence once again filled his room.

Suddenly, his cuff unlocked and released his limbs. He immediately stood straight, stretched his arms, and yawned.

"They could have at least given me another batch of books to read."