The man stood by the window of a room, his gaze fixed upon the bustling port city sprawled out before him like a tapestry woven from the fabric of life itself. The bay, a vast expanse of shimmering blue, stretched out beneath the midday sun, its waters alive with the movements of countless boats and ships, each one a testament to the city's maritime heritage.

  From his lofty vantage point, the boats appeared as tiny specks upon the canvas of the bay, their sails billowing in the breeze like the wings of seabirds taking flight. Below, the streets of the city bustled with activity, a labyrinth of winding paths and bustling thoroughfares filled with the hustle and bustle of daily life.

  Carriages clattered along the cobblestone streets, their wheels echoing in the air as they ferried goods to and from the waiting ships. People moved like ants along the streets, their movements a blur of activity as they went about their daily routines, their voices rising in a cacophony of sound that filled the air.

  In the distance, two imposing castles stood sentinel over the city, their ancient walls a reminder of the city's rich history and storied past. Their towering spires reached towards the sky, casting long shadows across the bustling streets below, a silent watch over the city they had long protected.

  Lost in his contemplation of the city below, the man was only pulled out of it when a raspy voice behind him. Turning, he found himself face to face with a round man dressed in priestly robes, a white zucchetto perched atop his head. In his hands, he held two glasses and a carafe of wine, a genial smile upon his round face.

  "Beautiful view of the city, isn't it?" the round man remarked. "We have the third nicest view after the two castles you see in the distance."

  Accepting the glass of wine with a nod of gratitude, "indeed," he replied, his eyes returning to the sweeping vista before him. "A beautiful view of a beautiful city."

  "It is an honor that you think so highly of my city, Divine Emissary Vittorio," the round man said, downing his glass in one swift motion. "It is a great honor for our temple to receive someone such as you."

  Vittorio, as he was called, didn't even take a sip of his wine, merely studying it for a moment before addressing Bartelot. "No need for formalities with me, Bartelot. As I've said before, I am not here as a Divine Emissary, but as a man visiting a city he has a lot of fond memories in. Think of me as a man on vacation."

  Bartelot nodded, understandingly.

  "Though I suppose there are no vacations for a servant of the deity," Vittorio remarked humorously."But at my age, a vacation is truly what I needed," he continued, his tone more somber now. "Which is why I am here. I thought it best to visit this city one last time before I return to the Seraphim's embrace."

  "Surely you jest, Emissary. You look as strong as I remember you," Bartelot replied, attempting to offer comfort.

  "Thank you, but unfortunately, that is not how it feels," Vittorio sighed. "When I came, I was hoping to meet an old friend. It seems I arrived too late."

  Bartelot's expression shifted to one of clearly feigned sadness. "Yes, it is regrettable. He left us seven years ago. I'm sure he would have been pleased to see you, and it would have been his honor to welcome you to his temple again."

  The Emissary Vittorio nodded thoughtfully, his age-old wisdom tempered by experiences of missed chances and untimely farewells. He understood all too well the nature of life's fleeting passage, where death remained the inexorable constant. His eyes held a quiet acceptance of this reality as he handed the untouched glass of wine back to Bartelot.

  Just then, a knock reverberated through the room. "Who is it?" Bartelot called out, his voice echoing slightly against the stone walls.

  "It is I, Shepherd. Damael and the other Novitiates are back from their mission. Should I send them in, or would you have them wait?" came the reply from the other side of the door.

  Upon hearing this, Emissary Vittorio began to rise, his intention clear. "I will take my leave here, Shepherd. It seems you are busy, and I do not wish to impose upon your time."

  Bartelot, however, quickly waved off the notion with a reassuring smile. "Not at all, your Eminency. In fact, this is a matter on which I would greatly value your opinion."

  While the round man’s tone conveyed both respect and a genuine desire for Vittorio's counsel, he was no novice, he knew there had to be a reason for which he wanted him to stay other than just a desire for his wisdom.

  Vittorio hesitated. He didn’t have anything particularly urgent and frankly upon leaving this place, all he would be doing is retreat to the embrace or solitude so he thought, why not, but at the same he didn’t really feel like entertaining the man that was out there just to take advantage of him and his rank.

  After a moment of contemplation, he came to a decision. He nodded slowly. "Very well, if you believe my presence could be of use, I will stay."

  "Excellent," Bartelot responded with evident relief. He then turned toward the door and spoke, "Send them in."

  As the door opened to admit Damael and the other Novitiates, Vittorio settled back into his seat, preparing himself to partake in whatever this matter was going to be about. His mind, ever analytical and wise, readied to offer guidance on whatever matters the novitiates had brought back from their mission.

  As the door opened to admit Damael and the other novitiates, Vittorio was offered a seat to settle in as the novitiates began their reports. It didn't take him long to realize why this fat sycophant wanted his opinion.

  In the three faiths that considered themselves equal to one another, even in their structures, the three faiths could be hierarchically divided into six—seven if one was bold enough to consider the angelic deities as part of it.

  From the lowest to the highest rank, the order was Devotees, Temple Guardians, Initiates, Regional Priests, Elders, and High Priests. The final rank, High Priest, was reserved for the one said to be closest to their deity, which was the position held by Divine Emissary Vittorio.

  A high priest was someone who was in charge of a wide range of responsibilities and duties, ranging from ceremonial to active political ruling. In Vittorio’s case, as a Divine emissary as is the rank's official title, he, was on top of all that, in charge of a very unique faction that was unique to the faith he belonged to. This faction dealt with "problems" that couldn’t be reasoned with, and while that might sound like it dealt with monsters, it very much was a section that dealt with humans, just not in the usual way the Faith of the Three Moons is known for: death.

  This organ was called the Executare Vicaris. They exist to deal with the enemies of the deity they serve. And he, Vittorio, was its founder.

  The report of Novitiate Damael was about an investigation they were sent to make a few days ago. A lair of bandits was discovered; it belonged to a well-known group that terrorized the region, pillaging resources drawn from or pumped into the port city. They had thrived in the region, yet what was found in their lair was nothing but death and desolation.

  The bandits' lair seemed to have been raided, and its denizens slaughtered. From the gagging and near vomiting of the Novitiate mid-report, one could easily imagine how traumatic the sight must have been. With the bandits' notorious reputation, it can safely be assumed that their lair was at least the size of a small village, with hundreds of people, including men and, unsurprisingly, children. For all the denizens to have been slaughtered, it must have been a particularly harrowing sight, even if most of the victims were bandits whom no one wanted around.

  "That's what we saw, Shepherd," Damael said, wrapping up his report. It was at that moment another novice from behind Damael added, "This had to be the doing of him, the one behind the butchery of Auroravia."

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  "The Butchery of Auroravia?" Vittorio asked, unfamiliar with the name and yet feeling like he’d heard of it somewhere.

  "Has Your Emissary never heard of it?" Bartelot asked, caressing his round belly.

  The Emissary shook his head. "This isn't the first time such a massacre of bandits has happened. The first record of it was in Lysandria, in the Wiedenfeld Kingdom."

  Vittorio frowned. "That's in another kingdom."

  The Shepherd nodded. "Yes, and it wasn't the only kingdom where it happened. After Lysandria, it happened in Tarn, Humburg, and then in Kleset and Khens in the Waldow Kingdom. The last time it happened in the Waldow Kingdom was in Auroravia, where he would truly be known for the charnel house he would leave."

  Listening to the places Bartelot listed, Vittorio discerned a pattern. But as he did, a detail struck his mind. "You're referring to this as if it were the doing of a single man. Are you sure it is?"

  "I have to admit that I'm not sure myself. I just heard the rumor, and the words say that while he doesn't usually leave anyone to tell the tale, in Lysandria where it happened the first time, someone made it out alive. It is that person who attests that the following massacres were the doing of only one person who showed up to their camp and started slaughtering every living soul there without a single question asked."

  "I see," Vittorio said before falling into deep thought.

  While random bandits didn't fall into what his organization usually took care of, unless some of the bandits had managed to reach a high enough level that they started posing a problem, still even then the matter would usually be handled by the local ruling nobles. So, he couldn't care less about the deaths of such lowlifes, whom he honestly thought were more useful to society now that they're gone. However, this butcher managed to spark his attention. As heroic as he sounded by exterminating the vermin, he was exactly what those of the Vicaris Executare order were trained to deal with: lunatics.

  There weren't many things that he could think of that could possibly motivate someone to do what this butcher did across literally three kingdoms. It was either revenge or greed, and not just any kind of greed, but one coupled with lunacy. It was the desire to see one’s level rise up, and the method used was the killing of a kin—something the precepts of all three faiths abhorred above anything.

  With Bartelot glancing Vittorio's way, the latter understood the man's intent. So, when Bartelot asked, "Your Excellency, what do you think should be done about this?" he replied, "About this? Nothing."

  "Nothing?" Bartelot echoed, puzzled.

  "From what I understand, you're hoping for me, through the order, to do something about this lunatic. But as I've said, I'm merely here as a visitor. To be honest with you, I'm merely a Divine Emissary in title and in name only. The one in control is now my second; the moment the Goddess claims me, he will take over the title. So, there is nothing that I can do to help you with this."

  Unable to hide his disappointment, Bartelot nodded, "I see."

  Vittorio could easily read the man; most members of the faith were transparent to him. Most of the time, they are looking for one thing, recognition, and often not for noble reasons.

  "If anything, what I'd be able to do is send a message informing them about the situation. This lunatic will surely attract the attention of the order, which means what you can do here is send word to the nearest city's temple. Given that this lunatic is constantly on the move, from the massacres he has committed thus far, you should be able to figure out where he'll possibly strike next. Doing so, you might facilitate things for the order to take over."

  "I see, that's what I'll do, Your Excellency. I shall dispatch messengers immediately to prepare the neighboring regions and alert the other temples," Bartelot responded.

  "Hm, I assume it’s not really the help you expected, so sorry for that." Vittorio said.

  "No, you don't have to apologize, Your Eminency. I wouldn't dare. Your wisdom is all I was hoping for," the man obviously lied.

  "Is that so?" Vittorio replied. "It is," Bartelot affirmed.

  ***

  After his conversation with Bartelot, the city’s regional priest, Vittorio excused himself from the temple. He carried only a small bag, containing the essentials needed for his journey. Although as a high-ranking member of the faith he was offered the comfort and hospitality of the local temple, he declined. Vittorio was not in the city on official business this time; he was here for personal reasons, the same that had brought him here previously.

  Opting for independence over the customary accommodations provided to someone of his status, he planned to stay at the finest hotel in the city.

  If his memory served him correctly and the establishment still maintained its reputed quality and existence, he knew exactly where to find it. Yet, before heading to the hotel, Vittorio decided to take a detour. Choosing to walk, he made his way toward the bay, but not to visit the bay itself.

  Navigating through the city’s streets, some of which he did not recall from his last visit, Vittorio’s steps were sure. His deep familiarity with the city’s layout from views he remembered from the temple helped guide him. After meandering through a blend of old cobblestone streets he knew well and newer ones that were unfamiliar, he finally arrived at his intended destination.

  It was an open street leading to the heart of the city, where a spacious plaza unfolded. At its center stood a fountain, its waters dancing gracefully into the air. A smile spread across Vittorio's face as he approached. Sitting on the edge of the fountain, he was enveloped by the comforting sound of water cascading behind him.

  Lost in contemplation, and with a reflective sigh, he murmured to himself and perhaps to the fountain, which of course could not hear, "So you're still here, it's a relief. It would've been very problematic for us if you weren't."

  As Emissary Vittorio sat by the fountain in the center of the plaza, he closed his eyes, relishing the coolness of the water and the gentle sound of its flow. Lost in his thoughts, he was startled when a voice broke the tranquility beside him.

  "Peaceful, isn't it?" remarked the middle-aged man who felt like had appeared at his side out of nowhere.

  Startled, Vittorio opened his eyes and turned towards the stranger. "Sorry?" he asked, confusion evident in his voice.

  The man, with a distinguished air about him, offered a small, apologetic smile. "I was saying, peaceful, isn't it?"

  "Oh, yes. Very," Vittorio replied, returning the smile.

  The man's gaze drifted back to the fountain before returning to Vittorio. "Forgive me if I interrupted your reverie," he said, his tone carrying both regret and gentlemanly politeness.

  "As one grows older, one tends to appreciate routine more," he remarked, seemingly out of nowhere, nodding towards the bustling activity of the plaza. "The slightest deviation from the familiar can be more bothersome than it should be."

  Vittorio nodded in agreement, understanding the sentiment all too well. But then the man turned towards him with a thoughtful expression.

  "That's why I felt compelled to speak to you," he explained. "Seeing someone other than myself sitting by the fountain border... it was a deviation from the norm."

  Once again, the man offered a courteous smile, his demeanor unfailingly polite. Vittorio returned the smile.

  Hearing those words, Emissary Vittorio couldn't help but be intrigued by the man's presence and his dedication to visiting the plaza. "Do you come here often?" he inquired, genuine curiosity lacing his words.

  The man nodded, tapping the ground with his cane. "Once a day, whenever I'm free. Fortunately, I don't live too far away, so it's a manageable distance for a daily visit."

  "And what draws you here?" Vittorio asked, casting his glance towards the fountain behind.

  The man's gaze softened, a hint of introspection in his eyes. "I come here to find peace," he admitted quietly.

  Vittorio nodded in understanding. "And do you find it every time you come?"

  "Not every time, I'm afraid. Most of the time, I leave without getting what I came for." The man chuckled softly. "But I always tell myself, if I don't find it today, I'll most likely find it next time."

  Vittorio contemplated the man's words, finding them resonating with his own experiences. As if sensing his thoughts, the man turned towards him and asked, "And you?"

  Vittorio hesitated for a moment before confessing, "I've had similar experiences, though the intervals between my visits are much longer than yours."

  The man simply nodded in acknowledgment, falling into a comfortable silence. He played with his cane for a while before finally remarking, "It's been an interesting exchange, but I believe it is time for me to take my leave."

  "Wait," Vittorio interjected. "What about the peace you were seeking?"

  The man smiled, a warmth spreading across his features. "Today, I wasn't destined to find peace. But perhaps something else." He fixed Vittorio with a meaningful gaze. "Do you believe in destiny?"

  Vittorio shook his head.

  The man's smile widened, becoming strangely the most genuine expression he had shown thus far. With a cheerful tone, he tapped his cane twice on the cobblestone ground. "Well, perhaps you should begin to. There is peace in believing that a path is threaded across time and space for you."

  Before Vittorio could respond, the man turned to leave, his parting words lingering in the air. "May we meet again. I'm sure we will if destiny does its work, which I know it will." With that, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving Vittorio to ponder his cryptic words.

  As Emissary Vittorio watched the strange old man disappear into the bustling crowd, he couldn't shake the feeling of bewilderment that lingered from their encounter.

  "What a weird old man," Vittorio muttered to himself, a perplexed expression on his face.

  In that moment, realization dawned upon him that he hadn't even learned the man's name, nor had he thought to inquire. "Am I getting that old?" Vittorio muttered to himself, remembering what the man earlier mentioned about the "unexpected". A faint headache was starting to appear behind his temples. Perhaps the old man was right about age causing people to struggle with change, he pondered.

  Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Vittorio made a conscious decision to put the encounter behind him for the time being. He stood up, dusting off his clothes, and reached for his luggage. It was time to head to the hotel he planned on settling in during his stay.

  Casting one last glance toward the spot where the old man had vanished, Vittorio couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity lingering within him. With a determined nod, he turned his gaze back to the fountain.

  "I'll be back tomorrow," he declared softly to himself, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. Perhaps, just perhaps, tomorrow he would find his version of "peace."