The cries of a young child could be heard from within a prison cell. The smell of bodily fluids and dried semen still wafted the air. It wasn't a place for the classy, and the mother was by no means capable of raising a child with her stature as a mere slave.
"Boys are a waste. Should I bury it?" A pair of eyes watched the feeble woman clinging onto her only reason to live. The man's cold and mechanical voice cruelly deciding the fate of her child. The bloated creature next to the slaver fell silent at the sight.
It made the slaver curious.
"I didn't know you had such vulgar tastes." Even though he was a Slave Merchant, that didn't mean he didn't have boundaries as a human being. There were despicable things he liked, but that didn't mean he was a demon with no human heart beneath it.
Seeing the slaver's reaction, the priest flared his nostrils and was ready to smack him for insulting someone of his stature. How dare a lowborn Slave Merchant speak so arrogantly? Did he believe their church had fallen so far as to accept humiliation?
Rational thinking was the only thing stopping him.
Knowing that kid could be tremendously beneficial.
He licked his lips and wiped his sweat with a rag.
"I'll buy both of them."
"...I'll ready the paperwork." Since this was an aboveboard deal, the slaver didn't think much of selling his conscience for a few coins. If there was anyone to criticise here, it'd be the wretched priest who used donations to indulge in his corruption.
No, the entire Dragon Church had become a den of sin. Priests indulged in luxurious food as the people swam in debt. Those stricken with poverty having no choice but to sell themselves to survive, which helped the economy of slave trade grow over time.
The slaver was an honest worker in that sense.
At least, that's what this kingdom believed him to be.
The woman inside the cell was no different.
"Aren't you going to leave?" The man was confused.
His senses as a merchant could figure out that there was something going on, but he couldn't see what that was. All he could see was a violated woman wearing nothing but cuffs. A common story about an average woman who couldn't pay off her debts.
Whether they were reasonable or not meant nothing.
This wasn't a charity.
"I'll take them with me." As if scared anything would happen to them, the priest stayed back. Getting the paperwork done personally without asking another to deal with this mundanity. Practically skipping in delight to have this slave and her offspring with him.
A twisted expression of joy turned towards the emotionless doll in a cage. Not knowing her future.
Only that it wouldn't end well regardless.
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A total of seventeen years had passed since The Saint's day of birth. He had been serving the Church loyally over the years. Never once complaining about his responsibilities. They say that The Saint was a mysterious individual, but had a good personality.
If not for him, the Dragon Church would've fallen in the recent years. Without his miraculous blood that could cure all illnesses and improve lifespan, Pope Flaun would've passed at the age of fifty. He could be proud that he was such an important individual.
At least, that's what others would think.
The Saint was mild-mannered from birth. Not too weak or strong on others. Simply floating around in the Dragon Church. He had dreamed of a day that he'd be able to bring his mother back from the hands of the kingdom. Having become a collateral prince.
No one could touch him, but he too was helpless.
Everyday, his life would be a simple rotation between prayers and rituals. Education up to the basic level was provided for him. A collateral prince could not be illiterate, and manners were taught to him by a teacher that taught many nobles grace.
There was an irony here.
Though he was technically considered a prince due to his mother becoming a concubine to the current King, he was never given a real name. Most still favoured calling him Saint. Not 'Sir' Saint or 'Mr' Saint. His exclusive title holding reverence.
The Saint was not unaware that he was still blessed.
Though once considered the child of a slave, there weren't many who openly mocked his origins at this moment. His mother wasn't a Queen, but she was still a concubine with great respect from the public and nobility. Giving him the power to do anything.
Still, some dreams were difficult even with power.
In the four walls of the Southern Sanctuary within the Drakeyol Kingdom, Pastor Robinson consoled The Saint to put aside his worldly desires. To keep his purity and pray diligently as per usual. His eyes no longer holding any interest after all these years.
He returned to his room.
"Almost there… Almost there…" It had been slow and gradual, but The Saint was aware that he had been gaining more freedom with time. He whispered to himself crazily under his bedsheets. Their soft and high quality sensation easing the worries he had.
"Freya said that mother will be free enough to meet me tomorrow. I'll finally meet her! I can talk to her properly…!" Tears welled up in his eyes in gratitude for his childhood friend. The granddaughter of Pope Flaun and personal attendant of Concubine Rhea.
He couldn't sleep tonight.
His hand aching in pain from having cut it today.
Everyday, he would fill a glass container with his blood and preform a ritual to sustain the power within. The Saint had been much more passionate in his rituals and prayers today. Isolating himself as per usual so he wouldn't be stained by mundane bonds.
The Saint completely believed the teachings given.
"Tomorrow… Yes… Tomorrow… Please don't let me down. I've waited for a name for so long." Even so, a connection to one's parents wasn't something that could be erased. If there was one thing he sought all his life, it would be a meeting with his mother.
When he was young, she was too busy.
And when he got older, she became a concubine.
It had been ten years since she entered the Royal Palace and became known as 'Concubine Rhea' to the public. A figure that wasn't too known nor disregarded. A perfect balance struck to keep the Queen from doing her any particular harm.
The Saint had learned that his mother represented the bond between the Dragon Church and the Royal Family. So long as she lived, Pastor Robinson would be able to exert influence into the palace. It was what allowed Freya to attend his mother in the first place.
But all this meant nothing to him.
He simply wanted to be a filial son for once.
Form a bond with someone in his loneliness.
A relationship different from professional ones.
Dreams of being able to get close to his mother filled his head. Maybe it'll be an emotional reunion, but even if it wasn't… The Saint wouldn't passively sit by and allow his mother to leave. He was burning with warmth. Ready to fight for what he believed was his.
A smile etched onto the sleeping youth's face.
In no time at all, the sun started to rise and birds started to chirp. As always, the regulars who came to pray everyday were present. Some were servants of the palace; others were nearby owners of businesses and employees. Many from different walks of life.
In front of a statue of a dragon, he gave a prayer.
"We gather here today to honour the Founding Dragon. If not for His mercy, we would not be here today. Ask for His forgiveness. Pray for blessings and a long but fruitful life." The Saint said eloquently on the stand. The morning rush all hustle and bustle.
Those below clasped their hands in prayer.
Donations being received as they were leaving.
Again, Pastor Robinson was busy.
And so was Pope Flaun.
Of course. Of course… There was no need for them to attend when they held such crucial positions. The core of the Dragon Church must be responsible for many things. It was probably too much to expect them to be attending. He didn't blame them.
Morning prayers went smoothly.
Time ticked by as he waited for her arrival.
"When will she be here…?" He looked at the sky.
He ate, prayed, bathed, prayed again… Making sure to spend his time in his personal Prayer Room while making sure the daily ritual was done. No matter how many times he had done it, a drawing out a gallon of blood everyday impacted him negatively.
The sky started to darken.
His smile was fading.
It was late at night when news had arrived.
Someone had came to deliver it to him personally.
A carriage luxuriously covered in ornaments and built from high quality materials emerged. It was for a brief moment that his attitude brightened. For the first time in so many years, he had forgotten etiquette and ran towards the carriage on his own.
His personal guards watching the scene unfold.
"Mother!" The Saint reached out.
Opening the carriage door to see a youthful girl that wasn't his mother sitting alone. It was Freya inside the carriage alone, and his mother wasn't there. The only explanation was that she couldn't come. It was a fact that deflated his ego, but hadn't broken him.
He was tougher than that.
"…Sorry, so she didn't come?" He raised a brow.
If that was the case, then why was she here?
What's with the carriage?
"Saint, you have to listen to me calmly." The tears on Freya's face hadn't fully dried yet. Her words could only sound ominous to the youth who believed that no news was better than bad news. His hairs stood on end when she openly grabbed his arm tightly.
Looking directly into his eyes.
The words that left her mouth next were muted.
He didn't dare to listen further after a while.
Unable to believe it.
"No… She must be mistaken." The Saint held his head and looked around for answers. There must be someone who could deny this insanity. Of course his mother was fine as always. She must've gone out of sight, but there was no way she had lost her life.
Surely, there was a mistake.
The Saint held his strained smile obsessively.
He was told all his life that good people prospered and that the Founding Dragon would look upon him with kindness. So what was this? He'd lived the saintly life and had never hurt a fly. Having shown kindness to all and generosity wherever he went.
Karma shouldn't be punishing him.
So what was this nonsense?
Pastor Robinson was somewhere in the Dragon Church. He must be in his room tonight. There was no reason for him to be anywhere else. The Saint had quickly knocked on his door. Trying to find the only father figure he'd ever known to clear his confusion.
"Where has he gone…?"
Only an empty room awaited his arrival. There was no way he had gone missing. He must've gone to a place he usually didn't enter. Perhaps due to his wild emotions going unchecked, The Saint chose to ignore Pastor Robinson's warnings and went 'there'.
To the Southern Sanctuary's basement.
It was a dreary place that was far from his own prayer room. A pair of stairs connecting downwards to another door. It was always locked, and no one below a certain rank could enter. Pastors and the Pope were the only people who were allowed in.
Considering he was a Saint, he figured it was fine.
Opening the basement door and going inside.
A familiar darkness locked away in the deepest recesses of his memories appeared. His emotions couldn't calm down. Unable to understand why this place was making him feel anxious. He didn't know what he was going to see. Hearing voices in the dark.
It was then he saw a disgusting scene.
Pastor Robinson didn't look like a man of religion at this moment. His arm wrapping around an unknown woman wearing the sacred nun uniform. It was a sinful sight. The modesty of a nun being violated by someone he'd always seen as his own father figure.
"S-Stop! Please… Have mercy on me…!" The woman was obviously being coerced. He had seen her at the morning prayers today. She was a very diligent person with a beautiful appearance. Remembering that her name was Hazel. A nun of this church.
"What is going on here?!" The Saint was outraged.
Once kind-looking fatherly figure that always consoled him on his bad moments turned with an expression he couldn't recognise. The priest looked like he was annoyed. A violent glint in his eyes when he turned to see the youth trying to stop his actions.
This was the start of a domino effect that would topple the entire kingdom. The truth was uncovered.
…But would it come to light so easily?