For half an hour, Aiden had played the role of an impromptu waiter. Now he had to take his leave from Mrs. Hopkins, for Felix was already waiting. He slipped some money onto the counter while Mrs. Hopkins was in the kitchen. He knew the woman would never accept his payment, even if he insisted.

“Mrs. Hopkins, I’ll be going now,” said Aiden.

“Wait!” Mrs. Hopkins came rushing out, carrying a cloth bag filled with a covered clay pot. “Take this. You need to eat plenty.”

“Do you want me to grow as big as a walrus?”

“You silly boy, don’t tease your elders.” Mrs. Hopkins chuckled, giving his arm a light tap. “Thank you for cheering me up and helping me.”

“It was nothing. To me, you’re like a second mother.”

“A second mother?” Mrs. Hopkins furrowed her brow, trying to decipher his words. “Don’t tell me—”

“I—I have to go.” Aiden cut her short. “Thank you again, Mrs. Hopkins. Goodbye.”

Mrs. Hopkins smiled as she watched the young man’s back slowly grow smaller in the distance. She murmured, “Time passes so quickly. He’s not a child anymore.”

Aiden arrived where Felix was waiting.

“What took you so long?” Felix asked.

“Sorry, something came up. I’ll pay you extra.”

“No need. I wasn’t busy anyway.”

Aiden glanced at him, smiling. “Turns out you’re kinder than I thought.” He sat beside him, then turned when he noticed the boyish-looking girl wasn’t there. “Didn’t you bring Charlie?”

“She’s playing with her friends.” Felix urged the horses forward. “You don’t need to worry. The guards won’t make a fuss about it.”

Aiden nodded.

“By the way, how’s your progress with her?”

“She wasn’t home, but I met her guardian.”

“Her guardian?” Felix sat up straight in surprise. “Well, well, you’re bolder than I thought. But that’s the right move. If you win over her guardian, your chances are better. A good girl always listens to her parents.”

Aiden chuckled at Felix’s words, imagining the possibilities.

Suddenly, the flapping of wings brushed past his ear, snapping him from his daydream. A crow flew by and perched upon a stone marker inscribed with Eastgarden. Once it landed, the crow didn’t move, its eyes fixed on Aiden.

And Aiden, too, was fixed on it. The sight stirred an old memory.

“By the way, can we take the Eastgarden route?” Aiden asked.

“It’s a bit of a detour from here. But... all right.”

Felix steered the stout horses to turn. They entered the Eastgarden District. From the very entrance, the area looked different from the rest of the town. There were no crowded buildings—only tormentil shrubs and spruces lining the way. Further ahead, the scenery opened to maple groves. Administrative buildings peeked out between towering trees. Wide open spaces spread across the district: gazebos, park benches, places to rest. Aiden remembered the day he went shopping with his mother.

Why didn’t Mom want to pass through here? What a pity—it’s so beautiful.

“Why’d you suddenly to go through Eastgarden?” Felix asked.

“I just felt like it. A few days ago I went for a walk with my mom, but she didn’t want to pass through here. And earlier I saw a crow. It may sound strange, but I feel the crow I’ve seen since childhood is the same one. I believe that bird is guiding my life.”

“So you’re superstitious after all. I thought you were completely rational.”

“I’m not that rational. In fact, ever since I was a child my mom filled my head with fairy tales—crows that guide, wolves that speak, forest spirits, the souls of the dead. And foolishly, I believed them all.”

“That’s not foolish. It means you had a beautiful childhood. You’re lucky to have a mother who told you bedtime stories.”

Aiden didn’t reply. His answer wasn’t as simple as “yes” or “no.” They rode in silence, wrapped in the quiet that seemed to seep from the trees themselves. And that very quiet stirred Aiden’s unease. Something felt wrong. For such a lovely place, why weren’t there more people around? At the very least, children should have been playing.

At last they reached the heart of Eastgarden. People began to appear, walking along the sidewalks. Their numbers grew. Among the crowd, Aiden spotted the same group he had seen with Duncan days ago—men and women in deep blue robes. They weren’t holding candles, so it wasn’t the annual thanksgiving celebration. Still, seeing their shared direction, they were clearly heading somewhere. So were the ordinary townsfolk.

“I saw those people when I first came here,” Aiden said. “They don’t look like just another guild. Do you know who they are?”

“You’re right—they’re not just a guild. They’re followers of the Baranic faith, the largest religion community in Eirabelle.”

“Religion?” Aiden frowned. He had never once heard the name in all his life in Eirabelle. His curiosity rose. “Can you tell me more about it?”

“I’m no expert,” Felix admitted. “But I’ll try. From what I’ve heard, Baranic was founded by a man named Rudolph Baran. His followers are called the Barani.”

“He was their teacher?”

“More than a teacher. He’s their prophet.”

Prophet?

Aiden’s shock deepened. Something this monumental, and he had never known of it? Unless someone had deliberately kept it from him. His mind turned to two people—Duncan and his mother. They had always been his lens to the world.

Aiden’s gut twisted, but he pressed on. “Is this man still alive?”

“Supposedly, yes. But I’m not certain. Very few claim to have met him. They say he can travel back and forth between heaven and earth.”

“And who do they worship?”

“The Goddess of Hope.”

Aiden froze, his pulse pounding. Felix wasn’t lying; he spoke with too much ease.

“Why so serious?” Felix asked.

“It’s just strange. I’ve never heard of Rudolph Baran, his followers, this Baranic faith, or this Goddess of Hope they worship. Not to brag, but I’m a highly educated man.”

“It’s natural you wouldn’t know, even with all your education. You’re an outsider. Baranic is a young religion, not yet widespread. But for us in Eirabelle, it’s in our blood now. I’m not one of them, but I still join the yearly offering to honor the Goddess of Hope. We believe she is our protector.”

Felix paused, then added: “I told you before—Queen Anna is adored by the people. She is our Goddess of Hope.”

Aiden went silent. His eyes widened, his heart thundered as if shaken by a storm. He couldn’t grasp the meaning. Queen Anna... his mother... the Goddess of Hope? Impossible.

Struggling to contain his shock, he asked, “You mean you worship... Queen Anna?”

“It’s not quite right to call it worship. Personally, I only give thanks. But through the eyes of the Barani: yes, they worship Queen Anna. They don’t even call her queen anymore. They call her Mother Goddess.”

Aiden knew he should stop asking. The more he asked, the deeper the knife sank, the more unbearable it became. But he couldn’t stop.

“What has Queen Anna done to deserve worship? Don’t say it’s just because she’s kind. There must be something greater she’s done.” His voice rose.

Felix shifted uneasily. “You seem deeply interested. Why not see for yourself? There should be a weekly sermon at the Eastgarden Plaza. It’s open to the public. You might learn something there.”

“Then let’s go!” Aiden urged.

Felix turned the horses at the next crossroad and drove into the Plaza. After parking the carriage, he hurried after Aiden, who had already pushed into the crowd. The Plaza teemed with people, most wearing deep blue robes. All eyes fixed on the stage, waiting for the event to begin.

Impatient, Aiden shoved his way forward.

“Where are you going?” Felix called, but Aiden didn’t answer. He followed.

Aiden barreled through shoulders without care, nearly starting fights. One Barani scowled, ready to confront him.

“Hey, blondie! Get back here!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Felix apologized quickly. “My friend is just eager to learn your teachings. Forgive him.”

The Barani huffed but let it go.

Aiden reached the front row, scanning. Beside the stage stood an elder Barani holding a book and a wooden staff carved with floral spirals. Judging by his presence, he was the priest in charge.

But another figure caught Aiden’s eye. Not in robes—a towering man in a vest and metal helm.

“You nearly caused trouble,” Felix muttered, catching up. “Control yourself! If you want to learn, do it calmly.”

Felix glanced at the towering man and frowned. “Wait... this isn’t a sermon. It’s an execution.”

“Execution?”

“Yes. That man is the executioner.”

Aiden’s head spun, nausea rising. Each word from Felix felt like a hammer blow. He clung to hope it was just a nightmare. But if it was real, then at last the puzzle pieces fit: why his mother sent him away with vague excuses, why Duncan shadowed him like a guard rather than a servant, why the people adored her, why she refused to pass through Eastgarden. Lies. Sixteen years of lies.

“You all right?” Felix asked, seeing Aiden clutch his head. “Should we leave?”

“I have to see this,” Aiden forced out.

“You’re pale.”

The crowd roared as a carriage arrived, flanked by two armed soldiers riding caribou. Aiden recognized their insignia: soldiers of the Kingdom, members of the Winterhold Order.

The two Holdans dragged a prisoner out, shoving him to the stage before leaving without care.

The organizers hauled a wooden platform onto the stage. The prisoner was forced to his knees, head bowed.

The priest stepped forward, and silence fell.

“Today we bring sin into the light. Before the Goddess of Hope, we will not allow evil to take root and mislead her children. Those who oppose the light must be cut away before they poison the field we have sown with sacrifice. Let this execution be both lesson and offering to the Mother Goddess.”

Aiden clenched his fists until his knuckles went white. Mom... what have you done?

“In the name of the Crown, by the law given to our prophet, for the safety of the people and the prosperity of the land, I hereby decree the death sentence upon Marcus Roderick, forty-eight years old, for opposing the divinity of the Mother Goddess and for blaspheming her children.”

No... Mommy can’t have done this.

The executioner ascended the stage. In his hands gleamed a massive sword.

The crowd erupted again.

A chill wind swept through Aiden’s skin. His breath came ragged, his ears rang, his lips stiffened. His eyes locked on the stage: the priest, the executioner, the prisoner kneeling weakly. The horror burned his soul.

No... she can’t be what they say. She can’t.

The executioner raised the sword high, swift and precise.

The voices of the mob pounded his ears:

“Kill him!”
“Send him to hell!”
“Don’t defy our Mother!”
“Die, heretic!”

And then another voice echoed in his mind—his mother’s:

“You’re slow to decide....”

Aiden’s eyes snapped open. Rage surged. His voice burst out, harsh and commanding, before thought could stop it:

“SHUT UP!!!”

The entire Plaza froze. Eyes turned. Even the executioner halted. Never in Baranic’s history had anyone dared interrupt. The penalty for defiance was severe.

Aiden stormed the stage. His body moved on instinct. He kicked the executioner’s wrist so hard the sword flew from his grip.

“Are you mad?” the executioner bellowed, lunging, but the priest restrained him.

“Who are you?” the priest demanded.

Aiden didn’t answer. His anger thundered. “Stop this vile act, you savages!”

“You’re in grave danger, boy,” the priest said coldly, signaling the executioner. “Kill him.”

The executioner retrieved his sword, pointing it at Aiden’s face.

“Don’t move,” he threatened. “Or you’ll die screaming.”

The crowd roared again.

Aiden stood tall, staring into the executioner’s eyes. Fear gnawed at him, but pain and betrayal burned stronger. Better to die than be complicit in this cruelty.

Then—through the chaos—a calm voice broke the frenzy.

“Stop, Jameson.”

The priest stiffened. He knew that voice. He looked down and paled.

“Sir Jim Duncan,” he said with unease. “What brings you here?”

“The young man is with me,” Duncan replied.

Next Chapter: Chapter 5: A Silent Night