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Though it was still early evening, the sacred grounds of the Church, surrounded by dense forests, quickly darkened, making it seem like the dead of night.
“Brother.”
At that, Martte MacGovern turned away from the window.
“Randol,” he called back, nodding at his younger brother. “Have you kept up with your training? You’ve always been so diligent, even back at the mansion. It feels like ages since I last held a sword here.”
“Join me, then. We can’t use real weapons, but the Church allows wooden swords for sparring,” Randol suggested.
At that, Martte gave a bitter smile and said, “You should train as much as you can.”
As Randol looked at Martte, he noticed that the confidence and sharpness that once defined his brother back at the mansion seemed to have faded.
“I’m worried that life here has been difficult for you,” Randol voiced his concern.
Unlike Randol, who had arrived later, Martte had been here in Heim for months, serving as Jake’s guardian. Jake’s stay in Heim was under the guise of receiving treatment, but in truth, he was nothing more than a hostage.
Yet, Martte couldn’t simply leave. Jake lived deep within Heim, housed...
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