"Not to be refused?" Anno muttered the words darkly.
"Yes. It was undoubtedly a blessing, even if it was a cruel blessing." The old man's hands, clasped around his cane, trembled slightly. It was impossible to tell whether it was grief, rage, or both. "The demand that we undergo the Holy Selection undoubtedly trampled upon our faith. Is that not cruel enough?"
"So, although most chose to go to the Holy City, willing to abandon their faith to preserve their lives, there were still some whose yearning for faith outweighed their own lives."
He turned slightly and extended a hand, gesturing toward the other refugees behind him.
"We are such people."
"But the king who occupied the Holy City would not allow people like us to exist."
"The Holy Selection left us with only two choices. The other was death."
"The Mountain People in the northwest were willing to shelter us and keep us from being forced to betray our faith. They sent the Elder of the Mountains to take us into the mountains to live. But when we reached this place with them, we encountered the Knights of the Round Table, who were purging those unwilling to undergo the Holy Selection."
"O Lord, what sin have we committed to be given such a difficult and painful trial?"
His body was bent, but not out of respect for Anno. He was simply too overcome with sorrow to straighten himself, trembling as two tears flowed from his clouded eyes. Yet before they could hit the ground, they were completely evaporated by the vast scorched earth.
Perhaps the old man's words had stirred up cruel memories. Many among the refugees behind him began wiping away tears as well, sobbing softly.
As Anno watched the weeping people, his already heavy heart felt as