Lakuras's phantom drifted to the Archbishop's side and stroked his face.
The Archbishop closed his eyes and felt golden light illuminate his thoughts. As though in a dream, he saw himself standing in Memeiriel Hive, with Saint Lakuras beside him in tangible form.
"Do you remember this place?"
"I do, Saint. This is the lower district of Memeiriel Hive."
"Good. Follow me."
Saint Lakuras drifted away, and the Archbishop followed closely through this dark, suffocating place. Every time he entered it, he felt sorrow and pity.
They came to a shack. Their dreamlike spirits passed through its walls, revealing the scene within.
A group of exhausted people had gathered together, discussing their recent lives.
"Did you hear? The people up top are going to issue the Mercy Edict."
A sturdily built man leaned on an iron hammer, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and spoke in a low voice.
"I heard something like that... They say the people above have finally found it in their hearts to show mercy..."
"The overseers have been especially sour-faced lately, and their tempers are terrible. They whip people at the slightest thing. I've already been whipped twice."
Another man complained, showing the people around him the fresh wounds on his back to prove he was not lying.
"Whew... Thank The Emperor. If life can get a little better, I'm willing to do anything."
A frail woman offered a brief prayer, but the Archbishop sensed no devotion to The Emperor in her words—only relief.
Relief that she had lived to see this day.
"Bullshit!" The curse stood out sharply amid the hushed discussion. A man strode to the front in a few steps, climbed onto a table, and looked furious.
"What mercy? This is what we're owed!"
"What? This..."
The crowd did not understand