After that, Llane stopped thinking about the Holy Light and quietly watched the scenery outside the window.
Time slipped by unnoticed as each of them pondered different matters. As the Flying Shuttle slowly descended, they finally reached Lakeshire. Viewed from above, the foothill town beside Stillwater Lake looked exceptionally beautiful, with its deep, clear waters and lush aquatic plants along the shore. Bathed in the golden dawn, it was as lovely as a painting.
As they drew closer, Llane and Lothar saw a striking sight. Countless armored Holy Light Clerics bustled through the Stone Fortress, while some weak and helpless Lakeshire residents were carefully carried on stretchers into white tents marked with crosses.
Compared with the peaceful scenery they had just seen outside the Stone Fortress, the interior was a hive of activity. Yet under the Holy Light Clerics' supervision, there was order amid the bustle. The limp, exhausted townspeople showed none of the panic or fear one might expect. Instead, they watched the clerics working tirelessly around them with trust in their eyes, as though certain they would receive treatment.
Aboard the Flying Shuttle, a cleric gave Lothar, Llane, and each of the royal guards a white mask. Only after they had put them on did the cleric slowly open the door. The moment Llane and Lothar stepped out, a jumble of sounds reached their ears.
There were faint groans and the clerics' brief, firm commands.
"Severe cases to tent seven, where Commander Rich will perform the dispelling. Women and children to tents five and six, where the Silver Moon Priests will provide attentive treatment. Those with milder symptoms, please line up at tents one through four. Everyone, maintain order and do not crowd. The Holy Church has more than enough Priests, so please don't panic. Everyone will recover.