Chapter 36, Oh White One

Chapter 36, Oh White One

As Kreig left Georges room and went back into his own, he was only briefly given a look at how Sam poked her head out of her own room, grinning teasingly at her brother. George, in turn, coughed and cleared his throat in a vague attempt to regain his cool. It didnt work too well, but by this point, Kreig had already returned to his room, closed the door and sat down at his desk. The chair creaked as he sat down.

Now that he looked closer, the blooming flowers in his room weren't just regular flowering plants, but also blooming cacti. Very pretty ones, to boot.

Kreig looked over at the window and the painting of the White Pope beside it. Such a beautiful man.

Youll be fine one day, Oracle Kreig, hed said, and his face would light up in such assured joy that Kreig could only believe him.

You tell me that, and yet the Empires forces only close in. It isnt about me, oh White One. I have outgrown my selfish and disobedient nature. You were not there, but you must understand that it is not about the Five Bodies or the cardinals or the Oracles. It is about our faith. Kreig spoke softly, his head and body bowed down before the throne of the White Pope.

He hummed. Who is to carry on the faith of our God, who is to host the White Roots, should the believers die? Who is to protect the people if the Oracles are defeated? You must trust me, Oracle Kreig.

I do trust you, oh White One. With all my heart.

And I do not doubt your belief. As I do not doubt you, you must not doubt me. The Five Bodies move out tomorrow, and you will bring every Oracle and soldier you can muster. Should you die, the Theocracy will live. Should you submit and relinquish your faith, so too will I die. Remain strong. Remain faithful.

Kreig stood up. I will, oh White One.

The fate of the Theocracy and its people remained a mystery to Kreig all the way until his release from the Empire, until he had been thoroughly changed.

Would the White Pope approve of him now? He was the only one carrying on the will of God. The one man who had survived the death of the faith.

In all aspects, the Holy Order of White Roots was dead. Dead and buried and burnt to keep it down. Joining the God Below. Follow current novels at novelhall.com)

A few more details on the table (water, coaster for the pots and pans etc) and everything was ready. Kreig turned solemn eyes on George.

Whatever was stewing on the stove wasnt even proper food anymore. When George sat a pan filled with ashes and charcoals and a pot filled with indescribable white pulp on the table, his face was right on the cusp of true anger. It was almost red and his eyes were almost bloodshot. He sat down, and Sam followed suit. She was smiling, and Kreig couldnt for the life of him figure out why.

Dig in. That was all George would say on the matter. Going by Sams eyes all aglow, she wouldnt hesitate.

Now, all things considered, Kreig would hypothetically be able to eat it. Due to the skill Divinity, any impurity within him would be cleansed, a passive effect that was also caused by his race as Divine Human. However, that didnt mean his taste buds would take kindly to it, or, especially, his (trace) morals. It was his first night home. Was he really about to eat charcoal simply because his siblings had made it?

...Well, yes, but it was more than that. Could he accept, as their brother, that they should eat this?

He could accept eating charcoal, but he couldnt accept letting them eat it.

He glanced at George, quickly grabbing his eye and establishing eye-contact. For some reason, his brother flinched, as if being passively watched by Kreig was something terribly uncomfortable. Kreig decided not to force George to be the one to break the silence. Brother dearest If I may, will you possibly grant me the pleasure of supplementing this meal with a dining of my own creation?

George squinted and wrinkled his nose as if hed smelt something rancid. He glanced at the food, noticing bitterly how Sam had already shovelled a large spoon of white goop into her face. Even then, he hardly seemed joyous. ...Are you sure, Kreig? I never thought you were a cook

I know enough to improve upon this. He felt terribly rude for just suggesting it, but since George hadnt completely rejected it, he might still have a chance.

...Sure, go ahead. Be quick, though.

In a single moment, Kreigs heart was filled with elation. He stood up, wandered over to the kitchen, and took a deep breath, taking it all in. There was a cupboard filled with spices over there. Another filled with dry ingredients next to it. The fridge held many groceries he recognized, pork cutlets, various vegetables he did (and didnt) recognize, curiously lacking the chocolate cake, lactose produce, a startling lack of mushrooms (since it was one of the staple foods back in the otherworld), and everything he needed to make a proper meal.

Despite what one might think from appearances, Kreig was an expert cook. Despite how long ago itd been the last time he cooked. Despite all his time without so much as touching a loaf of bread He knew how to cook.

He got right to it.