"Pastor Phillip?" Bancho asked. "Oh, my dear Phillip!" he raised his voice, stepping in, one hand landing on the man's shoulder. The pastor in question nodded, with a light smile. "It has been so long, hasn't it?"

"Five years, precisely," Phillip answered, gently pulling the Morian away, and Bancho beamed at his matching expression.

"Well, I'm sorry." Bancho continued. "The whole world has been crumbling down as of recently, and I'm sure that someone here knows exactly what I mean." he pointed forwards, before venturing inside.

The church's interior had a gold tint, and the floor was checkered, some tiles were dented, and there were people inside, praying on their knees towards an image etched into the colourful window above. It wasn't a big church, unlike the grandeur one in Fort Apharel.

He turned to the throne-like seat, placed on a platform, where he'd usually find a person sitting, with doors on the right, leading to a balcony above as well as a separate room further in. To his surprise though, no one was there. Bancho raised an eyebrow. "Ah. Is Axel anywhere in town?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Phillip quickly answered, shaking his head and putting his hands together. "I'm guessing you're searching for him for the same reason as always, isn't that right?" The pastor's slightly shifted.

Bancho sighed. "I'm sorry, I wish I had more time to spare. I always love coming to these sides of Errarion, simply to admire how different things are around here." Bancho uttered, turning around. "As of late, though, rumours have been spreading. I need to confirm a word with Axel."

Phillip chuckled. "Nothing else, then? You only came around to talk with Saint Axel?"

"Saint Axel? Where did that title come from?" Bancho asked, curiously.

"He's not here." Phillip moved his hand around, ignoring his question. "You can already see yourself out of this town." The pastor muttered, clenching his fist.

"Phillip," Bancho said, in a low tone. "Are you mad at me?"

"No." Phillip shook his head, stepping towards the doors. "Just... surprised."

"I've seen you grow over twenty-seven years, and so did Axel. You're as much of a friend to me as he is." Bancho informed, putting a hand on his shoulder, and Phillip felt the leathery material of his glove after a small tremble.

"Things have changed, Mr Bancho." Phillip turned around, shaking his head, hiding a small ring on his finger. Bancho noticed its gleam but decided to continue either way.

"Well, there is a man selling jam." Bancho signalled with his hand. "I hope it's tasty. You don't get these treats in Shimori."

"Jam?" Phillip asked, chuckling.

"Good old Hakh-Nivena to me, then." he laughed, before turning to the other Erans and half-demons in the church. They all stared back, without another word uttered. Bancho raised his brows before Phillip lightly pushed on his shoulder.

"W-Why don't we go down to the Fox Bar?"

"Phew." Bancho turned. "I was about to ask you for something along those lines."

As the two stepped out from the church, Bancho once again, took a quick gander. The pillars supporting the ceiling were coated in a strange pattern he couldn't necessarily recognize, and the people seemingly returned to their quiet prayer. It was weird, that was for certain, but he'd bite. Either way, trying to get any info on Axel's whereabouts meant spending time with the pastor.

At the bar, the two took their seats, and while Phillip nervously put his hands together, Bancho enjoyed a nice smoke, from a small cigar he held in his hands. The Fox Bar was known for selling an hour of these cigars for only ten Silver. Such concepts were brought over from smaller towns, such as the Lignorian Eldham or even bits of Fort Apharel. To conclude, not much was original in Hakh-Nivena, but what they borrowed from others, they added a little spin to it.

Bancho and, especially Axel, would always mention that the cigars here specifically did wonders to their old joints, but Phillip refused, citing something about an allergy.

"So, what has changed except that?" Bancho asked, glancing over at the man behind the counter, who eyed him from time to time.

Phillip scratched his head and looked around. The bar was empty, spare for the two. Even the adjacent streets were either filled with empty, wrecked buildings or people begging for money to survive another day through.

"I noticed for one that your robe looks different, but I think that just be my age, and yours, too. You're certainly bigger than you once were." he put the cigar in his mouth, chuckling, closing his eyes

"The robes are new, yes." Phillip quickly answered.

"Mmh, I see. I haven't been to Fort Apharel in quite a while, but I'm pretty sure that your design doesn't match theirs anymore. Pasto's a very interesting religion, I'd say." he nodded. "There's always something to learn about. Axel always told so many stories and only more keep circling Errarion." he leaned back. "Like, when the moon met the sun, shining a purple right through the church's window, leaving him with a particular scar. Axel was a man of Pasto's word. Everybody could tell you that."

"I haven't heard anything new." Phillip shook his head.

"Figured. He's kind of private with what he shares." Bancho said.

"No, as I said-"

"Things changed?" Bancho said, mockingly. "He doesn't just run out of stories. Things happen every single day. We're both alike in that matter." Bancho explained.

Phillip tapped the side of the table, glancing over at the man behind the counter. Bancho took another, longer hit, before finally bracing himself and asking the question.

"So, where is Axel?"

"Not in town."

"Figured that much, but it's a little more than just some visiting as I said. Do you know where I could find him?"

"He moved from this church, and settled into a different one, in the middle of Malikan."

"Huh." Bancho blinked. "Seems a little foolish. Axel always went on and on about how he needed to protect the people of Hakh-Nivena. A role of the Wise, he said."

Phillip furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'd trust someone Axel with decisions, though. I'm sure the both of us would understand." Bancho nodded, as the bartender eventually circled three tables, and made his way to the two.

"It's on the house," he muttered, taking a step back and leaning against one of the grey pillars. Bancho's eyes widened, and he leaned, glancing at a glass that stood in front of him. He tapped it twice with one finger, before smiling and nodding to the bartender, who quickly waddled back.

Phillip breathed out, turning to Bancho. "Don't drink that."

"Alcohol? Figured that might be best if I still want to ride that horse." Bancho chuckled, but when Phillip didn't respond in the same manner, once more, he turned, with a more serious expression.

The pastor stood up, biting into his nails, and looking out the window. He rubbed some of the dust off its sill, sighing. "So, that's it?" he asked. "Are you going to see Axel now?"

"I don't get why you're trying to hurry me up. I'm trying to make it up to you, Axel."

"It's not about making anything up, okay?" he added, nervously. "You'd never understand. I'm only trying to help you before something bad happens." Phillip shook his head.

"Something bad? I think I get it." Bancho uttered, putting the glass into his hand. "You're too afraid to say it, aren't you?"

Phillip gulped, and Bancho stared right back.

"It's a bad omen. Someone known to carry thousands of stories, stepping into town without the other Wise to protect it."

"What?" Phillip asked.

Bancho chuckled. "It's a common rumour, especially about people like us. That's why we keep some of those tales private. So, back to that other conversation." he pointed. "I'm sure Axel has a lot more stories. Maybe a few even revolving around demons..."

"Demons?" Phillip turned around. "Why do you always think that everything you say is right?!"

"What?" Bancho uttered.

Phillip took a step forward. "I said what I said. You'd never get it! You'd never understand everything us Erans have to go through in this town just because people like you and all those other Tributals, Paladians and whatever you could think of treat us worse than garbage? How long will this poor excuse of a town last, huh?!"

Bancho glanced around the area. The wooden interior only had two of the inside. Even the bartender seemed to disappear into its rather warm insides.

"I didn't think that's what you meant. If it's that serious, then-"

"Because it's so easy for you! Thinking that, just a conversation with Axel might solve yet another one of your selfish problems," he shouted.

"Selfish? I had Axel complaining about lots of things, Phillip. I've always listened."

"Then, why is everything just falling apart at the seams? More half-demons than humans, more crime in the markets and even less and less belief in Pasto... They're treating us worse than demons. Why, why?! Why won't the Gods answer our sorrowful prayers?" he stuck both hands out as if to pray. "And, even when Axel said, that if I just believe in it, they're going to save us, they never did. He soon denied those words as well. No one came to our aid. No one saw us as equals, but... do you know who did?" he smiled, slyly.

Bancho suddenly furrowed his brows, and rushed towards Phillip, pinning him against the stone wall of the exit. "Have you lost your minds?!" he yelled out, shoving his hand up Phillip's throat. "You're not going to trust demons now, are you?!"

"Ghh." Phillip ground his teeth, opening one eye. "It was Saint Axel's idea! He thought of it!"

"Axel..." Bancho breathed out as if denying his words. "What the hell did all of you do?!"

All of a sudden, the Morian felt a cold blade gracing the back of his neck. The bartender stood behind him, holding a pocket knife against his skin.

With his eyes turning, Bancho kicked back, as the weapon flew up. The next move allowed him to catch it midair, before slicing through the man's arm and pushing him to the side.

Phillip slid against the wall, covering his face. "Phillip, Phillip," Bancho uttered. "I'm not going to hurt you. Listen..." he grabbed him by his collar. "What happened?" he repeated the question.

Phillip shook his head, breathing in. "Two years ago," he answered. "The Kabun clan ordered the people from Fort Apharel to wipe us out from the maps." he grasped Bancho's hand. "...Saint Axel swore there was no other way out of this turmoil. He scared them away, with an even bigger demon, stood by his side."

"Why? He could've fought."

"They were too strong."

"The Kabun clan would never attack civilians!" Bancho yelled out. "They're amongst the most honourable of Demonears in this entire world! I'd know, Phillip!"

"It's the truth, I swear..." he spoke, closing his eyes.

"Trusting demons is like believing there is light without shadow. I need the answers, all of them." Bancho fixed his gloves, and brushed through his hair, dropping the knife.

"I believe in Saint Axel's word," he spoke through his teeth. "...and I swear Bancho, all of us do! Those filthy Demonears don't have anything on us!"

"Then, I'll have to hear that word myself," Bancho smirked, stepping out of the Fox Bar and making it out of the tight street, before being greeted by hundreds of people, standing on the path leading down towards the exit. Bancho breathed out, closing his eyes.