40k: Midnight Blade.

Chapter 800 21. Lame Pastor (Part )

"In general, we have only one principle," said the priest, who goes by the name of Kuraken. "But it applies to almost any situation."

Nairo nodded, then bent down, picked up a wet and heavy piece of wood, turned around and placed it on its 'execution platform'.

It has been soaked with water due to the continuous heavy rain in recent days and has become much heavier. Experienced loggers know that logging and subsequent cutting work cannot only be based on the type of tree, but also on whether they are wet or dry.

Dry wood is easy, but wet wood requires hard work.
Kulaken obviously understood this as well, he took a deep breath, gripped the axe, and waited until he was sure he was ready, then he raised the axe at an angle, held both hands high, and brought it down heavily.

"boom!"

The sawdust scattered and flew into the surrounding mist, disappearing in the blink of an eye. The priest put his foot on his temporary enemy, shook the axe up and down to pull it out, stepped back, and raised the axe again at an angle.

"boom!"

"boom!"

"boom!"

After three consecutive powerful blows, accompanied by a hoarse and unpleasant creaking sound, the wet wood was finally split into two. Kulaken put down the axe and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, while Nairo had already brought the next piece of wood over.

Four hours later, they drove a truck slowly down the mountain and returned to a wooden house halfway up the mountain.

The priest in a thick cotton coat jumped out of the car, sniffing, and started unloading the goods with Nairo.

They brought so much wood that they filled the entire open space in front of the cabin, and even enough to be used as a temporary fortification. But they couldn't be thrown into the stove yet. They had to wait until the weather cleared up and let the sun do its work and dry the moisture.
"Come in!" the priest shouted to Nero, who was still standing among the woodpile, from the door of the hut. "I've already lit the fire!"

He was right. The fire in the stone fireplace was surprisingly warm. Naro sat cross-legged and warmed his hands by the fire.

The truck's cabin couldn't accommodate him, so he could only sit in the empty cargo hold. He had already lost his temperature due to the cold wind and mist in the forest, so it was great to have some comfort from the fire.

Behind him, the priest was gnashing his teeth as he took off his heavy boots, which were already soaked with water and mud from his morning labor.

Soon, he tiptoed over, felt the warmth of the stove, and let out a comfortable sigh.

The two were silent for a while until a few birds chirped outside the window.

"What to do tomorrow?" Nero asked.

"Tomorrow? Chopping wood," the priest said, turning and carefully dragging over a chair and sitting on it, trying not to move his dirty feet too much on the floor.

"and then?"

"Then go down the mountain to buy some things for the winter - you need a thick quilt, and you also need to buy some ink. Well, it will take most of the day to go there and back."

The pastor carefully considered these trivial matters and finally showed a satisfied expression.

"That way, we can have a pretty good winter."

Nairo was silent for a moment, then asked, "Don't you want to study?"

"Study, but not now." The pastor seemed to smile. "At least wait until winter is over, but you can read some books first."

Just like the stove incident, he still didn't lie. They had nothing to do throughout the winter, and every day was quite monotonous - chopping wood, hunting, preparing food and other chores filled every day on the relatively sunny days.

As for those times when the snow was heavy, going out or working became impossible, so they often stayed in front of the fire and read.

Kulaken owns many books, ranging from simple anecdotes to real ghost stories. His collection has everything.

Winter passed and the cold early spring came, and on the first day of February of that year, the pastor restarted his hover truck.

“It’s been pretty peaceful this year.”

He said this while sitting in the driver's seat, and his voice vaguely reached the ears of Nairo who was sitting in the cargo hold.

"I must say, it's been a nice winter, but I have a feeling we're going to be pretty busy this spring. By the way, I never asked you before, do you know anything about medicine?"

"Some," said Nero. "But not much."

"It's okay. I was like that too. Okay, let's go."

As soon as he finished speaking, the truck started moving.

The last time Nairo sat here, the cold and wet wind was like millions of sharp knives stabbing him on the way down the mountain. His cotton coat could not block the chill, so he had to curl up as much as possible and try to stay calm.

But now the situation has changed. The pastor spent the entire winter turning the open rear cargo hold into a small shelter with a wooden roof and canvas doors, and the cold wind can no longer harm him.

A few hours later, a ray of sunlight pierced the gloomy sky and the truck slowly stopped.

Naro jumped off the car and looked around - he saw a village on the seaside. Unlike the town he had visited before to buy supplies, this village was dilapidated and deserted. Most of the houses were abandoned, and the road was covered with snow, with no one cleaning it.

A threatening growl came from behind him.

Nero turned around and saw a skinny dog, which was staring, panting, and growling at him.
It looked like a threat, but its shaking body revealed its fear.

Nairo slowly squatted down and stretched out his left hand towards it. His eyes were calm, even a little sad.

The dog stopped barking. It looked at him carefully for a while, but still did not come closer. It just ran away briskly.

"That dog has always been like this," the priest said. "Ever since his master died, he has been displeased with everyone."

Naro stood up, turned around and followed the priest carrying a medical box into a room.

There was also a thick layer of snow in front of its door, but at least there were some footprints all around and smoke was coming out of the chimney, so it must be someone living there.

The priest walked to the door and did not knock. Instead, he opened the door and walked in directly. A smell that Nairo did not know how to describe suddenly rushed out.

He stood outside the door, looked inside, and saw a messy scene.

Clothes were thrown everywhere, stains all over the floor, and several cats crouched in the dark, watching them warily. An elderly woman sat drowsily in her armchair near the stove, her head lowered, her hands moving mechanically, knitting a crimson sweater.

"Come in," the priest said. "And close the door."

Nero did so, and one of the cats straightened up and looked around curiously. He stared back, then crouched down again and held out his hand to it.

The cat came over. It was very clean, completely different from here. After all, cats have always been good at taking care of themselves. This has been deeply engraved in their genes since their ancestors were not yet brought out of the earth.

Nairo spread his hands so that the cat could smell him, but the cat wasn't very interested and just rubbed against him before turning away.

"Mrs. Nelson." Kulaken called the old woman in a gentle voice. "How is the winter?"

The old woman's drooping head suddenly raised up, her eyes opened, revealing a pale complexion.

She fumbled to put down her sewing, stood up quite happily, and gave the clergyman an embrace.

"Okay, okay!" she said loudly. "But why did you come at this time? My house is in a mess right now!"

"For a blind man, I think your house is clean enough."

The pastor said this affectionately, but with a little sarcasm. The old woman laughed indifferently and even seemed to like the words a little.

She agreed and nodded, then, guided by him, she sat back on the chair and stretched out her right hand.

The light from the stove surged quietly, casting a bright light that stretched the pastor's shadow long on the ground.

The cats gathered around him, nuzzling him or calling him softly, but the priest ignored them all, opened the medical kit and began to examine him.

After a few minutes, he was visibly relieved and said, "It's not getting any worse - keep it up, ma'am."

"Keeping what?" the old man asked blankly.

"Alive," said the priest. "Also, I have an apprentice. Would you like to meet him?"

"Apprentice?" The old woman was surprised. "You have been here for twenty years, why did you think of finding an apprentice only this year?" "Because the higher-ups haven't sent me anyone yet." The priest smiled and turned to wave at Nero.

He walked closer silently, stared down at the old woman with withered white hair who looked like she was two hundred years old, then reached out and held her right hand.

"Ah!" The old woman was slightly surprised. "Your hand——"

"--He had a serious illness." The pastor added at the right moment. "And then it was like this. I have to say, maybe it's a good thing that you're blind."

"Poor, poor thing." The old woman sighed, but suddenly became cautious. "But what kind of disease is it? It's not the same as ours, right?"

"No," said the priest. "By the way, his name is Nero."

"Nice name." The old woman laughed again when she heard the answer.

She raised her left hand, barely grasped Nairo's hand, which seemed too big for her, and then patted it gently.

"May the Emperor bless you, Mr. Apprentice."

"And the Emperor bless you," said Nero, still gazing into the old woman's eyes.

A few minutes later, the pastor declined Mrs. Nelson's invitation, walked out of the house, closed the door, then returned to the car, took out a shovel, and began to shovel snow for her.

He worked very efficiently, and it was hard to believe that such a strong soul was hidden in that thin body. Nairo also wanted to help, but there was only one shovel, and the priest did not want to share, but just told a story.

"Mrs. Nelson contracted a strange disease 21 years ago. She was not the only one infected. Everyone on Snydermoor III contracted the same disease at that time: rapid aging. The strange thing is that the older the person was before being infected, the milder the symptoms were."

Nairo was startled, as if he had thought of something, and immediately asked, "What about the younger ones?"

The pastor used a shovel to shovel away a handful of snow and the ice underneath. He answered without even looking up: "The symptoms are getting worse."

"Infants become old men and die in a few days, then children of a few years old, maybe a few weeks, and teenagers, two to four months. Adults, between 20 and 40, can barely make it a year."

"On the contrary, the already old people are hardly affected by this disease. Mrs. Nelson is one of them. When I came here 20 years ago, there were no living people left on Snydermoor III. There were only heartbroken old people crying in the ruins, thinking they were cursed."

Naro tried to remain calm but failed and he unconsciously clenched his fists.

"And that's probably the truth," the priest said softly. "This matter is indeed closely related to the curse."

".Is there a solution?"

"No," said the pastor, and he shoveled away the last handful of snow, picked up the shovel, straightened up, and shook his head.

"Where is the source of infection? I don't know. How is it transmitted? I don't know. Then, what about the virus itself? It can't be extracted. Besides, even if it can be solved, it is meaningless. The future of Snydermoor III has been cut off, and the old people will die one after another in the next ten years. When the last recorded infected person is buried, the Mechanicus fleet will arrive here and clean up remotely. After that, it's up to them."

After saying this, he walked straight towards the truck. Nairo also returned to the car in silence. He wanted to get on the car, but after lifting the canvas, he saw the dog.

It huddled in the innermost part, not daring to breathe. Nairo watched it for a long time before getting in the car.

"Sit down," said the priest.

The truck started again and took them to the next place. They didn't return to the cabin until it was almost dark. The pastor didn't seem to want to drive the dog away. He even brought it a bowl of nutritional paste. It ate it all, leaving nothing behind, and even knew to bring the bowl back to the pastor.

"Good dog." Kuraken smiled, even if it was only a fleeting smile. "But stay in the house for a while, okay? Don't come out."

The dog looked at him in confusion, then barked in reply. The priest nodded to it in a serious manner and went back to his room.

Winter is over.

His voice came out of the room, becoming distorted and blurry, and it didn't sound like a human being speaking at all.

How many gods are associated with winter, Nero? Do you know? You have read a lot of books and seen so many things related to gods and ghosts this winter. Can you give a specific answer?
No, Nairo said.

Neither can I, the pastor said softly. But winter is the quietest time of the year at Snydermoor 3. Maybe it's God's blessing, or maybe I'm doing a good job. I think it's probably both.

His voice echoed in the house, not like a human voice, nor like any sound in nature. This sound transcended reason, primitive and wild.

The dog ran in terror and curled up under the table. Nairo stood there, waiting.

A few seconds later, the priest opened the door and walked out. He was wearing a black robe and his hands were tucked into his wide sleeves. He didn't even look at Nero and walked out of the hut.

Outside the house a sudden gust of wind blew up, closing the door for him, and it didn't stop. It whistled and whistled on, blowing through the tall trees and their needle-like leaves, the snow dancing in the air, turning black with the sky.

Kulaken stood alone among them and slowly raised his hands.

come on.

His voice came clearly to Nero through the strong wind and the wood and stone of the hut.

Then they really came - in the dim light of the night, accompanied by a strong wind, carrying snow, pale and almost transparent.
One by one, old and decayed souls with eyes as dark as ink suddenly appeared, spread throughout the forest, and stared sadly into the pastor's eyes.

A ballad then rang out.

Nero had never heard the song, but he had heard the language. He had heard it many years before. This hissing, soft, poetic language.
He suddenly understood something.

That night, he cried bitterly.

A year later, at 016.M40, he left Snydermoor III with a handwritten letter of recommendation from Reverend Kuraken.

The priest thought that he had learned nothing more from him, so he recommended him to study at the largest seminary in the Nuceria system.

After two months of bumpy journey, he arrived at his destination, and then spent another four months to complete all the courses in the seminary.

He memorized every book in the library, and had his own opinions on every sentence in it. He could even debate with ten acolytes at the same time and make them admit defeat. In addition, he also mastered many subjects such as environmental science, biology, astronomy and medicine.
However, few people have really dealt with him.

Even the seminarians of the same grade as him only knew that this lame, hunchbacked, scarred man always had an extremely sad look in his eyes.

That year, he graduated with unprecedented results.

The dean, a former bishop, personally wrote a letter of recommendation for him, wanting him to study in the solar system, but Nairo refused. With this best grade since the establishment of the seminary, he turned around and joined the ranks of missionaries.

He was then sent to a war-torn world where the people no longer believed in the Emperor's existence.

Nero stayed there for two years. From beginning to end, he never preached any words from religious scriptures, nor did he carry out any missionary activities. He just led the people there to establish a self-sufficient base.

The base has a self-circulating clean water source, several pieces of precious land for farming, and newly bred livestock whose genes are not contaminated.
When he came, there was nothing in the world. When he left, the people here were able to reproduce again.

So faith was picked up again - but not in its original form.

Nero left them a book, in the opening of which he wrote: "Sometimes God can't help you; sometimes you have to stand up again by yourself."

In the same year, 018.M40, he was offered a promotion, which would have taken him to a higher position, but he again refused, choosing instead to join the traditional priesthood and take up the mantle of an old priest on a polluted hive world.

Two years later, he invented a specific medicine that could cure lung disease caused by local factory pollution.

Companies that heard the news rushed to him, and he chose one of them to cooperate with. Half a month later, the drug was launched. Each bottle cost thirteen imperial coins - a worker's hourly wage could buy six bottles of this medicine, and it usually only takes half a year to completely cure the disease.

The name of the lame priest began to spread, and his achievements were mentioned again, this time to the point where he had to be promoted.

Dolph Heros, then bishop of the Nuceria system, went to him personally to persuade him to accept the promotion, but was still rejected.
When the bishop later talked about this incident with others, it was hard to tell whether he expressed more admiration or regret; his expression was very complicated.

In 019.M40, the Ecclesiarchy headquarters in the Sol system heard about the deeds of the priest who refused to be promoted.

It just so happened that the evaluation of the devout, which takes place every ten years, was about to begin, so they simply sent a group of people over to meet the lame priest.

The leader was called the Hermit. In addition to the judges, he also brought dozens of bodyguards, all of whom were wearing gray-white armor.

020.M40, they officially met.

(End of this chapter)