Chapter 252: What exactly is your role here?

"Do you climb this tree often?"

Castor flinched and then looked around, making sure no one was watching and then he leaned in to whisper, his hand shielding his mouth as if he was about to tell a secret.

"Well, the sermons get boring and the elders begin demanding me to bite more than I can chew. So this is my secret base."

Well, it’s not so secret anymore if I know of it.

Julian thought, nearly laughing at the idea.

"I thought every priest and priest-in-training were here because of their deep faith. Aren’t you the same?" He asked Castor. "You look like you’re a priest in training. Or am I wrong?"

Castor threw his face away.

"Well, I was a war orphan and orphans are automatically dropped into the church’s doctrine from the moment they are taken in." Castor explained, the light in his eyes fading just a little. "In any case, it’s true I’m a priest-in-training but it’s not because I wanted it. I... I have holy powers. And it’s too much for the church to ignore, so I’ve been put in a rather difficult position," he scratched his face with his index awkwardly and then rolled his eyes to Julian. "But let’s not talk about that. It’s a sore story."

Julian gulped down.

When he heard Castor was a war orphan. He was immediately reminded of the tales he had read from the imperial Library.

The war that began eight years ago, before Lucius was born, and before the Duchess died. It was a war with the Holy Empire.

So, Castor’s parents probably died seven to eight years ago. How sad.

And then he entered the church because he was an orphan. Stepping into a position he did not have the heart to, simply because... he had holy powers.

It was not much different from Julian’s situation. Only, Julian has a choice to leave after two months. But this boy...

"Hey, don’t look at me like that," Castor said, noticing Julian’s face filled with compassion for the boy. "It... it’s not so bad, okay?" he began frantically waving his hand, as if scared that Julian would suddenly begin to cry for his sake given the expression he was making. "I’m not suffering or anything, and I have three square meals a day. I have a roof over my head. And I..."

Julian suddenly wrapped his arms around the boy. He looked to be no more than 18. So at that time, he must’ve been 11 or maybe even younger.

This child had tears he probably didn’t want to let fall, that was why he was keeping up such a goofy smile and acting like everything is fine.

This...

Julian thought regrettably.

Is why I do not like wars and crave peace. If I could, I would save everyone that I can. No one... would have to suffer.

Castor’s heart was racing. He could not understand why or how this was happening but his heart wouldn’t calm down and this man... Julian, he smelled like pine, he carried a nostalgic scent and he was... warm.

Castor’s face heated up. He liked this.

When was the last time someone gave him a hug?

The hug lasted only a moment before Julian pulled away, feeling a sudden wave of awkwardness. He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure while the heat rose to his face.

​"That... I apologize," he grimaced. "I don’t usually hug anyone I see but... you really looked like you needed a hug."

​Castor’s face was still warm, his heart racing in a way he couldn’t quite name. He quickly turned his back to Julian, afraid his expression would give too much away.

​"Yeah, I... I did need that," Castor muttered and listened to the thudding of his heart.

It was frantic. What was this feeling called, he wondered.

There was nothing like this in the scribes, so he bet this wasn’t something he could speak about with just anyone.

​He decided to get his head straight and then scrambled back up the Great Cedar with practiced ease. Ah, he looked like a monkey climbing a tree. A white monkey, perhaps.

It didn’t take long before he reached the branch that held his white head-wrap captive. Once he had it in his hand, he perched on a branch and looked down at Julian who was still watching him.

​"You’re a weird one, Julian," Castor called down. "But I don’t hate it." The goofy grin was back, though it felt a little more forced now.

​Julian looked up at him. He wondered which of them was the weird one. Castor was the odd one, but he would let the child win this time.

"Anyway, you mentioned you were put in a difficult position because of your powers. What exactly is your role here?"

​Castor froze. The smile on his face faltered for a split second before he plastered it back on.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting toward the garden wall. He didn’t want Julian to know he was the Successor; he didn’t want to see that look of pity or distance that everyone else gave him.

And in a worst case, Julian might try to suck up to him like those

other guys.

Though Julian didn’t seem like that kind of guy, he still wanted to be careful.

​"Well, you know," Castor said with a nervous laugh. "This and that. Typical Church business. It’s nothing as important as the title of Saint, though. Just a lot of chores and standing around looking holy."

​Julian watched him for a moment. He could tell the boy was hiding something, but he decided to drop the matter.

Everyone in this city had something they weren’t saying, and he didn’t want to push the only friendly person he’d met so far.

​"I understand," Julian said simply.

​Castor hopped down from the tree, landing lightly on the grass. He quickly wrapped the white cloth around his head, hiding the chestnut hair and becoming a standard acolyte once again.

​"I’ve gotta run. If Elian finds me out of place, he’ll have my head," Castor said, giving a quick wave. He looked at Lucius and winked. "See ya, kid."