“...Son? My precious little darling, what are you thinking about?”

Stano was yanked out of his own little world by his mother’s voice. He turned his head in a daze and saw his family watching him.

“Ah, n-no, it’s nothing...”

Stano shook his head. His skin was naturally quite dark, so no one could tell what his expression was.

“Oh dear, are you coming down with something?”

Mrs. Benson worriedly touched Stano’s forehead, then her own. “You don’t feel feverish...”

“Mother, with my little brother’s constitution, I don’t think he’s likely to get sick.”

His eldest sister, Rose, said with a smile, “Maybe he’s fallen for some noblewoman. He’s so lovesick he can’t eat or sleep.”

“Oh, really?!”

Mrs. Benson cried out, “Who is she?! How dare she steal my sweet boy’s heart? I have to know!”

“Mother...”

Stano let out a long sigh. “Could you stop believing everything Rose says? If she said I was gay next time, would you believe that too?”

“Stano.”

Benson’s voice suddenly rang out. “The Lord’s teachings clearly forbid such behavior. It’s a desecration of His grace.”

The decorated head of the family walked in and took his seat at the head of the table. “I know you have a devout heart, so don’t say things like that again.”

“I’m sorry, Father...”

Stano’s voice grew timid. He was mischievous and wild, but he was also terribly afraid of his father. “Please forgive me.”

“Darling, you’re here!”

Mrs. Benson fluttered over to her husband like a little bird and linked arms with him. “How did it go?”

“It’s not looking too good.”

A faint shadow clouded Benson’s brow. As his wife massaged him, he let out a low sigh. “Robert’s in serious trouble. The city guards saw him, and now the Church in Intis has branded him a conspirator. He’s still safe for the moment, but...”

Benson’s fist clenched unconsciously. His eyes were like a lone wolf’s. “It’s only the calm of a caged bird.”

“What are we going to do...”

Feeling her husband’s distress, Mrs. Benson sighed as well. “If he’s caught, then Robert...”

“He’ll be sentenced to the stake.”

Benson said flatly.

Robert was a member of the Benson Family and the younger brother of its head, Benson. He wasn’t as renowned for his battlefield prowess as his older brother, but he was exceptionally skilled at gathering intelligence.

The Kingdom of Intis bordered their own country. Relations between the two nations were less than friendly, so gathering intelligence on each other was inevitable. Robert had naturally joined that line of work.

In this world, stake punishment meant piercing a prisoner’s ankles and wrists with sharp wooden stakes blessed by the Church, shackling them, and parading them through the streets.

Forcing someone who was already crippled to walk served no purpose except to worsen their injuries and pain. The wood, specially treated by the Church, also stopped wounds from healing and acted like salt rubbed into them.

The prisoner was paraded until they were completely exhausted. Then they were dragged to the execution platform, where a wooden stake was driven into their chest and they were left under the scorching sun until they died.

As for the body, they did whatever they liked with it. It was just a lump of flesh, after all.

Stake punishment...

Remembering what it involved, the family shuddered. They’d witnessed an execution once before. The condemned had been a “heretic” who not only showed no respect for the doctrine, but had also spouted nonsense and slandered God. The Church, the champion of justice, had naturally brought them to heel and sentenced them to the stake.

According to the investigation, the person had been an orphan. They’d encountered a Witch while growing up and been bewitched, with poison seeping into their soul. There was no saving them.

The person’s screams had gone on for a full three hours, shrill and agonized, like a vulture with broken wings. By the time they were left to bake in the sun, the wounds all over their body had begun to rot, drawing a flock of crows to circle above them.

Mrs. Benson had fainted on the spot. She came around with the help of smelling salts, but her face was deathly pale. Benson took his family home at once.

Afterward, his wife and eldest daughter both fell quite ill. Blake was still young then, and at night, without a maid nearby, Blake didn’t even dare close their eyes. Stano had handled it better, but he still suffered nightmares for a while.

In his dreams, the person kept screaming, and the crows kept cawing. It was terrifying.

The thought that one of their own might have to endure that kind of torture left everyone looking grim.

“Father, is there really no way to save Uncle?”

Rose asked in a low voice.

“It’ll be difficult.”

Benson exhaled. “The situation isn’t looking good, and the Church has issued a number of restrictions. All I can do is send a few trusted men to try.”

That was the limit of what they could do for now. The two countries were evenly matched, and the Church had only recently concluded the Path of Veneration. It needed a stable situation to welcome its new members, so it had naturally issued a decree for peace.

Once a spy was exposed, they were considered a lost cause and abandoned without hesitation.

“But it’ll be so hard to succeed... They might not even be able to cross into Intis.”

Mrs. Benson said.

As things stood, Robert Benson being discovered and sentenced to the stake was all but certain.

Dinner passed in near silence. No one spoke; only the crisp clink of cutlery broke the quiet.

After dinner, Stano went to the study. He knew his father had a habit of sitting there in silence whenever something was troubling him.

“...”

Staring at his father, who was facing the window, Stano fell silent for a moment before speaking. “Father...”

“What is it?”

Benson turned around and looked at the child in whom he’d placed such high hopes.

“A few days ago, I caught a little bird that was hurt, and it made me think of something.”

Stano looked up. “It was injured. If I just left it there, it would surely die. Even if it survived, it might never fly again. But I had a way to save it, and whether that little bird could fly again depended on whether I chose to help.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what you said. So what’s the problem?”

Benson nodded. His son was still young, but he already had ideas of his own and was beginning to think about such questions.

“I just want to know: what’s the difference between saving it and not saving it?”

“Hmm...”

Benson went to his son and gently patted him on the head. “It’s simple, really. You’re the one who can save the bird. The difference between saving it and leaving it alone lies in how you’ll feel afterward. Will you be glad to see a little life reborn because of your help, or will you watch it die and solemnly accept the end it was always going to face? That’s up to you.”

“Whatever you choose, you won’t be wrong. You’re my son, and I believe the choice you make will be the right one.”

“I understand, Father.”

Stano said thoughtfully as he left.