"Then tell me, Seer, you are prophetic -- who and where is Brook's offspring?" Manguino waited eagerly for Jessuum's reply. "I cannot tell you directly and you know this. All I can do is dream and you must decide what it means to you." he said. "Tell me, then!" he demanded from Jessuum and he tipped his head showing that would consent to an answer. He began to chant. "There is a man on a trek to a place Where the sky is touched by A legendary grace. There the little one learns to face His long road back, uniting the world In its promised Peace!" Jessuum broke from his stare and slowly turned, and looked back at the Almighty ArchBishop. "That's all for now, I must depart!" he told Manguino then began to walk away. "Wait!" squealed the ArchBishop. "Why do you leave?" "Patience is a quality that you are not endowed with. How unfortunate! I will be near, when I am needed!" Jessuum walked away from the ArchBishop headed for no place in particular. MIDDLE: THE PROMISE, FULFILLED CHAPTER ELEVEN The deaths of Brook and Dearborne had not meant the death of the world, or even that of Pomperaque. Life endured as it was seemingly meant to, and the evil that lived in their time had carried on, as well. There came a frightening peace in Pomperaque, as there was a frightening quite, since no forms of dissention or negative thought was permitted under Manguino's own amendments to the Canon's Laws. Public gatherings of men (as were private meetings), were not wholly forbidden, but the numbers of men that gathered was limited to no more than four at a time -- unless there was a city conference called for meeting, in the town's square, by the ArchBishop's own request. Even the Phoridene Council was forbidden to convene without the presence of the ArchBishop Manguino, or a tribunal of Cardinals representing him. The brisk activities of livelihood that had once occupied most of the morning hours began to fade away and break down in pattern and even the children that once played in the streets around their parents' stalls and kiosks, no longer did so in their usual fervour. Very few people carried smiles as they once did, in the days prior to their best and most beloved sovereign's execution. The smiles that the people kept from their faces had equalled that hate and distrust that they carried in their hearts for their great Almighty, ArchBishop Manguino. There was a very odd change in the lifestyles and habits of the people, not only in the city of Pomperaque but throughout the entire great states of Phoride, as well. The entire population had become somewhat indolent, apparently not caring for what happened to them from day to day. The whole city of Pomperaque walked about the streets in a glazed daze, with blank faces and empty hearts as if they were in a purgatory of sorts.