The Sankta who calls herself the Wandering Judge pulls down her hood, her face indistinct. She keeps her voice low, teaching a hymn to the pilgrim next to her. The pilgrim is enthralled by it, not noticing that the high-energy beat the Wandering Judge's finger is unconsciously tapping out on the steering wheel does not match the hymn. The hymn finished, the pilgrim looks to the beautifully decorated box in front of him. He believes this to be the holy relic described in his hometown's ancient legends. It was this relic that gave him a glimmer of hope earlier. Rubbing at the salt stains on his hands that refuse to wash away, he pulls down on the lever on the relic's side, hoping with all his heart as he awaits divine guidance. He had thought himself forever out of reach of guidance. Two months ago, he, a Liberi, sprouted a Sankta's halo out of nowhere. Everyone in his village believed it a miracle, and even the clerics of the Inquisition were astonished. Thus, he was sent on a pilgrimage to Laterano. But halfway there, he heard news that the Lord of Laterano had left. Not even the Sankta could receive guidance now. When the vehicle carrying the holy relic appeared before him, he had already abandoned the road to Laterano, yet as he was also unwilling to bring such bad news back to his hometown—so he decided to wander the wilderness aimlessly on a false pilgrimage. Sitting in the vehicle, he looks at the box enraptured, asking question after question as he tries to confirm if this relic really could provide guidance. After an uncomfortably long silence, he receives affirmation. The self-proclaimed Wandering Judge of Laterano has been offering guidance in the Lord's stead since He departed. The pilgrim follows her instructions to the letter, and after he has finished piously operating the relic, she sidles over, carefully examining the three symbols that appeared upon it. A moment later, she passes on the Lord's guidance: 'The Lord says, you should put an ice cream cone in the hand of every statue in Pagus Michaelion today.' The pilgrim thinks back to the myriad possible answers he imagined he would receive as he traveled the road. None were as strange as this. 'No, no, you must be mistaken. How could the Lord's guidance be so... At least ask me do penance, or toil, or even bring supplies from Laterano back home...' The Wandering Judge suddenly lifts her head, giving the pilgrim a fervent nod. 'Oho—! You passed the test! You see? You knew what to do all along!' '...What?' *ahem* 'These are the mysterious ways the Lord must work through, ever since He left. His believers must look at this nonsense and divine the true guidance from within... And you already know what you must do. I can help you buy supplies, and introduce you to a logistics company to transport them!' The pilgrim looks at the relic, at the Wandering Judge, then at himself in the rear view mirror, his burden eased. '...No thank you. Handling it myself will be a part of my penance. Muchas gracias, Wandering Judge.' The pilgrim watches the Wandering Judge drive away into the distance. Amidst the kicked-up dust, he sees the Judge stretch her body out the roof of her vehicle and take off her hood, her hair as red as flames fluttering in the wind. A moment later, she sings to the wilds, her voice sending a high-energy beat quite unlike a hymn to the pilgrim's ears. I'm real lucky I got that pocket slot machine from the second-hand store, Exusiai thinks.