Many times the great detective also makes mistakes. He is also human, and humans are destined to make mistakes.
The painted glass was not meant to illuminate the hall. Instead, the light shone through the glass into colorful lights that sprinkled into this closed room. The joyful music seemed extremely far away here. A light white mist rose, bringing with it soothing incense.
The man on the sofa bowed his head towards the wall, as if he was praying, and the dark cross on the wall was wriggling strangely, as if it was a visual error, with life.
“The room is nicely decorated, like a church.”
He was a guest from afar, dressed in black, with a top hat and a bird-beak mask.
This clothing originated from hundreds of years ago. At that time, the Black Death ravaged the entire Inglég and the surrounding kingdoms. Doctors at that time wore this kind of clothing. The mask with a bird's beak is actually a gas mask. The slender bird's beak is made of silver and is filled with herbs that filter out viruses.
That dark age has long passed, but people still avoid wearing such clothes. Doctors at that time had great power. In order to control the epidemic, as long as they diagnosed you as sick, you would be quarantined, your home would be burned down by the knights, and finally you would be placed in a big pit with other patients. They would throw in fish oil and firewood, burning you and the disease itself, and then cover it all with mud.
He looked more like the Grim Reaper than a doctor, and his entire body exuded an ominous aura.
"Yes, it was built according to the church in the small town I remember. That church was not very big and could be filled with just a few dozen people."
Sabo slowly raised his lowered head. The light from the hall fell through the painted glass behind him. He was facing the light and his figure was pitch black.
"I thought you Vikings all believed in Odin."
The doctor of the plague slowly sat down, opposite Sabo, and there seemed to be a gaze under the dark lenses.
"No, when the iron ships and cannons entered the northern waters, the so-called gods were already dead. We went forward one after another, thinking that we could have a place in Valhalla, but in reality, we have nothing. Once we die, we are dead, floating on the cold sea. Our death is meaningless."
Sabo's voice was flat, as if he was telling an irrelevant story.
"That should be my last time going out to sea. I floated to Inglvig on the debris of the deck. A priest from the church saved me. This is what the church looked like when I woke up."
His eyes drifted back and forth in this narrow darkness, as if he refused to forget that Sabo had always been here.
"That was a really fucking Ingwig guy, really crazy, and the first question he asked me when I woke up was if I was interested in learning about the Evangelical Church."
Sabo said and laughed.
"I'm a Viking, and he asked me if I was interested in the church."
He laughed wildly, but no matter how loud his laughter was, the faint music would eventually bury him, and the place became as quiet as stagnant water.
"And how does the story end?"
The doctor's voice was strangely neutral and iron-toned, perhaps because of the plague mask.
"When I was dying, Valkyrie did not descend, and Valhalla closed the door to me, so I wanted to try to betray him, maybe then the noble God Odin would pay some attention to an ant like me."