Friday, April 23, 1937.

1020 hours.

Santa Maria Church.

I've always loved the ironic grandiosity of Catholic cathedrals.

For people who praise the austerity and humbleness of the prophets, they sure love to presume lavish luxuries. No wonder why they were one of the first casualties of this war. The church always sits on its high throne, judging our morality with religious superiority. Hypocrites, the lot of them. Still, I would be lying if I said the beauty of the building before us was lost on me.

For what I read a long time ago, the church had been built for centuries over time, and so it presented several styles that spanned from a Gothic exterior to a more Renaissance- centric finish in its interior.

As we went through the archivolt above the main entrance, we were treated to the overwhelming pressure inside the high-ceiling cathedral. To be fair, it was a very short cathedral, with only three naves--or arches--ending in a polygonal altar with a choir. The ceiling was vaulted and adorned with paintings depicting the history of the town. Everything was tinted by beautiful stained glasses on every side of the building.

Several other sections were closed of to the public, but I knew there was a chapter-house, an archive room and some sleeping quarters. Basic, but elegant nonetheless.

Father Alejandro cleared his throat, making echoes ripple through the vaults. It was an impressive testament to the acoustics design of the Renaissance architects. "Father Maximino and Father Jagger have taken the chapter-house as their temporal residence. I'm afraid we are ill suited for keeping a coffin anywhere else." He then motioned us towards a wooden door to the side of the altar.

"Thank you, father," I said. "We will take it from here."

"Then I shall retire to my prayings. Alferez, Mikolas," he said, bowing away to another chamber.

It was then that I realized Torito was not with us.

"Where's Torito?" I asked Camarada.

He merely pointed to the door with his nose. "Never went in. He was smoking a cigarette outside."

Somehow, something told me that he was not going to come in regardless of my orders, so I pushed Camarada forward into the chapter-house.

As far as rooms go, this was as bare as it could be. Only a small cement table in the middle of the round room prevented it to be called completely barren. The black coffin was placed on top of the table. Father Maximino was sitting on a wooden chair next to it, praying softly into a rosary. Our footsteps must have alerted him, for he stood up almost as soon as we entered the room.

"Alferez, Sergeant," said Father Maximino. "I didn't expect to see you so soon. May the blessings of the Lord be upon you."

"Amen, father," I said, ignoring Camarada's scoffing behind me. "Where is Father Jagger?"

Father Maximino scratched his clean-shaven chin. "He is off to make preparations for the burial."

Camarada released a rare laugh. "You sent the mute to set up a funeral? That's cruel, even for the church."

"He's not mute," corrected Father Maximino. "He has merely taken a vow of silence. And rest assured," he said while placing a hand on top of the coffin, "he doesn't need to talk to perform this task. He is merely surveying the site, is all."

I'm afraid to say that curiosity got the better of me. The coffin was really an exquisite piece of woodwork. I couldn't help but wonder. "May I ask who is the deceased? He must have been a pretty important person to warrant a procession such as this, not to mention that expensive coffin."

He nodded with a wide smile that made his full face shine. "Of course. This is Emilio Suarez."

I couldn't say I knew who he was, and it must have shown in my face as Father Maximino gave me an understanding smile. "The name might not mean anything to you, but it does for us. Emilio was a very wealthy man in life, but he never let greed taint his soul. He was a friend for the poor and the sick, and his arms were always open for the Church."

"Meaning, he showered you with money," said Camarada. "Tell me, father: if money is the root of all evil, why does the Church is so keen in taking our money?"

There he went again, derailing the conversation. Fortunately for him, Father Maximino seemed to enjoy the banter. I could swear his eyes were gleaming with joy. "Money is not the root of all evil, my son. Greediness doesn't need money to present itself. Selfishness--that's the root of all evil. The I before the we."

"You're still not answering my question," said Camarada, his face flustered. "Why does the Church need my money?"

"Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar's; and to God the things that are God's. Romans 31," said Father Maximino. "God demands it, just as the State demands their taxes."

You could see that Camarada was losing his patience when the veins on his forehead started to pop up visibly. "You're dodging the question. Last time I checked, God is the creator of all things. The Alfa and Omega. I've never seen him buy a pound of meat or pay rent. What does God needs my money for?"

The answer seemed to be simple for Father Maximino. He opened his arms, casting his eyes above. "How do you think all of this is possible? A church as big as ours has many cogs, and each needs to be greased."

"Aha!" exclaimed Camarada. "So you do recognize you use it for your own ends?"

The smile on father Maximino disappeared in a moment; what remained was a deep and obscure scowl. "This is not a mansion. This is a house of prayer. Weddings are conducted here. People confess their sins here. The homeless find solace in these walls; the hungry always find a plate of food and comforting words here. If you're persecuted, you can find Sanctuary within the Church. We clothe the unclothed, and we love the unloved. So yes," he finished saying, "we use the money."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," I said, glad to end this charade, "but we wanted to ask you if perhaps you know where Erramun is."

The smile returned. "Oh, Erramun. He volunteered to take Father Jagger to Emilio's family cemetery. He was originally from this town, you see?"

"Hence, the procession," I said. "I understand. He will be back to the barracks eventually."

"If you could excuse me," said Father Maximino, "I must continue praying. I hope I was of assistance."

"Greatly," I replied. "Thank you very much, father. Excuse us."

He didn't wait for us to leave before going back to his praying.

Torito was waiting for us outside as we left the church. He really was a prideful man. "You know where Tuerto is?" he asked us. No hello or anything.

It was Camarada who answered him. "He helped the skinny priest with some directions, so he'll come around whenever he comes around. Not much there."

"Agreed," I said. "For now, let's report back and wait for instructions."

We began to move, or more specifically, only me and Camarada moved. Torito stood fast on his spot, with his eyes cast far away.

"Torito, move," I ordered, but he didn't budge.

"Isn't it odd?" he mentioned after a few second. "Father Alejandro said he didn't see Torito with them, but now you're telling me that he left with the skinny guy, whoever that is. That doesn't really add up."

"Well," said Camarada, "maybe they were mistaken?"

"Yes, well, there are not many alternatives," I said. "We just have to wait for him to return. I'm sure he's already in the barracks, eating like the pig he is."