You Won’t Even Call Me Father

I know your situation. Someone has put a bounty of five gold bars on your head. Don’t be afraid, stay here with me. No one dares to lay a hand on you.

And you too—you were falsely accused of murder, right? Listen to me: go back, have a glass of brandy, and sleep well. Tomorrow the court will return your innocence.

As for your son’s matter, I remember it. The culprit will pay the price, blood for blood.

But you, my friend, for the thing you entrusted to me, I am helpless.

So you have to go find the priest. Yes, the very one you thought of.

Only he can administer justice for you.