You head to the only place you can think of where a shovel might be—the old graveyard.

It is silent.

No one is around. Not even the Construct.

You search for a shovel to bury the Faithless Child, remembering how he turned into a monstrous creature, how he longed to go home, and how the Jester toyed with him.

You remember the Jester—how you killed him. How he was erratic, wild, in love with his own dead man, Fliniguss. You remember the Federation. You recall the stories of how they supposedly won the war against the Red Hawk Soldiers. But now… you can't be certain what’s real, what’s fake, what’s delusion, what’s deception.

It’s enough to make your head spin.

As you continue searching for a shovel, you suddenly feel a warm glow behind you.

"Child, you search for something to bury the dead."

The Construct, who appeared out of nowhere, floats gently above the ground. A green light glows from deep within it.

You tell him about the Faithless Child—how the Jester killed him.

"Is that what matters?"

The question hits you like a stone. Of course it matters—it’s a child. One you came to know. One you felt sympathy for.

"A monstrous creation... born of a man corrupted by alchemy. Was it ever truly a child?"

You stare at the Construct, puzzled. Are you not a creation of the Church? you ask.

"I am a creation of the Prince. Trapped here. Searching for the door. A door I will never find. But one that you might... in another place, in another time."

What does he mean?

"I need your help... to help you find that door. I need an emerald coin."

Where are you supposed to find that? you ask.

"He knows. He always knows. Though he’s always drunk."