Karen originally assumed the negotiations would wrap up by evening. To his surprise, neither side showed any intention of calling a truce; the arguing across the table raged on without pause.
Then food carts were wheeled in. Waiters served simple meals onto both conference tables, and the delegates began to yell at each other between mouthfuls.
What had been an exchange of flying spit turned into a collision of masticated food scraps.
Forks and spoons were brandished like swords and daggers, waved aggressively across the long gap between them.
Flushed faces combined with ferocious chewing made them look as though they were tearing raw flesh from each other’s bones.
Yet this made things miserable for Karen and the others. No one brought food to the support personnel, and they had eaten only breakfast that day. No matter how full a morning meal made you, it could never sustain someone until nightfall.
On an empty stomach, even the liveliest spat lost its entertainment value. Karen could distinctly feel the rising agitation radiating from the two women beside him.
Still, there was no helping it. When they first came down, they had realized the entire floor was locked down. You could not order food up yourself, let alone leave the floor to hunt down something to eat.
Bound by duties, rules, and mission protocols, their constraints were far too strict. The only reprieve was stepping out for a brief trip to the restroom.
Karen noticed a strange pattern, however: quite a few people around them were visiting the restroom with increasing frequency.
Naturally, Karen, Fanny, and Peige were not the only ones seated below. There were auxiliary negotiation personnel from both churches—scribes taking minutes, advisors offering suggestions, and assistants providing background files.
After the passenger ship was blown up, Derius had managed to rescue his traveling party of about a dozen people ashore, but the Church of Pamires had already sent a delegation into York City earlier. Those delegates had now been integrated into the current team.
The strangest detail was that the people visiting the restroom with suspicious regularity were almost entirely priests from the Church of Order seated down below.
Karen rose to his feet and gave Fanny and Peige a subtle nod, indicating he was heading to the restroom.
The restroom was located around the corner to the right of the conference hall. When Karen walked inside, he found someone handing out bread and bags of milk by the entrance. Several people stood there wolfing it down, clearly in a hurry to get back.
Staying away too long would look bad. If their negotiating superiors suddenly had a question and needed immediate answers while someone was gone, it would be treated as a grave dereliction of duty.
Judging by the situation, the people handing out the bread and milk already knew the recipients.
Karen did not recognize any of them. He was here strictly on assignment, and his social circle did not extend this far. In truth, they did not even belong to the same branch of the church.
Their food supply was likely rationed and probably reserved only for their acquaintances.
Even so, Karen intended to step forward and ask.
After all, what did coming from different departments or systems matter?
Were they not all loyal devotees of the God of Order? Believers across the world were one big family!
Starving over a shred of pride and reserve was a fool's errand. Besides, Karen had to consider bringing back a bite for the two ladies beside him whose stomachs were already rumbling.
Yet before Karen could speak, a hand reached out from the side, holding out a large piece of bread and a bag of milk.
Karen caught them and turned to look at the person. It was Leon, grandson of the Chief Bishop of the York City Region.
*It's him?*
For a split second, Karen felt a flicker of awkwardness, but it vanished instantly. The next moment, he took a massive bite of the bread, bit open a corner of the milk pouch with his teeth, and took a deep gulp to wash it down.
"Huh, I don't believe I know you," Leon said, regarding Karen with a smile. "Which department are you from?"
"The Whip of Order."
"Oh, the close-protection detail?"
Evidently, Leon understood the operational protocols of the Whip of Order.
At a time like this, only the close-protection personnel could show themselves openly. Everyone else remained concealed in the shadows to provide security.
"Yes, that's right."
"Leon, I heard the squad assigned to this security detail is still Neo's squad," a young priest said as he washed his hands nearby. From the easy manner in which he addressed Leon, it was clear that while his official post might not be exceptionally high, his background certainly was.
Every other priest who took bread and milk from Leon immediately offered polite thanks before retreating to swallow their food in silence. Part of that was the pressure of time, but the other part was that everyone knew the social gulf between them.
"Lore, what about Neo's squad?" Leon countered.
"Heh, isn't the whole world whispering that Miss Ophelia boarded her return ship pregnant?"
As he spoke, Lore pulled a paper towel from the dispenser, dried his hands, and looked over at Karen, who was busy eating. "This fellow is quite handsome. Heh, was it you?"
Only the close-protection team had direct, personal contact with the VIPs. Since squads were small, the roster for close protection rarely changed.
More importantly, Karen was exceedingly handsome—a fact evident even to another man.
Just as men were drawn to beautiful women, women were inevitably more inclined toward handsome men. Brief, whirlwind romances were almost always built on the foundation of good looks.
Upon hearing this, Leon took a step to the side and studied Karen intently.
Karen swallowed the mouthful of bread and offered a faint smile. "I have no idea how that rumor started."
"Heh, who else but your own squad could have started it? Otherwise, how would anyone know?" Lore sneered.
Lore was not wrong. Even Karen suspected the Captain and the others had spread the rumor deliberately to make a name for their unit, allowing them to monopolize these high-paying, low-effort protection assignments.
For the upper echelons, ensuring foreign envoys were treated safely and comfortably was the ideal outcome. If someone even managed to strike up a romance, it proved the hospitality was as comfortable as could be.
"Say, Leon, do you want to challenge him to a duel? Hahaha!" Lore teased.
Everyone in their circle knew that Leon, as the grandson of York City's Chief Bishop, had originally been poised to represent the Church of Order in a political marriage with Dark Moon Island. That was where the wind had been blowing.
The rumor carried so much traction largely because after Ophelia returned to Dark Moon Island, the island gave the marriage proposal the cold shoulder. That reaction was treated as the strongest possible confirmation of the gossip.
Perhaps even the Captain and the others who fabricated the tale had never expected events to unfold this way. *I only cooked up some gossip for attention; how did your side end up playing along?*
To a certain extent, there was an inherent tension between Karen and Leon.
Karen knew the rumor was baseless, but matters of cuckoldry never hinged on facts. Once everyone assumed a green hat sat upon your head, whether you actually wore one no longer mattered.
Lore wore the amused expression of a spectator stirring the pot. Karen figured he was either exceptionally close with Leon or harbored an underlying rivalry with him.
Just then, Leon placed a hand on Karen's shoulder and asked, "So... it was you?"
Karen sighed internally and replied once more, "It's not the truth."
Leon said, "Whether it's true or not doesn't matter anymore."
Karen took another bite of bread and remained silent.
"In any case, I owe you thanks."
"Hm?"
Leon pulled Karen into a one-armed hug around the shoulder. "Thank you for solving a massive headache for me."
"Haha!" Lore burst into laughter, his tone completely shifting. "You have no idea how frantic he was when he found out about the arranged marriage. Even after Dark Moon Island seemed less enthusiastic, his grandfather still planned to send him on a personal diplomatic visit if those rumors hadn't spread so wildly."
Leon said as if it were obvious, "Of course! Who would want to accept a marriage like that?"
"It really is just a rumor," Karen said.
Still, he could not claim to be entirely blameless. His presence as a supposed kinsman had undeniably dampened Dark Moon Island's appetite for an alliance.
"Forget it. True or false, I don't care. Compared to a few idle rumors, I care far more about my own marital happiness. My idea of married life isn't lying in the same bed with a wife while representing competing interests.
"And then, when she gets pregnant, having to calculate whose surname would maximize our political leverage."
Lore laughed. "Leon wants to pursue true happiness, just like in romance novels."
"By the way, what's your name?" Leon asked.
"Karen. Karen Silva."
"Alright, Karen. If we get the chance later, let's hang out together."
"Sure," Karen nodded, finishing the last crumb of bread. Then he asked, "Um... is there any bread left?"
"Oh, of course. There's plenty. Didn't get enough?"
"I have two companions sitting inside."
"Haha, looks like you guys lack experience."
Leon fetched several more pieces of bread and bags of milk from a crate nearby and handed them over. Karen tucked them into his clothes.
"I'll head back to the conference hall first. Thanks for the bread and milk."
"Don't mention it."
Karen returned to the hall and sat down, covertly slipping the bread and milk to the two women beside him. Both blinked in surprise before stashing the food inside their garments and slipping out under the pretense of using the restroom.
Up front, the negotiations droned on. Several people had grown hoarse, yet their rasping bellows seemed to carry even more raw aggression.
Karen was no longer paying attention to the stage. He noticed Leon and Lore had not returned. Clearly, though these privileged scions had been placed on the delegation, they enjoyed far greater freedom. Unlike the others, they did not have to worry that a prolonged absence would look bad.
*So Leon really stayed behind at the restroom door acting as a volunteer handing out bread and milk?*
Fortunately, the worst-case scenario had not materialized. Karen did not believe Leon's earlier warmth had been an act; with his status, there was no need to weave an elaborate scheme just to retaliate against an external squad member of the Whip of Order.
It seemed this highborn gentleman truly despised the political marriage.
*Did the Captain know this all along?*
Karen thought it very likely. The Captain frequently had access to information well beyond what an ordinary Whip of Order squad captain ought to know.
Fanny and Peige returned. Having eaten, both women were in far better spirits, taking their seats with faint smiles.
Yet the torment dragged on. The meeting lasted until one in the morning.
When the session finally ended, delegates from both sides had to be supported down by their subordinates; two had even passed out from exhaustion.
Karen's team escorted Derius into the elevator. When the doors slid open at their floor, they found two food carts parked outside.
"Did you arrange this?" Karen asked their "elevator girl," Richard.
"Yeah. I saw you hadn't come up, so I prepared these in advance and left them here. They're probably cold by now, though."
"It's fine. You did great," Fanny said.
"Indeed." Peige licked her lips.
The elevator doors closed.
Peige and Fanny wheeled one cart back to their suite, while Karen pushed the other behind Derius into his room.
"Please enjoy your meal, sir."
"Eat with me. I can't finish this much alone."
*Again?*
Karen glanced at the cart before him. Was it drugged tonight as well?
Still, since the request had been made, Karen could not refuse as part of his duties. He laid the food out on the coffee table, sat down opposite Derius, and began to eat.
Though Derius had received simple meals during the negotiations, his mental exertion had been far greater, leaving him ravenous. Karen, on the other hand, was purely starving; at this point, he hardly cared whether it was drugged, knowing it would be harmless either way.
Neither spoke, focusing entirely on their food.
Eventually, Karen was full.
Derius continued eating alone for a short while before finally setting down his fork.
"You've worked hard today," Derius said.
"You are the one who worked hard, sir. We were fine," Karen replied with a polite smile. "I'll clear this away so you can rest early."
The meeting would resume at eight tomorrow morning.
Derius shook his head. "Tomorrow won't be such an ordeal."
Karen continued clearing the plates without pausing, asking no questions.
Derius said nothing further, heading straight into the washroom for a bath. Once Karen finished cleaning up, he returned to his own suite.
Peige and Fanny had long finished eating. Peige had stripped down again, lying in bed asleep.
Fanny, seated on the sofa, spoke up: "Get some rest quickly. Peige will relieve me for the night watch in a bit, and we'll shower together before heading out tomorrow morning."
"Right, will do. By the way, remind Peige to order extra portions when she calls for breakfast later. We'll pack them along."
"Naturally. We're both wearing trench coats tomorrow. Damn it all, those people are negotiating with their very lifespans!"
Karen climbed into bed and closed his eyes to sleep.
In the morning, Karen was awakened and sat up in bed. Having slept only four hours, he was far from rested; he would just have to doze off in the conference hall.
Both women wore trench coats—Peige's was red, Fanny's black. Their coats bulged noticeably, stuffed full of assorted foods, giving them remarkably voluptuous silhouettes.
"Should I carry food too?" Karen asked, gesturing to himself.
Peige shook her head. "No need. What we brought is enough to feed the three of us for three meals and then some."
Just as yesterday, when the time arrived, Karen's team escorted Derius downstairs into the conference hall. Once all personnel were in position, the session commenced.
Yet the atmosphere today was completely different. First, a negotiating representative from the Church of Order rose, holding a letter trimmed with gold leaf, and read aloud:
"As of six o'clock this morning, Wien time, Elder Sidi has led the Seventh Knights of Order to the perimeter of the 'Messenger Space' and constructed a teleportation array."
A dead silence instantly fell over the room.
The message meant the Church of Order had already pressed its blade against the chest of the Church of Pamires. More accurately, the tip had already pierced flesh, coming to a halt right beside the heart.
As for the secular mission houses, strongholds, estates, and workshops of the Church of Pamires, they had long been pinned under the gaze of Order's forces. All that was missing was a divine decree to strike.
Karen thought to himself, *Elder Sidi? Why does that name sound so familiar?*
Soon, Karen remembered: Purr once had a feud with this Elder Sidi, and she was the very elder Diss had hung upon a cross.
At that moment, a Pamires delegate leaped up and shouted, "Impossible! How could you find the Messenger Space?"
Another delegate also rose and yelled, "Yes, that's impossible! Spatial reverse currents surround the perimeter of the Messenger Space! Even an elder of the Temple of Order, even a knights order of the Church of Order, could never ignore those terrifying currents!"
Wofflen Dilgar, Chief Bishop of the York City Region and Leon's grandfather, smiled faintly.
"The Church of Order disdains using deceit to conduct negotiations. Your communication with your church has not been severed; I trust you will receive confirmation soon enough.
"Order's position is simply that the pace of these negotiations has been far too slow. Therefore, we found it necessary to give it a gentle push forward to accelerate the process.
"Now, we have shown our stance. It is time for you to present the stance that is expected of you."
Derius spoke up, asking, "Is this the stance of the Church of Order? Striking before the negotiations have even concluded?"
Wofflen lifted his teacup, took a sip, set the lid back in place, and said slowly, "Holy Child, allow me to remind you that Order has not struck. At this stage, we have merely prepared to strike.
"As for our stance... speaking from a position of strength, I see nothing wrong with it."
The conference hall fell silent once more.
Karen could clearly see the Pamires delegates on the podium losing their edge, while the Pamires delegation seated below hung their heads in dejection.
In contrast, the Church of Order's delegates on the platform looked completely composed, and the priests seated below wore reserved smiles, several of them casually twirling fountain pens between their fingers.
Karen recalled what Derius had said to him last night: *Tomorrow won't be such an ordeal.*
Indeed. When your own Holy Child was an agent of Order, how difficult could it be to bypass spatial reverse currents and obtain the exact coordinates of the Messenger Space?
Peige whispered, "Looks like I brought all this food for nothing."
Karen noticed that the priests from the Church of Order did not seem to have brought food with them. That meant they had known about this development earlier than his team; otherwise, after yesterday's ordeal, any normal person would have brought extra provisions.
Just then, a Pamires member clad in a blue clerical robe entered the hall carrying a letter, handing it to Derius. During the negotiations, personnel were not allowed to leave, but correspondence was permitted; after all, any agreement reached here ultimately required the formal approval of both churches' true leadership to take effect.
Derius tore open the letter. A faint sphere of light enveloped the parchment—the simplest of barrier formations, not meant for secrecy, but so fragile that it would shatter the moment an outside force tried to pry into its contents, serving as a warning against eavesdropping.
After reading the letter, Derius's expression did not shift in the slightest. He folded it up without even passing it to the people beside him.
Chief Bishop Wofflen said, "Now that you've confirmed the news, we can begin today's discussions. I expect today's agenda will yield plenty of productive results."
Yet Derius raised a hand. "No rush. Let us wait a moment longer."
Chief Bishop Wofflen's gaze instinctively flicked toward Bishop Bern, who sat at the far edge of the negotiation table.
Before long, a priest in a black clerical robe entered with a new dispatch, carrying it up to the table.
Wofflen opened the letter, read it, and passed it to the people beside him.
"Something seems off," Fanny murmured. "Did something happen to Elder Sidi?"
"Given that woman's temperament, running into trouble is entirely normal," Karen said.
Fanny looked at Karen with a puzzled expression. "How do you know Elder Sidi is a woman? None of us know anything about the Temple Elders."
"I could tell from the name."
"Then how do you know her temperament?"
"You guessed she ran into trouble first. I merely deduced her temperament from the outcome of your guess."
Peige chimed in, "Comrades, I have a feeling my food might not go to waste after all."
The strange tension across the negotiation table sent whispers rippling through the ranks of both sides seated below.
Derius then broke the silence: "You must have received the news by now. That Temple Elder and your Seventh Knights have both lost contact, haven't they?"
Wofflen said, "We still require a bit of time to verify the truth of the report."
"I don't believe that's necessary. The coordinates Elder Sidi received were false from the beginning.
"What she and the Seventh Knights of Order entered is a cage space carved out by our church—an exceedingly unstable realm. Put it this way: removing just a few bricks by design would cause that entire space to collapse."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the expressions of the priests seated below shifted dramatically.
A representative from Order rose and demanded, "Are you threatening us?"
Derius smiled.
"Speaking from a position of strength, I have no standing to threaten the mighty Church of Order.
"Moreover, even if Order lost a Temple Elder and a knights order, it would still remain a colossus beyond what our Church of Pamires could ever withstand. The annihilation of our church would still hinge on a single whim of Order.
"However, our church wouldn't mind tearing a chunk of flesh from Order before our demise, letting the entire circle of churches catch the scent of blood from Order's wound.
"I came here to negotiate in good faith. I expect Order to show equal good faith in return."
Wofflen stared at Derius.
"Do you realize that if these negotiations fail, you, the people beside you, and every believer of Pamires seated below will not leave this hotel alive?"
Derius lightly rapped his knuckles against the tabletop, producing several crisp knocks.
Slowly, he said, "All I know is that the moment news broke that these negotiations were starting, many believers in my church... were already preparing their own funerals."
Chapter 204