Uproarious Laughter!

"How could I possibly do something like that? I'm merely gathering intelligence ahead of time, making it easier for us to discover the schemes of those scoundrels hiding in the shadows. That's all." Karen furrowed his brow, staring at the captain. "What, you don't believe me? Hey, now you're doubting my loyalty to Order." "Captain, I have never doubted your loyalty to Order." "Well, there you go." "However, I have more than enough past experience to suspect that, without violating that loyalty, you will do everything in your power to rake in merits and Order coupons—and, on top of that... have as much fun as humanly possible." "Faith is faith, work is work, and life is life." "But—" "No buts. You've always kept those lines clearer than I have, so you hardly have the right to lecture me." "Captain, that is slander." "Oh, 'mottled Dark Moon, contour of the Dark Moon, silhouette of the Dark Moon'... How did those lines of poetry go again? I forgot." "That was an accident." "Right, an accident. Mmh, an accident. Going on a security detail and managing to steal the princess's heart right out of her chest—you're even more impressive than I am, working inside a life decorated with faith." "Captain, I ask for only one thing. If anything happens on your end, I don't want to be kept in the dark." "Of course, of course. After all, we share each other's secrets." The captain walked over to the door, pushed it open, and shouted into the courtyard, "Fall in!" All the team members stepped out of their rooms and began lining up. After changing into his robes and donning his mask, Karen stepped outside as well and joined the formation. "Where were you all day yesterday?" Richard asked in a whisper. "Tied up with some business." "Did you sleep at Her Highness Ophelia's place?" "Stop talking nonsense." "Conjure up a relative on Dark Moon Island for me right now, and I'll believe you." "I actually do have a relative on the island now." "See? You're talking nonsense again." "Fine. I spent the night at another theater." "Oh, I knew it! Where is it?" "Next to the Mermaid Theater. You'll find it if you look. You can take the newcomer, Memphis, with you tomorrow to try it out." "He's a bit shy. He doesn't seem very willing." "All the more reason for you to move him with love. You know how it goes—once that door is opened, there's only zero visits or countless visits. The introverted newcomer, Memphis, will definitely thank you later." "You're absolutely right, Karen. I will! This is my mission!" "Yes, keep at it." Chief Bishop Worflen stepped into the carriage, followed by his grandson Leon and secretary Laure. The carriage rolled out of the courtyard, and the captain led the squad in two files trailing behind it. This was essentially everyone's primary duty here: serving as an honor guard to hold up the reputation of the York City Region. Once they entered the assembly hall, only two attendants would be permitted inside to accompany them, while the rest were free to move about as they pleased. Departing from their residential courtyard, their party soon crossed paths with other squads. Relations within the Church of Order were quite genial, with no petty squabbles over precedence. After all, Order was the victor. Under the glow of triumph, everyone was in fine spirits. However, the atmosphere shifted as they reached the square fronting the assembly hall. The delegation from the Church of Samsara had appeared on the opposite side, every last one of them solemn and rigid. At that moment, Neo ordered, "At ease." Neo's entire squad deliberately relaxed, breaking formation. Some kneaded their calves, while others rubbed their necks. Seeing this, the captains of the neighboring Whip of Order squads issued similar commands. Before long, all the priests clad in Order robes appeared completely casual, carefree, and indolent, chatting and laughing among themselves—a striking contrast to the Church of Samsara across the way. Bishop Worflen stepped down from his carriage. Seeing the scene, the corners of his lips curled into an involuntary smile. The victor was entitled to composure. It was the sharpest mockery one could offer the defeated. The bishops and corresponding representatives emerged from their carriages, lining up alongside their secretaries. Behind each bishop stood two Whip of Order members carrying items needed for the venue. There wasn't much to carry, just a clean spare robe and some documents. Karen, for instance, carried a file so thin it could easily be pinched between two fingers, yet for the sake of solemnity, he held it with both hands, while Memphis carried a freshly cleaned divine robe. When the hour struck, the negotiating delegations entered the assembly hall through separate entrances. The interior of the hall was vast. When Karen had sat in on meetings in previous missions, they had always been held at the Ankara Hotel, which favored a modern, utilitarian style. This assembly hall in Dark Moon Island's Bernard Hotel, however, was designed purely for grand, majestic elegance. Naturally, negotiations between two orthodox churches over the outcome of a war warranted such an opulent setting. The room was laid out like a theater, with seats for the negotiating representatives arranged in the center, encircled by stepped gallery seating rising outward. As the secretary, Laure took the documents from Karen and followed Bishop Worflen to the central area. Bishop Worflen took a seat behind the negotiation table, while Laure, like the other secretaries, stood behind his bishop, ready to offer advice or record the minutes. Karen, Memphis, and Leon sat down in the gallery section reserved for the Church of Order. As Bishop Worflen's grandson, Leon had special clearance to observe, but joining the front table was out of the question—he lacked the standing. Even Bishop Worflen was merely an ordinary member of the negotiating delegation here. The head of the Church of Order's delegation was not Norton, the new High Priest who had succeeded Rasma, but rather one of the three Cardinals under Norton: Kred. Under Rasma's tenure, there had been no Cardinal posts beneath him. However, with Rasma's resignation and Norton's ascension, the upper echelons had been restructured, re-establishing three Cardinal positions to oversee three branches of church affairs: War, Development, and Oversight. Kred oversaw War, so it was entirely natural for him to serve as delegation head. Even so, considering that the head of the Church of Samsara's delegation was their contemporary Gatekeeper, Romir Simonsen, sending only one of Order's Cardinals carried an innate victor's arrogance. Due to the defeat in the war, Samsara's previous Gatekeeper had stepped down in disgrace, and the newly appointed Romir was a woman approaching sixty. Her surname was notable. The Simonsen family in the Church of Samsara was akin to the Philias family in the Church of Light; having produced multiple Gatekeepers and Popes, they were considered the church's 'royal family.' After their crushing defeat, Samsara had immediately backed a Simonsen to take up the mantle of Gatekeeper once more, likely hoping to swiftly rally the people and stabilize internal affairs. From the gallery, Karen observed the dignified older woman, wondering whether Talina—whom he had killed that night, and whose body the captain had incinerated—bore any kinship to her. A hall attendant arranged by Dark Moon Island walked over and politely asked what they would like. Leon replied, "Black tea." Karen replied, "Iced water." Memphis replied, "Iced water." The beverages were promptly served on a small side table lined with exquisite pastries. The three of them sat side by side, and with ample space between rows, sitting there eating and drinking was more comfortable than watching a film in a cinema. Naturally, no cinema would ever screen a production of this caliber. "This is the most comfortable meeting I've ever sat in on," Leon remarked. As Worflen's grandson, Leon had been brought along to all sorts of meetings since coming of age at sixteen. During the prior gathering with the Church of Pamires, he had known to pack food in advance, clearly having suffered years of torment from such proceedings. Karen nodded in agreement. If all future meetings of the Church of Order were held here, it would be an absolute pleasure. But that was obviously impossible; only conferences of this magnitude justified such an arrangement, as the teleportation costs alone were exorbitant. Memphis sat quietly, sipping his iced water without a word. Karen noticed a middle-aged man step onto the podium. He was the host of the conference, Viner, Clan Head of the Dark Moon. Flanking Viner were his three sons and one daughter. Ophelia had exchanged her armor for traditional Dark Moon formal attire, looking exceptionally noble. Furthermore, she stood alone in the first row behind her father, while her three older brothers stood behind her, clearly demarcating their rank. She was already an exceptionally intelligent and favored heir, and with the uncle commanding Dark Moon Island's strongest armed forces offering her full support, she would almost certainly be the next matriarch. Watching Ophelia command the room's attention, Karen took another sip of iced water. The incompletely healed wounds across his chest gave a faint, thrumming ache. The opening remarks were brief. Clan Head Viner began by stating Dark Moon Island's neutral stance—though in truth, everyone present knew which side the island favored. Viner then voiced hopes for 'peace.' This was equally hollow, for while the Church of Samsara had surrendered in theory, Karen knew the Order Knights had yet to withdraw from the occupied sacred grounds, and minor skirmishes continued along the front. Finally, Clan Head Viner wished for an outcome satisfactory to both parties. With those three obligatory points concluded, Clan Head Viner stepped down from the podium. Cardinal Kred initiated the applause, and Gatekeeper Romir joined in from across the aisle. With the two leaders taking the lead, everyone in the hall followed suit. This was a show of respect to Dark Moon Island for organizing and hosting the conference. Next, each delegation sent a representative to deliver an address. The Church of Samsara sent forward a senior male priest. He stepped up to the lectern with a straight posture, his handsome features lending him a mature, refined aura. "Is this a beauty pageant?" Leon quipped. "His surname is Simonsen," Karen said. Leon nodded and chuckled. "Heh, another royal." Popping a pastry into his mouth, Leon continued, "For the past few decades, the Church of Samsara has been suppressing the old families represented by the Simonsens, pushing them out of key positions under the slogan of making Samsara purer—a Church of Samsara for all believers, not a single clan or collection of families. "It seems that after this defeat, that policy has been overturned. Or perhaps the old families suppressed for decades have staged a comeback, reclaiming power over the church. "A Simonsen is Gatekeeper again, and their speaker is also a Simonsen. I bet a good portion of their delegation belongs to the Simonsens and a few other old families." Karen looked at Leon. "What are you looking at me for?" Leon asked. "I'm debating how I ought to respond to that." "The Deer family doesn't count as an old family. I don't have a great-great-grandfather sitting in the Temple of Order." "So what's your take on it?" Karen asked. "There are pros and cons. Family factions naturally possess advantages when growing within a church, but on that foundation, upward mobility for non-family members must be safeguarded. Our church handles that quite well. Neither former High Priest Rasma nor the current High Priest Norton came from family factions. "In truth, either model works. It's the frequent reshuffling, like what Samsara does, that causes the greatest harm to an organization's stability." Just then, the Samsara representative concluded his speech. He had said a great deal, yet said almost nothing at all. From the Church of Order's side, a bishop seated closest to the podium stood up and walked over. He gave no introduction, nor did he launch into a lengthy speech. Instead, he casually tapped the formation-amplified microphone on the lectern and said: "Let's begin." With that, he walked back down and took his seat. A man from the Church of Samsara's delegation stood up and said, "Before the formal proceedings begin, I request that new observers be admitted—representatives from the major churches in our community. I believe they have the right to witness this conference." The Church of Order's delegation showed no surprise at the request. Dark Moon Island was on Order's side, after all; there was no way they wouldn't know which factions had arrived on the island and checked into the hotel. A bishop from Order stood up and said, "We agree." A side door to the assembly hall swung open, and a group of priests clad in the robes of various churches filed in, virtually all of them bishops. Representatives from orthodox churches such as the Church of Night, Church of the Abyss, Church of Principles, Church of the Thunder God, Church of the Wind Goddess, and Church of the Moon God, along with several prominent denominations, entered in succession. Their seats had long been prepared, positioned closest to the central negotiation area. Evidently, the Church of Samsara hoped to leverage their presence to bolster their negotiating position; under the gaze of the entire religious community, the Church of Order would be less likely to overreach egregiously. Karen noticed the female representative from the Church of the Moon God cordially take Ophelia by the hand and lead her to a seat to talk, suggesting they were already acquainted. Yet Karen knew the intimacy was purely superficial; the reality was quite different. As Dark Moon Island grew in strength, the Church of the Moon God's desire as an orthodox church to annex it had become plain to see. They hoped to reach an agreement through negotiation to amend the mythic narrative in their Whispers of the Moon, linking the Dark Moon with the Moon Goddess to establish that both legally belonged under the same divine fold. For instance, claiming that what the Moon Goddess loved wearing most was the Dark Moon Crown. Once that detail was incorporated into their mythic canon, the Dark Moon would essentially become a subordinate deity under the Church of the Moon God's pantheon. Yet Dark Moon Island had clearly rejected the proposal; otherwise, there would have been no partnership between Dark Moon Island and the Church of Order. When faced with annexation pressure from an orthodox church, the only way out was to find a more powerful orthodox church as a backer. With Order's protection, the Church of the Moon God dared not pursue its annexation plans. Still, that did not prevent them from maintaining a polite rapport on the surface, given the similarity of their faiths. Meanwhile, the representatives from the Church of Principles took the initiative to greet the bishops at Order's negotiation table, and several Order bishops even rose to welcome them. Relations between the Church of Principles and the Church of Order had always been excellent. In fact, in this era, the combat-averse Church of Principles had been able to grow largely by leaning on Order's influence, and exchanges between the two had remained close. For example, his grandfather Diss and his good friend Mr. Hoffen had been close enough to conduct an extraordinary god descent ritual together; even after death and Awakening, Hoffen had helped seal an evil god. By tradition, every prominent Order priest had a close friend from the Church of Principles—it was practically a standard pair. Furthermore, the two churches regularly held mixer events—not for matchmaking lovers, but for pairing partners. One needed scholars, the other needed muscle; each took what they needed, an ideal match. Some showed closeness toward Dark Moon Island, and some showed closeness toward the Church of Order, but not a single representative stepped forward to show closeness toward the Church of Samsara. This did not mean Samsara was unpopular in the wider community. Rather, as observers representing their respective churches, any excess gesture could easily be interpreted as taking a stance. Even if one intended to show support, no one would choose this moment to align with the losing side, which would mean openly challenging the Church of Order. Sitting on the sidelines to exert collective pressure on Order was fine, but no one wanted to be the bird that stuck its neck out. Once everyone was seated, the conference finally commenced. The Church of Samsara spoke first. The handsome priest who had delivered the opening remarks stood up and addressed the room: "Twelve days ago, our Church of Samsara submitted an armistice document to your side as a testament to our sincerity regarding peace. Yet even now, your knight order remains garrisoned within several of our sacred grounds. "To demonstrate sincerity for peace and respect for these negotiations, I propose that your side first unconditionally withdraw your forces from our sacred grounds." Bishop Worflen spoke up, "And if we don't?" The handsome priest looked toward Bishop Worflen and replied, "Otherwise, our Church of Samsara will deem your side insincere regarding these negotiations, and our church will reserve the right to employ all retaliatory measures." For a moment, absolute silence fell over the hall. Until... "Heh, heh..." Seated behind the central table on their side, Cardinal Kred let out a chuckle. "Heh, heh, heh..." The Order bishops at the table couldn't hold back their chuckles either. And finally, All the Order priests seated in the gallery behind them erupted into uproarious laughter: "Hahahahahaha...!"