No barriers or seals had been laid in this room, and the door was ordinary in every sense. Yet when that door was closed, not a single one of the distinguished figures standing outside dared attempt even the slightest probe inside.
The gulf in status and authority was the most impenetrable barrier in the world.
However, once the door was opened—or more precisely, after Vick opened it to let Karen and the others enter, but before he had time to close it behind them...
Everything that occurred within naturally fell into the eyes and ears of everyone outside.
The Whip of Order had always enjoyed an aloof and transcendent standing within the Church of Order. This elevated the Whip-Wielder above the heads of other internal branches, even once granting the holder the status of an alternate member of the Roundtable Conference in history.
Although subsequent reforms stripped the Whip-Wielder of alternate roundtable status, the new High Priest had enacted a series of reforms upon taking office. His goal of rebuilding the middle and lower tiers of the Whip of Order was unmistakable, and with the current Whip-Wielder serving as the High Priest's trusted right-hand man, the position had once again regained its transcendent status.
Rumors even circulated that Foden's regaining of alternate roundtable status was only a matter of course once the Whip of Order was completely revitalized.
For a figure of such stature to be splashed with hot tea and reprimanded like that...
To say he felt no anger would be impossible. But to claim his subsequent words and actions were driven purely by rage would be equally untrue.
Foden's standing, rank, and political position dictated that this was the only response he could give under the circumstances.
First and foremost, he was the supreme leader of the Whip of Order. Even when Theisen had not yet stepped down, he had possessed no right to meddle so directly in internal affairs of his branch. Being the head of an entire branch required diverse and exceptional qualities, but above all, a leader who failed to protect his own people in public would never be able to maintain command.
The internal cohesion of his branch translated directly into the Whip-Wielder's personal power; thus, upholding that cohesion was an inevitable requirement for preserving his position and prestige.
That was, of course, unless Foden had no ambition beyond quietly idling away his tenure until retirement. But as it happened, he was an ambitious man, and remarkably young for the head of a branch.
Furthermore, he had personally endorsed the actions of this observation squad. Punishing them now would amount to slapping his own face.
No one yet knew who stood behind Bernie, the logistics head of the York City Region Whip of Order Headquarters, but tracing the line of succession back far enough would inevitably lead to Foden.
In short, both inside and outside the branch, this observation squad's mission was seen as a successful foray to expand the Whip of Order's influence amidst its resurgence. Punishing the squad would signify the failure of that venture.
Not only would Foden never accept that, but the entire Whip of Order would never accept it either—especially the middle and lower tiers, who were currently adopting a wait-and-see attitude. They were the ones who most longed to break free from the control of regional administrations and achieve independent authority, yet everything hinged on whether their superiors had the backbone to back them up.
Most importantly, on this occasion, the High Priest had come in person to see Theisen off on his final journey, seeking to mend the rift with the faction behind the elder. But the High Priest had not come to admit wrongdoing.
If the High Priest would not admit fault, then Foden, as his staunch supporter, could not possibly show weakness.
Broadly speaking, today marked a tentative semicolon in the confrontation between the new and old factions. The High Priest's camp wanted a dignified, temporary victory, while those behind Theisen wanted a dignified defeat.
Everyone adhered to this unspoken understanding. But if anyone crossed the line, both sides would have no choice but to cast off their masks in kind.
Politics could be tangled, treacherous, and bizarre—so much so that reviewing events after the fact often left one baffled. Yet politics could also be simple, reducing down to an elementary rule: oppose whatever the enemy supports, and support whatever the enemy opposes.
At this moment, the traditionalists claimed these youths were ruined, strayed from the path, and good for nothing.
Therefore, speaking on behalf of his faction, Foden had to insist that these young people had boundless prospects, that they would thrive and grow into future stars of the Church.
Even if they were a bunch of pigs, they had to be shoved into the spotlight for all to cheer.
Besides... this observation squad had rendered repeated service, successfully completing several major missions without being wiped out. By no measure could they be compared to pigs.
Standing outside the door, Mobiten's expression remained completely unchanged. Yet as a family elder of one of the parties involved, he keenly sensed how this splashed cup of tea would influence his grandson's future.
All he could do as Captain of the Guard was introduce his grandson when leading the High Priest past where the boy knelt. The High Priest would probably not remember, but mentioning him a few more times when opportunity arose might leave an impression.
Yet Theisen's splash of tea was equivalent to a resounding slap in the face; it was an impression impossible to forget.
At this point, Mobiten felt a pang of doubt. He did not believe his grandson was charming or exceptional enough for Lord Theisen to go this far on his behalf. And while the prestige of the Benda family carried weight with others, it meant nothing to this elder.
So who was it?
Mobiten pondered. Many members of this observation squad seemed to have notable family backgrounds, but strictly speaking, none of them possessed the pedigree to warrant such a parting favor from Lord Theisen on his deathbed.
As for the High Priest and the Whip-Wielder inside the room, it would never cross their minds that Theisen was trying to bestow a blessing on anyone. For one, as political rivals, they understood him well. The elder harbored true Order in his heart and stood upright and unbending, adhering strictly to propriety even toward his grandson who had inherited Lord Marchettini's legacy. Who could persuade him to practice favoritism at such a time?
Secondly, in the eyes of those two grand figures, these youths simply did not matter enough to merit a second thought.
Only Mobiten, bound by kinship, had instinctively thought along those lines. Moreover, having arrived early, he had sensed something unusual during his previous meeting with Lord Theisen in the room.
Standing against the wall with his subordinates, Karen understood the situation with utter clarity. Though Lord Theisen had refused to see him these past few days, he was indeed paving a path for him now.
This was the care and protection of an elder, demonstrated through concrete action.
It was only a pity that this elder, his grandfather's friend, was about to depart this world.
Karen often found himself wondering what kind of magnificent era his grandfather had lived in during his youth.
One thing was certain: it must have been far more magnificent than his own.
The conversation drew to a close with that cup of tea. Sensing the time had come, the High Priest said, "I will wheel you down."
Theisen smiled faintly. "Yes, you were the one who pushed me down from the start."
"My intention was for you to rest more after stepping down. I did not expect it to end like this."
"And if you had known beforehand?" Theisen asked.
"I still would have pushed you down. I believe that, too, is a form of respect for an opponent."
The High Priest reached out, took hold of the wheelchair's handles, and pushed Theisen toward the door, with Foden following behind.
At the doorway, the High Priest paused. His gaze swept over Karen and the others standing against the wall, finally resting on Karen.
"You are Karen, aren't you?"
Karen dropped to one knee at once. "Yes. Karen Silva."
"A very handsome young man."
The High Priest chuckled and wheeled the chair out the door.
His question had carried no hidden motive. He simply knew of Karen, remembered the name, and had seen the observation delegation's dossier. Though he had only skimmed it, his avatar handled church affairs in the Grand Temple of Order at astonishing speed, which spoke to his formidable memory and processing ability.
Yet his mention of it now was not meant to tie up any loose ends, nor to lay groundwork or send a signal. It was purely because Karen was good-looking.
Regardless of gender, people naturally paid more attention to handsome things and remembered them more easily.
Good looks were an inherent head start in life.
The luminaries outside fell in behind the High Priest, descending the stairs. In the ground-floor hall, many high-ranking priests not qualified to accompany him upstairs were waiting.
Once they were gone, Karen rose to his feet. He had to admit that when the High Priest spoke his name earlier, the pressure had been immense.
It differed from the pressure of facing a god. In a god's presence, though cowed by their aura, one subconsciously knew the age of gods was over and that this was an era where deities did not walk among men.
But the High Priest was alive, breathing, and speaking.
Furthermore, he was the most powerful High Priest in many generations, despite having occupied the seat for less than half a year.
Early on, other churches had presumed he was merely a transitional figure, but reality had delivered a stinging slap to almost everyone. Even the upper echelons of the Church of Order had never anticipated things developing to this point.
"Captain?" Muri stepped up to Karen. "Should we head down?"
"Let's go down, Captain," Vick chimed in. "Let's take a look."
Everyone turned their gaze toward Vick.
Vick leaned forward at once, bringing his mouth to Karen's ear, and whispered, "After the way I left that door open for you, surely you have to give me an official spot in the squad?"
Karen smiled and nodded.
In truth, having this man join his squad would make him rather uncomfortable, because Vick was clearly very sharp. And having already brought everyone in the squad—including Philomena—completely into line, Karen was in no mood to smooth down another porcupine.
Even with two open slots, if he were to recruit anyone, he would prefer an honest, straightforward subordinate—a practical tool for the job.
Karen agreed now not because of Vick's earlier assist, but because he saw that this was also what Lord Theisen wished.
"Let's head down and see."
Karen led everyone down the stairs. A line of knights stood at the foot of the staircase, not stirring as Karen's group descended.
Vick wept as he walked down the stairs, wailing, "Lord Theisen, please don't leave me! Boohoo..."
The knights exchanged glances and did not bar his way, stepping aside to let Karen and the others follow.
The manor's great hall was vast, yet it now felt somewhat cramped, as far more people had gathered than expected.
Karen spotted several journalists dressed in clerical robes of Order taking photographs with their cameras.
Yet beside the journalists stood nearly twenty painters, already working diligently before their easels.
Evidently, by the traditions of the Church, whenever a major event required recording, painters were the true orthodox medium.
This sight filled Alfred with excitement. He even edged closer to the side to peek at their work, hoping to learn their compositional techniques.
Among the figures standing below were true members of the roundtable as well as alternate members. Even those standing at the very back and along the outer edges were heads of various church branches.
Only now did Karen truly appreciate how towering Lord Theisen's status had been. He did not represent merely an individual, but the banner of an entire faction.
Though he had been defeated, his influence remained impossible to dismiss.
The High Priest had come in person today primarily to accept the surrender, hoping to bring an end—even if only temporary—to the factional strife of recent times.
He did not want internal discord to tear the Church apart. He desired peace, even if only on the surface—provided, of course, that he remained the victor of this phase.
Seated in his wheelchair, Theisen began to speak. Starting from his childhood, he reminisced about his life.
Everyone present listened with rapt attention, for the speaker's own journey was nothing short of legendary, and all knew this was likely the last time they would ever hear the elder speak.
The atmosphere in the hall gave Karen the impression of attending a memorial service.
Indeed, what was taking place now was Theisen's funeral, with the elder serving as both priest and master of ceremonies.
From Theisen's calm narration, Karen learned that the elder had also served in the Whip of Order in his youth, and he shared stories of his former companions.
After recounting that part of his life, Theisen moved on to his understanding of the Whip of Order. In his view, for a long time past, the Whip had failed to exercise its true role of internal oversight, marking a regression in its duties.
He proposed rebuilding the middle and lower tiers of the Whip of Order, severing the branch entirely from the control of regional administrations.
"I believe the Whip of Order requires a Whip-Wielder—a resolute Whip-Wielder with an unyielding will. Perhaps many of my colleagues feel that a Whip of Order forcefully restored to its historical peak will become the personal tool of a single individual or faction..."
At this point, Theisen turned his gaze toward Foden.
Foden stood expressionless.
In truth, everyone below understood who Theisen was really looking at: the High Priest standing behind him.
For everyone knew Foden held the whip on behalf of the High Priest.
Once the Whip of Order was restored to its peak, whoever controlled it would hold a devastating weapon for internal discipline.
You might be able to guarantee your own innocence, but could you guarantee that none of your faction's subordinates had faults?
Moreover, there came a point where innocence no longer mattered, because the power of definition lay in another's hands.
Theisen coughed twice and continued, "I believe such worries are entirely unnecessary. We cannot refuse to touch a position simply because it carries grave consequences, nor can we forbid others from touching it.
"Will it become the exclusive tool of a certain individual or faction? It certainly will.
"Yet I would rather see one person wield it than let it remain an ongoing revelry for the corrupt priests scattered across our regions!"
Many in the hall were still unaware that upstairs, Lord Theisen had thrown a cup of water straight into Foden's face.
"I trust many of my colleagues. I trust you, I trust the High Priest, and I trust the vast majority present here. In our hearts, we are filled with devotion to Order and to the God of Order.
"Otherwise, our Church of Order could never have endured and flourished to this day.
"Yet I hope all the more that everyone realizes, as written in the Church of Principles' *On the Rise and Fall*, when a thing reaches its zenith, it must inevitably begin to decline.
"Many problems have surfaced within our Church. We need reform. We need to adapt to the present circumstances of the world, and we must stand ready at all times to face new challenges.
"It is true that the High Priest and I have differences over the path forward. There is no shame in admitting that. But our starting point has always been the betterment of the Church, so that the Light of Order may forever shine pure and bright.
"Disagreements and debates should remain strictly internal, to be digested and resolved among ourselves.
"I say this here and now: whoever dares spread discord and debate across the entire Church, or even beyond our walls, daring to harm the Church's interests for personal gain, will be an enemy of the entire Church of Order!
"The *Code of Order* clearly prescribes the punishment for traitors!
"I am weary.
"I am exhausted.
"I wish to rest."
Theisen raised his gaunt hand. The High Priest, who had been standing behind him, stepped to his side, bent down slightly, and took his hand.
With a smile, Theisen used his other hand to pat the back of the High Priest's hand gently, their gazes meeting.
At that moment, camera flashes flickered ceaselessly, and the painters swiftly swept their brushes across their canvases.
"I hope our High Priest will lead our Church to meet all the challenges ahead with success, and make our Church greater and better."
High Priest Norton replied, "I will not fail your expectations."
Theisen drew a thick book from beneath his wheelchair. It was the *Code of Order*.
"All my life, I have believed in this book. I can say without shame that in all my years, I have never violated its statutes nor defied its spirit.
"It has been the streetlight along my path, illuminating the way forward.
"Starting half a year ago, I began hearing frequent prophecies that the gods are soon to return. I trust you have heard plenty as well.
"So,
"are you worried?
"Are you terrified?
"Are you uneasy?
"I am not. Not in the least. Truly, I do not deceive you.
"Because the *Code of Order* contains the 'Scroll of the Gods,' which stipulates the punishment a god must receive should they violate the *Code of Order*.
"In truth, our forebears have already pointed the way for us: even when facing the exalted gods, we faithful of Order should have the courage to stand tall and tell them plainly:
"'According to investigation and report, you have violated the *Code of Order* and must submit to punishment from Order!'
"I believe this is what the God of Order wishes to see. This is what we, as believers of Order, ought truly to be!"
"Cough, cough, cough..."
Having spoken these words, Theisen's face turned instantly pale. He had held on until now solely to finish these words and bring this matter to a close. Now his task was done, his work finished, and his life at its end.
With trembling hands, Theisen crossed his arms over his chest.
In a solemn voice, he said,
"Praise the God of Order!"
Everyone in the hall crossed their arms over their chests and declared in unison,
"Praise the God of Order!"
A moment later, the old man's hands slowly slipped down, finally resting motionless at his sides.
He was gone.
Chapter 489