The conference hall in the York City Region Whip of Order Headquarters building was steeped in an artistic atmosphere.
The moss creeping along the baseboards and the dark, damp tones seeping through the walls stood as a shining model of harmony between man and nature.
The withered branches propped in planters amid cracked, parched soil struck a seamless blend of sculptural depth and floral flair.
Overhead, chandeliers flickered with a medley of bright, dim, and sputtering bulbs, capturing the dappled beauty and mystery of decay.
When an object drifts ever further from practical utility, it merely means it is drawing steadily closer to artistic worth.
At this moment, over a dozen people sat along both sides of the long oval table in the hall. They were the department heads of the regional Whip of Order headquarters, along with the top official and his two deputies.
The supreme authority of a regional Whip of Order was officially titled the Whip-Holder, though internally, he was addressed as "Regional Chief" to preserve the singular preeminence of the Whip-Wielder.
Bernie, head of the Logistics Department, stepped into the hall. Taking in the sight before him, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
He had been working here for quite some time, yet this was the first time he had ever seen such full attendance at a meeting. Usually, having half the roster show up for a regular assembly was considered a success.
For many years, when influential factions within the church groomed their descendants or disciples, they liked to place them in the Whip of Order during their youth to build experience and credentials. But such transfers were merely temporary, and in the end, they would always rotate back out.
Unless one was dead set on sinking roots into the Whip of Order to climb its ranks, anyone with other options chose to leave once they had extracted enough value. Otherwise, they ran the risk of getting marooned in some regional backwater once they reached mid-level management, prematurely consigned to a retirement-style life of sipping tea from a thermos and reading the daily newspaper.
"Bernie, with something this huge, why are we only being informed now?"
"Exactly! What in the world is going on? Have you lost your mind?"
Before Bernie could even sit down, two fellow department heads assailed him with reproaches.
The reason they had rushed over so quickly was that word had reached them: the Discipline Inspection Committee Office had issued an investigation warrant and arrested the grandson of a regional bishop—and they had made the arrest right inside the Church Affairs Building, no less.
Bernie sat down, in no hurry to offer an explanation.
"Hey, speak up! I know you have connections in the Dinge Region, and I know you're ambitious and hate being stuck here, but with this way of handling things, where do you put the rest of us? Aren't we supposed to be on the same team?"
"Precisely! Not a single whisper beforehand! I only found out when someone came asking me what was going on over here!"
"Same here! It's a complete joke!"
Bernie leaned back, crossed his legs, and rested his clasped hands over his knee.
"The dossiers containing the warrant's explanatory report and the operational plan were placed on every one of your desks last night. Had you arrived at work according to your regular schedules this morning, or spared even a passing glance at your desks, you would certainly have seen them."
At these words, many around the table exchanged uneasy glances. Their offices... quite a few of them hadn't set foot in them for ages.
Yet one could not entirely fault them for dereliction and neglect of duty. Even if you wanted to work hard and make a difference... you needed actual work to do.
For every department housed in this building, the Regional Administrative Office had an identical counterpart. Across the entire York City Region, several dozen Whip of Order squads received their missions, claimed their rewards, and had their personnel assigned directly by the regional administration. This building was an empty shell.
Bernie, for instance, despite being head of logistics, spent most of his time signing purchase requisitions for paper and ink.
At that moment, the Whip-Holder—Regional Chief Harry—spoke up. "Bernie discussed this matter with me beforehand, and I gave it my approval."
Hearing this, the expressions of everyone present shifted once more. They had gathered here in such a rush for essentially three reasons:
First, to feel out the situation. Everyone knew that the Discipline Inspection Committee Office belonged to Bernie's camp; not even the head of the Enforcement Department could likely command them, given that their observation delegation credentials had originally been processed through Bernie's logistics office. The ties had been forged long ago.
Second, to see which way the wind was blowing. Rumor had it that the higher-ups wanted to rebuild the lower and middle tiers of the Whip of Order, but exactly how much force they would put behind the initiative, and how fiercely the Regional Administrative Office would push back, remained entirely unknown.
Third, there was palpable hostility toward Bernie, the "outsider." Everyone knew he had ties in the Dinge Region and at headquarters. If he grew restless and started maneuvering, the position he coveted... was obviously the regional Whip-Holder seat.
Yet now, Regional Chief Harry's words placed him firmly in Bernie's corner.
The room fell silent. The chief's stance signaled that he had received unmistakable instructions from the upper echelons of the Whip of Order.
Bernie spoke up. "Not long ago, I made a trip to the Dinge Region. I had the privilege of meeting the Whip-Wielder at a dinner, where he shared a few words with me. I can relay them to you now."
*Rustle! Rustle!*
In the next instant, everyone seated—including Regional Chief Harry—stood up, placed a closed fist against their chest, and prepared to hear the Whip-Wielder's instructions.
"The Whip-Wielder said that in the past, circumstances left us no choice. He knows your difficulties, understands your grievances, and is more than willing to sympathize with what you've endured.
"'However,'" Bernie continued, his gaze narrowing as he swept his eyes across everyone in the room, "'now that conditions and opportunities have aligned for us to fight and bring about change, remaining indolent is no longer acceptable.'"
He paused briefly, then went on: "Fighting the local administrative office comes with many restrictions; we can only proceed gradually, and direct methods are scarce. But within the Whip of Order itself, dealing with anyone who disobeys or drags their feet is exceedingly simple, is it not?
"If we cannot touch them, do you think we cannot crush you?"
That final line struck the ears of everyone present like a thunderclap.
Bernie rose to his feet and said, "The opportunity is here. Seize it, and this hall—this entire building—can come alive again. Those wishing to retire can step aside; those who want to use this chance to achieve something can lend a hand of their own accord.
"From this moment on, I expect to see a clear stance from every single one of you."
Regional Chief Harry offered a faint smile and spoke up: "Did you all hear that? Good. Now get to work. Meeting adjourned!"
The others filed out of the conference hall, leaving only Harry and Bernie behind.
Harry asked in a low voice, "Are you confident?"
"So far, things have gone very smoothly. Vicolai Nadon has been successfully brought in. The arrest took place right inside the Church Affairs Building, which has already caused a regional sensation. The illicit venue has also been breached, rescuing several dozen imprisoned believers. In addition, the warden of our prison has been detained, securing evidence of the prison supplying inmates to that establishment."
"To take down Vicolai alone, the first point would have been enough. But your target isn't just Vicolai. If Vicolai is merely the opening move, the smoothest path forward is to dig up the entire Nadon family."
"Precisely. Your insight is sharp, Chief."
"For now, efficiency has been commendable. But what's the plan for using Vicolai to implicate the rest of the Nadon family, and ultimately that bishop? Have you formed an approach?"
"Based on reports received so far, Vicolai himself is a crucial breakthrough point."
"Oh?"
"My subordinates say he is remarkably stupid."
"Heh." Harry drew a breath. "While I find staking success on an opponent's stupidity rather unreliable, if your subordinates dared to send you such feedback, he must indeed be exceptionally foolish."
"I believe so as well."
"Still, I can offer you another angle," Harry said. "Dolph has two sons. The elder serves as deputy head of the regional Enforcement Department, while the younger is a deputy diplomat stationed at the Thunder God Cult's diplomatic office. Do you see what I mean?"
"Did you have these in mind, Chief?"
Bernie pulled two business cards from his pocket—one belonged to the head of the regional Enforcement Department, and the other to the senior diplomatic priest stationed with the Thunder God Cult.
Harry chuckled. "It seems you already grasped it."
"I've already reached out to them, but haven't received a firm positive response yet."
"They are waiting. They want to see how much force we will truly commit this time. That is Vicolai's purpose. He must die—and he must be sentenced to death in broad daylight."
"Indeed. Only that will demonstrate our resolve and give them the courage to cooperate with us."
Harry nodded. "I ought to have yielded this seat to you sooner."
"I am not in such a rush, Chief. I still need you in this position to back me up."
"Enough, I know." Harry patted Bernie's arm. "We will work together to see this through. That way, when I am promoted to make room for you, the credentials I gain will let me secure a better post at headquarters in the Dinge Region.
"Ultimately, we are products of our circumstances. There is no real point in fighting over this dreary building—what would winning this seat get you? Reading newspapers and sipping coffee? How dull.
"The other principal and deputy heads, however, are in a different boat. An official post is like a jar meant for one flavor of bean paste; if you want to switch jars, you first have to pour out the paste occupying it.
"Given the Nadon family's influence in the region, along with Dolph Nadon's standing and methods, once his two sons found their footing, he was bound to keep pushing to promote them to the top roles.
"That process is likely already underway. Consequently, the head of the regional Enforcement Department and that senior diplomatic priest must be locked in fierce friction and conflict with their 'Nadon' deputies. Working in the same system means they know far more about each other's secrets—internal matters that outsiders like us could never uncover.
"Unless every member of the Nadon family is a paragon of virtue dedicated wholeheartedly to the church, I refuse to believe those two department heads don't hold leverage and dirt on them."
"My thoughts exactly," Bernie said. "Furthermore, I want to set up a ladder for them to climb down. For instance, the prison lead can be tied to that deputy head of enforcement. Among the dozens of rescued believers are two low-ranking priests from the Thunder God Cult, which can serve as a link to the deputy diplomat. Once we stir up the wind, those two will have an easier time entering the fray."
"Then proceed with a free hand. I will hold off the pressure from outside for you."
"Chief, you just stole the line I was planning to say to my subordinates in a moment."
"Hahaha!"
***
"One dead, two critically injured?"
"Yes, Captain. Their luck was rather poor. Originally, there wouldn't have been any losses beyond minor injuries, but the three of them tried to rush ahead and capture the venue's actual operator, only to be caught by a counterattack using a fire-attribute sacred relic."
"Was the operator captured?"
"Yes, taken alive."
"Good. Issue a pension for the deceased, and hold the funeral at my funeral parlor. As for the two critically injured... they didn't receive this mission through the regional office, so their treatment at the church hospital can't be reimbursed by the region. We'll cover it ourselves for now."
"Understood, Captain," Fanny replied with a nod.
"By the way, how many point coupons are left in our office's account?"
"If I remember correctly, our account still has outstanding balances owed to several renovation contractors."
Karen paused to process her words before asking, "Does that mean not only do we have zero point coupons, but we're actually in debt?"
"Yes, Captain. But you needn't worry. A substantial amount of assets was seized from that venue. They're still being inventoried, but by standard practice, our office's financial situation should turn around very soon."
"Mm, I leave that in your hands. Where is Alfred?"
"Mr. Alfred is personally interrogating Vicolai."
***
In the hallway, Philomena sat leaning back on a bench.
Nearby, people were discussing case details, analyzing leads, or delivering physical evidence... while she had nothing to do.
As the squad's strongest fighter aside from the captain, there was very little she could contribute beyond combat.
"Let me tell you, I was completely stunned at the time! I thought the vine spells he summoned would wrap me up like a slaughtered pig and slam me to the ground, leaving me without room to struggle.
"But guess what it felt like once I was bound?
"I gave it a tug, and I actually broke free!
"Even I was surprised and thrilled—I could hardly believe it. Heavens, could his spell potency really be that pathetic?
"Man, I really wish every Adjudicator in this world were at his level. My personal strength would instantly look so much higher by comparison, hehe!"
Richard droned on about his battle with Vicolai. In truth, hardly anyone was listening, as he had already recounted it once before. Richard knew he had repeated it, yet he kept talking because Philomena was sitting across from him, watching him as though listening intently, occasionally furrowing her brows, pondering, or giving subtle nods.
Richard knew she was bored sitting there alone; everyone else was busy, leaving her with nothing to do, which made her feel superfluous and awkward.
Even if the others didn't view her that way, she would view herself that way.
So Richard could only keep telling his story to keep her company, giving her a sense that she was occupied.
Whenever there was a chance to contribute to the team, Richard never let it pass. If Philomena felt redundant emotionally, he felt redundant in practical terms.
"Karen."
"Captain."
As Karen walked over, both Richard and Philomena greeted him.
"Is Richard's story exciting?" Karen asked Philomena.
Philomena shook her head, offering her assessment: "A grueling battle between two weaklings."
Karen chuckled. "You're the only one willing to listen to him. Otherwise, he would have burst from holding it in."
Philomena blinked, dropping her prior critique to revise, "Listening to it was rather amusing, actually."
"See! It was incredible, Karen! I think that qualifies as the peak battle of my career!"
"Make sure you never say that in front of your grandfather. He's always harbored high hopes for you."
"I know."
"I'm going to check the interrogation room. Carry on chatting."
Fortunately, though the furnishings in the office building were somewhat dated and lacked meticulous maintenance, the standard functional facilities were all intact.
Karen stepped into the observation room adjacent to the interrogation chamber. Through the one-way glass, he saw Vicolai undergoing interrogation by Alfred.
Having arrived at the headquarters building, Vicolai had regained his arrogance. He had just undergone a medical examination and knew Karen's people could no longer subject him to physical violence.
"Look at that—he's putting on that punchable expression again. I swear it must be a family trait," Vic muttered in disgust.
"Once the witnesses and physical evidence are ready and the chain of evidence is solid, submit it upstairs for review. Their efficiency will be very high this time."
"Right. I'm already looking forward to standing in front of him and reading the verdict. I can't wait to see the look on his face when it happens."
Karen flipped through Vic's record book and asked, "He's still being obstinate, right?"
"Yes, refusing to confess. Claims he just went there to watch a movie, and everything else is a frame-up."
"We just need to focus on following protocol."
At that moment, Karen saw Alfred take out Mr. Pavaro's "final letter."
Seizing the moment, Karen pushed open the door and stepped into the interrogation room.
Alfred asked, "Do you know Inquisitor Pavaro?"
"Know him? Of course I do. He was an Inquisitor under my command."
"In this letter, Mr. Pavaro documented what transpired between you and him."
"What could have transpired between us? Ours was purely a professional relationship; we had no personal dealings.
"Ah, that suddenly reminds me of a stray dog I once encountered. Back then, it was roaming the streets in misery with a female dog and two little pups. The two pups were sick, looking oh-so-pitiful.
"Out of the goodness of my heart, I gave it some food. But it wasn't satisfied—it blamed me for giving too little and kept barking at me, so I had no choice but to throw it a bit more.
"That food meant nothing to me, but the feeling left me thoroughly disgusted. The fact that I was willing to feed you was already an immense honor, yet you dared make demands of me?
"I started wondering if I should just tear down that miserable doghouse. The two pups were actually quite cute—twins, you know, which gave them a certain novelty. But what a pity, they were sick, and I found them filthy.
"The female dog, though, wasn't bad. I occasionally enjoy a change of pace; some mature women carry an allure that is quite irresistible.
"And do you know who I saw inside that doghouse?"
Vicolai shifted his gaze toward Karen, who had walked in and sat down across from him.
Smiling, he said:
"If not for you living in that doghouse too, their whole family would have died long ago."
Chapter 505