"Come whenever you want. Just find me directly at Pavaro Funeral Parlor. After stepping out of the teleportation array, you can take a carriage parked right inside the array hall—it's much more convenient that way."
"Hm? Doesn't everyone take a carriage after stepping out of the array?"
"Heh."
On the surface, Karen smiled, but inside he silently scoffed at the church's utterly unreasonable stipend system.
Before a "Holy Child" like Mavaglio, the stipend gap between the two of them was probably far greater than the gap between Karen and an ordinary church servant.
Of course, people like Mavaglio probably didn't even need stipends; most of their expenses could be reimbursed anyway.
Just look at that—Karen had thought anyone taking a carriage inside the array hall must have water in their brain, forgetting that some people had swimming pools built right into their homes.
Sigh. This truly chilled the heart of a Whip of Order combatant fighting on the front lines for the church.
"Go attend to your business first. Once you're done, you can write to me. Though, I suspect you'll probably forget."
"I'll definitely forget," Karen shrugged. "Real friends can't be bothered with writing letters."
"Haha, the array is about to activate. Goodbye." Mavaglio waved at Karen.
"Goodbye." Karen nodded to Mavaglio, turned around, and walked toward his assigned spot in the teleportation array.
Mavaglio didn't linger in place to watch Karen's retreating back either; once Karen turned, he turned and left as well.
Perched on Karen's shoulder, Purr whispered, "I originally thought he was a rare, honest and simple-minded soul."
"And now?"
"When he decided to let Lister take the fall without the slightest hesitation, I realized he isn't."
Karen smiled faintly. "He never was."
"Was I being naive?"
"No, not at all. It's probably just that you ate too much."
"Are you mocking me?"
"No. If you were walking in the wilderness and saw an aberrant demon slaughtering a human, would you step in to save them?"
"Depends on my mood."
"Exactly. It's the same for him—it depends on his mood. He probably feels comfortable around me, so he considers us to have a decent rapport, which makes his tolerance for me relatively high. But toward others, like Lister, they're just ordinary colleagues—or rather, superior and subordinate, or even lower, considering Lister addresses him as 'my lord.'"
"You know, Karen, I think you know how to make friends better than I ever did. Back in my day, I had plenty of companions I could entrust my back to during adventures, but I also had plenty of filthy, disgusting scoundrels I misjudged."
"Because you were truly trying to make friends, while I'm simply putting effort into maintaining interactions."
"Is there a difference?"
"Making friends assumes that once you become friends, you'll be friends forever. Getting along with people requires a dynamic approach to maintain the relationship. For instance, I know Mavaglio has always been troubled by his identity as an 'inheritor,' losing his childhood and his family over it. But look at his attitude when he made Lister shoulder everything alone; it proves he has long grown accustomed to being a Holy Child. You can commiserate with his inner struggles, but you must never join him in criticizing the status of Holy Child itself. When a wealthy man self-deprecatingly sighs that he neglected his family for his career, if you tell him to become a commoner so he can spend more time with them, there's no way in hell he'd agree—he'd fight you to the death instead. In the end, he just wants someone to indulge his pretentious melancholy with him."
"Still, don't you find that exhausting? Having to actively maintain a relationship even after establishing it."
"Everything in this world is in dynamic flux. Even after a married couple ties the knot, maintaining a harmonious and happy family takes wisdom."
"True, but also not true."
"Hm?"
"Take that stupid dog, for example. It never seems to change."
"You have a point."
Karen handed his ticket to the array maintenance worker and registered his name.
Quite a few people were already standing inside the array circle. Karen walked in and found a spot in a corner.
As the radiance enveloped them, the teleportation initiated.
...
"Whew..."
In the teleportation array hall of Yorktown Region, Karen did some light stretches right after stepping out, along with many others who had just teleported alongside him.
There were mattresses here for people to loosen up, and even massage parlors, though they were very expensive. Ordinary people wouldn't pay to indulge in them, while extraordinary people likely didn't have the time to enjoy them.
"Teleporting inside the Whip-Wielder's carriage truly didn't have the slightest bump."
"Indeed, meow." Purr stretched lazily in Karen's arms.
"Humans are just like that. After experiencing something better, returning to the usual invariably brings a bit of misery."
"So you still have to work hard to climb the ladder and get better perks, meow. After all, expensive things only have one flaw: they're too expensive."
"That's not its flaw. It's mine."
"Oh, every time I try to cheer you on to face reality bravely, I find that you're even more realistic than this cat."
Chatting with Purr as he walked outside, Karen saw two rows of garrison knights standing at the entrance of the array hall, casting a heavy and solemn atmosphere over the entire hall.
Counting the time, it had been about three days since the assassin struck at the Head Bishop's entire family. This happened to be the exact window when the ramifications of such a severe incident were rippling outward; the entire Yorktown Region was likely blanketed under a dark storm cloud.
"Why isn't anyone here to welcome you?" Purr asked curiously. "By all rights, you should be hailed as a hero right now—though I know you don't care about that."
"Mavaglio probably didn't notify the region about my return. From his perspective, he likely assumed his recognized friend would prefer some quiet rest at a time like this."
"Oh. What he doesn't know is that you desperately need exposure and fame right now to pave the way for your future."
"This is fine too. Let's go home," Karen sighed. "I hope we make it in time for Dincom's funeral."
"They'll definitely wait for you. Sigh, poor Dincom."
Just then, a somewhat familiar adjutant walked over to Karen, bowed, and said, "Captain Karen, the Head Bishop invites you for tea."
"All right."
Whether out of etiquette or duty, Karen could not refuse.
Led by the adjutant, Karen stepped into the elevator and soon entered the Head Bishop's office.
Wolflen was seated on the sofa. From his complexion, he looked completely normal, but Karen knew this short-term normality was bought at the cost of the remainder of his life.
After pouring Karen a cup of tea, the adjutant left the office and closed the door.
"Sit." Wolflen gestured toward the sofa across from him.
"Yes, Head Bishop." Karen took a seat.
Old and young, both raised their teacups together and took a polite sip, easing the atmosphere for the conversation ahead.
"There is a registry at the teleportation array. When you teleported over from Dinge Region, we received the roster here, which is how I knew you had returned."
Karen offered a polite smile.
The genial warmth on Wolflen's face gradually faded into something deeper and heavier. "Can you tell me about it?"
Karen shook his head and replied, "I apologize, Lord Head Bishop. I received a gag order. Until the higher-ups conclude their investigation and officially categorize the incident, it isn't appropriate for me to disclose anything."
Wolflen nodded in understanding. "I've received some intelligence and reviewed the incident summary. What I can see is certainly far more than what ordinary people know, though I'm aware it's likely not the whole truth. Still, I'd like to ask you a few things—a few pointless questions, if you don't mind."
"Head Bishop, please ask away. Anything I can answer, I certainly will."
"Is the assassin truly dead?"
"He's dead."
Hearing this, the wrinkles on Wolflen's face relaxed, and he let out a long breath.
"Should I thank you?"
Karen shook his head. "You are the Head Bishop, but like me, you are a member of our church. I merely did what I had to do, fulfilling my duty as a believer of Order. You don't need to thank me; you should thank the great God of Order."
"Your home was also attacked, and someone died?"
"Yes."
"My condolences."
"To you as well."
Wolflen closed his eyes and said nothing more.
Karen picked up his teacup a second time and took a sip of the still-scalding tea.
After a long silence, Wolflen opened his eyes, a searing fury blazing in his gaze. "Just an assassin isn't enough. I don't believe this was merely a provocation from the lineage of Fallen Gods. Behind this assassin, there must be an organization—he came under orders!"
"Yes, I believe so as well."
"There must be retribution," Wolflen repeated. "There must be retribution."
"Without a doubt, Head Bishop."
Wolflen's chest heaved as he worked to calm his emotions. "Go on back. I've delayed you."
"Yes, Head Bishop."
Karen rose. Just as he turned, Wolflen spoke again from behind: "Do good work."
"I will, Lord Head Bishop."
Stepping out of the office, the adjutant standing outside asked, "Captain Karen, did you arrange for someone to pick you up?"
"No."
"Then allow me to send you back."
"All right, thank you."
"It's my duty."
Karen followed the adjutant down the elevator back to the subterranean array hall, where the adjutant hailed a carriage.
"After you, sir."
"Thank you."
Karen boarded the carriage. Once it rolled out of the array hall onto the road, it entered a cloaked state, even floating into the air whenever it encountered traffic.
Before long, the carriage delivered Karen back to Pavaro Funeral Parlor.
Stepping down from the carriage, Karen reached into his empty pocket.
The coachman immediately smiled. "My lord, the adjutant has already instructed me to bill it to the office. Good health to you, my lord!"
Only after the coachman turned the carriage around and drove off did Karen pull his hand back out.
Walking into the funeral parlor, he found the mourning hall already set up. Two coffins rested upon the mortuary slabs, topped with memorial portraits—one of Pavaro, and one of Dincom.
Ever since the Vicolai case occurred, Karen had decided to hold a memorial service for Pavaro, but back then, he truly hadn't expected the funerals to collide like this.
Karen didn't know whose idea it was, but he wasn't opposed to it in the slightest. Placing either Pavaro's or Dincom's memorial before the other would have felt inappropriate; holding them together was the most fitting choice.
Yet for the first time, looking upon the memorial setting filled Karen with genuine, lingering dread, sending a chill down his spine.
Having worked in his family's funeral parlor, he had never harbored the taboos that normal people felt toward funerals, but this time, he was truly afraid.
Perhaps this emotional inclination was somewhat unwarranted, since Dincom was the one who had died;
but if things hadn't taken a turn that night—if that assassin hadn't been greedy and had instead acted decisively—then today, Karen would be holding a funeral... for everyone in the parlor.
Alfred, Madame Laike, Dora, Doreen, Kevin, Purr, Pike... that night, in all likelihood, they would have ended up just like the Head Bishop's family: turned into cold sand sculptures.
The lingering dread was the fuse, and what it ignited was fury.
The words Head Bishop Wolflen had repeated in his office resurfaced in Karen's mind:
"There must be retribution!"
...
"No news is good news! So stop worrying about your captain. Everyone, go eat lunch! We still have work to do this afternoon, especially Mars and the rest of you—you need to help revise the headquarters' array blueprints. Get it done quickly, understand?"
"Yes, Director."
"Yes, Director."
Once the subordinates vacated the office, only a large golden retriever was left lying on the rug.
Well, the floor of the Director's office was cracked, warped, and thoroughly trashed; even so, the Director had still found a rug to spread over it so the golden retriever could lie down more comfortably.
Fannie had already fetched lunch and set it on the desk. Neo stood up, scooped up the golden retriever, and seated it across from him. After portioning out the food for it, he sat down, picked up a spoon, and ate alongside it.
"Not to your taste?" Seeing the golden retriever hadn't touched a bite, Neo asked curiously, "What would you like to eat? I'll send someone out to buy it."
The golden retriever shook its canine head and slumped in the chair.
"Are you worried about Karen? Rest assured, it's fine. It's just a trip to Dinge Region for an inspection."
The golden retriever shook its canine head once more. It seemed on the verge of speaking up in protest, but hesitated, swallowed its words, and instead barked:
"Woof!"
"Oh, of course, of course. Anything involving that place might not be as simple as just Dinge Region—it likely means being inspected in the temple."
Kevin frowned slightly, suddenly realizing that this Light remnant before him seemed to speak "dog" too.
But then Kevin let it go. It recalled that Philias had even studied those terrifying insects, which meant he possessed an extraordinary talent for beast-taming; understanding a few special languages was only natural. And didn't the man before it inherit Philias's spiritual legacy?
"I have faith in Karen," Neo said, chewing on his beef. "No matter where that kid goes, he always carries himself with poise and decency. Even if I were exposed one day, he wouldn't be. Trust me."
Kevin ignored him, hopped off the chair, and lay back down on the rug. It wasn't actually worried about Karen; it was worried about Purr.
Because the intel Neo had obtained only mentioned Karen and the dragon; it said nothing about the cat.
Even though things appeared to be heading in a good direction—the assassin had been successfully killed, and by Karen no less—if Purr had suffered any misfortune during all of it...
Kevin stuck out its tongue and licked its canine chops. If so, it would have one more reason to fight.
Last time, its starting point had been an island youth;
this time, it was a dog.
Yet Kevin felt its starting point this time was vastly higher than the last. Dog or human made little difference to it, for it had seen plenty of people who, even after ascending to godhood, lived far worse than a dog.
Neo quickly finished his lunch, walked over to Kevin, squatted down, and pulled a blueprint out from beneath the rug, blowing off the dust.
"Thank you."
With that, Neo carried the blueprint out of his drafty, battered office.
Pushing open the door to the small conference hall, he saw members from both the regional and Whip of Order array departments seated inside.
The former had been sent by Old Master Delon, while the latter had been requisitioned by Bernie. They intended to redesign and overhaul the headquarters building's defensive array.
First, the two buildings in front of and behind the headquarters had been taken over. In reality, these two buildings had always belonged to the Church of Order—or more precisely, to the Whip of Order. It was just that the regional headquarters had previously had almost nothing to do, with tight staff quotas and department heads spending all day sitting with a cup of tea, a pack of cigarettes, and a newspaper.
Thus, those two buildings had been left vacant. Now reclaimed, one was to be converted into a prison, as the headquarters now had a significant need for detention facilities.
The other was to become staff dormitories. Spurred by the assassination attempt on the Head Bishop's family, every department in the region was now weighing security measures for their senior leadership and their families.
Neo presented the revised blueprint he had gotten from Kevin. The two team leaders immediately examined it and exclaimed in pleasant surprise:
"Hey, this really is a renovation plan based on the original blueprints! Director, where did you find this?"
"With this, the project timeline will be cut down dramatically. As long as headquarters in Dinge Region grants the authorization, we can finish modifying the defensive array in no time."
For an important department like the Whip of Order, the building had its defensive array laid out right from its initial design, linked directly to the Whip of Order headquarters in Dinge Region. It even strictly stipulated the locations of offices for each rank, which could not be altered at will.
This was precisely why, after Neo had renovated his office, he had been forced to give it to Karen rather than simply swap the doorplates.
Now, taking advantage of this major overhaul to the defensive array, changes that were previously impossible could finally be made.
Draping an arm over the shoulder of each team leader, Neo smiled and said, "Well, I have a small request. Based on our practical operational needs, I'd like you to make a slight adjustment to the original layout."
As he spoke, two envelopes stuffed with point vouchers slipped smoothly into the pockets of the two team leaders. Neo even gave them a thoughtful pat so they could feel the thickness.
The two team leaders caught on immediately.
"Go ahead, Director. Isn't it all for the job anyway?"
"Indeed, Director, it's all for Order! Just tell us how you want it changed. The worst that happens is we work some overtime."
"No need for overtime. It's not troublesome at all—very simple."
Neo pointed at the blueprint.
"Help me swap the doorplates of the Captain's office and the Director's office."
Chapter 585