The carriage pulled up before the side gate of the Wien Royal Palace, and Karen stepped down. He was not wearing his clerical robes; instead, he had changed back at the hotel into a grey trench coat paired with a black cuffed cashmere beanie.
This was the exact aesthetic Yorktown was supposed to have according to most works of literature.
Two rows of guards stood outside the side gate, dressed in red dress uniforms and tall bearskin caps, their chests puffed out so deliberately that they looked ready to pop the buttons off their coats.
A man in a leather jacket emerged from within and bowed before Karen. "Minister, please follow me."
Led by the man, Karen entered the palace. Meeting no resistance along the way, he proceeded straight to the back garden.
The garden was not very large; one could take in all four walls with a single glance. Countless novels used the Wien Royal Palace as their backdrop to spin dramatic tales, but anyone who actually set foot here would understand that so tiny a place could never bear the weight of that much love, hatred, and intrigue.
Trysts between a queen and some count in the garden were out of the question; the king would only need to push open his bedroom window and call out—without even shouting very loudly—to summon his queen home for dinner.
Still, the palace's modest size was relative. Many of the surrounding estates were owned by the royal family, who deliberately projected a false air of understated modesty to the public.
Moreover, the watchful gaze of the Church forced them to remain cautious and well-behaved.
Inside a pavilion in the garden, Gisen sat dining. The spread was modest: steak, red wine, and a vegetable salad.
Beside Gisen, an elderly man held a violin on his shoulder, playing with intense focus as melodious notes poured forth.
Yet the twitching of the old man's calves and the paleness around his lips made it obvious that he was freezing. Winter had already set in, after all, and the sumptuous clothes he wore were pretty to look at but did little to keep out the cold.
The old man was the former Prince York, the current King of Wien.
He had been the crown prince for nearly seventy years. If the late Queen had not "passed away" at Allen Manor, he might never have worn the crown in his lifetime.
Strictly speaking, Karen was practically his benefactor.
Reaching the base of the pavilion, Karen stopped. He sensed several distinct presences around the structure—bodyguards tasked with Gisen's safety, no doubt.
Bern had mentioned that Gisen was no ordinary figure, but the next faction leader groomed by a prominent circle within the Church.
An elderly man who looked like a butler walked down the steps. "Greetings, Minister Karen. I am Drew, Master Gisen's valet. Please come up; my master has been waiting for you for quite some time."
Karen nodded, climbed the steps, and entered the pavilion.
Knife and fork in hand, Gisen was unhurriedly slicing his beef. He ate with rapt attention, continuing to chew methodically even though Karen was already standing before him.
Karen knew that Gisen would only stand and greet him with great warmth after carefully finishing and swallowing his bite. In doing so, he would blame his slight on the delicious meal and avoid using titles, thereby subtly establishing both the hierarchy between them and an air of top-down familiarity.
Sure enough, once Gisen swallowed, he stood up at once and offered Karen a smile. "My apologies. Fine food always makes me lose track of time."
"It is a blessing to do so," Karen replied.
"Indeed, well said. Then may I invite you to share in this blessing, Mr. Karen?"
"The honor is mine, Mr. Gisen."
Drew set down a fresh plate and silverware, and before long, a steak was served.
"Go on, try it." Gisen held his wineglass, watching Karen.
Karen sliced off a piece and put it into his mouth. It was a well-aged steak, grilled to perfection, tender, fragrant, and juicy.
"How is it?"
"Delicious."
"I'm glad you like it. Heh, when I was young, I accompanied my father to Yorktown and dined right here. I've missed the royal palace's steaks ever since. Back then, though, it was the late Queen standing beside the table.
"Pity she has passed."
Gisen glanced at the king playing the violin beside him, and the monarch forced a flattering smile.
Karen thought it a real shame that no painter was capturing this scene. Future generations would surely appreciate it: secular royal power bowing and scraping before divine authority.
"Mr. Karen is from Wien. Have you visited the palace before?" Gisen asked.
"According to the Code of Order, it is improper for us to visit such places."
It was forbidden on the surface, and countless taboos governed it in private. Having a king play the violin for amusement, as Gisen was doing, had already crossed the line.
"You are quite strict, Mr. Karen. Honestly, had it not been to entertain you properly, I would not have gone this far. My oversight, my mistake. You may take your leave, Your Majesty."
"Yes, my lords."
The king walked down with trembling steps. Drew did not bother to steady him.
Karen wondered whether the old monarch would catch cold from this ordeal and take to his bed, never to rise again. At his age, men could vanish at any moment.
Then again, ever since this king ascended the throne, the public had been placing bets on how long his reign would last.
When the late Queen died, many merchants had stocked one and a half times their usual funeral supplies, and ordinary households had saved the supplies from the previous funeral, believing they would soon need them again.
Karen picked up his glass, took a sip of wine, and set his cutlery down.
"Aren't you going to eat more?" Gisen asked. "I thought you would attend the banquet, yet you didn't."
"My apologies. Official duties required handovers."
"Ah, I see. When I was your age, I had a temper too." Gisen tapped his chest. "Especially when someone tried to interfere with work I was responsible for, I'd feel disgust deep down and think, *Who the hell do you think you are?*"
"You overstate the matter, sir."
"That's essentially what it comes down to. So please bear with it. These are orders from above, and I am merely executing them. I hold you in very high regard, Minister Karen. Cheers."
Gisen raised his glass, and Karen raised his in turn. They clinked them lightly and drank.
The last person who had told Karen "I hold you in very high regard"—or rather, that skeleton—had seen her avatar reduced to paste by him.
Karen genuinely disliked this sort of game. He did not mind fostering good relations with his superiors or those of higher rank, but he despised this self-satisfied smugness that assumed one could win people over through sheer personal charisma.
People like Gisen always treated others like wild beasts grazing in the field, thinking they could shout, "I choose you!", toss a binding scroll, and tame them on the spot.
To put it bluntly, they were entirely out of touch with the grit of ordinary life.
Neither the figures lying in the coffins at Karen's house nor the believers Alfred had converted were won over by Karen putting on airs. They had all been drawn to his side through relationships built in day-to-day living.
Even as worldly and mercenary as Sus was, he understood the concept of give-and-take.
This sheltered young master, however, did not understand it, because the life he saw bore no resemblance to the lives of ordinary people.
"Karen, I'd like to be friends with you," Gisen said, dabbing his mouth with a napkin. "I know you're facing some difficulties right now, but I believe there will be opportunities to resolve them down the road. Besides, adversity and opportunity often go hand in hand."
"Thank you for your encouragement."
Karen offered a bland reply. The man was already laying the groundwork; clearly, he too saw Karen's value as an entrenched fixture in the Yorktown Region.
Unlike Dark Moon Island offering subordinates or the Church of the Moon God offering credit vouchers, this man wanted something for nothing.
Next, he would claim he could help.
"Mr. Karen, perhaps I can lend you a hand."
Karen replied, "I do not consider myself to be in any difficulty. Wherever I may be, so long as I continue to serve the Church, that is my greatest blessing. The great God of Order will witness my devotion."
Gisen's expression darkened. He had not anticipated such a flat rejection.
The atmosphere at the table instantly chilled. Karen did not bother warming it up; instead, he glanced around the grounds as though taking in the scenery.
"You are quite frank and straightforward, Mr. Karen. I rarely meet people like you."
"Then you should spend more time among the grassroots, Mr. Gisen. There are many like me down there."
"Very well, I will take your advice."
Gisen waved a hand, and Drew stepped forward to clear the plates and utensils before serving tea.
Although there was no local custom of serving tea to show guests the door, the meal was over, and it was indeed time to part ways.
Yet Karen seemed oblivious to this. He took a sip of tea and deliberately opened a new topic: "Director Gisen, you must know something about the Church of the Desert, don't you?"
"Oh? What about them?" Gisen asked.
"Not long ago, our region's Head Bishop suffered an assassin's attack at his home. Virtually his entire family was slaughtered."
"I know. A tragic incident. I feel deep sorrow and fury over it."
"Rumor has it that the assassin was dispatched by the Church of the Desert to force Order to intervene and help them break away from the wasteland."
"Oh? There are such rumors? How is it I've never heard of them?"
"There are."
"Then do you have evidence, Minister Karen?"
"I was not in charge of the investigation. I have no evidence."
"Without evidence, one shouldn't make careless claims. As the Head of the Law Enforcement Department in the Whip of Order, you ought to know that better than anyone."
How could there be no evidence?
Karen was confident that with the Church of Order's capabilities, uncovering proof was trivial. The earlier hints had been unmistakably clear; without absolute certainty, the leadership would never have ordered subordinates to use the conference as a pretext for retaliatory slaughter.
"You must know this is the truth, Director."
Gisen set down his teacup and enunciated each word: "I do not know."
Then he continued, "In my eyes, there are only the interests of the Church. As long as a course of action maximizes those interests, I will pursue it without hesitation. Is that wrong?"
"What you say is correct. The difference lies in how we measure and define those 'interests.'"
"Heh, it seems inviting you here tonight was an exceptionally wise decision. Otherwise, I would truly worry about what you might do."
"Me?"
"Of course. Tell me, which of your past actions wasn't thoroughly rebellious?"
"Rebellious? Everything I have done conformed to the Code of Order and the principles of Order in my heart."
"I have no desire to debate this with you on such a lovely evening. If everyone carried a copy of the *Light of Order* or the *Code of Order* and spent every day merely reciting and debating them, would the Church of Order become any better?"
"In my view, without theory leading the way as guidance, practical progress easily derails."
"Enough, Minister Karen. You may leave. You have worked hard these past few days; go back and rest well."
"And you, sir?"
"What about me?"
"Do you plan to return to the hotel?"
"I wish to sit here a while longer."
"Then I shall sit a while longer as well."
"Heh..." Gisen let out a laugh born of exasperation. "Just what do you mean by this, Minister Karen?"
"Nothing in particular. Your security was supposed to be my... rather, my superior's responsibility. Yet you left the hotel without authorization and refused an escort. I believe your personal safety may be compromised."
"You need not worry about my safety. There are people capable of protecting me."
"I imagine those wishing to threaten your safety are aware of that as well."
"Do you possess intelligence, Minister Karen?" Drew asked immediately.
Karen shook his head. "No intelligence, merely a sixth sense."
"Then why didn't you mention it earlier?"
"I only just sensed it."
Drew looked at Gisen at once and urged, "Young Master, let us return to the hotel first."
Gisen frowned, clearly reluctant to depart.
This stirred Karen's curiosity. What was his purpose in staying?
He had mentioned coming here in the past with his father. Considering the decadent debauchery within the Wien royal court, it was difficult not to suspect something unsavory.
If that were true, the painter would have painted too soon; the true picture would show secular royal authority reduced to a mere chamber pot before divine might.
However, events had no intention of leaving Karen time to play the artist or philosopher. As Drew released a black crow, the bird lost all vitality the instant it took flight and plummeted from midair.
Drew shouted instantly, "Assassins! Protect the young master!"
*Buzz! Buzz! Buzz!*
Three figures clad in black materialized in the garden, their faces concealed behind black masks.
One of them pressed his hands downward and charged toward the pavilion at blistering speed.
*Bang!*
Eight guards emerged around the pavilion. Two raised their blades to parry while two others struck toward the black-clad figure's flank; they were evidently well-trained.
Yet the intruder raised both hands, his body expanding instantly into a giant nearly four meters tall. With a single sweeping punch, he sent the two guards blocking his path flying. Turning, he roared, unleashing a burst of black flame that instantly melted away the upper torsos of the two guards attempting an ambush.
This sight brought Karen, who had been sitting back hoping to watch the brawl unfold, straight to his feet. It was not that the guards were weak, but that the attacker was... absurdly strong.
The remaining four guards dared not attack, retreating entirely into defensive postures.
Just then, the second intruder dissolved into a shadow that melted into the ground.
With astonishing speed, the shadow appeared beneath Karen's feet, then shot straight toward Gisen across from him.
A black gem appeared in Drew's palm. Crushing it, he pulled out a red-glowing spear and thrust it downward into the shadow on the ground.
*Boom!*
A fierce wave of energy erupted, only to contract instantly, forming a red barrier that shielded Gisen within.
The shadow's strike had failed, and he might even have been wounded by Drew's attack. Snapping back rapidly, he withdrew from the pavilion and returned to his original spot.
Meanwhile, the giant intruder battered relentlessly at the defense mounted by the four guards, who were visibly buckling.
Drew opened his hand again, revealing another gem. Crushing it as before, a shimmering phantom of a purple longbow formed in his grasp. He drew the bow and nocked an arrow condensed entirely from his own spirituality.
The moment the arrow took shape, Karen distinctly sensed Drew's killing intent settle upon him first—the valet clearly suspected Karen of orchestrating the assassination.
Yet Drew had not lost his head entirely. He swiftly shifted his aim away and loosed the arrow at the transformed giant.
The arrow pierced the giant's defenses and shot clean through his body. The giant spat blood, but the blood burned like molten lava, penetrating the four guards' defenses and splashing over their bodies. A chorus of agony erupted as the guards collapsed, screaming on the ground.
The giant retreated swiftly, returning to where he had started.
In a single flurry of assaults, all eight guards hidden in the shadows had been incapacitated. Had Drew not intervened with force, the assassins might have completed their mission in that single strike.
Karen was intrigued by Drew's fighting style. He wondered just how many gems the old valet was carrying on him.
Even more intriguing, however, was the third figure in black, who had remained motionless throughout. Without a sound, the surrounding boundary array had fallen under his control, and now, two black lines branched out from beneath his feet, connecting to the two intruders ahead.
He was healing them; their agitated auras smoothed out almost instantly.
No,
not merely healing.
As a distinct luster washed over the giant warrior and the assassin, their presence grew even more formidable than before. Karen sensed clearly that he was bestowing blessings upon his comrades.
This was an... extraordinarily capable priest.
Most importantly, though the figure was completely cloaked, Karen detected a familiar impression from him.
Thanks to the sharp perception he had honed during the skeleton incident, Karen was certain:
He
knew this person!
Chapter 657