Since Gaspol had not officially assumed office yet, this tea gathering was kept low-profile: no welcome line, no official minutes, and no accompanying personnel.
After all, under normal social protocol, taking over a predecessor's post required some decorum. While toppling one's own superior and seizing the position directly like Karen had done might seem exhilarating, the negative fallout would also become immediately apparent.
Nevertheless, when the attendant officer brought Karen and Gaspol to the elevator, Bourne was already standing inside waiting to greet them as the doors slid open—granting her plenty of face.
After all, although the Regional Administrative Office and the Whip of Order answered to different authorities, in practice, a regional chief was merely the second-in-command of a region. The true leader in plain view was inevitably the head bishop.
The elevator doors closed, and Gaspol and Bourne exchanged formal greetings.
Upon entering the office, there was a three-sided sofa arrangement. Bourne sat on one side, Gaspol took the seat opposite him, and Karen did not take the third sofa; instead, he sat alongside Gaspol, shifting toward the edge.
Next came drinking tea and making small talk.
In truth, nothing of real substance was said. The topic even revolved around the differing local customs and cultures of Yorktown and the Dinge Region. Yet beneath the conversation, both sides were conveying their stances.
Gaspol sensed that the head bishop before her had no intention of aggressively suppressing the Whip of Order or clawing back its authority. Instead, he emphasized maintaining their existing cooperation and mutual trust.
On this point, he gave her virtually the same impression Karen had.
Gaspol understood that this meant before she even took office, Yorktown's established power structure had already woven a web—one designed to guard against any "counterattack" on her part.
Gaspol clearly expressed her attitude as well: she was willing to uphold the previous positive state of relations and strive together for an even more radiant Order.
This tea gathering laid the keynote for the region's upcoming work, and could be considered a great success.
The established factions were willing to give Gaspol, the new regional chief, dignity and respect, while the new regional chief was not to disrupt the established balance of power.
Once it ended, Karen escorted Gaspol out. After getting into the car, Gaspol let out a long breath and unfastened her tied hair, trying to make herself as comfortable as possible.
"Now I feel the work ahead might actually be relatively simple and smooth."
"Milady, I will certainly assist you with all my heart."
"Heh." Gaspol chuckled, then immediately realized such a laugh might be misunderstood, adding at once, "I believe in your ability. All right, now you can tell me about that rally we saw earlier on the road."
"It's a collaboration between Order and Principles. Together, they formed a special department to handle a special task. Because it's an independent department of very high specification, our region has no way of obtaining their files or tracking their movements."
"Have you investigated them?" Gaspol quickly caught the heart of the matter.
"I have, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it."
"Oh. In that case, since it's business concerning a higher-level department, we'd better not meddle."
"Understood, Milady."
"Now drive me back to Mavaglio's place. I should stay there."
Karen drove back to their starting point. As he parked, he took the initiative to say, "Someone will come by later to ask about your living and working requirements. After that, I'll have my maid go over to prepare dinner for you two, because from what I can tell, neither of you seems like the type to cook."
Furthermore, Mavaglio had declined a maid. With his status, he was entitled to an attendant officer—meaning dedicated priests to look after his daily life—but he resisted such treatment.
Gaspol was in no rush to get out of the car. Instead, she asked, "Shouldn't it be the woman who cooks?"
"That mainly depends on who has the better culinary skills. At home, I often cook for myself."
"Is that so? If there's an opportunity, I'd really like to try it. Wouldn't be too much trouble, would it?"
"Not at all. There will be plenty of opportunities in the future."
"All right, see you on inauguration day, Department Head Karen."
"We are all looking forward to your official assumption of office, Regional Chief."
Gaspol got out of the car, walked back to Mavaglio's house, and knocked on the door.
After a moment, Mavaglio opened the door. He had probably been showering just now, though he hadn't frivolously come out naked. He had put on a shirt and trousers, only with a towel draped over his head and a toothbrush still stuck in his mouth.
Gaspol unconsciously compared the man before her to Karen. She felt that Karen would never present himself like this in front of anyone, not even before his fiancée.
The corner of Mavaglio's mouth curled into a grin, spraying a few white foam bubbles as he spoke:
"What, spent a bit of time with Karen and now find the sight of me unbearable?"
The scent was as if the crock of bean paste at home had been swapped out for a vat of vinegar.
Mavaglio really didn't have anything against Karen, nor did he have much concept of this fiancée of his, so his thoughts didn't wander in that direction.
Mainly, Gaspol's gaze was simply too direct, completely undisguised.
It felt like someone who had just dined at a luxury hotel's candlelight dinner stepping straight into a roadside barbecue stall, which made the Holy Child instinctively uncomfortable.
Gaspol shook her head and said, "If you were like Karen, I'd find it even harder to accept."
Hearing this, the Holy Child's eyes widened instantly, and the corners of his mouth began curling upward uncontrollably.
*Whoa, she's actually praising me!*
If Karen had been here to witness this, he would probably have thought: *Poor Holy Child. After spending just a few days with his fiancée, he's already showing signs of Stockholm syndrome.*
Gaspol offered no further explanation. She admitted that working with Karen would definitely be comfortable. With a subordinate like that, delegating authority to him wouldn't cause much internal resistance anyway; power had to be exercised through subordinates in the end, and hoarding it all in one's own hands was effectively rendering it useless.
However, Gaspol had a hunch. She could sense what kind of woman Karen liked, or rather, what kind of woman was suited to live with him. He probably liked women with calm, tranquil temperaments, and such women would like him very much in return. The propriety he displayed was mostly an aloofness and sense of distance maintained to keep himself comfortable.
Her own workaholism and obsession with control could never intertwine with his private life.
Seeing that Mavaglio had hurried out of the bathroom so quickly that his clothes were damp, Gaspol said, "You can be more casual at home from now on. Even if you walk out naked, it's no big deal."
"No big deal?" Mavaglio's freshly settled mood was stung once more. "Are you saying you wouldn't care even if it swung around right in front of you, since you're using a syringe anyway?"
Gaspol sat back down on the sofa, opened the documents on the coffee table, and said, "Regarding the syringe, I apologize to you."
"Uh... huh?"
*What angle is she playing now?*
"It may have wounded your dignity as a man."
"Well... it's fine. I don't really care that much, actually... If we didn't use a syringe, facing you, I probably... probably wouldn't be able to either..."
"Let's just live together for now," Gaspol said without looking up. "In any case, the date of our official wedding still has to be determined by the higher-ups. Once married, they'll also grant us an allotted time quota for mating. We can consider methods then; there are plenty of methods anyway."
*So aside from a syringe, you have a whole list of backup options?*
*Wait, other couples vary their positions, but you're varying the entire operational procedure?!*
"Karen will have his maid come over to help make dinner for us shortly."
"That's a bit embarrassing."
"Go request the appropriate living provisions from the Regional Administrative Office. The house needs domestic servants; both of us will be very busy later on."
"I don't like having people wait on me. Really dislike it. No, I prefer living alone."
"Then we'll move. We can move to the Whip of Order dormitory building. The headquarters has a cafeteria, and there's daily communal cleaning."
"Oh, okay."
*Wait, why did I just agree to that?*
*And move straight into my fiancée's workplace?*
"Unless necessary, don't show your face unnecessarily. When you finish work, go straight back. Don't wander around outside."
"Hey, hey, hey! Even prison inmates get yard time!"
"If you take walks outside and people run into you, they'll have to salute you respectfully. It tires them out. Working in the Whip of Order is exhausting enough as it is. Don't add to their burden. After all, not everyone takes your status as a Holy Child seriously."
"Heh, are you belittling me?"
"Many people's respect for you doesn't come from the heart. They merely respect your heritage, not you."
"I know. Aren't you the same?"
Gaspol shook her head and said, "I haven't even respected your heritage yet. After all, though you accepted the legacy, you haven't produced any useful achievements. History has seen plenty of Holy Children who made zero contributions, or even committed blunders. I don't yet know which type you are."
*Clap, clap, clap!*
Mavaglio began clapping. "Don't you think you're going further and further?"
"Produce results. Only then will you earn true respect—including mine."
"And what good does earning your respect do? Upgrading from a syringe to a petri dish?"
"Do you care that much about breeding the next generation with me through traditional means?"
Mavaglio: "..."
"I'm actually considering your feelings. I suspect that when facing me, you probably wouldn't be able to get hard, and I was afraid it would hurt you even more."
"Hahaha! So even you know that! Hahaha!"
The Holy Child threw his hands on his hips and laughed heartily. He never imagined that this stern woman who looked like a strict head of discipline could say something like that. It gave off a truly pungent sense of transgression.
Uh, what was happening?
Mavaglio looked down. Gaspol's gaze drifted downward as well.
Having thrown on trousers in a hurry, he was going commando underneath, creating a tent that looked like it could be blown aside by a stiff breeze.
The man's two walnut-sized brains suffered a cognitive clash at that very instant.
"I'm going back to my shower!"
Mavaglio spun around, stepped into the bathroom, shut the door, and muttered to himself in shock:
"Am I fucking insane?"
Gaspol blinked. She picked up the remaining half cup of cold coffee and took a sip.
She suddenly felt that things had become somewhat amusing.
...
Sitting in his car, Karen activated a concealment array so the vehicle would not draw attention.
Mr. Luther's speech was still continuing. He was impassioned and incisive in his phrasing. Oratory was a talent, and even more so a craft; in this regard, he could be scored nearly a hundred percent.
Three squads of Order priests were observing him at close range, with two more standing right behind him.
In addition, Principle priests sat in the corner taking notes.
A sense of absurdity welled up. Here they were in Yorktown, preparing to conduct such a dangerous, mad experiment, while the Whip of Order and the Regional Administrative Office remained entirely in the dark.
No—when the critical moment arrived, just like last time, they would order all local priests not to go outside and not to intervene. In short: stay out of the way.
*Click.*
The car door opened, and Neo slid in. He reached back to open the small refrigerator behind him and took out a bottle of red wine.
"This cheap?"
Karen explained, "The previous lead actor got blacklisted, so I brought in an extra."
"You don't mind the lack of class?" Neo asked.
"I don't drink anyway."
"Heh." Neo gulped down several huge mouthfuls, downing half the bottle in one go. People who regularly consumed mental concoctions often developed very high sensory thresholds for other stimulants.
Neo wiped the corner of his mouth and asked, "I knew there had to be some great fun if you called me over."
"Indeed. Without you present, the fun is incomplete."
"What, are they about to make a move?"
"Looks like it. It's shifted from protective custody to waiting for an assassination." Karen waved off the cigarette Neo offered. "Besides, they seem to be rushing it. Have you read the papers lately? Not just in Yorktown, but across almost every city in Wien, purple-haired people are gathering to campaign for civilization rights. Mr. Luther's first stop is Yorktown, and the next is Sangpu. He's scheduled to tour every key city throughout Wien."
Neo nodded. "A storm is already brewing. Soon, it'll form a cyclone."
"So, when the storm is still just an eye, what happens if a hand reaches in to snuff it out?"
Neo shrugged and smiled. "It'll unleash even more terrifying destruction."
"Indeed. And that, perhaps, is what the Church of Principles wants."
"Tsk, it sounds so perverse. Back in the day, our God of Order went on a rampage butchering deities, yet now the Church of Order is actively running a god-creation project.
"Order sheltered this civilization, yet it is also Order that seeks to pluck the fruit it desires from the soil of this civilization.
"Karen, I'm curious—what do you make of it?"
"It violates *Light of Order*, and even more so the doctrines of Order."
"Hey, are you brushing me off?"
"That is my sincere answer. I believe the Church of Order should not be doing such things."
The dragon slayer eventually becomes the demon. It was a cliché tale, yet one that continually played out in reality.
"Let's just watch for now. Since the atmosphere has been built up to this point, it would almost be a disservice to the audience if nothing happened. Do you think they'll succeed?"
Karen did not answer right away. From inside the car, he swept his eyes once more over the priests in the corner observing Mr. Luther, and finally let his gaze settle back onto Mr. Luther on the speaker's platform.
In the unseen realm, black and ink-colored threads seemed to intertwine around the area, continually spreading outward in a tangled, suffocating web.
If a spark were to appear at this moment, it could probably... ignite everything into ash, unleashing countless wails and howls.
"He is merely an ordinary person," Karen said. "From the very beginning, he has been nothing more than an ordinary man."
"People yearned for light, so the God of Light was born. People wailed in warfare, so the God of War was born. People longed for order, and the God of Order descended bearing Order!
"Tell me,
"after he dies, what kind of god will be born?"
Chapter 699