"Keep eating. It'll be a while before the High Priest gets back. You might not get completely full here with me, but at least you get something. The High Priest never has the habit of feeding people, so I need to eat my fill, or I'll end up starving."
Having climbed up from the bottom step by step, how could Foden not know every rule and unspoken custom?
The only reason someone could occasionally "hoodwink" or "influence" him was simply that a person's energy was limited; most of the time, he couldn't be bothered to pay attention to matters down below. Furthermore, his own interests hadn't been touched.
The previous two secretaries had failed to understand their place, believing that as close aides, they could steer the Whip-Wielder and the power he represented. But the moment something slipped up and the Whip-Wielder snapped his attention back, the two of them were tossed straight to Augie.
In fact, the fallout hadn't ended there. After the two men competing for the position of first secretary "departed," the network of connections under them was pulled in. Not only was the Secretariat purged of a batch of people, but even two heavyweights within their own system were dragged down, demoted, and shipped out to regional branches.
Thus, there was another reason Miguel had treated Karen with special regard from the very start. It wasn't that he had been third in line—the Secretariat rarely calculated seniority in such strict tiers. Rather, it was because of Karen that everyone ahead of him had suddenly been swept off the board in one clean sweep. Without having to lift a finger, he had passively landed the top spot.
"That seems to be a tradition in our church," Karen said. "Back when I did security details escorting VIPs to meetings, we'd starve too. So we used to hide bread and milk in our coats to sneak bites."
Karen had told this story to Miguel before, but that didn't stop him from telling it again to the Whip-Wielder right in front of Miguel.
Having extensive grassroots experience was a strength. Even peacocks knew to spread their feathers to court a mate; there was no reason a man shouldn't display his merits to his superior.
Foden nodded. "Sometimes, when the people below handle things, they do cling too rigidly to dogma and lose all flexibility, drawing plenty of discontent and grumbling."
Karen couldn't let the Whip-Wielder think he was grumbling.
Karen picked up immediately: "Still, I understood it back then. After all, it really did minimize security risks. Rules that seem harsh and unfeeling were often forged from painful, bloody lessons."
"Heh, yes, that's true. But there are also dogmas that genuinely need to change."
The tone had shifted again.
Karen followed up swiftly once more: "Indeed. I believe every issue calls for a case-by-case analysis and must be viewed through the lens of continuous development. For instance, the external environment and internal issues our church faced a thousand years ago are certainly vastly different from what we face today. At a time like this, to better adapt to future growth, we must take the initiative to change rather than remain trapped where we stand."
The High Priest was a centralizer and a reformer. As a fierce general under the High Priest, Foden's political stance was naturally the same.
In truth, this was also dictated by their position. As a rising faction, they possessed the momentum to continually seize more power. Driven by this momentum, reform was imperative, because only reform could trigger a fresh reshuffling of the old power structure.
Taking a sip of red wine, Foden remarked, "Yet not everyone is capable of understanding it like that. Sometimes, even if you make the slightest noise while walking, a whole crowd jumps up screaming their heads off. Reason, circumstances—you could wear your lips raw talking, and you still wouldn't convince them."
"However, I don't think whether they're convinced matters," Karen said. "Nor should our goal be to convince them."
"Oh?" Foden looked at Karen with interest. "Then who should we convince?"
"Convince history."
"Hm?"
"What you and the High Priest are doing right now is not something the people of this age have any right to judge. The only one qualified to pass judgment is history; the only one that can understand you is history as well."
This last piece of flattery was a bit blatant and heavy-handed—laid on too thick, overly sensational.
Yet flatter he must. The Whip-Wielder had already set down his spoon, signaling the lunch was nearing its end. Next, the Whip-Wielder was going to the High Priest's place for a meeting, and Karen knew he had no chance of attending; it was time for him to take his leave.
Who knew when the next opportunity to share lunch would come? Even if they ran into each other in routine work settings, it wouldn't be appropriate to speak such sickeningly sweet words.
Moreover, Karen knew that flattery coming from someone with his personal image and track record felt different from ordinary brownnosing; it tempered the effect.
Hearing these words, the Whip-Wielder found it amusing at first. But when he thought of everything this young man had successfully pulled off in the past, he actually tasted a genuine sincerity in the sentiment.
There was an illusion that Karen not only resembled his younger self, but also deeply understood him.
The Whip-Wielder glanced at Miguel standing nearby and laughed. "Miguel, I think you could trade places with our Regional Chief Karen. Regional Chief Karen is clearly far better suited to the secretary role than you are."
Miguel replied, "I certainly agree, sir. But the problem is that Regional Chief Karen is truly all-around capable, whereas apart from being a secretary, I lack experience and polishing in other areas. If we traded positions, Regional Chief Karen wouldn't miss a beat and would only do the job better and better, while I'm afraid I'd genuinely botch things up."
"Hahaha!" The Whip-Wielder let out a hearty laugh. "Miguel, you certainly have a clear picture of yourself."
Miguel said, "Yes, sir. I keep my own abilities in mind at all times so that I stay firmly within my duty."
Foden nodded. "That's a good thing, and a virtue."
Miguel placed two bowls of shaved ice in front of the two men as dessert, then gathered the dishes and carried them out.
Karen stirred the shaved ice with his spoon. It contained coconut milk, candied fruit, and a scoop of ice cream.
The temperature in this office was already low; now they were truly eating chilled desserts in a frozen landscape.
The Whip-Wielder spoke no more, eating with great focus.
Outside, Miguel took the latest visitor log handed to him by an assistant. As first secretary, arranging audiences for the Whip-Wielder was one of his primary responsibilities.
Whom the Whip-Wielder received and when, whether an audience needed to be interrupted or cut short to receive the next person—this was not merely his authority, but also a test of his competence.
After a brief hesitation, Miguel instructed his assistant, "Have Chief Steward Dingkela come over now."
"Yes, sir."
When his shaved ice was a third finished, the Whip-Wielder set down his cup, ready to depart for the Office Divine Hall.
Karen prepared to rise and take his leave as well.
Just then, Miguel returned and reported, "Whip-Wielder, Chief Steward Dingkela is here to report on the latest deployments of the desert intelligence network."
New developments had just occurred on the desert frontline, so intelligence work there naturally demanded heightened attention. Furthermore, the militia regiment under Karen had performed exceptionally well, giving him an inseparable connection to the frontline.
"We'll discuss it in the carriage."
"Yes, Whip-Wielder."
"Whip-Wielder, I shall take my leave then."
"Are you very busy? Come along and listen in the carriage."
"Yes, Whip-Wielder."
Just like that, Karen followed the Whip-Wielder into the carriage, where Chief Steward Dingkela delivered his report.
After the briefing concluded, Chief Steward Dingkela asked for punishment.
"What happened at the front has nothing to do with you," Foden said. "The other orthodox churches undoubtedly made the most meticulous concealments before entering the field. If fault is to be found, it lies with the departments responsible for gathering intelligence within the other churches for failing to detect it in time."
A leader was indeed a leader: with a single sentence, he absolved his own side of all responsibility.
"Miguel."
"Here, Whip-Wielder."
"Convene an internal meeting in my name, presided over by you. Work out a plan for the Whip of Order to increase investment into the militia regiments."
"Yes, Whip-Wielder."
Foden looked at Karen sitting across from him. "Does Regional Chief Karen have any suggestions?"
Karen answered, "If you intend to use this opportunity to expand the Whip of Order's voice within the militia system, then I believe the most suitable and quickest way to see results is to continue investing in the two militia regiments that remained intact and rendered distinguished service."
"Go on."
"Expand the rosters of these two militia regiments, dispatch more powerful and experienced combat personnel, equip them with higher-tier gear, grant more ample logistical support, and most importantly, preserve the existing upper command structure of both regiments."
"I suspect what our Regional Chief Karen wanted to say most was that last sentence, wasn't it? You truly make no attempt to avoid suspicion."
"I don't believe one should avoid suspicion when recommending talented people. The main reason my Yorktown Militia Regiment has achieved repeated brilliant successes is that I staffed it with the most outstanding and capable people under my command. I have full confidence in their abilities. If our Whip of Order is willing to grant them greater support, I am certain they will repay us with more and better battle achievements. Whip-Wielder, others must learn from us if they want to improve. But for us to become better, all we need to do is simply... increase our investment."
"Did you hear that, Miguel?"
"In response to the Whip-Wielder, I heard. I will set this as the tone of the meeting and draft a proposal accordingly."
"Mm." Foden looked at Karen. "When you issue the commendation to your outstanding, capable subordinates, attach these words from me: so long as they keep producing results on the frontline, I will continue investing in them. Tell them not to be timid or shrink back; they should learn from their regional chief and boldly handle things with flair."
"Yes, sir. I will certainly convey your directive to them and urge them to deeply grasp your spirit."
"Miguel, what should I do? I really want to replace you. Our Regional Chief Karen's phrasing is truly delightful to hear, heh."
Miguel smiled. "I've already noted it down for study, sir."
The carriage passed through layer after layer of checkpoints and entered a tunnel akin to a teleportation conduit, finally emerging into an exceptionally guarded area before halting in front of a grand hall.
Juridically speaking, only the round table symbolizing supreme authority represented the Holy See.
Spatially speaking, this area was what insiders of the church considered the grounds of the Holy See.
The High Priest's Office Divine Hall and the headquarters of each supreme governing department of the church were all located here.
As for the Whip of Order... its peculiar nature meant its headquarters was not situated here; in fact, the Whip of Order was a newer structure added at a later date.
Knights clad in black-and-silver armor stood guard along the perimeter. Before the Whip-Wielder stepped down from the carriage, Karen and Dingkela dismounted first, bowing their heads respectfully at the side.
Once the Whip-Wielder went up the steps, they would take this carriage back.
Upon the steps stood Mobiten, captain of the High Priest's personal guard, shield in his left hand and right hand resting on his blade. Seeing the Whip-Wielder walk up while Karen remained below, he said to Foden, "Whip-Wielder, the High Priest wishes to see Regional Chief Karen."
"Oh?"
Foden was somewhat surprised. He turned around with evident interest and looked at Karen standing below. "Heh, our Regional Chief Karen is quite something now—even the High Priest knows your name."
Mobiten's voice was resonant, carrying clearly to Karen and the others below.
From the corner of his eye, Dingkela glanced at Karen beside him, unable to conceal his envy.
Miguel, meanwhile, felt a surge of excitement. He had racked his brains to create as much time as possible for Karen to be with the Whip-Wielder, never expecting Karen to have already entered the High Priest's field of vision. This investment had yielded an enormous return—the liquidation potential and return on investment were simply so massive that his investment felt like an outright bargain.
Only Karen kept his head slightly bowed, maintaining his posture of respectfully seeing off the Whip-Wielder, without taking a single step.
Even as Foden continued ascending the steps for some distance, Karen still did not move.
Foden halted, turned back once more, and called down to Karen, "What are you standing there for? Come along."
"Yes, sir."
Only then did Karen move his feet, following behind the Whip-Wielder into the Office Divine Hall.
Mobiten took in every detail. Having served through several High Priests, he had seen countless young men—or "rising political stars"—trembling with excitement and trepidation the first time they entered this grand hall.
Yet this young man gave him an entirely different impression. He was calm—not feigning composure, but so genuinely peaceful inside that he remembered precisely how to conduct himself.
To him, life seemed devoid of impulsive passion, resembling an act on stage instead.
The last person who had given Mobiten a similar impression now sat at the head of the Office Divine Hall.
Mobiten couldn't help wondering whether the youth who had clashed with him on Fire Island was truly the same person before him now.
Though this was not Karen's first time seeing the High Priest, seeing him on Fire Island versus seeing him inside the Office Divine Hall were two entirely different matters.
It meant he had finally set foot inside the fenced courtyard symbolizing the supreme power core of the Church of Order to catch a glimpse of the scenery. Though he was merely an incidental addition, it was nonetheless the first step taken.
Yet Karen remained clearheaded throughout. He knew that whatever the reason the High Priest wanted to see him, it was merely to "take a look." If he let himself get carried away with excitement, he would look thoroughly naive.
In the High Priest's eyes, he was still a nobody; Foden's attitude was what directly affected his career ahead.
Moreover, as someone in a superior position himself, if one's subordinate caught the eye of one's own superior who then bypassed ranks to show interest, it inevitably triggered an instinctive distaste. Putting himself in Foden's shoes, if Karen saw Sus or Gaspol warmly granting a private audience to his subordinates Muri or Ventura, he would feel uncomfortable too.
Upon entering the Office Divine Hall, Karen subconsciously looked up and around. The interior space appeared ten times larger than it looked from the outside—likely a matter of spatial architecture. Inside, the Office Divine Hall was actually an independent miniature realm.
The true heavyweights of each system gradually took their seats.
The High Priest emerged from the rear and sat at the head of the room. The layout looked like a homeroom teacher presiding over a class of students.
To Karen's pleasant surprise, an attendant gestured for him to take a seat.
He actually had a seat?
Not standing off in some obscure corner, nor perched on an extra chair dragged to the side, he sat right in the very back row. Among the backs of the heads in the row before him:
The one with the thickest hair was the head of containment space; the one with thinning hair was the chief editor of Order Weekly; and the one whose bald crown formed a pattern of regional districts supporting the Holy See was the Minister of Foreign Affairs.
There was also a bald woman with a demonic face tattoo visible on the nape of her neck; she was the director general of the realm expansion project.
Even with Karen's steady temperament, suddenly sitting alongside so many heavyweights left his thoughts slightly stirred. He could only repeat silently to himself: *Under Order, all are equal.*
The meeting commenced.
There was no atmosphere of deliberation; instead, it was a scene of the High Priest directly assigning tasks to each system.
The heads of each system were called upon one by one by the High Priest, receiving their quotas and objectives, accepting their orders while offering their assurances.
On the whole, because the major orthodox churches had formally entered the fray under thin disguises, the High Priest escalated his countermeasures accordingly. Rather than a proportional response, he doubled down, seemingly unafraid that this might trigger an all-out war between Order and the entire ecclesiastical sphere.
Going forward, the Church of Order's power would pour massively into the desert. One could say that in the near future, a church war within a defined scope would unfold across the sands.
"Gentlemen, there is no need for worry, nor any cause for misgivings. The more confident we are, the more insecure they will be. They will believe our church has already mastered the exact time and method of our Lord's return, and their terror and unease will only deepen.
"You must realize that the current situation is no longer the probing of ecclesiastical balance from before; it is a fresh rehearsal held in advance for the grand tide of the descent of the gods.
"What lies before us is a profound transformation unseen in this era.
"Do not regard it as a calamity. Understand it as an opportunity belonging to our church, belonging to Order, belonging to you and me to create new history together."
Sitting in the front row, Foden nodded solemnly, while musing silently in his heart: *Why does that sound a bit familiar?*
The High Priest stood up and opened his arms.
"I believe that the gaze of our Lord rests here at this very moment, watching us, as devout believers of Order, strive to realize the ideals of Order. Under the protection of our Lord, we shall not be alone."
Immediately afterward, the High Priest crossed his arms over his chest.
All the heavyweights present rose to their feet and mirrored the gesture.
Then, they chanted in unison: "Praise the great God of Order!"
And amidst this chorus of praise, two people were slightly shorter than the surging wave of voices.
High Priest: "Praise the great Order!"
Karen: "Praise the great Order..."
Suddenly, Karen sensed a gaze intentionally land upon him. Instantly on high alert, he immediately feigned a choked, emotional pause and tacked on the remainder:
"*Cough*... God."
Chapter 765