Eavesdropping

Needing to investigate without triggering any anomalies that might cause an early reset of the loop, Lumian could only begin at the periphery of the problem and work his way inward step by step, adapting to the circumstances. His initial plan for this afternoon was to seek out the parish padre's mistresses and see what he could uncover by eavesdropping or probing for information. If nothing came of it, or if an opportunity failed to present itself, he would head to the church to see if he could run into the padre and chat about daily life in the village face-to-face. Lumian's first target was Sybille Berry. As both the mistress of the parish padre Guillaume Bénet and the sister of the shepherd Pierre Berry, she was closely connected to two key figures tied to the anomalies. She might well know something. —Lumian's friend Little Guillaume, also known as Guillaume Béry, was Pierre Berry's distant cousin; they didn't even share the same hair color, and they lived in separate houses. Sybille Berry was twenty-four years old and already married. Her husband was Jean Maury, a middle-aged man pushing forty. He had remained a bachelor for over thirty years. The only reason he had managed to marry Sybille Berry was that he demanded next to nothing by way of dowry. As for why Sybille was willing to marry with so little property to her name, Lumian suspected that she had already become the padre's mistress by then and needed a husband to act as a father for any potential bastard child, with the padre quietly promising something in return. While customs in Intis were open and illegitimate children were commonplace—many husbands and wives, however angry they might be upon discovering the truth, were still willing to keep a spouse's illegitimate child in the house, as it meant another free manservant or maid down the line who had no right to inherit property—the clergy of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun were forbidden to marry and have children. Consequently, they often looked for a cheap father for their bastards. Lumian made his way to Jean Maury's home, a low-slung house situated on the outskirts of Cordu Village. It was off-white and single-storied. The bedroom sat directly behind the kitchen, while the other side connected to a cellar that held wooden barrels for storage and doubled as a living and dining room. As for a washroom, there was none—only a shed built behind the house. Lumian did not knock. Slipping quietly around to the side of the house, he crouched beneath the bedroom window. Someone was sitting inside. Lumian could hear the breathing and judged the person's height accordingly. Before long, light footsteps carried from the kitchen toward the bedroom. Without having to calculate, Lumian, as a Hunter, naturally formed an estimate of the walker's weight in his mind. It was likely a woman, and in all probability Sybille Berry. In Lumian's memory, Sybille had smooth, dark hair that she preferred not to coil up like other married women did, leaving it hanging down simply or tying it into a ponytail, giving her the aura of an unmarried young girl. Her facial features were not particularly striking, but they were soft and rounded, with a pleasant plumpness. At that moment, Jean Maury, who had been sitting in the bedroom in utter silence, opened his mouth. In a muffled voice, he asked, "Did the padre come by this afternoon?" His voice matched his demeanor—dull and sullen. He was the type who, when people gathered to chat under the elm tree in the village square, would utter a single word for every four or five sentences spoken by others. Add to that his disheveled black hair, lacklustre brown eyes, and poorly shaved stubble, and he came across as thoroughly gloomy. "He did," Sybille Berry replied, her voice still carrying the crisp lightness of a young girl. She had been born with that tone. Jean Maury was quiet for a moment before asking again, "Did you two do that?" "We did," Sybille answered quite frankly. Jean Maury fell silent once more. Only when Sybille turned to head back to the kitchen did he say, "I have nothing to say about the padre, but you need to watch out for other men. Especially Pato Roussel." Pato Roussel was the husband of Madena Bénet, and his wife was likewise one of the padre's mistresses. Crouched beneath the window outside, Lumian clicked his tongue in wonder. *What a tangled mess of relationships!* His assessment of the padre's appetite rose another notch. To visit Sybille Berry in the afternoon, only to have a tryst with Madame Pualis in the evening—the man was practically a model worker in the world of illicit affairs. If only he devoted even a fraction of that energy to church affairs, then combined with his shrewdness and tact, he would have advanced in holy orders long ago and become a Beyonder. —Holy orders were the hierarchical ranks of clergy in the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. The first rank was Porter, the second was Lector, the third was Cantor, the fourth was Acolyte, the fifth was Subdeacon, the sixth was Deacon—also referred to as pastor, padre, or priest—the seventh was Bishop, referred to in some areas as priest, the eighth was Archbishop, and the ninth was Cardinal. The Pope stood outside the ranks of holy orders. Among them, the sixth rank and above were considered high holy orders, which, according to Aurore, carried a high probability of possessing supernatural abilities. The bottom three ranks were mainly relegated to church chores and ceremonial assistance; over the past few centuries, they had become largely nominal and were no longer viewed as true clergy. A fourth-rank Acolyte was typically a fresh graduate from a theological seminary, while a fifth-rank Subdeacon could oversee a rural church on behalf of a true priest. Such was the case in Cordu Village, where a fifth-rank Subdeacon served as parish padre, a fourth-rank Acolyte served as assistant parish priest, and a few servants handled menial tasks. Guillaume Bénet needed only one more promotion to become a true priest. "I know," Sybille Berry responded flatly to her husband's admonition. Jean Maury changed the subject. "Has your brother Pierre returned from transhumance?" "Yes. There's an important ritual coming up that needs his help," Sybille explained offhandedly. *A ritual?* Lumian's eyelid twitched. Jean Maury pressed, "The Lent Festival?" "No, a divine ritual," Sybille answered impatiently. "Don't ask so much. You'll know when the time comes." Jean Maury let out an "Mm." "Praise the Sun!" Sybille offered no reply. She left the bedroom and entered the kitchen. Lumian immediately made his deduction: Sybille had some knowledge of the illicit dealings between the padre and the shepherd Pierre Berry, while her husband, Jean Maury, was completely in the dark! The ritual she mentioned was not the sacrificial rite of the Lent Festival; it was very likely tied to Twelfth Night! Having gained some useful information, Lumian left the Maury residence and hurried toward the two-story building where Pato Roussel and Madena Bénet lived. Unlike Sybille, Madena Bénet had entered marriage with her own share of property, and Pato Roussel had also received his rightful inheritance from his family. As a result, they had been able to build a respectable house and had entrusted over twenty sheep to the shepherds for grazing. Lumian was unsure when Madena had become the padre's mistress. He only knew that over the past year, before getting involved with Madame Pualis, the padre had favored Madena above all others—perhaps the taboo of their social stations had ignited a certain flame. At that moment, Pato Roussel, who sported a gentleman's mustache styled after the administrator's, was pacing the kitchen. He asked Madena, who was directing the maid's work: "When will we invite the padre over as a guest again?" His face was eager, clearly hoping to curry favor with the man who held real sway in Cordu Village. Madena glanced at the maid cooking by the hearth—the illegitimate daughter of Pato's father—and replied in a subtle tone, "I don't know. It depends on his mood." *And his physical stamina, right?* Crouching in hiding outside, Lumian muttered silently to himself. "Haven't you been going to the church to pray quite often lately? You could ask him while you're there," Pato Roussel urged, unwilling to drop the matter. *Going to church often?* Lumian frowned. *Is the padre's clique plotting their secret schemes inside the church?* *They really aren't showing any respect to the Eternal Blazing Sun or Saint Sixte…* After listening for a little longer, he left the Roussel residence and walked toward the church at the edge of the village square, hoping to speak with the padre face-to-face. Yet when he arrived at the church, Guillaume Bénet was nowhere to be found. Only the assistant parish priest, Michel Garrigue, stood before the altar. Michel was an outlander from Dariège, a graduate of the Bigorre Theological Seminary. He had been dispatched to Cordu Village by the bishop the previous year to serve as Guillaume Bénet's deputy. Generally sidelined by the local clergy, he was relegated to handling the registries for funerals, weddings, and births. During the previous loop, when Lumian had visited the church, he had happened to see the padre on his way out. The padre had told him to return for prayers the following day, giving Michel no chance to hear believers' prayers or confessions. Michel was fairly tall, no shorter than Lumian used to be (having consumed the Hunter potion, Lumian felt he had grown another two or three centimeters, standing close to 1.8 meters now). He was a rather handsome young man with curly brown hair and a somewhat bashful air. Looking at Michel Garrigue in his white robe embroidered with gold thread, Lumian spread his arms wide. "Praise the Sun!" Having performed the salutation, he fixed his gaze on Michel, wanting to see how this assistant parish priest reacted to the etiquette of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun. If there was any hesitation, Lumian would know the man had been dragged into the padre's clique. Michel Garrigue immediately returned the gesture. "Praise the Sun!" He showed not a hint of hesitation, his yellowish-brown eyes brimming with joy and anticipation. *Judging from Madena Bénet's words, the padre's clique frequently discusses matters here. As the assistant parish priest, Michel must have noticed something, right?* Lumian did not ask directly, glancing left and right instead. "Is the padre not in?" "He left quite some time ago," Michel replied. "A quarter of an hour ago, three outlanders came looking for him as well, but they couldn't find him either." The assistant priest looked at him with an earnest expression, as though asking whether Lumian would like to make a confession while he was here. Considering the possibility that the padre might have circled back to hide in the church, waiting for Madame Pualis to bring dinner, and might currently be eavesdropping on his conversation with Michel, Lumian deliberately let out a sigh. "Forget it, then. I'll come back tomorrow to pray." The light in Michel's eyes instantly dimmed. Lumian turned and walked out of the church, intending to pay a quiet visit to Michel's residence once night fell to see if he could extract any useful intelligence. Noticing that the sun was about to dip behind the mountains, he headed home. Seeing Aurore setting the plates on the table, he asked, "Did you discover anything?" Aurore gave a slight nod. "Aside from the anomalies you mentioned, I found that the assistant parish priest, Michel Garrigue, seems a bit suspicious." "Huh?" Lumian made no attempt to hide his astonishment.