Chapter 385: Council (1)
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
Galahad walked down the hallway silently, his gaze fixed on the floor.
The pristine, white marble floor looked almost like a reflection of unblemished devotion, pleasant to see at a glance. However, as soon as he shifted his gaze, a hint of discomfort crossed his face.
The towering statues lining the hallway exuded beauty and dignity, but they were overly extravagant.
The murals on the ceiling, illustrating the grandeur of the Pater Church, similarly felt overly ornate.
Indeed, far too much so.
These displays did not align with the teachings of the Pater Church, which extolled frugality and humility as virtues.
"Yet, it can't be helped. Authority and dignity stem from grandeur, after all."
Galahad accepted the bitter irony between scripture and reality, acknowledging that it was unavoidable.
Most people were easily swayed by what they saw rather than by sincere teachings, even if it led them away from true wisdom.
There was simply no helping it—no helping it at all.
"Sir Knight."
As he walked down the corridor, two priests appeared before him.
Priests of the Sacred Emperor’s Hall, Galahad acknowledged their greetings with a nod.
Then they passed each other, each going their separate ways.
“So, it seems the rumor is true. A failure, huh?”
“Indeed.”
Galahad paused, hearing the faint but distinct whispers.
Their muttering about his failure was unpleasant and bothersome.
However, there was no sense in blaming them. It was only because his ears were too keen that he could overhear…although, it didn’t make the discomfort any less bearable, especially with him on his way to meet the Chief Priest.
“Sigh…”
Galahad let out a sigh, laced with both worry and resolve, and resumed his quiet footsteps.
Passing by the grand statues and the ornate ceiling murals, he stopped in front of a set of doors.
Lavishly adorned with gold…
Just as he raised his hand to knock, a deep, authoritative voice came from within.
“Come in.”
The voice, already aware of his presence, made Galahad start slightly. But he quickly steadied himself and accepted it, opening the door to enter.
Inside, he was greeted by an enormous mural depicting an angel expelling demons and foreign gods, behind which sat a towering, bald man.
The man’s name was Roderick Bor. The current Chief Priest of the Pater Church, overseeing the finances of the Sacred Emperor’s Hall, and a former Holy Knight.
His formidable build attested to his past as a Holy Knight, despite his advancing age. The magnificent mural behind him amplified the overpowering presence he emitted, even as he worked on stacks of documents.
“Please wait a moment.”
Roderick said, his pen never stopping on the paper.
On one side of his desk, stacks of paperwork, already towering over the height of a person, confirmed the rumors of his immense workload.
“Hm…thank you for waiting, Sir Galahad.”
After a while, Roderick finished his task and finally spoke.
He placed the document atop another stack, then stood up from his seat.
Years of administrative duties had given him a paunch and thickened his neck, yet he still carried himself with the same dignity as his Holy Knight days.
“Thank you for coming.”
Approaching Galahad, he continued.
“It’s nothing, Your Grace…May I ask what the purpose of this summons is?”
“You’re as proper and dutiful as ever, and I suppose that’s part of why I like you so much.”
Roderick offered Galahad a mischievous but genuine gesture of goodwill.
In fact, Roderick genuinely appreciated Galahad, as it was Roderick himself who had recruited him into the ranks of the hardliners.
“For a failed mission, your words are far too gracious.”
“Even the most blessed of Holy Knights can’t expect unbroken success. It’s only the ignorant, who don’t know a thing about this line of work, that would babble on about such nonsense. They can go to hell for all I care.”
“Your Grace!”
Galahad stammered, his eyes widening.
After all, it was shocking to hear the Chief Priest, second only to the Holy Emperor, utter such coarse language.
However, Roderick merely drew a cross over his chest, chuckling softly.
“Indeed, not words befitting the house of God…forgive me.”
Galahad sighed but also felt a weight lifted from his shoulders.
Since returning here, he had felt stifled by a constant pressure, which Roderick had now relieved, if only slightly.
What an intriguing man. He was undeniably a corrupt priest, yet one exuding a charm hard to resist.
Indeed, it was likely this very charm that had brought him to the position of Chief Priest.
“In any case, the main point I wish to make is, don’t be so disheartened. This line of work doesn’t guarantee constant success. You’re still among the very best of the Holy Knights.”
“I have no words to repay your excessive praise.”
“It’s the truth…Nevertheless, I called you here because I have some questions. I met with Bonifa yesterday.”
At the mention of Bonifa’s name, Galahad’s mood, which had slightly improved, sank once more.
“May I inquire about his condition?”
“Hm…To be frank, it doesn’t seem good.”
Roderick replied, stroking his thick chin, his expression more regretful than sorrowful.
“The injuries are severe, and just as your report stated, proper treatment has been challenging. Even with holy water…It’s as if something’s hindering the healing process. Almost like him.”
Though Roderick’s words were abstract, Galahad understood immediately whom he referred to. As a veteran Holy Knight, Galahad could grasp the identity Roderick implied.
“If it truly is him, then we are in grave danger…”
“…But the largest concern is the scars.”
“Scars…you mean the scars on his body?”
“That, too, though as a symbol, it should be unmarred…But no, the true problem is the scars on his record.”
“Just now, you said even Holy Knights can-”
“-Holy Knights can fail! It’s perfectly acceptable! Despite being blessed by God, they are ultimately imperfect humans…But the Son of Angels cannot afford such flaws. Not the Son of Angels.”
Roderick spoke resolutely.
“He must be without blemish. Without question.”
“…But wasn’t it Your Grace who championed Bonifa?”
“Ah, well, it wasn’t just me, but the entire hardline leadership…In hindsight, it may have been a mistake; after all, we are only fallible humans.”
Roderick’s shameless words left little doubt that he was essentially declaring Bonifa’s abandonment, with plans to appoint a new Son of Angels.
“Don’t look so grim. I feel sad too. It’s deeply regrettable to speak of such a faithful man in this way…But what choice do we have? As you know, most people are little more than blind fools; if it isn’t grand, they won’t even pay attention. In this era, as humanity’s fate draws near, we must cater to their desires to ensure the future. You know this as well, do you not?”
“…”
Galahad was left speechless.
It was a detestable view, yet not without truth.
The teachings and virtues of the Pater Church were rooted in frugality and humility, yet sadly, people in the world paid more attention to ostentation and grandeur.
A sad truth indeed.
“So, what of Bonifa…?”
“...Don’t worry. There’s no immediate rush. I have no intention, at least for now, of proceeding with what you might fear. For now, we’ll focus all efforts on treating Bonifa. We’re scouring ancient texts, pursuing every possible solution, so let’s leave this discussion for now. I called you here for something else.”
Galahad felt a small sense of relief; it wasn’t yet time to abandon Bonifa.
“…What is it that you wish to ask?”
“I reviewed your report and the recorded device. Unfortunately, the latter portion of the recording was all erased…Is that truly everything?”
“Yes, we double-checked, and the same sections were missing each time. Almost as if tampered with.”
Galahad responded, indicating he had no more clarity on the issue. Each knight had carried a recording device to capture Bonifa’s exploits, yet every part where Oliver became actively involved was somehow lost, almost as though deliberately removed.
“Well, very well then…speak to me about that man directly.”
“It’s already in the report—”
“—Yes, I’ve read the report myself, seven times. But what I seek is your personal account of him. That same wound that marks Bonifa’s body…do you truly believe that man is present in Landa?”
“It’s not confirmed, but based on my observations, I’d say it’s highly probable.”
“If it’s your assessment, I trust it…What did you say his name was?”
“…He is called Dave Light, a fixer from Zone T, Block 30—a dark mage with control over natural forces.”
…
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Inside the office of Landa’s Secretary of Internal Affairs, a clock on the desk chimed quietly, marking the passing time.
In addition to the clock, various newspapers were strewn across the desk in an untidy heap, showcasing a wide range of topics.
<The Talker> <No Credit> <Liar> <Gibberish> <Inconvenient Truth> <Cassandra> <Bugler>
Among others.
Being newspapers where sales equate to income—and influence—they were filled with sensational stories.
A scandalous drama surrounding an inheritance feud within a wealthy family,
Love triangles involving popular radio drama actors,
Scandalous royal gossip,
The women's suffrage movement,
And even a ludicrous tale of a monstrous rat in the sewers that was supposedly eating other rats to “clean” the sewer system.
It was mostly trivial nonsense…yet, just as one might find an overlooked treasure in a trash heap, there were occasionally articles worth noting, particularly those from abroad.
[Gallos Royal Magic University Roculi Infiltrated by a Dark Mage!]
Landa’s Secretary of Internal Affairs, Paul Carver, reread the headline.
Incredibly, a dark mage had reportedly infiltrated Roculi University—the magic tower of Gallos. More shocking, however, was the fact that, beyond mere theft of research data or information, the major departments within the university had been entirely co-opted, betraying the university as a whole.
This internal discord had left the university embroiled in what was practically a civil war.
An unsettling and terrifying situation…
Even if it was an event across the sea, in a different nation entirely.
A dark mage had infiltrated a bastion of magic, Roculi University, and subjugated its main departments.
Even though Roculi University had been on a steady decline for years, plagued by social turmoil, it was still hard to fathom.
It was almost too shocking to believe, despite having already heard of the Lake Village incident through the magic tower.
‘Perhaps I’ve unconsciously dismissed it out of disbelief.’
Carver mused.
Recent studies suggested that when the human brain experienced extreme shock, it might block out or fail to register the truth properly—to reduce psychological strain.
‘And perhaps this is a similar case.’
Carver glanced at the clock, checking the time again in anticipation of an upcoming appointment…
Hiss! Hiss!
[Minister, your guest has arrived.]
The secretary’s voice came through a voice-activated device connected to his desk.
Exhaling a deep breath, Carver adjusted his attire and rose from his seat.
Even when faced with a daunting guest, proper courtesy was essential.
“…Send them in.”
With his command given through the device, the door soon opened, and in walked none other than Dave, one of Landa’s most prominent fixers.
‘Or perhaps one of its lesser deities...’
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Dave, or rather Oliver, walked into the office, leaning on his quarterstaff, and offered a respectful greeting.
“Good day, Minister.”
“Good day, Mr. Dave…May I address you as Mr. Dave?”
“Dave would be fine, thank you. That’s the name I’m using at present.”
The response was shamelessly nonchalant, yet Carver found no reason to take offense.
Sometimes, it really was true that a person’s usual demeanor made a difference.
‘And perhaps the same could be said of the city.’
Just as Carver thought this, Oliver spoke.
“Did I happen to arrive at a bad time?”
Following Oliver’s gaze, Carver looked back at his own desk.
“Oh…no, pay it no mind. I was just reading a few newspapers. The busy ones are the staff below me.”
“I see…may I ask what those are?”
Oliver gestured toward the assortment of canned foods, toothpaste-like tubes, biscuits, chocolates, instant coffee, margarine in small packets, and other items scattered across one side of the desk.
“Oh…they’re samples of military rations we’re planning to supply to the City Defense Force. I was having them for lunch.”
“Do you enjoy military rations?”
“No, I despise them. Ever since my time in the army, I detest them even more.”
“Ah…then, why were you eating them?”
“I wanted to see which ones were the least terrible. Enjoyable meals are one of the few pleasures left to soldiers. Although I don’t have much say in the decision, it’s good to know.”
“I see…do they suit your taste?”
“Well, to be honest, they don’t quite fit my preferences…Would you care to try one, Mr. Dave?”
Carver gestured to an unopened package of military rations on his desk.
“If you don’t mind?”
“Of course, feel free. Who knows when you might have another chance to try it.”