Chapter 557: An Absurd Proposal (1)
Upon the Holy Knight’s summons, Oliver nodded in acknowledgment.
The Holy Knight, having received his response, intended to discreetly lead Oliver away without anyone noticing. However, Oliver resisted this approach and whispered quietly to call out to Jane.
"Miss Jane."
"Yes."
"...?!"
Although Jane's attention was primarily fixed on the prominent figure, Armand, she responded instantly to Oliver’s call, surprising the Holy Knight. After all, he had intended to sneak Oliver away unnoticed.
Yet, Oliver went ahead as he pleased, undeterred.
"Excuse me, I need to attend to something briefly. Would that be alright?"
Upon hearing this, the quick-witted Jane immediately located the Holy Knight who had stepped away from his position and met his gaze.
The Holy Knight was taken aback.
In that fleeting instant, Jane sensed something, though not entirely clear, and simply nodded her approval to Oliver without pressing him further.
Despite the disturbance to the atmosphere, Jane’s consideration touched Oliver deeply.
"Thank you... and my apologies."
Jane simply answered with a reassuring smile.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Clack. Clack. Clack.
After exchanging brief parting gestures with Jane, Oliver followed the Holy Knight discreetly through the party hall, unnoticed by the other guests.
With everyone’s attention focused on Armand, there was little need for further concern.
"I meant for you to follow me quietly."
The Holy Knight remarked in a low voice as they made their way to a secluded corner of the first floor. Oliver replied,
"My apologies. However, I thought it only courteous to inform my companion."
After a brief pause, the Holy Knight seemed to understand, casting a wary yet slightly inquisitive look at Oliver. Despite his guarded expression, there was an unusual friendliness for a Holy Knight.
"...It’s not an unreasonable stance. I expect you to show that same courtesy to the person you’re about to meet."
Oliver nodded, getting a sense of whom he might be meeting.
"Understood... Though may I ask where we’re going?"
Oliver glanced around at the increasingly narrow and shabby corridor. He didn’t mind the path they were taking, but found it odd, considering he was about to meet a high-ranking figure associated with both the Pater Church and Gallos.
The Holy Knight, sensing Oliver’s curiosity, stopped at a specific spot and replied,
"Don’t worry. This is the correct way."
With that, the Holy Knight pressed a section of the wall, revealing bare bricks.
Thunk.
A brick recessed deeply into the wall, triggering an inward movement of surrounding bricks that unveiled a new passage.
It was a secret passageway.
"Come along."
The Holy Knight, familiar with the path, led the way through the passage without hesitation, clearly accustomed to using it.
Following his lead, Oliver soon encountered a descending staircase.
It looked exceptionally deep, but Oliver proceeded down without hesitation, following the Holy Knight.
"A practical design," he thought, inspecting the interior of the hidden passageway.
The corridor was sized just right, with only the necessary finishing touches. There were no paintings or decorative pieces—nothing superfluous. The passage served strictly as a secret path, with numerous stairs followed by an elongated corridor of similar function.
The amount spent on constructing such a passage would likely be significant, yet it was clear that funds were used with restraint—just enough to serve the purpose, without waste.
"They don’t skimp on costs, but they don’t squander them either."
From the design of the secret passage, Oliver speculated about the personality of its creator or owner.
"Better not make assumptions. I’m no expert like Miss Jane or Forest," he reminded himself, thinking of those adept in such matters as he stood before a grand door at the end of the plain corridor.
Despite knowing Oliver was a Necromancer, the Holy Knight courteously opened the door for him, inviting him to step inside.
Creak.
"Please enter and wait. They’ll arrive shortly."
Although the Holy Knight never disclosed who would be meeting him, Oliver didn’t ask, as he already had a rough idea and was curious to look around the room.
"Hmm, this is unexpected."
Oliver muttered as he surveyed his surroundings after stepping inside as directed.
The interior was more lavish compared to the plain corridor he had come through, though he was not surprised by the decor. He had learned from working with Forest that a certain amount of decorum was expected for a reception room.
What surprised him were the numerous books within the reception room.
The bookshelves, of an antique yet simple design, were packed tightly with books, leaving no gaps.
Underneath this villa, where nobles and affluent individuals gathered for their party, lay this basement room with hundreds of books that clearly bore the marks of frequent use.
It was evident that these weren’t merely ornamental.
What caught his attention most, however, was the variety of books.
In addition to cultural works on society, politics, economics, and religion, there were also professional texts on magic, organized in a systematic manner that spoke volumes.
Among them, he even noticed several rare books on black magic that he himself was interested in reading.
The subjects spanned various branches of dark magic, including pyromancy, manipulation, disease, and creation.
He could also see personal research journals, diaries, and rare works that would intrigue any Necromancer.
"Are you interested?"
A sudden voice broke the silence, and Oliver responded naturally without showing surprise.
"Yes, there are many fascinating books here."
"I’m glad to hear it. These were difficult to obtain, so it’s gratifying that they aren’t wasted on an uninterested party... If you’re interested, why haven’t you read any?"
"While I am interested, I was taught that reading without the owner’s permission is impolite... Your Excellency, the Iron-Masked Holy Knight."
Oliver replied, glancing at the man emerging from between the packed bookshelves.
It was none other than Armand, the Archpriest of the Pater Church and Chancellor of Gallos, the man who had drawn the attention of both nobles and wealthy individuals alike.
With a broad forehead, large eyes, and a well-groomed beard, the middle-aged man’s amiable demeanor softened his formidable presence as he addressed Oliver.
"Call me ‘Your Grace.’ That would be more appropriate."
"Yes, Your Grace."
Oliver responded without a hint of hesitation, then added, almost as an afterthought,
"Should I also kiss your hand, perhaps?"
Oliver asked, recalling the nobles who had eagerly swarmed around the Archpriest upon his arrival, unabashedly displaying their desire to ingratiate themselves by pressing their lips to his hand.
Having lived in the Free City of Landa, where wealth was the utmost value, Oliver found the scene somewhat shocking.
"Would you like to?"
Armand’s response was unexpected—he answered with a question of his own.
"May I answer honestly?"
"Certainly."
"I’m not particularly inclined to."
Whether due to his experiences in Landa or some other reason, Oliver answered with a casual tone.
He could easily comply with the act of bowing or other gestures of respect, but kneeling and kissing someone’s hand felt a bit excessive.
It seemed less like an interaction between people and more like acknowledging another species.
Of course, if required by etiquette, he would comply, but if given a choice, he’d rather refuse.
Fortunately, Armand didn’t seem to mind.
"Then, don’t. I’m not fond of men kissing my hand, either."
"...Is that a joke, by any chance?"
"It’s a jest, but it’s also the truth. You’re just as they say."
"As they say?" Oliver mused as Armand, now in a relaxed position with his red Mozeta draped over his shoulders, settled into a chair.
"Phew... that’s much better."
Oliver watched silently. Although he didn’t know many religious figures or Holy Knights, he sensed instinctively that the man before him wasn’t typical of either.
It was both unfamiliar and refreshing.
Their gazes met.
"Is something the matter?"
"...You looked tired."
Oliver had much to ask, but he chose to make the most trivial comment.
Amused, Armand responded with mild scorn.
"You state the obvious. Don’t you know my position?"
"Yes, I heard. Archpriest of the Pater Church and Chancellor of Gallos."
Armand picked up where Oliver left off.
"In other words, I oversee all administrative affairs of this nation, which has the second-largest territory among the chosen states, and all matters related to the temple. How could I not be tired?"
Oliver nodded in understanding. Indeed, the higher one’s position, the greater the workload. It was no different for officials like City Interior Minister Paul Carver, the professor from the Magic Tower, Kevin, or Forest, the broker-turned-businessman.
Which raised a question in Oliver’s mind.
"Then why did you personally come here with Milieu to retrieve the Flesh Chef’s Legacy?"
"Oh, you recognized it?"
Armand feigned surprise, though Oliver could tell it was only for show. The reason?
"Thanks to my Necromancer’s Sight."
Oliver gestured to his own eyes.
"It allows me to perceive each person’s unique emotions and life force. That’s how I identified you when you arrived."
Indeed, Oliver had recognized Armand as the Iron-Masked Holy Knight through the unique traits visible to his Necromancer’s Sight.
Like fingerprints or the rings in a tree’s cross-section, each individual’s emotions and life force carry a distinct aura or pattern unique to them—even among family members or siblings.
"Impressive."
Armand seemed genuinely impressed this time.
"Thank you."
"I mean it. Very few Necromancers possess such accuracy. Didn’t you know?"
Oliver remained silent.
"Of course, true geniuses often fail to realize their own brilliance. Necromancer’s Sight is said to penetrate emotions, but most can only perceive basic forms. Few can accurately read the degree of anger or happiness, let alone interpret emotions to discern thoughts and identify individuals. Had it been easy, no one would have dismissed Necromancers so lightly, don’t you think?"
Armand spoke with eloquence, displaying knowledge rooted in genuine scholarship rather than idle musings.
Oliver, who had learned this through study, was momentarily at a loss for words, surprised that someone from the Pater Church would be so well-versed in black magic.
It was a bit unsettling. A Pater Church member with such an understanding of black magic was certainly unexpected. But recalling the black magic books he had seen earlier, Oliver found it somewhat understandable.
If Armand had read those books so thoroughly that even their covers were worn, it wouldn’t be surprising for him to have acquired a deep knowledge.
"I heard you were once a Holy Knight. You’re quite knowledgeable about black magic."
"Precisely because I am a Holy Knight. To catch a rat, one must understand rats; to hunt a wolf, one must understand wolves—where they live, their habits, what’s fatal to them, and what’s effective against them."
Oliver nodded at the straightforward yet insightful response.
"It makes sense... Is that also the reason you summoned me here?"
"Perceptive as well as reputedly astute. That’s correct. I have a proposal for you."
"What kind of proposal?"
"Would you consider filling the role of the Flesh Chef?"