Trinlais of the Church of the Black Night indeed wouldn't mind, simply because he didn't yet know someone was being so "thoughtful" on his behalf.
However, starting from that afternoon, he had been feeling deeply uneasy, as though some stroke of terrible luck was about to befall him.
Clerics never lightly ignored such fleeting premonitions, even if they were just ordinary humans. It left him flustered and irritable all afternoon. He even ended the prayer service he was leading in a hurry and retreated to his meditation room, where several powerful surges of mystery fluctuated inside. Whether he was praying to his deity or doing something else remained unknown, but when he finally stepped out, he still wore a sour expression, clearly having failed to locate the source of his bad omen.
Unfortunately, time no longer permitted him to dwell on such minor matters. Tonight, representatives from the twelve churches would gather at the Medea Hotel in Crown Square to hold the First Rhine Conference.
That afternoon, representatives from the other four churches had arrived one after another, finally bringing all twelve churches together.
Aside from the Church of Tyr, the Lord of War—which lacked an official state religion on Middle Earth due to its doctrine, sending only an ordinary bishop responsible for managing all chapels in the Lande region—the attendees from the other eleven churches were at least regional bishops. The churches of Shilin, the Lord of the Oceans, and Franda, the Lord of Plants, had even dispatched their Cardinals. Ranking directly beneath the Pope in each church as candidates for the next Papal Seat, their presence accorded immense respect to the four local churches of Lande.
As for the Joyful Maiden, Mica, their Pope had attended in person.
Indeed, that beautiful lady who had offered Lynch an eye-candy view upon their first meeting was none other than the Pope of the Joyful Maiden herself—Serina, eighteen years and one hundred fifty-six months old.
In truth, this was somewhat breach of protocol and made it difficult for the hosts to arrange the proper reception standards. After all, diplomatic etiquette theoretically required a Pope or a monarch to receive another Pope.
But what else could be expected from followers of the Joyful Maiden? These pretty young women prioritized following their hearts and having fun above all else. Their doctrine prescribed it, and the faithful carried it out to the fullest. They were always coming up with bizarre reasons to do bizarre things. For instance, the Joyful Pope's official reason for this visit was that she missed Lande's specialty sweet, rose pie—oh, and that she missed Princess Sophia and wanted to drop by to play, perhaps even tagging along with her to Norin afterward.
To this, the various factions reacted by not reacting at all. Nothing these women did could surprise anyone anymore; everyone was thoroughly numb to it. No one cared whether her excuse was real or fake—taking them seriously was a losing battle. Besides, they didn't care about diplomatic protocols or reception standards anyway, so everyone simply let them do as they pleased.
After all, madmen breaking the law had an excuse, but beating up a madman was definitely a crime. Whatever happened, one must never argue with lunatics.
Archbishop Trinlais was using this exact line of reasoning to repeatedly lecture himself, fearing he might otherwise lose his temper and start swinging.
The septuagenarian had barely set foot inside "Singing," the conference hall of Medea Hotel, when he was cornered by the eighteen-year-old "young maiden." She babbled in his ear for half the evening, asking non-stop questions that were entirely about Lynch—reasoning that he was tall and handsome, that her sisters all wanted to date him, and that they also wanted to...
It gave the archbishop a massive headache, making him deeply suspicious that his bad premonition had come from this very encounter. Fortunately, this wasn't his first time dealing with lunatics. He managed to dodge her questions with half-truths, hurriedly thrust the organizer of the conference, Mrs. Nightingale, into the spotlight to take charge, and retreated into a corner, finally letting out a sigh of relief.
Tonight's conference had two agenda items, the first being the distribution of the medicine.
The medicine was not yet complete and would require another two or three days. Once developed, the Church of Suffering would publicly release the formula without reservation. However, this was no ordinary plague, but an occult plague; simply knowing the recipe was not enough to manufacture it, as Lynch's mind was required to serve as the guide. Only a few chapels of the Church of Suffering around Rhine City possessed the necessary conditions.
Therefore, the medicine could only be dispatched from the Church of Suffering and sent to various countries through different channels. The issue was that populations varied, distances differed, and deciding who got it first, who got it later, and in what quantities was a minefield.
These were all critical questions. Deep conflicts existed among nations; if left to themselves to divide the supply, a world war might break out on the spot. In comparison, the churches had fewer conflicts and spanned across all nations, making a plan coordinated by the twelve church representatives on behalf of their respective countries the only solution acceptable to all parties.
However, waiting until the medicine was complete before wrangling over details would waste precious time. Lives were on the line, and not a single minute could be spared. Thus, the first session convened on the very night everyone arrived. Throughout the meeting, the participants held a warm, friendly, and enthusiastic discussion. Everyone spoke persuasively with amicable tones, behaving in strict accordance with their noble status—though for some reason, every few minutes, the powerhouses across Rhine City could vaguely sense an intimidating pressure hovering in the sky, resembling divine retribution.
Truly strange.
The meeting was a grand success; everyone was a civilized individual, and at least no blood was shed. The heated discussion dragged on until eleven in the evening before barely coming to a halt. As for the result... naturally, there was no result. The session was temporarily adjourned, to be continued tomorrow.
Throughout the four-hour meeting, the name mentioned most frequently was Sir Lynch Levive, as well as the crimson moon he served.
Spearheaded by Fiona and her faithful, this name had already spread to every corner of the world.
This was because Mrs. Nightingale had named the medicine Tears of Levive. Although the tearful person in question remained unaware of this, objection was not allowed, and the decision was final.
“Huh? Did someone call me?”
A sneaky head poked through the doorway of the wide-open conference hall—Sir Lynch Levive had delivered himself right to their doorstep.
Looking at the scene inside the hall, Lynch stood somewhat dazed.
After consulting with President Olei, the three of them had returned to Rhine City with the Torch of Light under the escort of a large detachment from the Archaeological Association. Perhaps because the enemy was temporarily unable to act after losing five combatants earlier, the journey had been entirely safe. The most dangerous part was Lynch being badgered endlessly by these old gentlemen to recall every minute detail from the recorded images—from food, clothing, housing, and transportation to manners, architectural styles, and cultural etiquette—nearly driving Lynch to suffer a twisting transformation right then and there just to show them.
The interrogation only ceased when they approached central Rhine City. The scholars dispersed with satisfied expressions, leaving behind a poor, hollow-eyed knight who looked as if he had lost his soul. At this moment, he finally recalled the terror of being dominated by academic knowledge and swore a grand vow on the spot: may students all over the world enjoy this exact treatment every single day.
Having sent off the main party, the group, accompanied by President Olei, headed straight for the Black Night Cathedral, only to find it empty. To avoid complications arising from delay, the four of them chose not to wait around in the cathedral and instead made a beeline for the Medea Hotel.
Yet just as he approached, he heard someone speak his name. Poking his head inside, he saw a crowd of people who practically had "important figure" written all over their faces, all turning their gazes toward him in unison.
Holy shit, why are there so many people? Didn't they say it was over?
Damn it, I've been set up.
Rate on N.U.
