Chapter 155: "Recruitment" from the Whip of Order

Chapter 155: An "Invitation" from the Whiplash of Order

Sycamore Street was the administrative heart of York City, housing the headquarters of most government departments within the Kingdom of Wien; foreign newspapers, when penning their reports, often favored phrasing the kingdom's stance as "the attitude of Sycamore Street."

Alfred first located the police station, then circled around it, bringing the car to a halt before a grand, historically resonant building situated at the rear.

"Young Master, we have arrived."

"Mm."

Karen peered out through the carriage window; rows of security personnel were patrolling the entrance, a sight by no means unusual on Sycamore Street.

Before stepping down from the carriage, Karen cast another glance at the business card: Neo Romen.

His position was listed as a clerk subordinate to the Third Office, Seventh Group, Third Division of the Regional Management Department.

"Alfred, I find that deputy director..."

"Is there an issue with the deputy director?"

"No, it is the clerk beside him.

I did not sense it initially, but during the ride over, I managed to collect my thoughts.

Vickley was willing to offer ten thousand Order Vouchers and a hand in engineering a promotion as the price to seal my lips; aside from the concern that I might persistently report and appeal upward just as Mr. Pavaro used to do, there must surely be other objective factors at play.

He once instructed me that if anyone came to verify the facts, I would need to speak in accordance with the description of the case in the official letter he provided; yet this deputy director named Mion conducted himself with far too much nonchalance, as though he had a sign practically plastered across his forehead declaring he had made this specific trip merely to curry favor with Vickley.

Now, the promotion process is complete, the rewards have been dispensed, and I have confirmed Vickley’s claim to the merit within the official letter; the matter appears to have concluded on that note.

Therefore, the scrutiny Vickley truly fears can only be sought within this narrow scope—between just two individuals, and since it is not that deputy director, it is highly likely to be the clerk at his side.

This happens to align perfectly with the operational style of the Whiplash of Order."

"So, Young Master, once you secure your identity verification here and seek out this clerk, you must proceed with great caution."

"He has no reason to harbor an interest in me; he has not even laid eyes on me. We shall simply treat the matter with prudence. Give me the briefcase."

"Young Master, right here."

Alfred handed a briefcase to Karen, which contained Karen’s documentation—a "false identity" fabricated by the Allen family to assist him, depicting him as a native of Wien’s York City who had grown up in an orphanage, bearing the name Karen Silva.

Originally, the Allen family had intended to utilize this "identity" to orchestrate Karen's entry into the Church of Order; Borge had even gone so far as to call and inquire about Karen’s preferences regarding the name, and as Karen was working at the clinic at the time, Bertha had casually chosen the surname "Silva" for herself, leading him to directly instruct the Allen family to employ that very name.

As for the name "Karen," because it was exceedingly common and shared by many, Karen decided to retain it; after all, adopting too many aliases was much like setting a multitude of disparate passwords—sometimes, rather than bewildering others, one merely succeeded in confusing oneself first.

Beyond that, the briefcase also held a letter of introduction from "Mr. Pavaro," written, naturally, by Karen to himself.

"I am heading inside now."

"Young Master, I shall await you here."

Karen stepped out of the vehicle, ascended the stone steps, and entered the building.

The interior of the building was vast, featuring an inquiry desk where seven or eight beautiful young ladies dressed in black uniforms stood.

As Karen approached, the lady who had been directly facing him was unceremoniously nudged aside by her neighbor, who smiled and took the initiative to ask Karen:

"Hello, sir, how may I assist you?"

Karen understood that this was a reception one could never hope to enjoy while wearing the mask of Mr. Pavaro.

"Hello, I am here to process my identification credentials."

"Certainly, please follow me." The receptionist stepped out warmly, guiding Karen into the main hall and leading him to a counter window. "Right here will do."

"Thank you."

"You are far too polite."

A middle-aged man sat inside the window, his eyes fixed intently on the receptionist before he gave a perfunctory wave to Karen, inquiring:

"What type of credentials are we processing?"

"God's servant."

The middle-aged man froze for a moment, finally shifting his gaze to Karen, and said, "That is not handled here; you will need to proceed to the second floor."

"Thank you."

As Karen rose, the receptionist smiled and said, "My deepest apologies, it was my failure to clarify your needs."

"No, it was my own lack of clarity."

"You may take the stairs from here to the second floor; I am permitted to accompany you no further, My Lord."

"Very well, thank you."

Clutching his briefcase, Karen ascended the stairs to the second floor.

A deployment of security personnel stood at the entrance of the second floor, yet none moved to screen Karen, allowing him to pass straight through.

Within the second-floor hall, although individuals clad in suits and leather shoes still formed the majority, a considerable number of clergymen attired in various official divine robes had already appeared.

An inquiry desk was present here as well, staffed likewise by beautiful young ladies, though these wore black divine robes; judging by their badges, they were a gathering of God's servants.

As Karen drew near, the lady at the inquiry desk facing him directly spoke:

"Praise Order."

Ah, yes, this was the proper atmosphere.

Karen instantly replied, "Praise Order."

"Hello, may I ask how I can assist you?"

"I have come to process the identification credentials for a servant of God."

"Certainly, do you possess a letter of introduction?"

"I do."

"Very well, what is the rank of your introducer?"

"Mr. Pavaro, Inquisitor of the Blue Bridge Community."

"Understood, please follow me."

Karen followed the receptionist further inside, where numerous windows lined the space; the longest queue consisted of individuals who had spontaneously awakened to become servants of God, while the next longest was for those possessing a guide. Because Karen held an Inquisitor’s letter of introduction, he was able to proceed directly to the innermost windows, which were almost entirely deserted; just as he arrived, the individual ahead of him finished their business and vacated the spot.

Seating himself before the window, he noted that the middle-aged man inside did not resemble the one downstairs; he appeared highly solemn, dressed in a black divine robe:

"Credentials documentation, letter of introduction."

Karen opened his briefcase, extracted the relevant papers, and then placed Neo’s business card right at the very top, sliding them through.

The man inside cast a serious look at the business card, then gave the documents a cursory flip before beginning to fill out an information card for Karen; once the card was completed, he affixed a red slip of paper to it, handed it to Karen, and instructed:

"Sir, proceed over there for the examination, and display this side to them."

Having spoken, he even offered Karen a slight smile.

"Thank you."

Karen gestured toward the documentation remaining inside.

"Oh, the resume documents will require a bit more time; I shall fill them out here as swiftly as possible. Once you return from completing your examination over there, I should be nearly finished here."

"Very well, thank you."

Karen stood up and departed, turning his steps toward the testing area.

A dense queue snake-like stretched across the testing floor, but Karen, following instructions, kept the side of his card bearing the crimson sticker visible against his chest, prompting a staff member to promptly approach and gesture him toward an inner chamber.

It was a space comparable to an ordinary office, yet it felt strikingly desolate, containing nothing but a crystal sphere suspended midair in its center, alongside a white-haired elder wearing reading glasses seated upon a chair.

With a mere flick of his wrist, the elder summoned the data card from Karen's hand to his own, instructing without lifting his gaze:

"Step forward, place your hand upon the sensory orb."

"Understood."

The entire sequence of events from arrival to this very moment possessed the mechanical rhythm of a routine physical examination.

Yet now, Karen faced a predicament; he could not afford to let his evaluation appear too flawlessly robust.

For not even Pu'er could have foreseen that Karen's advancement would be so tempestuous; initially, the plan was merely to seek a loophole after becoming a divine servant to secure an official identity within the Church of Order, yet Karen had leaped across tiers entirely, vaulting from Divine Awakening to Divine Shepherd, to the point that currently, only a fragile pane of window paper separated him from the rank of Inquisitor—and that was solely because he had deliberately refrained from piercing it in his pursuit of perfection.

After all, a "wild" divine servant was hardly a curiosity, but growing wildly into a Divine Awakening was bound to attract profound scrutiny, as it signified possessing extraordinary, innate talent;

Thus, under normal circumstances, a commoner of "unblemished background" who lacked a legacy within a church family yet received divine revelation to become a Divine Awakening in civil society would be cultivated with extreme intensity once formally integrated into the ecclesiastical hierarchy.

For this largely implied that the God of Order had bestowed an extraordinary, additional favor upon them;

Karen's current reality was more extravagant still.

But he harbored no desire for such extravagance;

Consequently, while others placed their hands upon the crystal sphere thinking only of how to violently rouse the spirituality within their bodies to manifest the most brilliant coloration possible;

Karen was chanting a silent mantra within his mind: Just a trace, a mere sliver will do, absolutely no more.

Then, straining for meticulous control, he released only a microscopic shred of his spiritual essence.

Predictably, the crystal sphere did not erupt in radiance, offering only a solitary, tiny black dot of light within its depths as a nominal gesture.

"Divine Servant," the elder murmured, raising his head to regard Karen with a faint smile, "but the purity of the luminescence is absolute; you must surely overflow with piety toward the God of Order."

"Indeed, it is so," Karen replied, crossing his hands over his chest: "Praise be to the great God of Order."

The elder flicked his finger, sending the data card sailing back into Karen's hand, before waving his arm to signal that Karen could depart.

Karen walked out holding the data card, which now bore a freshly stamped seal.

Returning to the previous administrative window, Karen observed the clerk swiftly applying stamps, and as he drew closer, he noticed one was the verification seal concerning his own background history.

This was a procedure that originally required the Church to issue a request to the police department for formal verification, yet now that entire phase was bypassed entirely.

"Phew..."

"Very well, sir, here are your original documents; this folio constitutes your current file, containing your divine servant certificate and ecclesiastical decrees; the archival copy has already been retained by me, please take care of these."

"Thank you." Karen placed the stack of documents in precise order inside his briefcase, noticing a strand of long hair snagged on his cuff midway through—likely belonging to one of the receptionists from earlier—so he casually wound the strand a few times around the button of his document pouch.

"I presume you do not require a standard deployment assignment?"

"No, that will not be necessary."

"Excellent, if you intend to transfer your files now, you had best hurry, otherwise they will be moved to the archives, and arranging a transfer then will require a process of about a week; although the crowd in the archives complains daily about their workload, I suspect it is merely due to sheer laziness.

If you complete the transfer today, the file can be taken immediately."

"Thank you for the warning."

"Think nothing of it, it is only proper."

It closely resembled the distribution of employment: those with connections could exercise their own choice, while those without were left entirely to random assignment.

Clutching his briefcase, Karen returned once more to the reception desk, presenting the business card to the receptionist who had previously guided him:

"Excuse me, on which floor is this located?"

"Sir, please take the elevator over there to the twenty-fourth floor."

"Understood, thank you."

Karen walked over to wait before the elevator; a moment later, the doors parted to reveal an operator within, inquiring after everyone's designated floors.

Ascending with intermittent stops, the twenty-fourth floor was finally reached.

Following the directional signage, Karen began searching for the Third Office of the Seventh Group, Third Department.

He found it, tucked away in a remote corner of the office block, and knocked upon the door.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, Karen saw a plump man whose desk sat directly adjacent to the entrance of the office space; generally, only the most marginalized individuals were stationed in such a position.

"Hello, I am looking for Mr. Neo."

"Neo, Neo!" the plump man bellowed.

In short order, Neo emerged from the inner recesses:

"Looking for me?"

"Hello, Mr. Neo, Inquisitor Pavaro sent me to find you; I have already obtained my divine servant certificate."

"So quickly? Heavens, I have only just returned myself, haha."

"Mr. Pavaro urged me to hasten."

"Yes, yes, Mr. Pavaro is indeed an impatient soul."

Neo reached out, catching Karen by the shoulder, while simultaneously addressing the plump man seated by the door: "I am going to help him transfer his files; if the director returns later looking for me, give him word."

"Alright."

Karen was led out of the office space by Neo, heading directly into the deeper corridors; soon, the surroundings grew increasingly shadowed and secluded, until at last, a restroom appeared before Karen.

"I shall relieve myself first, do you require it?" Neo inquired.

"No," Karen shook his head.

"Very well, wait a moment for me."

Neo stepped inside, re-emerging a few minutes later while drying his hands with paper, gesturing forward to indicate Karen should follow.

Karen continued to trail behind him, arriving before a solitary elevator; the doors slid open to reveal an operator inside, and Neo produced his credentials before stepping within, Karen following suit.

The elevator ascended, halting at the thirty-second floor, yet the doors opened not at the front, but at the rear; Neo stepped through, and Karen followed.

Akin to a private elevator foyer, the interior revealed itself as a secluded, independent chamber; Neo shed his overcoat, tossing it carelessly onto a sofa before taking a seat behind the executive desk.

At this moment, the aura enveloping him shifted dramatically; no longer the cautious, reticent clerk, he resembled a departmental chief wielding no small measure of authority.

"Do you know of the Whip of Order?" Neo questioned Karen.

"I do."

"Speak on your understanding of the Whip of Order."

"The existence of the Whip of Order is to wipe away the dust accumulated upon order itself."

"Mmh, a fine understanding; upon your return, have Mr. Pavaro supplement a transfer application for you, and I will then allocate your official posting beneath the Blue Bridge Community Pavaro Inquisitorial Tribunal, but now, I possess an additional recommendation, do you care to hear it?"

"I do."

"You have likely guessed it by now; do you wish to join the Whip of Order? You need only answer whether you wish to, or do not."

"Yes."

"Very well." Neo pressed the desk bell, and a woman dressed in a black divine robe stepped inside. "Hand your file over to her for a moment; it will be returned shortly."

"Understood." Karen passed his document bag to the woman, who took it and retreated back into the room from which she had emerged.

"Oh, by the way, I haven't asked your name yet?"

"Karen Silva."

"Good, then I shall just call you Karen. You may address me as... Captain."

"Yes, Captain."

"What is your relationship with Inquisitor Pavaro? Are you two quite close?"

"Not particularly."

"Then why did he recommend you?"

"I do not know."

Neo nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "I suspect there must be something about you that he admires."

Karen nodded in response, entirely bewildered.

Because of Pavaro's established reputation, many things had a way of becoming remarkably simple.

"It is like this: in five minutes, you will become an off-budget member of the Whip of Order squad. If nothing is happening, you will report your work monthly. The method for doing so will be given to you shortly. You must keep your identity as secret as possible, understood?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Should an urgent matter arise, we will summon you to assemble. Though, naturally, there usually isn't much to speak of. Additionally, you can draw an extra monthly stipend of one hundred Order vouchers. Like your divine servant stipend, for the sake of secrecy, you must come directly to me to collect it."

"Understood."

"Mhm."

Neo nodded, continuing, "The Blue Bridge community has seen its share of incidents lately, leaving many entangled in the fallout—either dead or imprisoned. There are quite a few vacancies now. Work hard, and your future prospects can be assured."

"Yes, Captain."

"You are far easier to speak with than Inquisitor Pavaro. I hope you will also become an upright man like Mr. Pavaro."

"I will, Captain!"

"Good."

Before long, the door opened once more, and the robed woman handed Karen his original document bag, along with a new, grey one.

Neo stood up and spoke to Karen:

"Wielding the whip is for the sake of Order!"

Karen immediately assumed a solemn expression in response. "For Order!"

"Alright, you may leave," Neo said.

"Yes, Captain."

Karen walked to the doorway—or more precisely, the elevator bank—and pressed the button. In a brief moment, the doors parted, and Karen stepped inside. The elevator attendant pressed the floor button for him.

When the doors opened and Karen stepped out, he found himself back on the ground floor. He walked outside, got into Alfred's car, and Alfred drove away.

Karen opened the grey document bag. It had felt quite thin in his hands, and indeed, it contained only a single sheet of paper detailing the contact protocols. Aside from that, there was a grey insignia ring, stamped with the emblem of a leather whip.

Was it really that simple? No, was it really that casual?

Karen picked up his own document bag and pulled at the fastening string. He discovered that the strand of hair he had casually wrapped around it earlier was still perfectly in place. This meant that after the woman had taken his file into the back room, she had never even opened it.

She had merely sat inside for a brief spell, perhaps enjoying a cup of tea or coffee, before bringing the bag back out to him. There might even have been a stack of those grey bags sitting ready on her desk.

Therefore, he was not some actual off-budget member of the Whip of Order squad at all; he was merely an informant for the Whip of Order. No, he could hardly even be called an informant, given that the monthly stipend was a mere one hundred Order vouchers, and he had to come in person to collect it from Neo himself.

The only thing that had truly ended up in his hands was this ring bearing the whip insignia?

Karen picked up the ring to examine it closely. Perhaps because his fingers exerted a fraction too much pressure, the ring suddenly split right down the middle with a sharp click.

"It is actually made of plastic..."