Chapter 489: Judgment of Order

Chapter 489 Judgment of Order

The High Priest sighed, straightened his posture, and walked to the front flank of the wheelchair. Facing Thyssen, who sat within it, he closed his eyes and lowered his head.

Below them, everyone sensed that the old man’s flame of life had been extinguished. No one wept; instead, everyone bowed their heads in silent tribute.

A major difference between the Light of Order and the canonical scriptures of other churches was that other faiths possessed a set of descriptions regarding a deceased believer returning to the embrace of a certain god or arriving at some warm, joyful place, used to dilute the sorrowful atmosphere of death.

No such descriptions existed within the Light of Order, and when the followers of the Church of Order faced a fallen companion, they would not utter words claiming that the departed would inevitably return to the embrace of Order.

Possessing the ability of Awakening, the Church of Order’s attitude toward death had actually always been starkly clearer, which was... the end.

And the ability of Awakening, to the believers of Order and to the culture of Order, was more akin to a final and most thorough dedication.

Even if I have died, my body remains willing to contribute its final strength to the Order in my heart.

A religious culture that pursued the pinnacle of dedication would inevitably give rise to a serene attitude toward death.

Within this, there was not even fanaticism, but rather the contemplation of a cooled mind, because the rules of Order were, by nature, written in cold hues.

High Priest Norton turned to face everyone, speaking aloud:

"I know the purpose for which Thyssen came out this time. I have already received the report regarding the massacre at the Mipos Archipelago. This matter involves two orthodox churches, but I promise here that I will give everyone, give Order, and give the world, a true accounting.

As for here, the place our feet tread upon—Fire Island.

The events here directly caused Thyssen’s departure. The evidence is clear, and it must be dealt with now.

Foden."

"Present, High Priest."

"I command you to personally oversee the pursuit and eradication of those two pirate families who resisted apprehension. Order has already given them a chance; since they did not cherish it themselves, then erase all traces of these two families."

"Yes, High Priest."

If the head of the Miris family, who had already died on the cellar stairs, could hear these words now, he would probably laugh himself right back to life.

The Deland family, the Watson family, just what virtues or capabilities did the two of you possess to make the High Priest of the Church of Order personally issue an erasure command against you?

Furthermore, the one responsible for executing this command was the Whip-Wielder of the Whip of Order.

This meant that the Church of Order would no longer haggle over any gains or losses of interest, because this was already a political stance, and it would inevitably be fulfilled perfectly at all costs.

Where could you possibly hide?

Taking your family fleet and family guards, where could you hide?

As for seeking refuge... who would dare to shelter you!

High Priest Norton spoke again: "Third Chief Justice of the Tribunal, Lysanna."

A middle-aged woman stepped forward and saluted:

"Present, High Priest."

"You will be responsible for judging this Cerberus."

"Yes, High Priest."

"Minister of Foreign Affairs, Delamont."

An old man stepped forward and saluted, saying: "Present, High Priest."

"Send an official dispatch to the Church of the Abyss, telling them they have violated the Regulations of Order.

In addition, investigate thoroughly to find out who instructed that angel and those two eternally fallen ones, and tell the Church of the Abyss that Order demands they hand the people over.

And inform the Church of the Abyss in advance that Order is very angry right now. At Thyssen’s funeral, someone is needed as a sacrificial offering of guilt.

If they are unwilling to send them, or if they wish to casually offer up someone as a substitute to brush us off, then I will have the Knights of Order come to their doors to seize them."

This was, in fact, a declaration of war.

Either hand over the people, or go to war.

And it was no empty threat, no mere bluff, because once the Church of Order announced these words of the High Priest, if the Abyss did not cooperate, war would inevitably follow.

For even the Church of the Abyss itself knew that the Church of Order would fight a war just for the sake of their High Priest's dignity.

Moreover, everyone knew that the "First Day War" had been fought too quickly; the Knights of Order had not enjoyed themselves to the fullest at all.

"Yes, High Priest," Delamont immediately accepted the command.

Being the Foreign Minister of the Church of Order was a very blissful thing; it was almost always you threatening others, and no one dared come to your door to threaten you.

At this moment, the coffin that had long been prepared was brought up, and the coffin lid was opened.

The High Priest and the Whip-Wielder reached out together, lifting Thyssen up and carefully placing him inside the coffin.

It was hard for anyone to imagine that this old man, whose body was now so very, very light, had just a few days ago become incomparably massive, holding a scythe to prune away all sources of chaos on Fire Island.

It was also hard for the people present to imagine that this just and selfless old man, who took the Light of Order as the behavioral guideline for his entire life, would deliberately pave a path for a junior before his death.

Of course, this was not favoritism.

He had said that he wanted to educate Karen, and he believed even more that the grandson of that man would walk upon the correct path, because that man was so proud of his grandson.

Proud to the point that when he could not help but tell that man that his grandson had received the inheritance of Marchettini, that man’s response was merely a soft, single:

"Heh."

The coffin lid was closed.

The true funeral would be held in the Dingle District, and steps such as the dressing of the corpse would also be carried out there.

The crowd began to disperse one after another. The High Priest went straight back, while some individuals were requested to stay behind to handle matters, such as the Whip-Wielder Foden.

Karen silently watched the coffin being transported away, letting out a deep sigh.

He had not lived through his grandfather’s era, but now, he had to witness the curtain falling on his grandfather’s era. He did not know whether this was a form of fortune or misfortune.

Alfred also sighed. The remains were to be teleported straight back, so it was absolutely impossible to steal them.

3/12, just when would it truly be filled?

Possessing strength, possessing a relationship, having confirmed while alive that they would stand on one's own side, and just happening to die at the right time... this was simply too difficult.

Or,

Go back to the ancestral mausoleum of the Allen Manor to dig a bit more?

That would indeed make up the numbers, and the speed would be faster as well. In any case, the Allen family had long been highly bound to his young master; as long as those ancestors' brains hadn't been ruined by corpse water soaking in their coffins, they would know how to choose.

And if it really went that way, that cat would probably wake up laughing from its dreams.

But the problem was, along with the rise of the young master’s strength and status, the ancestral burial ground of the Allen family was somewhat lacking in qualification; giving the coffin slots to them was truly a bit of a waste.

Besides, the relationship was already established right here. The young master had a genius cat of the Allen family by his side, and the young master’s fiancée was also surnamed Allen. When they truly needed to be used, they could just dig up the graves to awaken them to strike, without even needing to collect them into the twelve coffins. Freeloading, wasn't it delightful?

Oh, right, there were also the paintings!

These exclusive high-level painters of the Church were truly formidable. This was what you called professional; the framing and composition were truly breathtaking. He didn't know if Mr. Bede and Mr. Piaget could elevate themselves to this realm in the future.

Vick sniffed his nose, looked at Karen, and once again approached proactively on his own initiative, whispering:

"Captain, I will be very obedient, really. I’ll just follow you straight back to the York City District, alright? The place to stay, can it be arranged over at your side?"

Alfred immediately emerged from his self-reflection to help Karen handle the handover of the new member, saying to Vick: "All of these matters will be arranged by me, please rest assured."

"Of course I am reassured. In fact, from the moment we first met, I sensed that you are a man of fine taste." Wick took the initiative to step forward and greet Alfred. "That suit of yours left a very deep impression on me."

"Is that so? You as well. The worn holes on the knees of your trousers strike me as quite trendy."

"Oh, those? No, that's from when I spent the last few days kneeling on the deck carving array formations. Do you really find it trendy?"

"Yes."

"I think it's quite nice too, though initially I deliberately didn't change my trousers just so that old fellow could more easily see my dedication. You know how it is, the current economic climate is terrible, and finding a stable, suitable job with a bright future is incredibly difficult."

"Then you've come to the right place. Here with us, I guarantee you'll have everything."

"Exactly, that's why I saw the potential in this place. Rest assured, I am very obedient and know how to adapt to circumstances. I believe we will definitely get along splendidly."

"Naturally. Once you enter our squad, we are family."

"Haha, well, my good brother, there's something I'd like to ask you."

"Hmm?"

Wick leaned in close to Alfred and asked in a low whisper, "That girl, what is her name?"

Alfred glanced over; there were only three girls in the squad.

"Which one?"

"The one who looks like she hasn't fully woken up yet, the one who always keeps her eyes closed. I think she's adorable, exactly my type."

"Oh, her name is Philomena. She's an innocent, romantic girl, a bit ditzy, but very warm-hearted. You know how it is, girls who love to sleep are all like that."

"Is that so? What about her family?"

"She and her grandmother depend on each other, and they share a very deep bond."

"How pitiable."

"Indeed."

"Should I go get to know her and say hello?"

"Go ahead."

Karen originally wanted to go upstairs to rest alone for a while, but Mavaryo came looking for him, gesturing for him to step outside.

Alfred deliberately waited a moment before heading upstairs, and just as he reached the landing, he heard a loud crash, followed by the sight of Wick flying backward through the air.

"You don't like him?" Muri asked softly. Standing right beside him earlier, he had overheard the entire conversation between Alfred and Wick.

Who didn't know that Philomena possessed the worst temper in the squad and was second in strength only to the captain? It was only in front of the captain that she would "become well-behaved."

Muri had studied psychology himself and had even matched wits with Karen before, but truth be told, Muri deeply admired Karen's practical execution. After all, not everyone would dare deploy psychological tactics against someone like Philomena, and moreover... do so with such resounding success.

Thus, sometimes one could not help but lament that being with a person like the captain required one to be prepared to have their own brilliance completely overshadowed, though Muri himself did not find it distasteful; on the contrary, he rather enjoyed it.

Hmm? Had he also fallen victim to the captain's psychological warfare?

Oh no, it was to this man.

Muri looked at Alfred once more.

Alfred shook his head and said, "No, I simply feel that doing this helps deepen impressions and solidify bonds."

Rubbing his chest, Wick scrambled to his feet and looked at Alfred, grumbling in dissatisfaction:

"You call that gentle?"

"She is gentle in reality," Alfred asserted with absolute certainty. "However, this happens to be her dream."

Wick froze, seemingly falling into deep thought, before immediately asking:

"Damn it, is her last name Felcher?"

"Yes, precisely."

"The cursed family," Wick shattered into a shiver. "Can't cross them, absolutely can't cross them."

Just then, Aisley and Blanche came running over, shouting, "We just went to borrow the communication array to make contact. Guess what news we found out! Commander Neo and Richard are alive, and they've already returned to York City!"

Alfred had expected Memphis's bedroom door to fly open, followed by an excited, "Really?"

Yet Memphis's door remained perfectly still. Instead, the door that had just closed—Philomena's door—swung wide open, giving Wick such a fright that he scrambled backward to get out of the way.

Philomena spoke up, asking:

"Really?"

...

Laisiana arrived before Jiragon. She had already gathered the details of the incident beforehand, knowing full well that there was a high probability she would be assigned to judge this ferocious beast.

However, she brought only two assistants with her.

One assistant brought over a chair for her, while the other held a parasol to shade her from the sun.

There were no jurors, and only two spectators sat in the viewing gallery: Puer and Kevin.

Laisiana began to read aloud the crimes Jiragon had committed. Jiragon's three heads lay flat on the ground, staring at the woman in judicial robes sitting upon the chair before it.

It had received instructions from Puer: when facing judgment later, it must maintain an excellent attitude and be exceedingly respectful.

Because theoretically speaking, its miserable dog life was held firmly in this woman's grasp.

After the charges were read, Laisiana began her interrogation of Jiragon.

She spread her palm, and a small gavel appeared within it. The gavel fell, tapping lightly against the ground, and a black starlight radiated outward, from which emerged three human faces of differing colors.

One face was responsible for translation and interpretation, another for detecting truth and falsehood, and the last for supervising the order of the tribunal.

Jiragon began to respond to every single one of Laisiana's questions with low whimpers.

In accordance with Puer's instructions, it concealed the matter of its communication with Puer and Kevin in the dreamscape where consciousness waves collided; as for the rest, it spoke entirely the truth.

It had originally intended to flee this island immediately after the seal was broken and hide in the depths of the sea.

But later, its mind was influenced by three distinct factions, and in the end, it was driven nearly insane, embarking on a slaughter across the entire island.

Laisiana also held the incident report Wick had helped Techisen write and which bore Techisen's signature, containing an impartial description of Jiragon's behavior.

Especially after Techisen fell into critical condition, Jiragon could have continued its destruction and escaped, yet it had remained lying here submissively, waiting for judgment to arrive.

On this point, its conduct was beyond reproach.

Of course, this was also because Puer knew it had been marked by the [Scythe of War]. Looking at the Order Cult's attitude toward handling the Fire Island affair in this incident, how could it possibly escape!

Therefore, the wisest choice was to maintain an excellent attitude and await the hearing.

Ultimately, Laisiana pronounced the verdict.

Jiragon was sentenced to be bound in chains as a subjugated beast of Order for a term of one hundred years.

Depending on its merits and contributions, it could obtain opportunities for sentence reduction, and once the term expired, Jiragon would receive its own freedom.

Following that, Laisiana produced a set of shackles and cast them toward Jiragon. The shackles landed precisely between the eyes of Jiragon's central dog head, sinking into the flesh until a grid pattern appeared across the foreheads of all three dog heads.

Throughout the entire process, Jiragon offered no resistance, signifying its acceptance of this punishment.

Puer let out a long sigh of relief, even though it knew the very last sentence was utter nonsense.

Nevelethless, being taken in as a subjugated beast by the Order Cult was not too terrible an end. After all, Jiragon was being so obedient; though a ferocious beast in name, it certainly would not suffer the treatment truly reserved for maddened monsters.

As for the matter of the sentence... in truth, while freedom is undeniably precious, many mutated beasts are actually quite willing to remain within the Order indefinitely, for venturing outside guarantees them no true liberty and they might well be captured by other factions.

A church with a legacy as profound as the Church of Order would even provide them with the necessary conditions for growth and cultivation.

Purr leaped onto Kevin’s back and departed from the place, well aware that any future visits to the useless dog would depend entirely on Karen’s status.

"Silly dog, once we return this time, Karen will probably undo another layer of your seal."

"Woof."

"You say it is entirely up to Karen's discretion? Why are you being so modest at a time like this? You need to take the initiative, or what if he forgets?"

"Woof, woof."

"You say Karen never carelessly forgets anything, and if he truly did, it would merely be an inevitable evasion decreed by fate?

Why do you sound so peculiar today?

By the way, silly dog, don’t you feel that since Karen woke up this time, he seems a bit different?"

Only now that the matter of Jiragon had concluded did Purr find the peace of mind to ponder other things; it had a distinct feeling, after all, it was the cat that slept by Karen's pillow.

"Woof?"

Kevin began to shake his head.

"You say you do not know?"

"Woof."

"You say casually prying into and observing the psychological shifts of others is somewhat unethical?"

"Woof."

"You say it is only natural for Karen to have his own shifting thoughts."

Purr froze for a moment, then immediately grabbed Kevin’s canine ears with both paws, using them like reins to force the dog’s advancing legs to a halt.

"I say, silly dog..." Purr leaned its head closer to Kevin’s face.

"Woof?"

"Why do I get the feeling that you are somewhat afraid of Karen now? It is not as if he has succumbed to that addiction again."

"Woof?"

Kevin turned his head, staring at Purr with large, bewildered eyes, indicating he had absolutely no idea what Purr was talking about.

Purr knit its brows,

Stating with absolute certainty:

"You are truly afraid of him."

Kevin locked eyes with Purr using his watery, large gaze, and then, his expression gradually turned solemn and serious, conveying with great gravity:

"Woof, woof."

"You say that Karen has indeed become different from before, beginning to truly resemble another person."

As to who that other person referred to, it was perfectly clear, but with too many powerful entities of Order present on the island, it was inconvenient to speak the name directly, even in the language of dogs.

"Woof, woof, woof, woof."

"You say I ought to learn to maintain a bit of distance from him, and begin to accustom myself to revering him?"

Kevin nodded vigorously!

Purr leaned backward, belly facing upward, resting against Kevin’s back as its two fleshy paws began to toy with its own tail:

"But I simply cannot do it, who told him to make fish taste so delicious, hee hee meow!"

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Continuing to ask for monthly tickets, if everyone has monthly tickets please cast them for us, holding you tight!