Chapter 491: Whip Wielder

Chapter 491 The Whip-Bearer

"Oh, our little Karen has finally returned. According to the radio sprite, Mavalyo called for you? That supposed successor of Marchettini, the Order Knight skilled in forging war instruments and research of war spells?"

"Mm."

"Did he want you for something?"

"A psychological consultation. Tessen is his grandfather."

"Oh, then he truly found the right person. I suppose few know you once worked as a psychologist just to pay rent.

So, did he pay any vouchers?"

"No."

"Then did he give any spell scrolls?"

"None either."

"A total loss, meow!"

"Haha."

Karen reached out, stroking Purr’s back. A cat’s back offered the best touch, especially since Purr had grown a bit plumper lately, making the feel even better.

This cat was quite something; after drifting on the sea for so long, she had gained weight instead of losing it;

However, these words could not be spoken aloud, otherwise she would lapse into depression for days and clamor about skipping dinner.

"By the way, the radio sprite said we are returning tomorrow night. The teleportation array gave notice, they can send us directly back to the York City region."

"That is quite good, saving us the trouble of transferring."

"Indeed, and our observation group's trip this time is at our own expense, meaning we would have to pay for the transfer out of our own pockets. But tomorrow night's teleportation will definitely not charge us vouchers, a profitable gain, meow!"

"Why have you suddenly become so concerned with vouchers?"

"Of course I must care. Otherwise, the guilt of drinking coffee every afternoon weighs so heavily on me while every one of you lives so frugally."

"It cannot really be considered frugal. I find my living conditions quite decent."

"Only when everyone is extravagant together can my conscience rest easy, otherwise it makes me look like the only thoughtless one."

"Alright, alright, no one will criticize you. I shall take a bath first."

Karen stepped into the bathroom.

Purr immediately sidled to the edge of the bed, staring at Kevin who lay stretched out there, her eyes filled with doubt:

Is there anything different? It seems nothing has changed?

Kevin’s canine face tightened slightly, then relaxed as he lay back down once more.

Seeing this, Purr simply leapt off the bed, padded over to the bathroom door, and called out to the inside:

"Karen, I really want to eat pickled fish."

"Alright, I will make it for you once we return."

"Splendid, meow!"

Purr ran back again, looking at Kevin. Supporting her body on her hind legs as much as possible, she made a gesture of spreading her paws.

Kevin rolled over.

"Only you like to overthink, why must you be so sensitive? But it matters not, I only recognize the Karen who makes me pickled fish."

Kevin rolled his eyes, too lazy to argue, for one could never wake a woman who was intentionally pretending to sleep.

Karen walked out after his bath and sat upon the bed. Yet sleep eluded him now, and with no desired books at hand, he could only lean against the headboard with his eyes open, recollecting the events that had transpired over this recent period.

Purr pressed her head against Karen’s arm, a pair of amber cat eyes staring fixedly at him.

"What is the matter with you today?" Karen reached out, habitually curling Purr's tail.

"The radio sprite said you have changed somewhat recently. Have you?"

"Should I not be the one asking you that? Have I?"

"I do not know, alas."

"If you cannot tell, then there is no change."

"What if it is merely an act?"

"If one can keep up the act forever, what difference is there from reality?"

"Too exhausting for the mind, I care no longer." Purr lay on her side toward her own space, belly up. "I miss home, Karen."

"Allen Manor?"

"No."

"The funeral parlor?"

"No, Mink Street."

A faint smile graced the corner of Karen’s mouth as he asked, "Why mention this all of a sudden?"

"I know not either. I am simply so afraid that everything will change." Sensing her emotions slipping inexplicably out of control, Purr immediately turned her side inward. "Alright, no more talk, time to sleep."

Looking at Purr’s retreating back, Karen shook his head.

Just then, a black crow appeared outside the window.

Karen rose from the bed and opened the window. The black crow spoke in an extremely raspy voice: "Whip of Order, deploy and stand by!"

What a strange command.

Karen was somewhat perplexed, yet he began changing into his divine robes while speaking to Purr and Kevin: "I am going out for a moment. It is safe here, do not wander about for the time being."

"Understood, meow."

"Woof!"

Karen stepped out of the room and saw his subordinates had all changed into their divine robes and emerged as well, including Vic.

In truth, everyone still knew nothing of what had occurred, nor did they know who had sent the black crow, yet Vic spoke directly:

"Let me guess, the one summoning us should be the Whip-Bearer. The Grand Priest has already departed, and the Whip-Bearer remains behind to handle those two pirate families. Actions should be taken tonight."

"And what does that have to do with us?" Muri asked.

Vic looked at Muri with an expression of sheer disbelief and said, "Are you still a child of the Benda family? The Whip-Bearer came along with the Grand Priest; his personal guard regiment certainly did not accompany him. After all, who dares flaunt their status in front of the Grand Priest?

But now, the Whip-Bearer surely requires a ceremonial guard at his side, otherwise how dreary would it be?

At present, our team is the only Whip of Order presence on the Fire Island. If he does not choose us, whom else could he choose? Pulling people from other departments? How improper that would be."

Eisly shrugged her shoulders. "So, are we truly going to serve as a ceremonial guard?"

Karen spoke, "Everyone tidy your attire first. We shall meet the mission initiator. If it is to serve as a ceremonial guard, pay attention to the coordination of the formation when the time comes. Try to appear as natural as possible, just like past security missions."

"Yes, Captain."

Karen led his people downstairs into the courtyard of the villa, where a veiled woman stood. "By order of the Whip-Bearer, your squad is now assigned to the Whip-Bearer’s escort detail."

As she spoke, the veiled woman delivered a command token before Karen.

Karen reached out to receive the warrant, a flat piece of black stone carved with the image of a leather whip. It was icy to the touch, radiating a dense aura of Orderly majesty—this was no mere impression, but a genuine, palpable sensation.

Was he truly being this generous? The warrant itself could pass for a valuable keepsake, and reselling it on the black market would undoubtedly fetch a hefty sum of points.

Clasping the warrant, Karen bowed and said:

"Team Karen accepts the mission."

The veiled woman stared at Karen, and Karen returned her gaze.

"Where is the Whiplash?" Karen inquired. "Are we leaving now?"

The veiled woman took a deep breath, extended her open palm toward Karen, and said, "The warrant."

Ah, so it was like a military tally of authority, not something to be kept directly like an official dispatch?

For a moment, the atmosphere turned somewhat awkward.

Karen placed the warrant back into the woman's hand, and she could not help but chuckle. "Is this your first time seeing a token of the Whiplash's warrant directly?"

"Yes, the first time."

"I hope you will see it often in the future."

Her words were not meant as mockery but as a blessing; only by climbing to a certain height within the hierarchy of the Whip of Order could one frequently set eyes upon the Whiplash's personal warrant.

"Thank you."

The veiled woman led Karen and his team outside. Beyond the villa, near the edge of the sheer cliff, the Whiplash, Foden, sat upon the ground. In one hand he held a bamboo skewer, and in the other, a scented candle, poking at a small hole in the earth.

The group waited at his side for a long while until, finally, a red ant native to Fire Island was coaxed out by Foden.

"Marlene, bring over my collection vial."

"Yes, Whiplash." The veiled woman retrieved a small vial from her vestments, crouched beside Foden, and carefully uncorked it.

Foden first placed the ant upon his palm, then gingerly guided it into the vial before casually dropping a cube of what looked like sugar inside, instructing the veiled woman:

"It is a queen. Nurture her well."

"Yes, Whiplash."

Karen thought to himself: It seems the Whiplash possesses rather peculiar eccentricities.

Foden stood up, tossed the skewer aside, patted down his divine robes, and without so much as a glance at Karen and the others, walked straight toward the precipice.

Aisly licked her lips; if the Whiplash shared a fondness for such creatures, she felt they might find common ground. After all, both she and her parents were researchers in this field. Yet, she dared not flaunt herself now, remaining silently within the ranks.

Marlene glanced at Karen, signaling that the mission had officially commenced.

With Karen leading the way, his subordinates followed their captain's cadence, advancing in a semi-arc behind the Whiplash. Though Vick had not yet synchronized with the group, he blended in seamlessly; one could tell he was highly adept.

At the edge of the cliff, Foden rubbed his neck and then stepped out into the void.

Karen naturally had no worries that the Whiplash would plunge to his death, but the Whiplash, having stepped down, still stood ahead of them, though now only his upper torso remained visible.

Was there some sort of platform below?

Marlene stepped forward as well.

Karen and his team drew closer to the cliff's edge. Upon reaching the true brink, everyone's expression instantly froze. Beneath this very cliff rested the head of a black dragon.

This colossal beast had actually lingered here silently and without a sound all this time, keeping the Whiplash company while he caught ants.

Over its form clung a layer of faint white frost; in daylight, it would likely give the impression of a white dragon, though its skin and scales were definitively black.

Karen and his men leaped down, landing upon the dragon's head.

Whenever Karen read and analyzed the mythological accounts of various churches, or combed through Mr. Hoffen's notebooks, he would subconsciously pay attention to creatures like "dragons." Judging by the illustrations, the dragon here did not conform to the image of a "dragon" in his heart; it resembled more of a "lizard-dragon."

However, when a true frost dragon appeared so close before your eyes, you no longer had the heart to mock its "ugliness." You could only marvel within your soul that such a massive and powerful creature truly existed in this world.

Even Jiragon, who had previously thrown all of Fire Island into a frenzy, seemed infantile before it.

Furthermore, this frost dragon was clearly right here, yet it had successfully concealed every shred of its presence, an achievement that was simply unimaginable.

"Let us depart, Oggie."

The dragon's head pulled away from the cliff face, and only then did Karen notice a small cavern in the rock. It was the very spot where the dragon's snout had been resting, and even now, white frosty mist continued to spill out from the hole.

So, while the Whiplash was catching ants earlier, this great dragon was below, helping the Whiplash force the ants upward with its own breath?

Aisly swallowed hard, realizing that neither she nor her parents likely shared any common ground with the Whiplash after all.

On either side, white mist began to rise, though the surrounding temperature did not drop significantly. Yet through this process, the frost dragon had already taken flight.

Its immense draconic frame appeared incredibly agile in the heavens, its silhouette fully extended, one might even say exceptionally graceful.

Before long, Fire Island lay diagonally beneath them, and the frost dragon continued its flight toward the open sea.

Shortly after, the dragon's speed slackened, and it began to circle over an area. Below lay a small island, incomparable in size to Fire Island. It possessed a dock, around which numerous pirate ships had gathered—likely the fleets of the Millis or Watson families.

Standing at the very front with his back to everyone, Foden raised his hand.

Marlene looked to Karen, and Karen stepped forward, speaking with great reverence:

"Whiplash."

Without turning around, Foden spoke directly: "Choose one of your subordinates and have him go down now to tell the two families on the island that if they choose to surrender this instant, I can grant them a death free from the torment of their souls."

Was this a demand for surrender? It was not a matter of executing only the leaders and sparing the rest, but rather granting absolution to their souls after they surrendered and died?

The two pirate families on the island—no, even ordinary pirates—would probably find it impossible to accept such terms of surrender, wouldn't they?

Then the person sent down to deliver the terms...

Karen spoke up: "Yes, Whiplash. I shall go down myself."

Hearing this, Foden curled two of his fingers and said, "But if anything unfortunate happens to you, I should feel quite disgraced."

"Your subordinate believes that the captain should personally venture into the most perilous places," Karen replied.

"I should hate for that cup of tea of mine to have been spilled in vain." Foden waved his hand. "Forget it, there is no need to go down and demand surrender."

Karen remained silent, standing to the side. Previously, when they were beside the High Priest, the Whiplash's personal aura had been overshadowed. Now facing him alone, one could clearly perceive the true might and terror of the head of the Order of Order's investigative department.

His prior command seemed merely to satisfy a certain "amusement" or "eccentricity" of his own, or perhaps, it was a test directed at Karen?

Never mind, he chose not to dwell on it. A figure of such stature might act without any grand purpose, leaving others to overanalyze in vain.

"Sigh."

Foden let out a yawn, stamped his foot,

and said, "Oggie, in a moment you may gorge yourself to your heart's content. These are all souls that have violated Order and must have every trace of their existence erased. You may feast without worry."

"Roar!"

The frost dragon unleashed an excited roar, and snowflakes actually began to drift across the surrounding sky.

Below, the faint glimmers of light from the pirate ships upon the sea could be discerned, but like cigarette embers, they brightened for an instant and then died out. Evidently, the pirates below had surely discovered the dragon soaring in the sky, but they dared not be the first to attack with their magic crystal cannons.

Under normal combat conditions, this would mean the enemy's morale had already dissolved; after all, the dread majesty of the Church of Order was enough to crush the prideful courage of most pirates.

Yet the decree issued by the High Priest—more precisely, the punitive order issued based on Lord Theisen's command—was to erase all traces, so there was no possibility of survival through surrender.

Foden sat down and raised two fingers. Marlene retrieved a cigar box from her robes, drew a cigar from within, and Karen noticed that a book was also tucked beneath the cigar box.

Marlene looked toward Karen, gesturing for him to help her present this book to the Whiplash first.

Caren nodded, pulling a cigar from the box before retrieving the cutter, snipping the end with a clean click.

Marlene blinked, though she was hardly surprised; for any ordinary member of the Whip of Order, seizing every opportunity to ingratiate oneself with the High Whip was entirely natural.

But Marlene had misread the situation; Caren was not Alfred, and unfamiliar with serving others, he had simply processed the cigar as a matter of course without thinking to fetch the book.

With the cigar prepped, Caren scanned the area but found no torch, prompting Marlene to gesture with her eyes toward a black stone resting inside the cigar box.

Caren reached out and picked up the stone, channeling a whisper of spiritual energy into it, and it immediately unleashed a searing, blistering flame, though Caren instinctively cloaked his palm in the Fire of Order to insulate himself from the heat.

He then brought the foot of the cigar to the flame and began to light it.

Marlene felt caught between laughter and tears, marveling at whether he was truly so desperate as to hold a raw fire spirit stone barehanded just to light a cigar.

Sensing the commotion, Burden turned his head, and catching sight of Caren lighting it in such a manner, he could not help but chuckle.

"You certainly possess a creative streak."

Caren offered the lit cigar to Burden, who accepted it with a shake of his head, remarking, "In truth, I care little for these things, but the High Priest favors this particular blend."

Marlene handed the book to Burden, who reached out to take it.

"The High Priest loves this book; he has even ordered the author to be kept under watch, providing a fixed stipend each month so he may focus entirely on his writing.

Yet I still cannot bring myself to read it, finding it terribly tedious."

Just then, out across the sea below, violent fluctuations of spatial arrays rippled from both the eastern and western horizons.

"Never mind, it is yours now—a gift for an opportunist like yourself."

Caren accepted the book, responding calmly.

"My deepest thanks, High Whip."

Burden stood up and stretched as array-ships materialized to both the east and west, establishing teleportation formations, and soon, two modest fleets emerged into these waters, though they remained too distant for their banners to be discerned.

Burden spoke up, asking, "Care to guess whose fleets have arrived?"

The most instinctive response in that moment would have been the Fleet of Order, but Caren instantly discarded that natural assumption.

After a brief deliberation, Caren offered his reply, "The fleets of the Luna Cult and the Samsara Cult?"

Burden smiled, looking toward Caren as he said, "Do not perceive being called an opportunist as a slight; mediocre men lack even the privilege to seize such opportunities."

"Understood, I shall keep your counsel close to heart."

"You hit the mark, though my motives are merely to save the Cult a portion of its expenses;

those two factions are currently locked in a fierce conflict across the neighboring waters, so I simply had each dispatch a small detachment here to join forces, wipe out these pirates, and then return home to resume their war.

Do you know what brings a master the greatest sense of fulfillment?"

This question was directed squarely at Caren once more.

Burden raised a single finger, tracing a circle in front of Caren before continuing, "If you can answer this correctly, I shall give you this cigar to smoke."

Images of Burden's recent actions flashed through Caren's mind as he used those details to deduce the man's inner thoughts, following that thread of logic toward an answer.

His lips parted slightly, and Caren replied.

"It is when you ring the bell, and the hounds of the house race toward you at their absolute fastest speed."

A smile dawned on Burden's face, and rather than confirming whether the answer was correct, he reached out to pat Caren gently on the shoulder.

"Once you return to York City, see that you perform your duties well."