Chapter 518: Papa! (Large Chapter!) (3/4)

Chapter 518 Father! (Grand Chapter!) (3/4)

"Why is that? Because the chasm between you is too vast? I don't just mean a chasm in strength. In fact, I've always felt that the gap in martial prowess between you and Karen isn't actually that grand."

"In terms of strength, he is a ten, and I am a nine. But in every other aspect, he remains a ten, while I am nearly a zero."

"Indeed. So there is no room for envy, is there?"

"To be frank, I have little desire to listen to you dissect this for me."

"My grandmother once told me that to look upon such a chasm without harboring malice or envy..."

Philomena interjected, "Is the key to true progress?"

"No. My grandmother said it means you recognize that person is someone you will never, ever catch up to in this lifetime."

"So, that is how your grandmother educates her own grandson?"

Richard nodded. "My grandmother has always possessed a remarkably open mind regarding such matters."

"My grandmother is different. She is the exact polar opposite of yours."

"That is hardly ideal. It places an undue burden upon a child's spirit, and I should dread for my future children to grow introverted and reclusive. I wish only for them to grow up in unblemished joy.

Thus, when I first beheld you, I felt you bore a striking resemblance to my father. For the longest time, he suffered from afflictions much like yours. In truth, his malady was far graver than yours, and he has only recently begun to mend."

Philomena asked, "And how did he find his cure?"

Richard hesitated. "Uh..."

"Speak."

"He learned the art of distraction."

"Distraction? Through what means?"

"By cultivating a few interests, hobbies, and the like."

"I possess no interests or hobbies."

"Fret not, I can help you cultivate them. If my father could mend, you most assuredly can as well. Truly."

"Firstly, I have no desire to mend, nor do I believe myself to be afflicted. Secondly, I am a woman, and your comparison of me to your father strikes me as entirely unseemly."

"Mother."

Philomena: "..."

...

"Now, I shall pronounce the verdict of this tribunal..."

"My Lord Chief Justice."

Jaspor turned her gaze toward Karen, inquiring, "What further business have you?"

"Regarding this case, there remains a certain portion of the circumstances shrouded in obscurity. I deem it thoroughly imperative that we conduct a deeper, more rigorous investigation into the matter."

"Oh? Which portion?"

"Since the first charge has been firmly established, I find myself profoundly curious. By what manner did Inquisitor Vicole—no, he was not yet an Inquisitor back then—succeed in stealing the merit that rightfully belonged to Inquisitor Pavaro and placing it upon his own head? A stolen glory he used to secure his transfer and promotion to the rank of Inquisitor."

As he spoke, Karen turned to face the entire assembly.

The elder Delon and Mr. Eisen acted in perfect harmony, manipulating the broadcasting array to fix the entire projection solely upon Karen.

Consequently, every nuance of Karen’s expression and every word he uttered from that moment onward would be broadcast clearly and without error to the wider world.

Karen’s personal appearance was already remarkably striking, and having just wielded a sacred artifact to triumph in this legal battle, combined with the words he was about to deliver, even he felt a fleeting sensation akin to being a celebrity prosecutor.

Yet, his intention was not to court personal glory, but rather to seize this rare, invaluable opportunity to pave the path ahead for the next stage of his investigation.

"It strains the bounds of imagination that within our Holy Church of Order, there could exist so vile a transgression as the embezzlement of another's meritorious deeds.

Indeed, countless numbers of our faithful are willing to dedicate everything to the Church, willing to offer their very lives to the God of Order, asking for not a single shred of recompense in return.

But what we absolutely cannot tolerate is that their devotion and sacrifice should be buried, defiled, or worse, plundered by the hands of the filthy!

Such an act is a desecration of the Church, a desecration of our sacred dogmas, a desecration of every believer loyal to Order, and above all, a desecration of my holy and magnificent First Knight Order!"

Karen strode toward the cage, halting directly before Vicole.

Delon and Eisen, father and son, seamlessly shifted the direction of the broadcasting array to trail Karen's footsteps with absolute precision.

Watching Karen approach, Vicole roared in a frenzy, "Karen, you utter scoundrel! You slander me! How dare you slander me! I did not kill Pavaro! Pavaro's death was not by my hand! How dare you defile my name, you bastard!"

Vicole felt a profound sense of grievance because he truly had not murdered Pavaro, and he was consumed by rage because he had indeed been falsely accused of that specific deed.

Karen gazed down at him—this wretched amalgamation of selfishness, avarice, and sheer stupidity—and demanded in a piercing voice:

"Who was it that granted you the audacity to plunder the achievements of another?

Who was it that granted you the entitlement to perpetrate such filthy, underhanded deeds?

Who was it that led you to believe that even while standing within this grand tribunal, you could remain arrogant, utterly certain that you would walk out of these doors unscathed?

Who was it that gave you the backing, such that even now, I fail to discern a single trace of repentance or remorse upon your countenance!"

Karen paused for a brief beat, then raised his voice to a thundering crescendo, shouting directly at Vicole:

"Is it because your family name is Norton? Is it because your father is a diplomatic prelate? Is it because your paternal uncle is the deputy director of the regional enforcement department? Is it because your grandfather is the regional bishop!

When Ankara strayed, even the God of Order exacted punishment upon her.

Therefore,

Just what manner of creature,

Do you, Vicole Norton, deem yourself to be!"

...

"Puff..."

The High Priest exhaled a perfect ring of smoke.

He extended the nearly spent cigar, and Foden reached out to receive it, placing it horizontally across the rim of the ashtray.

The first time he had assisted the High Priest in extinguishing a smoke, he had snubbed the tip directly into the basin, prompting the High Priest to remark that such an act was a disrespect to the cigar.

Following that incident, Foden had indeed expended considerable effort to study these trivial refinements.

He did not find it tedious, nor did he consider the High Priest's eccentricities to be overly demanding. The truth was, possessing a few specific interests and habitual traits allowed a subordinate to accompany and draw near to a superior with far greater ease.

In any event, it was infinitely better than sitting there in rigid, trembling silence.

"Foden, you spoke truly. This trial was well worth the viewing. The Whip of Order in the York City Region has acquitted itself marvelously in this affair. The stalemate has been broken.

Tell me then, do you harbor any regrets?"

A bitter smile touched Foden's lips as he replied, "Sometimes, knowing when to quit while one is ahead is the wisest course. The lower and middle echelons of the Whip of Order have been neglected for far too long; it is nigh impossible to restore them entirely in a brief span of time. Thus, any progress made is a harvest in its own right."

"It is well that you possess such a perspective. However, you have overlooked a singular truth."

"High Priest, I pray you enlighten me."

"A blade—how can a blade possess thoughts of its own? If a weapon can independently determine the force of its strike, when to halt, and when to return to its sheath, then who would ever dare extend a hand to wield it?"

Foden’s frame shuddered violently, and he instantly prostrated himself upon the floor beside the tea table.

"High Priest, I made decisions on my own authority regarding certain matters without your permission. Please, hand down my punishment."

The High Priest glanced at the Whip-Bearer kneeling before him, quietly picked up a piece of candy from the tea table, and popped it into his mouth. Sucking on the sweet, he spoke:

"What I desire is a rabid dog. Only then can I scold it in front of outsiders, telling them it is quite obedient and will not bite. Yet now, you have gone and spoken my lines for me. Tell me, what am I supposed to say?"

"High Priest... I was wrong, I am guilty."

"I raised the half-dead Whip of Order back on its feet to counter those entities that are far too focused on their own designs. Yet now, you have shown me through your actual deeds that you, too, are starting to have designs of your own.

Alas,

Verdon,

we could be considered old friends, couldn't we?"

"Indeed... indeed, I have followed you, High Priest, for a very long time."

"Not to be repeated?"

"Yes, there will absolutely not be a next time, absolutely never again."

"If there is a next time, there will be no more of you." The High Priest's gaze grew unfathomably deep. "What I wish to establish is a true Church of Order. Within this Church, even I should not harbor excessive schemes and designs. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"No, you do not understand. No one can understand me. Techison understood a little, perhaps, but he is dead."

The High Priest reached out, picked up another cigar, grabbed the cigar cutter himself, and with a sharp snip, clipped the cap:

"I am so lonely..."

"You..." Verdon simply did not know how to respond.

But very quickly, the High Priest's expression returned to normal. Reaching out to pick up a fire spirit stone, he inquired:

"The Norton family, is it? How did such a foolish family manage to sit in the seat of a bishop?"

"The Norton family has connections within the Temple."

"A direct line?"

"No, a relationship of patronage."

"Heh." The High Priest took a puff of his cigar, slowly exhaling a ring of smoke. "Go and warn that fellow in the Temple to stop stretching his claws out toward me."

"Yes, High Priest."

Verdon knew that the High Priest did not care in the slightest about a regional bishop's family. It was merely that the High Priest's fury toward him required an outlet to vent.

This "Norton family" was nothing more than the cigar the High Priest was using to ash on him.

...

In the VIP gallery, Dolph sat frozen in his seat. He had finally woken up to reality, realizing that he shouldn't just be worrying about the trial of a single grandson anymore. This fire had already managed to spread from his grandson to the family, and right onto himself!

Out of the corner of his eye, Wolfrun glanced at Dolph sitting beside him, thinking to himself: Idiot, are you only realizing it now?

Karen turned, facing the Chief Judge, and spoke up: "Chief Judge, I request a further investigation into this case. Maintaining order within the Church and wiping away the dust of Order is precisely the sacred mission bestowed upon our Whip of Order by Lord Tyranus since the day of its creation."